“
Yeah, who needs an extra two hundred dollars for three hours of work?” Kristen said, flipping a hand dismissively. “Not Miguel apparently.”
I froze. “Two hundred dollars?”
Sloan sprayed the counter with lemon-scented all-purpose cleaner. “Sometimes it’s more—right, Kristen? It depends on the style?”
Kristen stared at her best friend like she was telling her to shut up. Then she dragged her eyes back to me. “The stairs run four to five hundred dollars apiece, plus shipping. I split the profits fifty-fifty, minus the materials, with my carpenter. So yeah. Sometimes it’s more.”
“Do you have a picture of the stairs?” I asked.
Kristen unenthusiastically handed me her phone and I scrolled through a website gallery of ridiculous tiny steps with Stuntman Mike posed on them in different outfits. These were easy. Well within my ability.
“You know, I think I do have time for this. I’ll do it if you don’t have anyone else.” A few of these and I could pay off my Lowe’s card. This was real money.
Kristen shook her head. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the organ thieves.”
Sloan gasped, and Brandon froze and looked at Kristen and me.
“Is that right?” I said, eyeballing her. “How about we talk about this over coffee.”
Kristen narrowed her eyes and I arched an eyebrow. “Fine,” she said like it was physically painful. “You can build the damn stairs. But only until I find a different guy. And I will be looking for a different guy.”
Sloan looked back and forth between us. “Is there something you guys want to tell us?”
“I caught him staring at my ass,” Kristen said without skipping a beat.
I shrugged. “She did. I have no excuse. It’s a great ass.”
Brandon chuckled and Sloan eyed her best friend. Kristen tried to look mad, but I could tell she took the compliment.
”
”