Twisted Twosome

by Meghan Quinn

  Getting back to work, I run some wood glue along a piece of wood and clamp it together with another. I would have to say one of my favorite things about building is working with wood. It’s fascinating how we can manipulate it into practically anything we want. And the smell of it, the smell of freshly cut wood, sawdust in the air, a project before me, it reminds me of my dad, which brings fond memories. Even when they make me sad.

  The door opens, and I smile as I look up expecting to find Georgie. Standing before me is Mr. Westbrook and the look on his face doesn’t necessarily read happy, especially when he notices me. It’s when he takes a step forward that I see realization cross his face.

  “You’re the boy who worked on my pool house.” I prefer man, not boy, but I’m not going to mention that at this time, especially since Mr. Westbrook looks like he’s about to pop a vein.

  “Uh,” I pull on the back of my neck, “yeah, that’s me.”

  He takes another step forward. “Have you been helping my daughter?”

  There are two ways I can answer this question. I can cower and say no, that I’m just visiting and still planning on going back to the “bank” tonight to finish up some work, or I can nut up and be the man my dad taught me to be.

  I set the wood glue down and dust off my hands. “Yes, sir.”

  His eyes light up with distaste. “Is she paying you?”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “It is my business. She’s my daughter.”

  I take a step forward, prepared to use my height and brawn to intimidate. He might have money, but I have power. “Pretty sure she stopped being your business when you kicked her out of your home for chasing her dreams. And since we started dating, she’s become my business. I have no intention of letting you come into her sanctuary and destroy it with your hate. So tell me, did you come here for a reason or just to cause trouble?”

  He twists his lip to the side in disgust and steps back while repositioning the blazer on his shoulders. “I suggest you step away from this project.”

  “You suggest? Thanks for the suggestion, but I’m a man who can make my own decisions.”

  “Do you have any idea the kind of power I possess?”

  Christ. Men like this aren’t really men. They’re inconsequential. They bring no value to human life and only project greed, skewed values, and bestow negativity on those trying to grow. In my eyes, this man is worthless and to hell if I’m going to let him push me around.

  “With all due respect, Mr. Westbrook, I could give two flying fucks what kind of power you possess. The way I see it is you have two options: you can continue to be a dickhead and lose your daughter forever, or you can man up, put on your quality father jeans, and be the encouraging father Georgiana deserves.”

  “I don’t need parenting advice from someone who poses as a banker to try to gain respect,” he seethes. I don’t have to “try” to gain respect; I earn it through hard work and loyalty.

  “Sure you do.” I’m tempted to pat his cheek but I refrain, as I don’t want him to charge me with assault. Knowing him, that’s exactly what he would do. “Because you’re doing a shitty job. Georgiana deserves more than what you’re offering her. Look at what she’s put together.” I wave my arms out to the side. “This is her. This is all her. She has designers lined up to sell their dresses in her shop. She has inventory to sell, and brides knocking on her door every day asking when she’s opening. She’s done all of this despite your attempts to wash her away into a world of nothing, where she can’t shine.” I shake my head. “You need to hop on board, man, because if you don’t you’re going to miss out on a front-row seat to something beautiful: your daughter’s success.”

  He purses his lips, his nostrils flaring in anger against his beet-red face. He’s either going to explode or punch me in the face. If he does try to get physical, I won’t fight back. There is no need to beat up this old man. Pointless.

  Gearing up for his fist to meet my face, I hold my breath when he slowly backs away and points at me. “You’re going to regret this.”

  “Not as much as you’re going to regret not being a part of your daughter’s life.”

  When the door slams shut, indicating his exit, I take a deep breath and shake out my arms. Fuck, I’m tense. My shoulders feel like stone, my neck is stiff, and a headache starts to take root at the base of my skull. In the matter of seconds I feel wrecked and all from one man and his inability to be a decent human.

  How is it fair that such a vile man can exist and corrupt and bully, when a good man like my father was taken away so early? Life isn’t fucking fair.

  Feeling a little sick to my stomach, I get back to work, trying to rid my memory of that awful conversation. He’s not worth my time, and yet, I honestly wish he would listen to me. I wish he would drop his arrogance and be proud. Be proud of the woman he created, because she’s perfect, and he has no clue.

  The front door swings open again and this time, instead of seeing an angry man ready to cause trouble, I see my brilliantly beautiful girl holding a take-out bag and carrying a giant smile on her face. “I got two free tacos!”

  She launches into my arms, as if her taco score is the best thing to happen to her all day.

  “Awesome, Princess,” I answer but with a little less gusto than I wanted.

  And she notices. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I shake it off. “Tired, that’s all.”

  “Want to take a break? You’ve been working really hard.”

  “That would be great.” She hops out of my arms but not before placing a kiss on my lips.

  She heads back to the private office where she has a mini fridge now. “Want a Diet Coke Lime?”

  I grit my teeth. “Yeah.” And before you get all judgy on me, I like the shit, okay? It’s all she ever buys so I’ve been forced to drink it and hell if my taste buds haven’t welcomed the beverage. The lime is subtle but good.

  I pull up the stools I nailed together with extra wood and the matching table. I was sick of sitting on the floor. They aren’t pretty, but I’ve had some of the best dinners of my life at this little kiddy set. Yes, kiddy set, we are about a foot off the floor. It works.

  “I splurged,” she says as she walks back in the room. “I got guacamole. It called to me.”

  “We’re splitting it this time. Last time we ‘shared’ guac, you left me with maybe two bites.”

  She smiles and pulls the contents out of the bag. “I said I splurged, Racer. We both have our own.”

  I shake my head in disbelief a smirk passing over my lips. “God, I could fuck you so hard right now.”

  She winks. “Later, handsome. Later.”

  And just like that, the tension inside me dissipates. She gets me. Like she said, kindred spirits. Never knew I’d want it, but sure as hell glad it found me.

  ***

  “It looks amazing.”

  We sink to the floor and lean against the wall. I have my arm wrapped around Georgie as we both take in the finished shelves. They really do look amazing. Just a few touch-ups and they should be good to go.

  “I can’t believe we’re almost done. It seems like yesterday I was throwing myself across your lap in your truck so you wouldn’t drive away.”

  “You can still throw yourself across my lap if you would like.”

  She nuzzles into my side. “Fat chance. There will be no sex tonight.”

  My hand that is rubbing her back pauses. “Uh . . . I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

  “Racer, what did I say earlier?”

  “I don’t recall.” She pinches my side making me laugh. “I’m still not sorry.”

  “You cut the straps of my camisole . . .”

  “I thought I saw a bug on your shirt. It’s not my fault my scissors got out of control. Plus, you don’t need to wear those things, you look better without them.”

  “Because you like to stare at my cleavage.”

  “Exactly.”
I kiss the top of her head. “So that should be a check in the good box that leads to sex.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” She sighs into me and starts to play with a hole in my jeans. “Can I ask you something?”

  From the tone of her voice, I know it’s going to be serious. “Of course.”

  She’s quiet for a second as her finger plays with the frayed strings of my jeans. “Will you be honest?”

  “Always, Princess.”

  “Do you think Limerence will be successful? Do you actually think it’s a viable idea?”

  I don’t even skip a beat when I say, “One hundred percent. No doubt in my mind.”

  She looks up at me, unease in her features. “You’re not just saying that?”

  I cup her chin and shake my head. “Never. You should know me by now. I don’t bullshit when it’s important. What has you doubting yourself?”

  She rests her head against my shoulder and stares at the shelves again. “It’s so close, the grand opening. I’m almost at the end of this marathon I’ve been running, and even though I thought it was a great idea at the beginning, I’m nervous it’s going to flop. I’m nervous I won’t be able to follow through on my projections. What if I fail, Racer?”

  “Then you fail,” I answer matter-of-factly. “But don’t give up before you even get a chance to succeed. Have faith in the business plan you’ve put together, in the connections you’ve made, and the product you’ve put together. Look around you, Georgie, you created this—”

  “No, you did.”

  I shake my head. “I built it, you created it. Visualized. I just followed your blueprint. Everything you see in front of you came from that pretty little head of yours. Be proud of what you accomplished and go into this final mile with a second wind. Don’t drag your feet, fucking spring forward into your future, because I know it’s going to be amazing.” I squeeze her tight.

  And that’s the God’s honest truth. I can feel the buzz, I can smell the petrichor, anew is right around the corner, and I’m excited to see what’s next in store for Georgie.

  ***

  “Go ahead, level it. I bet you twenty bucks you’re going to eat your own words.” I cross my arms over my chest, knowing I one hundred percent leveled out the mantel for the house we’re working on.

  “I don’t know, looks crooked,” Smalls adds.

  “That’s because you’re tilting your head to the side, jackass.” I smack the back of his head. “Stop fucking around, and let’s clean up this shit so we can go home.”

  “Go home, or go see your girl?” Smalls lifts an eyebrow at me.

  “My extracurricular activities aren’t your concern.”

  He chuckles and then grows serious. “How’s it going? You really like her?”

  I think over the last two months we’ve spent together working on Limerence. We’ve fought, pranked each other, and somewhere between we fell for each other. At least I fell for her. I’m hoping she’s feeling the same way.

  “Yep.” I nod. “I like her a lot. She keeps me on my toes, doesn’t put up with my bullshit, and she’s inspiring. That girl has drive, man. It’s sexy.”

  “A lesser man would think of her drive in a different light,” Smalls counters while picking up our tools.

  “Yeah, tell me about it. The other day—”

  “McKay!” My name is screamed through the newly painted walls. Julius Parsnip, my boss, is stomping in my direction, not looking happy at all. Shit, did he see my Little Debbies and get pissed I didn’t share them? The man is round and wobbly and froths at the mouth if he sees alcohol or sweets.

  I stand to my feet and brush off my pants. “What’s up, boss?”

  “My office, now.” He stomps away as my stomach starts to sink. This can’t be good.

  I turn to Smalls and say, “Let Tucker know.”

  Tucker is our project manager, so he runs the show since Julius is usually drunk off his ass in the office. If anything happens, I want Tucker to know.

  “On it.” Smalls pulls out his phone as I chase after Julius.

  While I follow behind Julius, I try to find any reason I’d need to follow him into his office. It’s not a raise; I know that. The man is a stingy bastard. Tucker had to threaten to leave to make more money, and luckily for him, he’s a huge asset to Julius, and he couldn’t lose him. Me, not so much. I’m good at what I do, but in Julius’s eyes I know I’m replaceable.

  I don’t think I’ve done anything stupid on the worksite like I used to when I first started. I work more than everyone besides Tucker and Smalls, so cutting hours short can’t be it. And there is no way in hell my work is shoddy. I take pride in making a good product, so that can’t be it either.

  When we reach his office, I shut the door just in time to see him fall into his office chair with a sickening plop.

  “Turn in your badge, hat, and vest. We’re letting you go.”

  My heart immediately drops as my stomach starts to turn in rapid succession, bile rising into my throat.

  “What?” I ask, my voice shaky. I mean, I thought I might get in trouble for something, but fired? That thought never crossed my mind.

  Julius looks up at me, his eyes rimmed with red, dark circles lining the anger in them. “I said turn your shit in.”

  My body goes numb. I can’t even begin to comprehend the impact this will have on my life . . .

  Trying not to stutter, trying to be strong, I pull on the back of my neck, my knees wobbling beneath me. “Can I ask why?”

  Julius shuffles through some papers and leans back in his chair. “You mouthed off to one of our distributors. I expect my employees to properly represent this company and unfortunately, you didn’t do that.”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t talk to any of our distributers.” The minute the words leave my lips it feels like a pound of lead sinks down in my stomach.

  Donald Westbrook.

  Fuck.

  “From the look on your face, I’m going to assume you know who I’m talking about.”

  I need to save my job, set Julius straight, plead if I have to. I can’t lose this job.

  If I lose this job, I lose my house.

  If I lose my house . . . fuck, my throat clogs up.

  If I lose the house I lose my dad forever.

  I lose . . . everything.

  “Julius”—I hope he’ll actually hear me—“that was a personal issue when I talked to him. It had nothing to do with business. You and I both know I would never do anything to jeopardize this company.”

  “Interesting, because Donald called me this morning to let me know about your little spitting match. He told me if I wanted to continue to work with him, I had to get rid of the smart-mouthed know-it-all. And since he owns every lumberyard in a one-hundred-mile radius, I can’t lose that relationship. Sorry, kid. Next time I suggest you hold back whatever you want to say to distributors.”

  Desperation oozes out of me as I step toward his desk and put my hand on it for support. Swallowing hard, I say, “Julius, I need this job. I can’t lose it. Please give me another chance.”

  An evil smirk crosses over his face and for a second I think he might let me keep my job with some added bonus that would appease him.

  “You’re out. Turn your stuff in . . . now.”

  My breathing starts to escalate, my fate slipping from my grasps as I remove my gear slowly and pile it on Julius’s desk. Once I turn in my badge, I go to plead one last time but he points to the door, dismissing me.

  Fucking hell.

  I walk out of his trailer with my head down, holding back tears. I fucked up everything. Everything lost. Everything I’ve ever wanted.

  My dreams of raising a family in the house my dad and I built . . . eviscerated.

  Trying to preserve my father’s memory . . . gone.

  The life preserver I’ve been hanging on to, making it month by month was shattered, leaving me to drown.

  One man has stolen everything I’ve been working
for.

  “Fuck,” I mutter as my throat closes in on itself and my eyes start to water. I walk quickly to my truck so I don’t have to talk to any of the guys, but when I reach my wheels, both Tucker and Smalls are leaning against it, waiting to hear what happened. I don’t have to say anything. Just one look and both their faces are curtained in anguish because they know . . .

  “We’ll figure this out,” Tucker says as I climb into my truck and rest my head on the steering wheel. “I’ll figure this out, man.”

  I shake my head and shut my door. I start my truck as tears fall onto my white work shirt. There is no figuring this out.

  It’s over. I just lost.

  I don’t regret what I said. I would say every word again to that bastard. He told me how powerful he was, and I knew it too. But fuck if I would allow him to belittle my girl with his shit.

  Georgie needs to know I would do anything for her.

  Even if it means leaving her side so I don’t tarnish her brilliance.

  I want her to win.

  To succeed.

  To soar.

  I can’t fucking face her, not with this. Not when Limerence opens in a week.

  She deserves so much fucking better.

  Not someone drowning in their dead father’s debt.

  She’ll always have my heart. She’ll always have my support.

  But I won’t be someone who drags her down.

  She will win.

  Even if I lose in the process.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  GEORGIANA

  “G, do you want this rack over here in the corner?”

  I look behind me where there is a rack of seven dresses in the back corner that needs to be in the front. “No, can you bring those up here and put them next to the D. Herman dresses? The beading is similar so it will be nice for brides to compare both designers next to each other.”

  “I knew they didn’t belong back here. Are you almost done with the jewelry?”

  “Yup. Just finishing up a quick polish and I should be set.” It’s past lunchtime and Madison and I have been organizing the shop since six this morning. Needless to say, she wasn’t too thrilled about the early start, but with the combination of excitement for the opening in a few days and gallons of coffee she’s functioned well.