by Force, Marie
The last thing on God’s green earth he wanted to do was relive that nightmare, even if it meant his mother would never again say her name in his presence. Since he didn’t want to talk about what’d happened, he supposed he had to put up with the occasional question even after all this time.
But he didn’t have to like it or the way he felt after he had to confront memories that put him in a foul mood.
As prepared as he could be to face another frigid day on the job, he got out of his truck and headed toward the framed outline of the inn, which was barely visible in the mist of early morning.
He stopped short at the sight of the architect, Brianna Esposito, her white project manager hard hat covering dark curly hair. She stood outside the back door, hands on her hips, glaring at him with fire in her dark eyes.
What now?
She drove him mad in more ways than one. For one thing, she micromanaged every aspect of the job—or at least she tried to. For another, any time she looked at him with daggers in her brown eyes, the way she was now, he went hard as stone. He told himself it was just because he hadn’t gotten laid in a while, but he’d started to think it was something much worse than that.
Because there was absolutely no way he could be attracted to the feisty, bossy, pain-in-his-ass, know-it-all architect from Boston.
No way at all.
Chapter Two
“Truth is everybody is going to hurt you:
You just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.”
—(Author unknown, sometimes credited to Bob Marley)
Brianna wanted to take a hammer to his head ninety percent of the time. Unfortunately, the rest of the time, she wanted to kiss the nasty scowl off his too-handsome-to-be-true face. The wanting-to-kiss-him thing was super annoying since he was such a cranky jackass. Of course, after seven years in a male-dominated business, she knew how men could be toward a woman who had a working brain and wasn’t afraid to use it.
“Good morning, Brianna. How are you on this fine Vermont morning?”
Fully aware that he couldn’t care less how she was, she didn’t fall for his nonsense. “Don’t try to charm me, Coleman. What did I tell you about signing for materials?”
“I believe you told me not to sign for anything.”
“And yet you signed for the lumber delivery yesterday afternoon after I had to leave early for a work meeting.” She’d told him she had to take the meeting at home where there was a landline. Cell service was nonexistent in Butler.
“Yes, I did sign for the lumber delivery.”
“Why did you do that when I specifically asked you not to?”
“Because I assumed you’d want us to be able to finish the framing today as planned. Without that lumber, my team would’ve been twiddling their thumbs. We would’ve lost today and possibly tomorrow, too, waiting for the redelivery of lumber that was sitting right in front of me. I signed for it, and I’d do it again.”
She wanted to punch him in his smug, sanctimonious face, but sensing he’d probably enjoy that a little too much, she refrained. “I’m sure you checked the quantities against what was ordered to ensure the amount delivered was correct.”
“Nope. That’s your job. I’m just the dumb contractor who does all the work.”
“So, you signed for a delivery with no idea whatsoever of what you were signing for?”
“Not true. I signed for what we need to keep things moving. Isn’t the goal to get it buttoned up as soon as possible so we can bring in heaters for the indoor work?”
“Yes, that’s the goal, but—”
“No buts. If we didn’t get that delivery yesterday, we’d fall further behind. So again, I have zero regrets.”
Brianna let out an exasperated growl and spun around, intending to storm off before she did something stupid like hit him with a hammer, but she slipped on an icy puddle and nearly went flying.
Noah grabbed her arm and saved her from a nasty fall. “Careful,” he said, his voice full of amusement that made her furious.
She pulled her arm free of his hold. “Shut up.”
He cracked up laughing.
Just another day in paradise.
Brianna hated this job with every fiber of her being. She hated that one of her bickering-brother bosses had sent her to middle-of-nowhere Vermont to oversee the rebuilding of his third wife’s cousin’s inn, which had partially burned—although she had her own reasons for being glad to get out of Boston for a few months. She hated being so cold all the time that her teeth had gotten sore from chattering nonstop. But more than anything, she hated the contractor she had to work with every day. And on top of that, she hated that she hated him.
She’d been raised not to hate anyone.
Noah Coleman was an exception to every rule. He was rude, arrogant, noncommunicative, challenging, exasperating and every other adjective she could think of to cover the full range of jerk descriptors. It wasn’t bad enough that Noah was a grumpy ass. No, he also had to be incredibly handsome and sexy as all hell, too. If she didn’t stab him or knock him over the head with a shovel before they finished this job, it would be a miracle.
He made her crazy just by the way he looked at her with barely concealed disdain for her very existence.
Noah either didn’t like working with architects, or he didn’t like working with women. Either option made him even more unbearable than he already was.
After the first week she’d spent locking horns with him on the job, she’d done some light recon in town to get the lowdown on him—the second of eight kids, his father left the family when he was a teen. He was a first cousin to the Abbotts, who owned the magical country store next door to the inn. And, most interesting of all, three years ago, he’d split with his wife of two years under mysterious circumstances. No one knew why they’d broken up.
Although why she gave a flying you-know-what about Noah was a further source of aggravation when she had more than enough on her plate as it was. Why in the world had she even bothered to ask Mrs. Hendricks about him? God, what if the nosy, buttinsky woman who owned the inn ever got the big idea to tell Noah that Brianna had been asking about him? The very thought of that made Brianna cringe. The last thing in the world she’d want was him thinking she cared one iota about his story.
All that said, Mrs. Hendricks’s info had given her some insight into why he was the way he was. Maybe he was still bitter over his father’s desertion, and God only knew what level of hell his wife had put him through. She certainly knew what it was like to have a marriage blow up in her face. Her husband had put her through the nuclear level of hell, and she felt for anyone who’d endured the breakup of a marriage.
But having a marriage go bad didn’t give him permission to act like a jackass ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent of the time.
In addition to him signing for materials, which she’d expressly asked him not to do, she had to tell him the fireplace his workers had roughed out yesterday was in the wrong place. She dreaded that. She dreaded every second she had to spend on this godforsaken job in which she froze her ass off for eight hours a day and had to deal with him.
Six weeks into the project from hell, she was ready to quit her job and find a new profession. Nothing about being an architect was anywhere near as much fun as she’d thought it would be back when she was eighteen years old and under tremendous pressure to pick a college major.
If only she didn’t have so much riding on the timely completion of this project, she would quit, but that would leave her without the references she would need to find a new job. The nonstop personal drama of the previous year had her skating on thin ice with her employers even before she came to Vermont. Quitting this job before she finished it was not an option. Neither was committing contractor murder, but a girl could dream.
The Butler Inn was the only place in town for visitors to stay. Butler needed the inn, and Mrs. Hendricks needed to get her business reopened. Brianna would get that taken care of and get the hell out
of Butler the second the last nail was driven.
In the meantime, she had to deal with Noah Coleman. Steeling herself for yet another confrontation—there’d been so many, she’d lost track of how many—with the contractor from hell, she went to find him. They’d been able to salvage the front half of the building and were rebuilding the back portion while bringing the front portion up to code with a sprinkler system and other required upgrades.
A sprinkler system would’ve quickly extinguished the fire, but older buildings weren’t required to have them. The new inn would be much safer than its predecessor had been, which had been one of Mrs. Hendricks’s primary goals for the project.
Brianna was always so cold, she could barely think when she was on the job. The only thing that got her blood running hot was the predictable arguments with Noah. That was the one benefit to their frequent disagreements. They warmed her up for a few blessed minutes when her heart rate soared, and the blood pumped faster through her veins.
Inside the construction warzone, the sound of hammers on the roof competed with the roar of a table saw. The noise was enough to jar her teeth loose.
She found Noah in the kitchen, which had been framed the week before. He had squatted to measure something.
“Can we please talk about the fireplace in the reception lounge?” she asked in the calmest tone she owned.
“Sure.”
“It needs to be redone.”
He looked up at her over his shoulder, eyebrow crooked. “Why?”
“It’s off by six inches.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Brianna summoned the massive amount of fortitude it took to stand her ground and not blink in the glare of the sexiest gray eyes she’d ever seen. “Are we going to do this all day, or will you listen to me?”
“I’m not going to listen to you telling me that fireplace is six inches off, because it isn’t.”
“Then you’ll have to come with me so I can show you.”
He took his own sweet time standing to his full six-foot-something height. Since his back was turned, Brianna got a good look at how he filled out his Levi’s. And he filled them out well. Very, very well. Not that she was looking.
Much.
He spun around suddenly and caught her staring at his ass.
Awesome.
When she looked up at him, a smug smile stretched across his face. “See something you like, darlin’?”
“Yeah, the most attractive part of you.” Brianna was rather pleased with that comeback if she did say so herself. Usually, she thought of good responses hours after she’d gone ten rounds with him.
“I’ve always been told I have an exceptional ass. I’m glad you agree.”
She pretended like she hadn’t heard him. “What’s that you said? People say you’re an exceptional ass? I couldn’t agree more.”
His laughter followed her from the room as she headed for the reception area. Hopefully, he would get there eventually so they could fight about the fireplace that was six inches too far to the left. They were completely rebuilding the chimney, so that wasn’t the issue. If they left the fireplace where it was, it would interfere with the fire escape on that side of the building. It had to be moved.
They’d ventured straight into the realm of unprofessional and inappropriate, which gave her pause. Dear God, did she have to discuss that with him, too?
Ugh, probably.
She found it interesting that he never raised his voice with the men who worked for him. They took their orders from him and seemed to respect him as a boss and friend. No, he argued only with her, or so it seemed.
By the time he made his way to the reception lobby, Brianna had plans rolled out on a makeshift table constructed of sawhorses and plywood and was ready to do battle.
Noah stopped in what would eventually be the doorway from the first-floor hall and eyed the work his men had done the day before.
“If you’ll come look at the plans, I’ll show you how the chimney will interfere with the fire escape. I need those six inches.”
“So much I could say to that.”
Was he flirting with her? No way. He couldn’t stand her. And she couldn’t stand him. He was not flirting. She ignored his suggestive comment and focused on the plans. A now-predictable wave of warmth overtook her when he came closer so he could see what she was pointing to. The bastard had to smell good, too. Life wasn’t fair.
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s off. We’ll redo it.”
Brianna was so shocked that she found herself momentarily speechless. And anyone who knew her well would say that was a rare, rare thing. “Would you mind repeating that? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you properly the first time.”
“I said you’re right. It’s off. And we will redo it.”
“Wow, I need a minute to enjoy this victory.”
Again, he flashed the grin that did such incredible things to his usually austere face. “Knock yourself out.”
“You ought to do that more often.”
“What’s that? Tell you you’re right?”
“Definitely—and smile. It looks good on you.”
“I didn’t smile.”
“Yes, you did. Twice so far today, actually.”
“That’s not true. Don’t be making shit up.”
It was no wonder she wanted to smack him ninety percent of the time. “Oh my God, are we really going to fight about whether or not you smiled?”
“Yes, we are, because I don’t smile as a rule.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Who makes a rule about not smiling?”
“I do.”
“No wonder you’re so cranky. Anyone who has a rule against smiling is a good time had by all.”
“Are you having a good time? Because you seem wound sort of tight.”
“I’m wound tight because I have to deal with you!”
“Oh Lord,” a third voice said from the doorway.
Brianna and Noah spun around to find Mrs. Hendricks standing in the future doorway, watching them with dismay. On top of the hood to her full-length parka, she’d placed the red hard hat Noah had given her so she could visit the site and see the progress.
“I can’t bear to hear the two of you fighting,” she said, looking almost tearful and resembling a giant mushroom with the hard hat teetering precariously on top of her hood.
“We’re not fighting,” Noah said. “We’re communicating.”
“Now, don’t you sass me, Noah Coleman. I know fighting when I hear it, and that was fighting.”
“We occasionally disagree about things, but we’re working it out,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Brianna?”
She knew she ought to agree with him so they could send their customer away happy, but Brianna couldn’t bring herself to lie to the woman’s sweet face. “We fight nonstop, actually.”
Noah sent her a look of complete disbelief.
“That just won’t do,” Mrs. Hendricks said. “I want the two of you to go to dinner tonight and work this out.”
Brianna was shaking her head before the woman finished her sentence. No way was she going to dinner with him.
“In fact,” Mrs. Hendricks said, rifling through her massive purse, “I just got this coupon for the Pig’s Belly Tavern in the mail.” She pressed it into Noah’s hand.
“Thank you,” he said, “but—”
As if he hadn’t spoken, she said, “Go have a nice dinner and talk it out. You young people need to learn how to communicate properly. You’re all so tied to those silly phones that you’ve forgotten how to talk to each other.”
Brianna wanted to remind her that no one was tied to a silly phone in the cellular nowhere land known as Butler, Vermont. Their motto ought to be “The place where cell phones go to die.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll be back to see how it went. I hope you two can work out all this nonsense and find some harmony. Life is t
oo short to spend it fighting.”
“Is that why you came by?” Noah asked, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. No doubt the idea of spending time with her outside of work was every bit as revolting to him as it was to her.
“I heard there’d been some squabbling, and I wanted to nip that in the butt.”
Brianna tried to contain the snort of laughter that erupted from inside her at the way the woman mangled the expression “nip that in the bud.”
Noah cleared his throat as if he were also trying not to laugh.
“I’ll see you two in the morning. You have a nice dinner now and put all this bickering to rest.” She turned and walked away before either of them could think of anything else to say to her.
For a full minute after she left, neither of them said a word.
Finally, Noah broke the silence. “Way to go.”
Chapter Three
“It is when we hurt that we learn.”
—Steve Maraboli
Why couldn’t she have just gone along with him when he said they were communicating, not fighting? If she’d done that, he wouldn’t be showering and shaving the scruff off his face to go back out. No, he’d be throwing logs on the woodstove and settling in for a long winter’s night of reading. Instead, he had to go another ten rounds with the architectural equivalent of Muhammad Ali. She exhausted him.
And she turned him on.
God, he hated that. He hated to be feeling anything resembling desire for the first time in three long years—long enough that he’d worried the plumbing had broken—only to have it return for someone who drove him mad.
She wasn’t even his type, for Christ’s sake. He usually went for the frosty blondes, but Brianna had curly dark hair, curves on top of her curves and sharp brown eyes that didn’t miss a trick. One of his guys had referred to her as a “smoke show.”
Noah had asked him what that meant.
“You know, smokin’ hot,” the young man had said, looking at Noah as if he were ancient.
It wasn’t possible to be more “out of it” than he was. No cell phone, no social media, a TV he rarely turned on, a computer he used only for billing and work-related activities and little to no contact with people other than the men at work. And he kept his distance from them. He’d learned the hard way not to get too buddy-buddy with his employees.
