Van - Vested Interest #5 by Melanie Moreland
Copyright © 2019 Moreland Books Inc.
Registration # 1157176
eBook ISBN # 978-1-988610-21-4
Print ISBN # 987-1-988610-20-7
All rights reserved
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Edited by Lisa Hollett—Silently Correcting Your Grammar
Cover design by Melissa Ringuette, Monark Design Services
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are
products of the author's imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any
similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Created with Vellum
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To My Matthew
Because your love is the reason
for all that I am and all I am able to do.
Always
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other books by Melanie Moreland
About the Author
Van
I sat down heavily, my chair squeaking under me in protest. Dust swirled from my clothes, and I ran a tired hand through my messy hair, grimacing when my fingers got stuck in some drywall compound that had splattered.
It had been a long, hard day.
A low groan left my mouth as I rotated my shoulders and flexed my sore hands. The left side of my body ached the most, my leg stiff and sore, adding another layer of discomfort to the day. To top it off, I was hungry, and unfortunately, the café at the front of the building was closed this time of night.
My office was located at the back of the main floor of the BAM building. BAM had been founded by Bentley Ridge and was a highly successful, diversified company. Along with his two best friends, Aiden Callaghan and Maddox Riley, they had turned Bentley’s vision of a land development business into a multibillion-dollar conglomerate. Huge land development deals, vast holdings, and investment opportunities were only a few of the things BAM was involved in. Bentley’s first passion for flipping houses was what kept me busy. I made sure his profit margin stayed high. I loved what I did—and the company I worked for. All the owners of BAM believed in one simple rule: treat your employees well and reward them for their hard work. It worked. I had never known another company that ran as smoothly as this one did.
The small café in the building was popular with the staff, especially Aiden and me. Although the public had access, it was BAM that kept the business as successful as it was—the baked goods were stellar, the sandwiches top-notch, and the couple that ran it knew us all by name, and our likes. Mine was basically everything on the menu.
Tonight, though, I would have to settle for pizza.
For a moment, I let my head fall back against the headrest and shut my eyes, enjoying the quiet.
I shared my space with Jordan Hayes, who oversaw all the details of the larger builds and projects BAM handled. Our office was filled with plans, blueprints, and models. The shelves overflowed with books and documents, and the cupboards held a lot of tools and equipment I liked to keep safe. In one end of the office was a large table we used for meetings—if we remembered not to pile junk on it. The door to the back loading dock was convenient and a great place to park my large truck.
Across the hall was the area various crews used when they needed some office space, and the rest of the floor held the design team, headed up by Olivia Rourke, who’d joined the firm over a year ago, filling a much-needed void for a designer. She handled all aspects of the final look of the houses, condos, and apartments Bentley liked to buy and flip. That end of the business kept us both busy with crews constantly working on a new project. On occasion, we were brought in on some aspects of the larger projects, but those were usually left in the capable hands of Jordan and his vast network of contractors and trades.
A twinge shot through my arm, and with a groan, I reached for the Tylenol, swallowing a couple of tablets with some warm water from a bottle on my desk. The compact refrigerator was too far away to get a cold bottle.
I dropped my head to my chest, and I inhaled long, slow, deep breaths. I centered my thoughts and focused on the air that entered and exited my lungs. I worked my way through the pain and let the medication take the edge off.
I flexed my left hand, wondering if I needed to go see the doctor again, or if it was a simple case of working too much. This job involved a lot of demolition and moving of walls, heavy lifting, and long hours. All work I loved and excelled at, but I was tired.
Maybe I was getting too old for this shit. Sometimes thirty-nine felt ancient.
The sound of a throat clearing startled me, and as my eyes flew open, I knocked over the empty bottle on the edge of my desk. In my doorway stood Liv. The light from the hall highlighted the bright glints in her light brown hair, creating a halo around her face. Short and curvy, she was dressed in her usual work clothes. A long, loose shirt over dark leggings. Her hair was always up in a knot or a long braid flung over one shoulder, the way it was tonight. Without looking, I knew her feet would be encased in either flat shoes or high-top sneakers. When we were on working job sites, she wore steel-toed boots on her small feet, which, along with the hard hat perched on top of her hair, I found incredibly sexy.
A fact I never shared.
Our relationship was strictly professional.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I thought I was alone,” I admitted. “You’re here late. Everything okay?”
She hesitated in the doorway until I waved her in.
“Catching up on a few things. Did you see Bentley’s earlier email?” she asked.
“No, I’ve been demolishing the Randall place all day. I haven’t checked email.” I grinned. “What’s he got his eye on now?”
She slid into a chair in front of my desk, folding her legs under her. She reminded me of a cat curling into a basket the way she tucked herself into the large chair. I knew she did it due to the fact that her feet didn’t hit the floor when she sat in that chair. I also knew it was her favorite in the office. It was comfortable. God knew I’d dozed off in it more than once.
“He found a cabin on the Niagara River. It’s on a bluff—the view is astounding, but the cabin is in bad shape. He wants us to look at it. He isn’t sure if it should be demolished or redone.”
“How did he find it?”
“He spotted it from a boat they were on this past weekend. He tracked down the owner. Apparently, it’s been deserted for a while and needs, in his words, some TLC.”
I chuckled. “Only Bentley would notice a run-down cabin and get interested while out with his wife. I bet Emmy was impressed. He probably started searching immediately.”
Liv smiled, the action transforming her features. She was quietl
y pretty, with wide eyes that were an unusual golden-brown color with a black ring on the outside of the iris, making them stand out. Her creamy skin had a wide expanse of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her lips were plump and full, a deep pink in color—a fact I found intriguing. I always wanted to know if her lips would stay that color after being kissed or go an even deeper hue.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts, concentrating on her smile. It lit up her face, crinkled her eyes, and caused two deep dimples to appear in her cheeks. It didn’t happen often, but it was a thing of beauty to witness.
“He said in his email he took pictures and had Aiden and Reid start digging into the history. The owner inherited the cabin from his grandfather and has no interest in it. He lives in the States and only remembers how difficult it was to get to the cabin and how boring it was to stay there when he was a kid. He had a few renos done and rented it out in the summers for a few years, but he found it too much trouble, and it’s sat empty for the past while.”
“Huh. It must be worth a lot with the land.”
“No doubt Bentley made him a fair offer. Once BAM develops the whole concept, it’ll be worth more.”
I groaned. “He already bought it? Sight unseen?”
“Yep.”
“So, either way, we have another job.” I looked at the various folders on my desk. “Is it a priority?”
“No. But he wants us to go with him to see it in a couple of weeks and give him our thoughts.”
I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note to myself. Liv snickered as I turned, looking for a tack to add it to the various other notes pinned to the bulletin board behind me.
“Your computer could keep better track for you.” She shook her head. “I have a terrible memory at times. My mom always swore I would forget my head if it weren’t screwed on. I forget things all the time if I don’t put them in my calendar or use notes on my phone.”
I shook my head. “I hate them. I have to use one here for things, but I prefer my own system.”
“You call that a system?”
“It works.”
“Reid must hate coming in here.”
It was my turn to laugh. Reid was the IT genius of BAM—his brilliant mind was ten steps ahead of everyone else, and our systems were incredible thanks to him.
“Reid and I get along fine. I use what I have to use for all the business stuff. And I’ll add it to my notes in my phone, but I prefer the old-fashioned ways of doing things. I have a laptop at home I rarely open.”
“No social media stuff?”
“Nope. Nothing. No Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. None of it.”
“I get that. I hate texting, although everyone does it.” Her brow furrowed. “What about your gigs?”
I lifted my shoulder, trying not to wince. It still ached. “One of the other guys posts stuff. I go to play and enjoy the music. I let them handle it. When I do a solo gig, if there is someone I want there, I let them know. Otherwise, I just play. It’s not about the crowds or the money…”
“It’s about the music,” she finished for me.
“Yeah.”
She frowned, looking worried. “Are you okay? You keep wincing.”
“Little stiff, that’s all. Long day.”
“Are you overdoing it?”
I was touched by her concern. “I’m fine, Liv. I have an old injury that flares up at times if I push too hard. We were drywalling a ceiling today and I was a man short, so more lifting. It’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“Massage.”
“Pardon?”
“Massage would help. Some simple yoga stretches would keep the muscles loose too.”
I cleared my throat. “Ah, yoga?”
I was gifted another one of her smiles and quiet laughter. “I know you work out a lot with Aiden. But yoga does wonders for your body. It helps me a great deal.”
I tried not to imagine her doing yoga. In my mind, the loose shirt and leggings were replaced with a tight shirt and shorts. I had seen her once in a dress. It had hugged the curves she kept hidden and showed off her shapely legs, emphasized her heavy breasts and hourglass figure. It had been the first time I had noticed how incredibly attractive she was and made me wonder why she kept her beauty hidden. The thought of her body stretching and bending while doing yoga was enough to set my imagination flying and allow the thoughts I kept locked away to escape. Watching her bend and stretch, her body arching. Seeing her skin glisten with moisture. Joining her on the mat and showing her a whole new workout routine that ended up with me inside her and my name falling from her lips.
“Van?”
I startled, realizing my head had fallen back and my eyes had drifted shut. I was fantasizing about Liv’s body and fucking her.
What the hell was going on with me tonight?
I sat up, shaking my head and fumbling for words.
“Yeah, ah, sorry. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“I have the name of a great masseuse if you decide you want to try it. Eve is awesome.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
There was a pause before she spoke. “You look really tired.”
“This project is a lot of work.” I chuckled as I tugged on my hair, and a piece of drywall compound hit my desk. “And messy.”
She laughed, the sound melodic. “Part of the job. Last week, I was painting a room with Kim. I bent over to get a spot I missed, and she bumped into me. I went around the rest of the day with deep turquoise all over the top of my head. Took me forever to scrub it out. Sammy wanted me to leave it in. She thought it was cool.”
I caught the undercurrent of affection when she mentioned her five-year-old daughter. I had only met her once, but she was a cute kid. Polite and quiet. She looked like Liv, except her eyes were dark. I knew nothing about Sammy’s father, other than he was out of the picture and Liv raised her on her own. Her mother helped her out a lot and was close to them both, but aside from some humorous stories Liv would share, that was all I knew.
“I bet she did.”
“I had to tell her my boss preferred me without turquoise hair.”
“Bummer.”
Laughing, she stood and slid her hands down the front of her shirt to smooth the wrinkles. I tried not to imagine what her curves would feel like under my hands.
“You should head home and get some rest. I need to go too,” she stated.
“Big plans?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
She shook her head. “I have to pick up Sammy soon. Mom took her to a birthday party that involved pizza and the early movie, so I took advantage and caught up with some work.”
“Ah.”
I didn’t ask her any questions. Liv was intensely private, much like myself, so I never pried.
Our relationship was, after all, strictly professional.
She smiled. “At least it’s the weekend. You can rest.”
“Yeah, thank goodness for that.”
She walked toward the door, pausing. “Voltaren cream works really well on joints.”
I didn’t bother telling her I had a cupboard full of medications and creams to try to help with the aches. “Thanks.”
Her phone slipped from her hand, and she bent over to grab it. The action caused her shirt to ride up, giving me a long glimpse of her ass. Her spectacular, full, round ass.
Suddenly I wanted to jump out of my chair and cross the room. Grab her ass and stroke it. Bite it. Lift her into my arms and use my desk as a place to sit her sweet ass on while I fucked her.
She stood, the movement interrupting my lust-filled thoughts. Her brow furrowed as she took in my expression, then she lifted her hand with a quick wave.
“Have a good weekend, Van. I hope your shoulder feels better.”
I returned her wave with one of my own, unable to speak, confused at the sudden onslaught of sex-driven thoughts when it came to Liv.
Thoughts I would never act on.
I yanked on my hair i
n frustration. I needed to get laid. That was the problem. It had been a while. A long while. I frowned as I tried to remember. The last woman I had been with was…
Fuck. I couldn’t even remember. I stared at the ceiling, trying to recall. It had been last year. Early last year. Sometime before Liv started with BAM.
What the coincidence had to do with it, I had no idea, but somehow the fact stuck in my mind.
Liv.
Pretty, funny, caring, and untouchable.
She was a coworker. Younger than me by seven years. A mother. Sweet, kind, and thoughtful. The kind of woman you didn’t mess around with. She was a forever, not a right now.
And I didn’t do forever. I tried it once and it failed.
Our relationship would stay professional.
It was the way it had to be.
I felt another ache start as memories of the past began to surface. The dark ones that pulled me in and reminded me why I chose to be alone.
Why I would never allow my heart to dictate my life.
Van
I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I tried, nothing helped. The long, hot shower I took after I got home barely took the edge off the constant ache. I had rubbed the pain-relief ointment into my shoulders and legs, swallowed more medication, but still, the throbbing persisted. Although I didn’t usually like being touched by strangers, the thought of someone working out the kinks in my neck and shoulders tempted me. Giving up on sleep, I sat up in bed, swinging my legs out and sitting on the edge of the mattress.
I would text Liv and ask for the number.
Liv.
She had been on my mind all night. Why I had no idea, but for some reason, the past couple of months, she’d slipped into my thoughts more than I cared to admit.
Van: Vested Interest #5 Page 1
