I keep my eyes forward and work for a cool, even tone. “That’s no problem. You live your life and I’ll live mine. Just don’t go back to The Twisted Chord.” He’s new to the neighborhood, and it’s my go-to bar. I love it for the live music and the convenience to my apartment. He can find someplace else to pick up women. I sure don’t want to witness it.
“Why, you calling dibs on the place?”
“Yes. I’ve been going there for years, and I never saw you there before last night. I’ve earned dibs.”
We reach the sidewalk, and he keeps walking with me toward my building. “What if I want a beer?”
“Then you can buy a six-pack at your local liquor store.”
“You mean the one on your block?”
“Wherever.”
He grabs my arm, stopping me. His jaw is clenched, frustration clear in his voice. “Do ya want me to drop the class?”
My gut tightens and I swallow hard, swamped with guilt. “No, I don’t want that. You have every right to be there. I hope you find it useful.”
“Okay. So at some point you’ll stop being hostile toward me?”
I’m taken aback. I was only trying to establish firm boundaries. “I’m not hostile. I was just thrown for a loop. I’ll be fine by next week. Promise.”
He inclines his head, and we keep walking in silence. My mind is a tangle of conflicting thoughts. I still want to see him, but I know how hypocritical and wrong that is. It’s just that he’s all these things I find fascinating—a prince and a builder—and by far the best lover I’ve ever had. I bet he’s so skilled with his hands. He can probably do that intricate woodworking I love on crown moldings and antique furniture.
“Are you good at your job?” I finally ask.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“What do you do exactly?”
“I can do it all. My uncle, the former owner of our company, had me rotate on different duties. Sheetrock, plumbing, electrical, roof—”
“Woodworking?”
His lips curve up, his blue eyes twinkling with good humor. “Yeah, I’ve been known to work some wood.” He’s flirting.
“I’m not touching that.”
“Damn.”
I bite my lower lip. This is just like my Reno Magic fantasy, where I’m at the work site with the gorgeous host, Clint Owens, and we’re bantering about the tools and wood and stuff, and then suddenly we’re going at it on the recently restored original hardwood flooring. No. I must remain strong.
A few moments later, we arrive at my building. His eyes search mine. “Looks like we’re at your place.” He wants to know where he stands. Maybe he senses my confusion. My brain and my body are in battle for supremacy of the right path. And my heart doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know where I stand with him. I don’t know if it’s worth risking my career over what we have, which is really just the one night.
“Con,” I say because this is really between Con and Becca from last night, not student/royal renovator Connor Rourke and Professor Rebecca Edwards. And, the truth is, he’s not just fantasy material, he’s a real man with real feelings that I don’t want to toy with. I know the right thing to do. I just have to find the strength to do it.
His voice is husky, making my knees weaken. “Yeah, Becca.”
I open my mouth and shut it again. Deep breath. Rip off the Band-Aid. “See ya next week in class.”
He backs up a step, his jaw tight, before giving me a terse nod and heading on his way.
I did the right thing. I’m sure of it. So why does my chest ache like I just lost something important?
6
Connor
I drop heavily into a folding chair at the makeshift lunch table, which is just a sheet of wood balanced across sawhorses, and grunt a hello to the guys—Brendan, Beast, and some new crew members. My sleep has gone to shit. It’s been two days since my accidentally hot for teacher moment. I refuse to think about our night together, which is easy during the day when I’m busy enough to stay distracted. The problem is at night. I toss and turn before I finally fall asleep, and then I dream about her, waking up rock hard. Her soft skin, pale blue eyes, lush pink lips—all of her is burned into my brain. I need to forget her, I know that, but it’s impossible. It’s just that we seemed to click. We laughed at the same things, conversation was easy, and the sex was fantastic. What are the chances that I’d run into her twice in two days? I just moved to the neighborhood, so meeting her at the bar was one thing. Everyone is new to me there. But what are the odds I’d then see her at NYU?
Stop thinking about her!
I unwrap my usual lunch sandwich—potato chips on top of roast beef and provolone—and listen to the chatter around the table, something about an underground club. We staffed up for this project, which is why I don’t know some of the crew that well. We’re renovating an old marine rope factory in the former industrial waterfront area of Brooklyn into loft-style commercial space, hoping to attract tech and artsy design tenants. There’s lots of light from the high arched windows, and the view of the Manhattan skyline is spectacular. Part of our philanthropic idea for this space is to include affordable art studios for people who need a large space to work with their materials, like woodworkers, metal workers, and ceramic artists. The surrounding land needs a rebuilt pier, which will eventually become part of a small waterfront park with a walking path and a grassy space for sunbathers and picnickers. It’s our most ambitious project yet, and I’m feeling the pressure being in on the business side, especially since our family is financing it. Thankfully, continuing to work on crew as well helps keep me sane. I could never just be a desk job kind of guy.
Brendan picks up his phone and groans. “Who added Mom to our group text? Come on! My phone is blowing up with notifications. Not everything we say in the group is made for her eyes.” The guys on crew snicker. My brothers and I have a group text.
He scrolls through the texts, muttering, “This is gonna bite us in the ass.” He lifts his head, looking at me and then Beast. “Whoever did it, get her out.”
“But she’ll notice if we boot her,” Beast says, giving himself away. “I just thought it would be easier to find a date that worked for everyone for Sean and Josie’s engagement party.”
Brendan shakes his phone in the air. “She won’t stop texting.”
“Make a separate group text without her,” I say.
Beast starts tapping away at his phone. He’s the baby of the family. Mom calls him her teddy bear. It’s probably why he bulked up so much, just to get rid of that nickname. I’ll admit he looks more like a beast than a teddy bear now. Especially since he got a buzz cut. The short hair really makes his face look more angular and tough. All smoke and mirrors to hide his secretly sensitive side.
My older brother, Jack, takes a seat and sets a bottle of hot sauce on the table. His dark brown hair is longish on top, styled with some product that makes him look more hipster than he is. He casually unwraps his sandwich. “Anyone want some hot sauce? It’s a new blend from Lola.” That’s his friend’s restaurant. As far as I know, they don’t sell to-go condiments.
Nobody makes a move for the hot sauce. Jack is king of the pranksters, and we’ve all been burned before, even the new guys. Especially the new guys. Too bad for them because Jack is now crew chief.
“You have some first,” I say, taking a bite of sandwich.
“I already did,” he says smugly. “It’s on my sandwich.”
“Let’s see you take some straight from the bottle,” I say.
Jack tries to look offended, widening his eyes. “Come on, now. You know I’ve scaled back on the pranks. My fiancée has opened my eyes to being on the receiving end of one.” He loves saying my fiancée. He’s said it like a hundred times already and they’ve only been engaged three weeks.
Brendan laughs. “She did get you pretty good back in Vegas.”
“Not the only time,” Jack says.
Everyone erupts with questions about what else s
he did.
He holds up a palm. “I’m not sharing the grisly details. Just to say I’ve been schooled by the devious woman.” A goofy smile spreads across his face as he opens a bottled water. He has no clue what a dope he looks like with all his dreamy smiles. Jack in love is both irritating and entertaining. It’s his first time actually having a relationship, and he went all in. I’m happy for him, but I gotta give him a little trouble. It’s what we do.
I snap a picture of his ridiculous expression and show it to him. “Look at the goof.”
He grins. “That’s what a man in love looks like.” He grabs the hot sauce and shakes some right on his tongue. “See? Just hot-hot-hot.” He grabs his water and chugs it, his face red.
Everyone cracks up.
“Bread will help better than water,” Beast says over the laughter.
We all toss a piece of bread from our sandwiches at Jack’s head. He laughs and then coughs like crazy.
“It’s really not that hot,” he claims on a gasping breath. “Just don’t take it plain.”
Dylan, our oldest brother and CEO, walks in, saying in a booming voice, “Hey, all! Looks like I’m just in time for lunch.” He resembles my dad more than the rest of us, not just his features, but also his innate confidence and bearing. Dad and Dylan are both natural leaders. Only instead of being the king and the crown prince respectively, they became head of the family and CEO. They’re still leaders in every important way.
“Why’re you in such a good mood?” Brendan asks around a mouth full of chips. “Did you get a new lead on a property?”
Dylan told us he had an appointment this morning, but he didn’t share what it was about. I’m not sure what Brendan’s thinking. We don’t have the funds to purchase another property while we’re still working on the current one.
“Did the water tower clear?” I ask since that’s our biggest headache right now.
Dylan’s smile dims. “No to both. Con, we need to talk about the water tower.” He crosses to us and holds up his phone. “It’s a girl. We just did the ultrasound.”
We all lean forward, squinting at a grainy black-and-white blob.
“How can you tell?” Brendan asks.
Dylan’s jaw clenches.
“Congratulations,” Beast says, and we all chime in with a belated congratulations.
“I still can’t tell it’s a girl,” Brendan says, getting up and walking around to look over Dylan’s shoulder. “What’s that long thing?”
Dylan palms Brendan’s face and shoves. “It’s the umbilical cord, ya idiot. There’s no penis. See? It’s a girl.” Dylan stares at his phone, a wide smile breaking out on his face. “A daughter.” He takes us in, his eyes watering. “I’m gonna be a dad.” He shakes his head, still seeming a little surprised by it. “Can you believe I’m gonna be a dad?”
I swallow over the lump in my throat. My older brothers are all settling down, getting married, getting engaged, and now Dylan is going to be a dad soon. And here I am stuck on a woman I can’t have. My gut churns, my eyes gritty from lack of sleep. I hate that I feel jealous. It’s just that Dylan looks so happy and I’m anything but. That’s it. I’m going to see her again. I’m not sure where or when; I have to play it just right. We’ll talk face-to-face and figure out a workaround where we can still be together.
I turn to Dylan. “You’ll be a great dad. You always looked out for us when we were kids.” I catch Jack’s eye. “Remember when he punched Andy Wilson in the nose for stealing our lunches?”
“Yeah, that was awesome,” Jack says. “Andy Wilson. What a wanker, stealing from younger kids.”
Dylan slowly sinks to the empty chair next to me. “Oh, shit. I know what to do with brothers. I never had a sister. A girl is a whole different ball game.”
“Ariana has a sister,” I say. “She’ll know what to do.” That’s his wife. She grew up next door to us, a quiet bookish girl. I kinda had a crush on her back in the day, but she was four years older, so there was no chance.
He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Ariana is the younger sister. Rosalie looked out for her. I don’t think she knows what to do either.” He looks around the table, seeming to be searching for answers. None of us are dads. The new crew guys are always talking about parties and hookups. We all quietly go back to eating lunch, out of suggestions.
Brendan takes his seat across from me and lifts his chicken parm sub, holding it just shy of his mouth. “Don’t worry about it, Dylan. I’m sure girls are just the same as boys.” He takes a bite of sandwich, chews, and goes on. “Except for their hair.” He swallows his food and continues in a thoughtful tone. “And ribbons and dresses and all that pink…” He trails off at Dylan’s stony look and takes a big bite of his sandwich. I’m pretty sure there’s more to raising a girl than hair and dressing them right, but damned if I know how to raise a girl either. They were a mystery when I was a kid and are only slightly less so now that I’m an adult. Their thought process is so complicated, and every nuance seems to matter. I don’t think my tone or expression means half of what some of my exes claimed. I’m really what you see is what you get, no deep secret meaning hiding in what I say.
Dylan lets out a breath. “I’ll figure it out. That’s why I’m taking three months off in the beginning—to form that bond right off the bat.”
My shoulders tense. That’s the main reason I was made COO so quickly, so I can step into his shoes during his absence. I can’t screw this up.
“Until the teen years,” Jack puts in unhelpfully with a grin. He’s always causing trouble. Thankfully he’s got a fiancée now to rein him in. “Just don’t let your daughter date some loser.”
“Not helping,” Dylan bites out.
“Ignore him,” I say.
Dylan claps me on the shoulder. “Helps to know I’ve got Con here at the wheel while I’m on leave. Speaking of, I need you to go to a meeting in the city tomorrow about the water tower.”
I stifle a groan. That tower is an eyesore on our property—rusted and covered in graffiti—but local residents see it as a historic landmark and want it to stay. It’s right in the middle of our future park area and could be a hazard if kids decide to climb it. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen, if you ask me.
I turn to him. “I’ll take care of it.”
He nods once, looking pleased, and goes back to staring at his blurry baby picture. “I knew I could count on ya, Con.”
The next day I drag myself down the sidewalk toward home. I’m running on fumes after an exhausting government meeting and terrible sleep because she haunts my dreams. More meetings loom in my future, too, since this one ended with no final decision. Status: more deliberation needed. It’s late enough in the day, around four, where going back to work doesn’t make sense. I could use some caffeine. I’m not enjoying all these meetings. I’m used to being hands-on, getting shit done, taking action. None of this slow stakeholder talk, talk, talk. This is only our second real estate development project for Rourke Management. The first, converting an old elementary school into commercial office space with a wheelchair-accessible playground in back, was a huge success. We earned a commendation from the local town council for adding to the neighborhood’s value, as well as awards for urban excellence and social responsibility. Those should be points in our favor, but there’s some very vocal residents in this new project who believe we’re trying to erase their history.
I stop at a coffee shop and get in line, thinking I should splurge for a double shot of espresso, even though I usually just get the regular house joe. I’m careful with my money since I’m saving to buy my own place. But I’m supposed to go into the city tonight to watch my soon-to-be sister-in-law Josie do standup comedy (my older brother Sean’s fiancée, the actress/comedian). I don’t want to sleep through it. Josie’s a ball of infectious energy, so I imagine she’s really funny at the mike. It’ll be the first time I see her perform.
A dad holding a toddler on his shoulders shifts forward in line and I still,
the hair on the back of my neck rising. It’s her. The woman who haunts my dreams. Becca’s a barista, expertly working the coffee machines. Adrenaline fires through my veins, and I’m suddenly more awake and alert than I’ve been since…the last time I saw her. This is the third time I’ve run into her completely randomly. I can’t just ignore this. It’s like I was meant to be part of her life. Why else would she keep showing up in my path? I don’t usually stop for afternoon coffee in my neighborhood during the week. I’m usually at work. And why is she working here? I thought she was a professor.
I place my order with the cashier and shift to the end of the long counter to wait for it. Becca hasn’t noticed me, her eyes on her work. I watch her adding foam, mixing, and capping multiple cups. I can’t help but think there’s a reason I keep running into her. We can’t ignore this thing between us just because of the strange circumstances we found ourselves in. I’d been thinking of asking her to meet for a drink somewhere, but Fate has other plans. I’m going with it.
She’s busy so I keep quiet until she announces my name for my drink order and looks to see who Connor is. Does she hope it’s me?
I smile. “Hi, Becca.”
She squeaks and slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. I accidentally scared her.
“I didn’t know you worked here.” I lower my voice. “Why do you work here?”
She drops her hand from her mouth. “Stalker alert.”
“I swear I’m not.”
“Okay, stalker.”
“I’d be hovering around your apartment building if I was any kind of decent stalker. Besides, aren’t you the one who Googled me?”
Her expression softens as she gazes at me for a moment in what almost looks like wonder before saying, “I need to get back to work.”
“When’s your break?”
She goes back to filling drink orders. “I get off in half an hour. Why?”
Rogue Angel (The Rourkes, Book 10) Page 6
