by Ginny Frost
He checked his phone again. No more messages from Ted or Dad. Texting Ryan would be annoying. The two hadn’t talked much since his little brother returned to town.
When Ry chose to work for the town rather than the business, Brett was beyond pissed. Ryan always sat so high and mighty, acting better than the rest of the family. Brett had no use for his spoiled-brat attitude. Kramer and Sons was good enough for Dad, Ted, and himself. Why didn’t Ryan climb off his high horse and help them out?
Most annoyingly, Ryan had impressive skills in construction. He knew how to complete most jobs without a consult or hiring out. He’d learned it by watching his big brothers and father. Dad made all three of them work for the company for years. But Ryan bugged out to Albany and landed himself in a terrible mess.
Maybe it was better this way.
Anyway, Dad or Ted would message him soon enough. Once he finished the bathrooms, he’d head home and get the story straight from the source. Porter fired them, so the fire probably had nothing to do with Kramer and Sons. But Earl, the dick, might not see it that way. The cost of a lawyer would be an ugly expense in the winter. Maybe he’d feel out Stanley for more work, stay a little longer.
Or get invited to the Christmas party with Jo.
He stopped his wrench in mid-twist.
Where the hell did that come from? Sneaky, meaningless sex was one thing, but attending a family event with a girl he’d just met? He shivered from head to toe. He’d need a suit or something better than his ripped jeans and flannels. Plus, he brought nothing fancy to the hotel. The round trip to grab his funeral suit wasn’t worth any party. Besides, if Jo wanted to invite him, she’d had plenty of opportunities.
Her innuendoes hinted at sex, never the party. He ran his tongue over his teeth. Could be that Jo saw him as good enough to screw, but not good enough to meet her family?
Meet her family?
He grumbled under his breath. He’d met the woman, talked to her two—no, three times, and now he fantasized about being introduced to her circle.
Best to put his head down and get the work done. If he rushed, he could leave before her little party tomorrow, not see her in an amazing, fancy dress, and have to deal with the blue balls at home.
Chapter Eight
Brett crossed the lobby at noontime. The two giggling clerks whispered as he walked by. Again he ignored them. He’d bet if he turned and talked one or the other up, he’d have a lunch date in a heartbeat, but they weren’t worth the silly games and sad one-sided sex. The idea of intimacy manifested an image of Jo in his mind. Pretty, delicate Jo dressed as a dominatrix. He shivered and walked on to the kitchen, his gaze on his phone.
And because his head was tipped to the phone, he didn’t see Jo and almost ran her down. She let out a “Whoa,” which brought Brett up short. Her hands flew out to stop him, and he tried to skid to a halt. As a big guy, he couldn’t stop on a dime. In an effort not to crash into her, he shot out his hands, sending his phone flying.
The two stood nose-to-nose, hands on each other’s chests, panting. When Brett realized where his palms landed, he stepped back, snapping his arms behind his back. Heat burst out on his face, his phone forgotten.
“Jo,” he said, startled, noticing she’d moved away from him, her head down. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching.”
She said nothing, although her chest vibrated, and her mouth quivered.
“Jesus, did I hurt you? Sorry. I didn’t mean to grab—uh, touch—uh…” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I mean, sorry.”
Finally, she spoke, “I don’t know whether to laugh or to slap you.” Her voice filled with mirth. When she tipped her head to meet his gaze, they both burst into laughter. “Being around you makes for an interesting day, Brett Kramer.”
He grinned. Her words created a warmth in him that went beyond a hormonal reaction to pure inspiration. Why couldn’t he ask a woman like her out? Yeah, different social circles, economic circles, and they didn’t live in the same town. But she was cute and didn’t mind when he played Neanderthal. They could work. Another dinner like last night, and…
Her words cut into his daydream. “…regular repair or…” She caught his gaze and from her frown, she knew he hadn’t been listening.
“Sorry,” he said again and paused. Where did his phone go? He’d been reading the text from Dad about the situation in Stonewater. He glanced around. “You seen my phone?”
Jo’s frown deepened. “Guess I can ask the desk.” She walked past him, her nose in the air. What was her problem?
“Hey,” he called after her. “I said I was sorry.”
“And I asked you a question,” she replied flatly. “Which you ignored.” Her back stiffened more, and it rattled his cage.
Okay, yeah, he’d been a little rude yesterday, not seeing her project, not going over to her late that night. But he had no obligation here. He wasn’t hotel staff and didn’t have to kiss her ass. And they had sparks, but nothing more, despite sharing a meal.
“Please excuse me,” he said, keeping the sarcasm out of his tone. With his best customer service voice, he continued, “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I lost my phone when we crashed. It’s kinda important to my business.”
Jo glanced at him over her shoulder, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “You were not thinking about your phone, mister.”
Bold girl.
Was she always like this?
“No,” he said, shifting closer as to whisper in her ear, “But I can’t announce in the middle of the lobby that I was undressing you with my eyes.”
If she could be bold, so could he.
Head down, she shielded her eyes with her hand. “I only wanted to ask if you knew how to fix the Wi-Fi.” Her face shone scarlet, and Brett regretted teasing her.
He stood back, put his hands on his hips, and let out a belly laugh. “Of course, I meant the Wi-Fi. What did you think I was…?”
Her pursed lips and a scathing look stopped his joking. He’d like to take a few weeks—no, months—to figure out this mystery woman.
He gave her a tiny bow. “I’m not the hotel maintenance guy. I’m helping Stanley out, but the regular guy is around here somewhere. He probably…”
Jo didn’t let him finish his statement. “Oh, I forgot.” She faced him, her back to the registration desk, where the two clerks strained their necks to watch and hear the conversation.
Brett frowned at them but didn’t want to start a war. Gently, he grasped Jo’s arm and steered her away from the desk.
“Help me find my phone?” he asked, his gaze darting to the giggly girls.
Jo seemed to read his meaning. “Of course. I’m so sorry you dropped it.” Her tone sounded pure blueblood, but a playfulness colored her smile. Brett fought not to laugh aloud. He liked Jo more and more every second he spent with her.
They began searching the room, edging away from the desk. He spotted the damned thing under a potted plant, face up. Hope sprung in his chest that he hadn’t smashed the screen.
“Oh, here it is,” Jo said, bending to pick it up. “Oh, dear.” She held out the cell. “There’s a crack.”
Not what he needed right now. Please let it be minor. He didn’t have a new phone in the budget. A flip phone might be affordable, but he loved his Android. And no Black Friday deals for about eleven months.
Cautiously, Jo handed it to him. Her entire body language said it might blow up at any second. He grabbed the device and examined it. A crack ran down the screen, but it still seemed functional. He pressed a few icons to be sure.
“Not too bad,” he said, his brain calculating the cost of a screen versus a new cell.
“You sure? I can replace it.” Her words sounded tentative, her shoulders by her ears. What a disaster. Nice, cute girl in the hotel. And every time they interacted, something stupid made it awkward. Now she offered to replace the phone he dropped when he ran over her, same as last night when she apologized for him running off.
M
aybe it was a pattern with her. Always taking the blame and trying to fix things. Keep things smooth. Sounded similar to his job in his family.
The thought caught Brett unaware, and he huffed out a “huh” as he looked from her to the phone. She seemed to misinterpret the sound and lobbed out a sincere and sweet apology before he could stop her.
“Jo, I broke it. Don’t try to fix my stupid. You’ll end up poor with worry wrinkles.” He flashed a lopsided grin, the one that always worked on the ladies at the clubs. He wasn’t picking her up, merely putting her at ease.
***
Jo blinked at him. Something about his words struck her hard. “Don’t try to fix my stupid.” Hadn’t that been much of her life—compensating for her illnesses, apologizing to everyone for being tired, sore, and sick?
And last night, she’d worried needlessly about the gluten thing. And Brett didn’t care. Not an ounce. He didn’t offer to do crazy things to get her food right. Or worry incessantly after she ate it. Hell, he hadn’t stuck around to baby her one bit.
She kinda liked that.
Mom repeatedly took over her life, doing everything for her. She never let Jo lift a finger and worried all the time. Twice a week, she’d lay the guilt on thick about how she’d given everything up for the girl. If her mother had witnessed Brett plow into her in the lobby, the man would be in handcuffs, and Jo, on a fainting couch with a blanket and water, with someone fanning her. But Brett apologized and blew it off, despite grabbing her chest.
It was almost… exciting.
A stupid grin crawled across her lips before she could repress it. “Okay, so you’re not the regular repair guy, right?”
Eyebrows raised, Brett shook his head. He glanced at the broken phone again before shoving it in a pocket. If he wasn’t worried, she shouldn’t worry. But guilt bubbled inside her. She wanted to replace it, but people can be particular about their phones. She gave up in frustration.
“So, where is the guy? The Wi-Fi is down, and I need internet.” The signal had dropped just after she’d hit Send on her sample program. With no internet, there was no way to confirm the submission. Her victory celebration turned in to a run down to the lobby.
But now, she had a plan. She’d fix the cable herself, a simple task, and only a matter of access.
Brett shrugged. “I don’t know.” He hesitated. “I guess I can help. It’s my lunch break, and—”
“Oh, no, then. No, I won’t take up your break with my issues.” She turned to the desk, and he grabbed her arm.
“Having no Wi-Fi in the hotel is everyone’s problem. We’ll see what the deal is, and if we can fix it.” They both sauntered over to the counter, their expressions identical, which thrilled Jo to no end. Their faces said, “We take no shit,” and it snuffed out the smug looks on the clerk’s face.
“Excuse me, miss.” Jo used her best impression of Mom. “There seems to be no Internet access in the lounge or my room. How can we remedy the situation?” Brett turned his laugh into a cough, and she gave him a slight elbow to the ribs. “I require access for my work.”
“Oh, let me see,” Little-Miss-Full-of-Herself said. She seemed cowed by Brett’s presence and Jo’s attitude.
Jo never did this.
Ever.
She always tried to be polite, kind, and understanding. But the clerk constantly giggled at her behind her back. Especially when Brett was around. Jo had no time or use for silly kid games. Do your job, do it well was her motto.
“We’ve gotten calls already. I’ll get Stanley.” The clerk walked to the back office, but not before giving a weird look to Brett. She should know he wasn’t regular staff. Jo considered the situation when Stanley came out of his office.
“Miss Lockwood, my deepest apologies. Ernie is working on an electrical problem near the server room. He’s shut off power to the station for a bit. The internet will be up and running in a few hours.”
Jo frowned. Why didn’t the clerk tell her that? And for that matter, the hotel probably didn’t have an actual server room. Just a router somewhere. She glanced at Brett, who took the lead.
“Hey Stan, want me to look at it?” Brett seemed open and laid back, but Stanley’s stare gave off a skeptical air. “I’m on lunch, so no extra charge.” Brett emphasized the last three words, his voice lowering, his chin set.
Jo wanted to argue, but anything hostile might hurt the awkward dynamic going on here. Her presence appeared to make Stanley ill at ease. She stepped back slightly, letting Brett’s presence be the focus.
“I don’t know,” Stanley began, “Ernie…”
Brett stepped right up. “Ernie’d love having me cover for him. You know how he is. His plate is wicked full. And no Wi-Fi makes everyone nutty. Let me look before we call the cable guy.”
A service call this late on Friday wouldn’t happen, and Jo needed the connection. Her phone didn’t get enough signal for a decent hotspot. Her mother would kill her if she disappeared to a coffee shop or another hotel for internet.
Stanley and Brett chattered back and forth for a few minutes. Jo stayed back, not wanting to be a nosy guest. But she listened with one ear. Something about an electrical issue and fuses blowing. She grinned with a good idea of the actual situation.
Once Stanley gave them permission, Brett rested a hand on Jo’s arm and steered her out of the office to the elevators. “Look,” he said in a whisper. “I don’t think we can get it working again soon. Ernie’s busting a nut…”
Jo grimace at the raw term.
Brett frowned. “Oh, oops, sorry. Anyway, he’s trying to fix the electrical in the ballroom for a Christmas party. Yours, right?”
“Kinda.” Her mother’s. But why split hairs?
“Will someone be a bear if everything isn’t perfect?”
Jo hid her smile. “Yeah, Momma Bear has serious issues when things don’t go her way. Trust me. But let’s go check it out.” She elbowed his ribs. “We might find something. After, I’ll treat you to lunch.”
Brett’s face lit up at her words. Ah, food—the way to a man’s heart. Or was it the prospect of eating with her? She hoped so.
“Can’t hurt to look. The electrical’s off. And I gotta warn you. I’m cursed.” He tipped his head toward the hallway leading to the ballroom.
“Cursed, how?” She raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t one of those people who give constant shocks and break everything with a battery?” Visions of her laptop blowing up invaded her head. She needed the internet to put her project on the cloud. Her flash drives contained room for a full backup and then some. But if he gave off electric shocks, he might blow those out, too.
“No, not me. The stuff with my family yesterday.” He held up the cracked cell. “My brother is causing more problems from the original problem, the fire, which wasn’t our fault. He’s the town building inspector.”
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest? Being related to the contractors? That’s not a problem?”
Brett laughed, a full belly laugh. “Not in my family. Ryan’s the perfect everything. No one questions his integrity. Ever.” He chuckled, “Fucking Ryan.”
Jo pursed her lips. “Little brother?” she asked.
Brett snorted. “How d'ya guess?”
“I know a few things about family dynamics. I’ve observed much from my sickbed.” She elbowed him again. “You gonna blow up the ballroom for the party? Because I wouldn’t mind one bit.”
Brett stopped mid-stride, his jaw opened wide. He slapped his hands to either side of his face. “You might miss the big fancy party! What will you do?”
She giggled, loving his silly side. “Guess I could stay in my room and code.” She shrugged.
“You do too much of that, sunshine. Let’s get your Wi-Fi back so you can code and go to the party.” He resumed his trek down the hallway, examining doors as he went.
“Wait, I’m not sure I thought it through. Maybe if the power isn’t working, Mom will cancel the party, and I can go home.” Jumping in t
he air, she gave a little whoop, thinking about abandoning it all for more Adventures in Dining with Brett.
He stopped at a door marked STAFF, his hand on the knob. “You wanna leave?” Disappointment colored his words as if he’d never see her again. Because she didn’t say goodbye, or give him her number, or…
She paused in her celebration. “I want to get away from my mother, Brett. Not you.” She said the words quietly, her hand resting on his arm. His gaze lowered to hers, a slight smile on his lips. He shifted closer, their bodies inches apart.
“She’s not here now,” he said. The first real invitation he’d given her. Jo assumed he’d put her in the friend zone, but the sparks in his gaze said something else. Her body temp rose ten degrees as she leaned forward.
“No, she’s not.”
Chapter Nine
He knew he shouldn’t do it, but there was something about Jo. Quirky and repressed, but she read him easily and apparently found nothing lacking. She didn’t fawn over his body or looks. She talked to him like a real goddamned adult and only flinched when he swore.
He’d promised Stanley no hookups, but the situation seemed something else entirely. They clicked. He liked her. She was the one leaning in, not him. It was pretty clear she liked him for more than his blond hair and muscular arms.
Her angel face tipped to his, her eyes closed, her mouth ready.
With a breath, he leaned down to kiss those perfect lips.
Go slow.
A lifetime on bedrest made her virginal, at best, an actual virgin most likely—a woman he could take his time with and have a real romance.
That thought brought sweat to his forehead. Still, she waited for his kiss. The two seconds it took him to meet her mouth seemed like hours. Gently, slowly, he brushed his lips against hers, no pressure, a feather touch. His god-damned toes curled at the sensation of her delicate skin touching his. Why hadn’t he shaved today?
