Sheila had the swear jar in front of Vince’s nose almost before the expletive had left his lips.
Seriously?
This was a set-up. His brothers had all been in on it. Every one of them. They’d bailed purposely and left this to him.
Vince dug in his pocket and stuffed a five in the jar that required a one for every swear. He’d definitely need some credit for all the things that were about to come out of his mouth.
“Spence isn’t sick, is he?” Vince sniped. “And Buck and Trask aren’treallybusy. They just wanted to stick me with this job.”
Shiela shrugged, and her lips didn’t even twitch.
Crap.Vince had yet to be initiated into the water-hazard, ball retrieval side of the business, but he’d heard the horror stories.
It was a thankless task. Retrieving balls from the often-murky water holes at the big golf course just outside of town was also a horror show. The ponds were always muddy, and often filled with discarded bottles, trash, and even the occasional pair of underwear, that…
Ewww. He didn’t even want to think about that.
He’d clearly been thrown to the wolves.
“What am I missing?” Lace asked, obviously confused at the turn of events that had him grumbling. She nodded to Sheila. “I’m Lace, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sheila intoned sincerely, but she still wasn’t smiling.
Vince called attention back to himself as he explained the situation to Lace. “Every month or so, the local golf course hires Diver Downeast to retrieve balls from their water-hazards while the course is closed,” Vince huffed.
Which was this afternoon.
Vince groused on. “I’ve heard from my brothers how disgusting it can be, and those assholes obviously decided it was my turn to suffer.”
Sheila wiggled the jar in his direction again, but Vince growled.
“I already put in a five, which means I get three more curses.”
Judiciously, Sheila put the container back down.
Lace was clearly trying to hide her amusement. “I see. Hence the snorkel, rather than your dive gear.”
“That’s about it,” he grunted.
Lace shrugged impudently. “At least it should go fast.”
Vince moaned. “Are you kidding? We’ll be lucky if we get out of there before dark,” he whined.
This time of year, that would be around eight PM.
Which was Lace’s bedtime on a work night.
And didn’t that just suck.
“Shit,” he intoned, reluctantly filling Lace in on the extent of the job. “Five water traps. Nasty visibility. Hundreds of balls.”
Lace leaned in close, looking undeterred. She put her lips to his ear. “What if I promise to take care ofyourballs once the job is complete?”
Vince swallowed convulsively at the sexy promise in her voice.
He swiftly picked up the gear and the buckets.
“Then I’d say, let’s get moving.”