Melanie wasn’t going to work for free.
“This is a ministry, not a multimillion-dollar corporation. The families of patients rehabilitating at the RMPR Hospital have enough to deal with without the burden of having to stay at an overpriced hotel.”
He saw the corners of Melanie’s lips turn down just slightly, and only for a second, but he knew he’d said something she didn’t want to hear. Probably that she wasn’t going to get paid.
“Good grief,” Melanie muttered under her breath. Or at least that was how it sounded to Vince.
“Sorry, bro,” Nate said with a laugh. “We’ve already thought of that—the money part of it, I mean. That’s why you’re getting a business consultant and not a personal assistant. This is a one-time thing, and I’m footing the bill for it out of my own savings.”
Vince wasn’t happy, and he wasn’t the least bit convinced about any of this, but with each passing second, it was becoming more difficult to find a way out of the predicament.
He sighed. “One day? One week? What?”
“One time,” Melanie corrected. “The entire process should take about six weeks, give or take.”
“Don’t be so hardheaded,” Nate said. “Will you just for once take something that someone is giving you and not put up such a fuss about it?”
Melanie gave a clipped little nod. Vince thought she might be agreeing with Nate.
Again.
“I don’t have the time,” he argued. “As you pointed out, my leg is in a cast. It’s going to take me longer to do things, even without having Melanie…here,” he finished lamely. He had been going to say underfoot, but that seemed a little too blunt, even for him.
“Make time,” Nate countered.
“And if I say no?” Vince knew it sounded like a taunt, and he was immediately convinced he shouldn’t have asked the question at all. Nate was gloating.
“I’ll force you. I’ve already paid the bill up front. You wouldn’t stiff me like that, would you?” Nate offered up his most placating smile.
Vince lifted an eyebrow and then shrugged. “You’re sure about that?”
“Maybe not, if it was just me,” Nate replied with a wicked smile. “But Pop agrees with me on this one. Give it up, bro. You’d better get used to the idea because you are officially out of options.”
Vince wanted to kick something, except that his leg was already in a cast and Melanie was still looking on. He could argue with Nate all day and night if he had to, but there was no way he would argue with his father.
The man was still in a wheelchair from a recent stroke, which was why Vince was doing all the work in the first place. Pop’s condition seemed to be improving now that Nate was home and had presented him with a granddaughter, but Vince didn’t want to take any chances with his father’s health.
Melanie cleared her throat and smiled, reminding the men of her presence.
Vince wanted to cringe. She’d been standing there the entire time, absorbing all this personal information about the two brothers without saying a single thing. How completely and utterly mortifying.
But she spoke now. “I promise I’ll make the process as painless as possible for you.”
“It’s for your own good,” Nate prodded.
Vince couldn’t stand Nate being the victor of this game, but neither could he see a way out of this predicament except by going through with it. And it was just like his brother to rub it in.
Vince had the uncomfortable inkling, like a wisp of cool air creeping up the back of his neck, that working with Melanie was going to be anything but painless. He sighed and, leaning heavily on his left crutch, pushed his glasses up his nose and scrubbed his fingers through his hair with his right hand.
His head hurt. His leg hurt.
And he’d officially been had.
Vince groaned and pulled up a three-legged stool, seating himself gingerly and leaning his elbows on the front counter at the main lodge. He wanted to cocoon himself in the back office, but there was no one at present to watch the desk. His leg was throbbing and itching and driving him crazy—but not as much as the woman determined to make his life easier.
He didn’t know how he was going to get any work done. He’d never been so distracted in his life. He sat for a good ten minutes staring at the same piece of paper and then realized he hadn’t yet read a word of it.
He kept thinking about Melanie. And it wasn’t just about the enormous disturbance she was going to create in his admittedly clutter-filled life over the next few weeks.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a brilliant copper-eyed gaze, red curls and a freckled nose. Even the cute little quirk of her right eyebrow came to mind, and he didn’t know why.
Melanie Frazer was going to be nothing but trouble.
Worse yet, Nate had offered her a room at the lodge so she wouldn’t have to commute from Boulder. With Vince’s luck, she’d be tailing him everywhere, at all hours of the day. At the very least, he knew she was foaming at the mouth to get started organizing him. His shoulders tensed just thinking about it. He was a private person. His stuff was his stuff.
Scowling, he reached for the next stack of papers and stared unseeingly at the one on top. The bell over the front door rang, and he pulled in a breath and held it as he looked up, knowing it was going to be Melanie. Both a smile and a frown wrestled in his expression.
“I thought you might be hiding,” she teased as she brushed curls from her eyes with the palm of her hand. At least she had dressed more sensibly today, in khaki pants and a chocolate-brown sweater that complemented her eyes.
More to the point, she was wearing a pair of hiking boots—new ones, he judged thoughtfully. They’d probably give her a blister or two as she broke them in, but they were still better than high heels by a mile.
“What would be the point?” Vince’s smile was winning the war against the frown, despite his annoyance at Nate for getting him into this situation in the first place.
“Mmm,” she agreed, cocking her head to one side as she studied him. “Sensible man.”
Vince cringed inwardly, although he was careful not to let it show on his face. She was teasing him, of course, but the words hit home nonetheless.
A sensible man. He’d been called that before. It was practically his call sign. If he were charming and witty like his brother, he’d know how to handle a woman like Melanie, instead of tripping over his tongue—and his thoughts, for that matter—all the time.
Hogwash.
He didn’t want to be like Nate. He had enough to think about just being himself. He had a job to do, as did Melanie. And her job, the way he understood it, was to make a nuisance of herself. The sooner she realized he wasn’t the type of man to change things around on a whim, the better off they all would be.
It was as simple as that. Or not.
He reached for his crutches and hobbled to the door separating the front office from the main room. Melanie scrambled forward to help him hold the door, and then hovered near his elbow as he awkwardly hopped toward the furniture surrounding the central fireplace.
He didn’t know what she expected to be able to do if he lost his balance. A tiny little thing like her couldn’t possibly catch him from falling.
“The doctor says I have to keep this cast on for six weeks,” he said, trying for a conversational tone as he dropped to a seat on the sofa.
“It’s bright red,” she remarked, staring at his fluorescent cast.