by Jody Holford
He curled his hands into fists, sighing in pleasure when he was close enough to see the interior. Custom. Graphite wheels. Incredible. What he wouldn’t give to pop the hood. Apparently, 007 was visiting. If Brady had to guess, he’d say there was another Kendrick in the building.
Eyes glued to the car, he considered taking a selfie with it, but held onto his dignity. Barely. It wasn’t like he didn’t get to be around kick-ass cars, though ones like this were a rarity. People didn’t bring their high-end, beyond luxury automobiles into his small shop to be tinkered with—not yet, anyway. Though, now that he’d dropped a chunk of his savings on someone else’s rent, that plan would have to wait a bit longer.
Whoever drove the gleaming, silver beauty was one lucky, and successful, son of a bitch… One who parked illegally and needed to move.
Hands on his hips, Brady grinned and wished he could slip behind the wheel and just drive it around for the owner. Instead, he headed toward the front doors. Brady couldn’t help but glance backward as he let himself into the lobby.
Sweat trailed down his back, making him shiver. Spring was taking its time showing up this year. Voices traveled from the back office. Just keep walking. Princess Kendrick made it pretty damn clear your assistance is not required in any area. But, a man’s harsh tone—coupled with Brady’s own curiosity—had him heading in that direction.
There’d been some trouble in their building a couple of months ago, and though things had settled, he couldn’t help but feel protective and wary. This was his home and, acting manager or not, he wasn’t willing to watch anything else go sideways. He might not own his apartment, but it was his. Mia’s prim voice carried into the lobby from her office. He couldn’t shake her words or the way she’d dismissed him like some underling servant. If I need spark plugs… Clearly, she thought of him as nothing more than a grease monkey. He owned a successful car repair shop. He was damn good at his job and had numerous repeat customers. Quality led to commitment. He hated that she’d gotten to him and undermined his own feelings of success. Only one other woman had ever managed to do that.
As he moved around the lobby counter, he could imagine the hard, dismissive look Mia would be giving to whomever she was dressing-down in her tightly controlled tone.
“Michael, I don’t need you checking in on me. Instead of wasting your time waiting for me to fail, why don’t you focus on the buildings you’re in charge of? Surely you have more important things to do than spy. Why are you so adamant on the six months, anyway? What aren’t you telling me?” she said.
Brady paused outside the door. Six months? For what?
“I’m watching out for you, not waiting for you to fail. Why are you so goddamn sensitive? We’re giving you a chance to have your fun, but believe it or not, there are things in the works you couldn’t possibly wrap your head around. I need to be here, ready to pick up where Dad and I left off once you finish playing,” the man said.
Bingo. This was the brother. Clearly, high and mighty attitudes ran in the family, but even from Brady’s point of view, Michael had crossed a line.
“Eventually, you will realize I’m not playing. Let me tell you what’s going to happen at the end of the six months. I’m going to have this building back in shape and it’s going to turn a high enough profit that you and Dad will have to choke down your words and your doubt.”
Brady edged away from the door, guilt prickling his skin for listening in on a personal argument. He couldn’t help but be curious about this six months, though. Or bothered by her ultimate goal: profit. Not that it should be a surprise…what business owner didn’t work toward that endgame? But would she sacrifice her tenants to achieve it? He thought of the Waverlys and his stomach cramped.
The tone of Mia’s voice when she spoke again had Brady pausing in his retreat.
“Why can’t you see what I’m capable of? When are you going to see me for who I am?” She sounded small and nearly defenseless, which was completely at odds with what he knew of her.
Brady tensed when the man’s tone dripped with condescension. He asked, somewhat tauntingly, “And who is that, Mia?”
Enough. He didn’t like her, but he’d be damned if he’d let someone just bully their way through a conversation. He stepped into the room and saw Michael was a tall, polished, dark-haired man about his own age. His expensive suit screamed “Look at me.” The sneer on his face made the tiny hairs on the back of Brady’s neck stand up. He ignored Mia when he met her brother’s eyes.
“A woman running this place without a word of encouragement from her dismissive, snooty family,” Brady answered. He couldn’t speak about her whole family, but it was clear her jerk of a brother didn’t appreciate her. Brady didn’t want to think too much about how he and Mia had something in common as far as siblings were concerned.
Noting the way her brother was leaning into Mia’s space, Brady pasted a phony smile on his face and asked, “Why don’t you take a step back? I could even help you do that if you’d like.”
He was surprised by how much he’d love to “assist” Michael Kendrick to his fancy-ass car.
Mr. Sharp-pressed Suit glared and folded his arms across his chest. He cast a derisive glance down at Mia. “Already? This your latest knight in shining armor? Funny, the media hasn’t caught wind of this one.”
Ha. You obviously don’t know her, pal. She’s more likely to impale the knight trying to help her rather than thank him. But Brady didn’t like bullies of any kind. He took two more quick steps into the room.
Mia turned just as he was about to go head-to-head with the smug-assed jerk. Her hand came to Brady’s chest. He looked down and arched an eyebrow at her. Huh. He kind of thought her touch would turn him to stone or something. And not in a good way. The quick flash of heat that led from where her hand pressed on his pecs surprised him into stepping back.
“Everything is fine. Michael was just leaving,” she told him, standing between them. Brady smiled when Mia narrowed her eyes at her visitor, her jaw visibly tightening. He’d had that look directed his way a few times and was smart enough not to push. Part of Brady hoped her jackass sibling wasn’t quite as smart.
Finally, Michael sighed, then had the audacity to lean in and kiss Mia’s cheek before scowling at Brady and walking out.
Mia took one deep, somewhat unsteady breath and said, “Thank you.” Then she smoothed down her top, needlessly—Brady was certain she’d never had a wrinkle in her life—and looked up at him. The sadness in her eyes made him want to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder or give her a hug. It was there and gone so quickly, he wondered if he imagined it.
“What do you want?”
Right back to being Queen of Cold. “Nothing. Heard voices and wanted to make sure everything was okay. Your brother is a dick,” he said. He leaned on the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t miss the split-second glance she gave his biceps. Or the dismissive look in her eyes when she met his gaze again.
Her hair, as always, was coiled tight in a fancy twist. Did she ever let it loose? What did it take for a woman like Mia Kendrick to cut loose and actually smile?
“Thank you for your crude assessment.” Her lips remained unsmiling.
Now even his speech was too unrefined for her? “Sorry. Your brother is an unlikable chap,” he said.
What the… Did her lips just quirk? Mia looked down at her desk and then opened a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and walked over to him. Shoot. Was he going to get evicted?
“I originally threw this out, but decided it would be best to return it to you,” Mia said.
He took the envelope, eyeing her warily. “What is it?”
“Your check for the Waverlys. I was unaware of their extenuating circumstances and managed to come to a compromise with them. Not that it’s any of your business, but I thought you’d want to know,” she said.
Pressure pushed at his rib cage. He opened the envelope and saw his check, torn into tiny pieces. Relief for th
e older couple was part of the tension riding through him, but surprise was there, too. She’d retracted the eviction. Huh. Maybe there was a heart under that cool exterior after all.
“That’s really great news.”
Still staring at him, she pressed her lips together tightly, like she was holding back words. “I apologize for how I treated you. For the way I spoke to you.”
Brady’s mouth dropped open. It took him a second to believe the words had come out of her mouth. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with an apology and the news she’d cut the Waverlys some slack.
“You just said sorry. Are you feeling okay?”
Another small quirk and damn if he didn’t want to be the one to make those lips turn all the way up into a smile.
“Careful or I’ll take it back,” she said, her voice softer than he’d heard it before.
“Wouldn’t want that. I accept your apology and am willing to admit I owe you one of my own. I was kinda rough on you.”
She nodded, and the pressure loosened in his chest. He shouldn’t push his luck, but the “six months” comment he’d overheard was poking at him to find out more.
She stared at him, wide-eyed, clearly waiting for him to go. She gestured to the door. “You can leave now.”
Brady shook his head and frowned at her. “I don’t work for you, so dismissing me like a servant really doesn’t fly.”
Her jaw clenched and those blue eyes shimmered with fire. “You’re exhausting. I wasn’t dismissing you. Our conversation is over, so rather than standing here staring at each other, I was merely suggesting you…go.”
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she tilted her head and said in a sassy-sweet voice, “Please.”
“What’s up with the six months you and your brother were fighting about?”
“None of your business.” The shadow of a smile slipped and she crossed her arms over her chest. His eyes dipped down briefly. Unfriendly or not, she filled out a blazer like no woman he’d ever known. He hated his curiosity over what she’d look like with her hair down around her shoulders. He had an uncomfortable feeling it would soften everything about her. Not that he cared. Her freeze-on-demand attitude was far too much for his preferences. Except, every now and again, he caught the hint of something more.
Pushing off the doorframe, he stood tall, careful not to mimic her brother’s intimidating pose. “It is my business if it affects my home.”
“My property, Brady. You seem to need a lot of reminders of that.”
“It’s more than a property to the people who live here. It’s our home. And that matters. To someone like me, it matters more than you can imagine. We have a right to know if you’re going to mess that up for us.”
Unfolding her arms, she walked back to her desk, putting it between them. “As I explained to my brother, I do actually know what I’m doing, Brady. My goal is to get Kendrick Place up and running the way it once was. I know that there’s been a lot of disruptions to the living conditions and I’ve apologized for that. I’m doing what I can to smooth those things out. I can assure you that upholding my family’s legacy of offering prime living accommodations is my number one priority. After all, it’s my home, too. Now, if you’d let me get back to it. Please.”
Two things struck Brady in that second: she’d said “please” without a hint of being snide or sarcastic and if he wasn’t mistaken, he and Ms. Kendrick had something else in common.
Having a place to call home—the sense of peace it offered—mattered. So why did his pulse still feel like it wanted to beat right out of his chest?
“So the six months means nothing?” He wanted to hear her say something that would put him at ease. He didn’t generally need reassurance from a woman, but this particular woman had control over the area of his life that mattered most. His home, his friends, and his sense of stability were tied to this building.
“It means my family doesn’t trust me any more than you do.”
Brady winced. It wasn’t confirmation of anything, but it shut him down. If he said anything else, he’d be the jerk she already thought he was. He didn’t like the unknown, but in this case, there was absolutely nothing he could do to change it.
...
Unease settled in Brady’s gut after the conversation he’d overheard and the one he’d had in Mia’s office. They might have the desire for home in common, but Brady didn’t trust her. She let the Waverlys stay. Regardless, she’d already proven she’d do whatever she had to in order to achieve her goal. For some people, profit ruled all.
Brady piled salami on top of roast beef, then followed that up with a generous helping of havarti cheese before closing the hoagie bun and pushing it flat. He understood business and the driving need for success. His own shop was proof of that. He also understood the desire to prove oneself. Brady had begged his father to make him a partner for years before Pop died. It was only after his death that Brady was able to step up. Even though he loved running his business, losing his father was one hell of a way to achieve a dream. If only Pop had believed in him sooner, they could have run the shop side by side. Pop had wanted his older brother, Jared, to take the reins. He’d held on to that hope right up to his death.
Like he’d cued it, a knock sounded on the door just as he sat in front of his TV, his stomach growling.
Swallowing down a huge bite as he opened the door of his open concept apartment, he mumbled a hello around his food when he saw his best friend’s smiling face. Owen pushed by him, slapping him on the stomach. “Hey. What are you eating? I’m starved.”
“Come on in. Don’t touch my sandwich.” Brady shut the door and followed. This guy was certainly more of a brother than Brady’s actual brother. Owen pulled sandwich fixings out of the fridge, as comfortable as he would be in his own apartment.
“Gabby’s shopping on the way home. We’re low on provisions,” Owen said, setting the mustard, mayonnaise, and hot sauce on the counter.
Brady reached around him and grabbed a Coke, popped the top, and took a long swallow. “She excited for the engagement party?”
Owen glanced at him with a half grimace. His eyebrows drew together behind his black-framed glasses. “More than a little. I still don’t see why we couldn’t do it here with just a few people.”
Brady went back to the couch, took another bite of his sandwich, and eyed his friend across the breakfast bar. Dressed in a button-down plaid dress shirt and dark pants, he looked like he was ready for a day at the office. Which he was. Only Owen’s office was in his house. Working from home meant he could spend most of the day in boxers. But not Owen. He dressed as though he was meeting with high-powered execs, regardless of whether he actually had to leave the house or not.
Which made his pairing with Gabby that much better. While Owen was type A—kind of like Mia—Gabby was the artsy, breezy girl who shared her feelings via paintbrush. When she wasn’t wearing them all over her sleeves.
“It’ll be great. Shay says the space she booked is wicked. Plus, it gives her an opportunity to build her event list. She’s pumped,” Brady said as a reminder.
Shay had moved in not too long ago and had already charmed Brady, Owen, and Gabby. And possibly even Mia—apparently, Brady was the only one she brought out the full ice suit for. Shay was adorable and organized and had easily slid into the fabric of their group. She’d hooked up with the building’s mystery tenant—Wyatt Daniels. While Gabby, Owen, and Brady had speculated that Wyatt was mafia connected, it turned out he was actually a detective for the Boston PD. As they each popped briefly into his mind, he smiled at the thought that family wasn’t just about blood ties. All the things he’d been missing, the holes in his chest that the absence of his own family created, were fulfilled with these people. Keeping them close, right up or down the stairs, was more than a desire for Brady. It was a necessity.
Owen glanced up. “There is that. Actually, Mia’s working with Shay on the event for the hundred-year celebration. Gabby said they were
throwing around some fun ideas the other night.” Owen closed his sandwich and leaned over the sink to take a large bite.
Brady spoke around his mouthful of food. “They all best pals now?” He sounded like a petulant child, but he didn’t want the dynamic between him and his friends shifting because of one woman.
Owen just laughed. “Come on, man. She’s really nice. You sure you don’t have a thing for her? All that hostility? That’s gotta transfer into some serious heat,” he said. He grabbed a plate and a Coke and joined Brady on the couch.
Brady glared at him, almost choking on his food. “Not likely. And even if it did, she’d freeze it with her ice-ray vision. That woman is a machine. A non-smiling, unfriendly, deceptive machine.”
He wasn’t sure why guilt nestled into his ribs over speaking about her so poorly. Perhaps because she’d looked so vulnerable when she’d shown appreciation for him having her back. Right before she attacked.
Owen arched an eyebrow and finished chewing. “Deceptive? That seems a bit harsh. And I’ve seen her smile. Lots of the tenants like her. Can’t be easy coming back to the mess she did. Burglaries, vandalism, police involvement. Cut her some slack.”
Brady looked at his friend. Owen’s defense of a woman who’d dismissed him time and time again had him clenching his jaw. “She doesn’t need to be cut any slack. I’ve known women like her. Money and prestige are everything. The little people don’t matter. She’s a viper. A shark in thousand-dollar heels.”
Owen’s mouth stretched into a wide smile. “A fox?”
Brady’s eyes narrowed. “You mean sly like one?”
