Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters

by Cari Quinn

  Okay, yes, Max knew he wasn’t bad looking. Years of working construction had built up his arm muscles and abs, but he was also aware that he was just under six feet in a world where women had wanted that “extra inch.” And his family was definitely a dollar—make that a couple million—short when they compared bank accounts with Noah’s father. Not that Noah had access to the family money anymore, but most women figured they’d be able to weasel their way back into Noah’s father’s pockets and then empty them.

  “In case you forgot, doofus, you’ve dated twice as much as I have in the past year, so don’t give me all this bullshit about women choosing me over you.”

  Part of the reason why he’d had to date twice as much was because most of the women he’d gone out with were looking at their long term strategy, which didn’t include a guy with only a high school diploma and a job that relied upon a volatile real estate market. He’d figured out long ago that after meeting Noah and learning of his university diploma and family connections, most women shifted their focus and dumped his sorry ass, or used it to try to wheedle their way out of his bed and into Noah’s. It didn’t even matter to them that Noah wasn’t gender specific when it came to his dating habits.

  Max stared out the window, craving the woman on the other side, her phone pressed to her ear, her forehead wrinkled at whatever Sophie was saying to her. How he longed to smooth those worries away, to cook dinner for her, and take her to bed, to prove to her she was the only woman who mattered in his world.

  Noah shifted his belt again, making Max grimace in the knowledge his best friend was probably picturing a similar scenario.

  Feeling magnanimous, he offered, “Look, she’s gotta have a date for the party and one for the wedding reception next weekend, right? So how about I ask her to the party, and you take her to the wedding.”

  “You’re just trying to get out of going to a wedding because you know women always cry at those things and you can’t handle women crying.”

  “I grew up in a house with five women, shit-for-brains.” Max rolled his eyes. “I know exactly how to handle tears. Unlike someone I know.”

  “I try not to make women cry in the first place.”

  “Moretti women don’t need a reason to cry. They cry when they’re sad, they cry when they’re happy — Lucy,” his youngest sister, “can cry at a freaking telephone commercial. I don’t like weddings because every damned single woman starts eyeing you as they mentally plan their own wedding and realize they need a groom. I swear the wedding planners pump estrogen into the churches during the damned ceremony to drum up new business.”

  Noah rubbed his fingers together in a world’s-smallest-violin gesture. “So ask Hayley out already, you big baby.”

  “You sure you won’t get jealous if she says yes?”

  Noah bawked like a chicken a couple of times.

  Max flipped him off. Confident his plans were all set, Max picked up a rag and ran it over the counter to ensure they hadn’t left any grease on it, humming to himself.

  Two minutes later, Hayley’s “Of course I’ve got a date” shattered Max’s plans.

  Shit. He’d waited too long.

  ~*~

  Hayley ended the call and frowned at the phone, though her frown was more for herself. Why did you lie to her? Which of course required the follow up, why haven’t you already asked someone to go with you? You’ve had four months to line someone up.

  Because you’re out of touch with the dating scene, O’Connell. Time to get your act in gear.

  Her phone rang again, the vibrations rousing her from her self-recrimination. Callie, Sophia’s other best friend and maid of honor, who started the call with “So listen, I was thinking about the party tomorrow night.”

  Oh great. And so it began. Next Callie would say, “I’ve got the perfect guy in mind for you.”

  If she showed up alone, all her friends would be convinced she was heartbroken, or needed help to get back into the dating world by vying to be the one to find her the perfect man. When she already had the perfect man in her life. She glanced over her shoulder and confirmed that Max and Noah were in the kitchen. Make that the perfect men. When she’d been searching for contractors to help her renovate her first house flip, M&M Construction—Max Moretti and Noah McNaughton—had been repeatedly recommended. Not only did they do great work, they proved themselves time and time again to be courteous and reliable. And they were a treat for the eyes—especially when the weather was hot and they stripped off their shirts.

  “If you haven’t got a date already, I’ve got someone who would be perfect for you.”

  Yup, there it was.

  “I told you, I’ve got someone in mind.” Two someones actually. “Don’t worry about trying to hook me up with anyone.”

  Max’s smile had first caught her attention. Well, they’d been one of the first things. His butt had been the first thing she’d noticed, considering he’d been facing away from her originally. When he’d turned around, and his cheek-splitting grin had delved right into her heart and spread roots. Then she’d met Noah and been zapped with a lightning bolt. And not just because the knob and tube wiring in the ancient 1930s townhouse arced when she had turned on a switch.

  She’d been surprised she hadn’t spontaneously combusted being in the same room as the two of them. It hadn’t been her plan to be so hands-on during the renovations until she’d come to work on reno day and seen them in action. Max had that whole swarthy swagger about him, a pure testosterone package, while Noah tried to play it cool. She’d found herself entranced by the smack talk between them, amused by how they thought in sync, worked in sync. And then there were all those gorgeous muscles rippling as they ripped down plaster and wrestled appliances out of their way. Years of physical labor had made them worthy of a sculptor’s chisel.

  “But—”

  “No, I want you to promise me—no blind dates, no sitting me beside a guy you think would be perfect for me, okay?”

  “But Soph wants you to be as happy as she is. You know how she gets now she’s a bride.” Her tone turned wistful.

  Not really. The ball-and-chain disguised by a white dress had never been her childhood dream like it had been Sophia’s or Callie’s. “I appreciate that you both worry about me, but I’m fine with the way things are.”

  “We just hate to think of you being all alone...Oh, did I tell you what Aiden’s mother did this time? She asked Sophie what color balloons they wanted at the party. Balloons! Mrs. Demetrios just about had a shit fit and she was going on about how tacky it was. I swear she almost...”

  Letting Callie ramble, Hayley studied the street, not seeing the ancient row houses she normally loved, not imagining the updates she’d do to number ninety eight if old Mrs. Morgan finally decided to sell. Instead she imagined herself in Max’s arms, kissing him, and wouldn’t you know it, Noah floated into her fantasy, his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck, his erection hard against her behind.

  “Look, I have to go. But don’t worry about me, okay? I have a date for Friday.” Or I will if I play my cards right.

  She ended the call before Callie could wheedle the details out of her. Which would have been difficult considering she hadn’t figured out whether to ask Max or Noah. Ah hell, why not just put the question out there and see who responded first? She shoved her phone back in her purse, picked up the swatches she’d dumped on the porch and headed inside.

  Even though she’d chosen everything from the ceiling to floor, she couldn’t stop her breath from catching seeing the finished product. Everything was perfect. And the kitchen? Totally worked. The black quartz countertop accentuated the white cupboards and white undermount sink, and she loved how the under-cabinet lights picked up the colors in the glass tiled backsplash.

  She dumped her bags by the closet and walked to the kitchen, unable to stop herself from running a hand over the cool stone on the island. The kitchen was the last room to be finished. Which meant other than a few touch up
s here and there, the renos were done and Max and Noah would have no reason to come back. Sure she had another house about to close, and an offer in on another, but it would be at least a month before she’d have a legitimate reason to see them again.

  Max folded his arms and parked one hip against the counter he’d just installed. “You’re frowning. You don’t like it?”

  “No, it’s perfect. It’s just how I envisioned it. This place is going to end up with a bidding war.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  How did she word this so it wasn’t an obvious “I want to jump your bones” plea. Not that any guy she knew would object to that invitation, but this was Max and Noah. She wanted whatever could happen between either one of them to be more than a one and done. “I know it’s short notice but are either of you free tomorrow night?”

  “Why? What’s doin’?” Noah mirrored Max’s pose.

  “I have to go to a friend’s Jack and Jill party and I hate the thought of showing up alone. So I was wondering if either of you’d like to come with me. Be my date.”

  “Is Darrell going to be there?” Max practically growled, which sent tingles deep into her chest and down to parts that hadn’t tingled in too long.

  “Yes.”

  “So are you asking because you want to make that jerk jealous?” Max folded his arms across his chest, his full lips drawn into a scowl. “Or to give him a virtual middle finger?”

  “Neither. I just want to stop all those inevitable blind dates my friends will try to set me up with if they think I’m alone.”

  Of course when she showed up with any guy, she’d face the other inevitable question single girls faced. The “so when are you getting married, dear” questions, which she’d definitely be asked if she showed up with either Max or Noah. And if she said they weren’t serious, be they single or married, they’d totally view either man as fresh meat for some other unattached friend. “If you’re not available, it’s okay. I have a couple other guys I can ask.”

  Now there was a lie. Hayley hadn’t been part of the dating scene for a while, and though she’d met a ton of guys through her renos, and had dozens of business cards as proof, most of them were married, or definitely weren’t her type.

  She held her breath as Max and Noah shared a look. She’d teased them before about having some sort of telepathic communication between them, but the way they were staring at each other, she could swear that they were having a conversation without saying a word.

  After a long pause, and another long look between him and Noah, Max nodded slowly. “All right, I’ll go with you to the party.”

  “It’s sort of dressy. I mean, not tuxedo dressy, but not blue jeans either. Is that okay with you?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got a suit I can wear. I’ll even shave.” That beautiful big grin delivered a promise she couldn’t wait to cash in.

  What a pity. She loved that two day scruff he was currently sporting. “Thank you. It’s down in the Distillery District.” She loved wandering around the historical block with its reclaimed whisky distilleries that were now filled with boutiques and creative studios, not to mention its bars. “I can meet you there if you want.”

  Max shook his head. “Nope. I’ll pick you up and we can go together.”

  “Good. Thanks”

  “Then I’ll be your date for the wedding.”

  Hayley started at Noah’s statement, then saw the heat in his eyes.

  “Don’t worry. I clean up nice.” Amusement crawled over his face, bringing out the single dimple in his right cheek that she had often wanted to kiss. “I own a couple suits too. Even own my own tuxedo.”

  “Great. Then I’m all set.”

  It was tough work, but Hayley was pleased that she managed to keep her satisfaction from her face. It took some effort, but she managed to walk out of the room as if things hadn’t gone even better than she’d hoped. Once she was in the hall, out of sight of the two guys, she danced a little jig. Hot damn, she had not one date but two. With two very hot guys.

  Life was looking pretty damned good.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Whoever had chosen the Distillery District had made a good choice. Instead of being surrounded by lace and frou frou designs, he appreciated the limestone walls and timber and beam trusses and wondered if he’d ever get a chance to work on a similar renovation. The thirty foot ceilings of the hall swallowed much of the chatter, allowing Max to understand the MC as they called yet more numbers for the raffle tickets.

  He’d never had to pay to attend a party before but Hayley explained the profits were going into a pot to be given to the bride and groom to put toward their honeymoon. Considering he didn’t know anyone there, the party was a snorefest for him, but Hayley was enjoying herself and that’s all that counted. Hell, Hayley could have insisted they attend an opera and he would have gladly followed her.

  If anyone ever wanted to throw a shower for him and whoever he ended up with, he’d prefer to have a barbecue if it were in the summer, or at a hockey rink if it were in the winter, not some frickin artsy fartsy gallery, though this wasn’t too bad on the Moretti Pretention Index. Still, why they couldn’t have chosen the coffee bar or beer hall was beyond him. Considering the money they’d probably shelled out to rent this place, they should have just taken the dough to pay for some fancy-dancy vacation to Fiji instead of expecting the guests to shell out their hard-earned cash. As much as he’d love to give his bride (whoever she may be) such an exotic memory, he’d be damned if he’d expect others to pay for it.

  At least Hayley had relented on the whole “meeting him here” suggestion and let him pick her up at her place. The anticipation of driving her home, walking her up to her steps, and planting a kiss on her—hopefully followed by an invitation inside—kept him happily occupied for most of the evening.

  He sipped his drink, waiting patiently as Hayley talked with an older lady who was...who was she again? The groom’s mother? No, the bride’s. He’d gotten so used to seeing Hayley in her dusty work clothes and boots that he’d damned near swallowed his tongue when she’d opened the door earlier. Instead of having her hair pulled back in a ponytail, tonight her hair pinned up in some fancy do that she’d explained was a trial run for the wedding the following weekend. Even in the dim light of the hall, it shone like spun gold. Her white silk top had peek-a-boo lacy inserts along the sides that showed off her curves to perfection. He allowed his gaze to slide down over the curve of her ass and down to a pair of sparkly high heeled sandals.

  He shifted, attempting to discreetly adjust the fabric currently strangling his dick. Man, he hoped she didn’t want to stay too late. Anticipation was all very well, but he was going to end up with the world’s worst case of blue balls soon.

  Hayley touched the older woman’s arm, and the two exchanged one of those air kiss moves that had always mystified him. When his mother met someone she liked enough to kiss on the cheek, you knew she’d kissed you.

  “Sorry about that. Mrs. Demetrios was asking me about some mutual friends of ours and then she got on the subject of Sophia’s wardrobe for the honeymoon...and once she got started I couldn’t get her stopped.”

  He liked Sophia, the bride-to-be, and he understood why Hayley liked her, but holy hell the bride’s mother was one of those bridezilla types who had talked incessantly about the two bridal gowns she’d arranged for her daughter to wear, one for the wedding, one for the reception. Both of which were being held in Casa-freaking-Loma. If they weren’t even leaving to go from one place to another, why the hell did she need two wedding dresses?

  Max envied the easy way Hayley moved through the never-buy-domestic-cars-or-booze crowd. Not that he cared a damn what they thought of him, but he wondered if Noah might have been a better choice to accompany Hayley. Which perhaps she’d thought too when he’d offered to be her date. If he hadn’t been watching her carefully, he might have missed how her eyes flickered to Noah before she’d nodded. And wondered again if there
’d been a hint of disappointment within them.

  Hayley sipped from the wine that Max thought was completely overpriced, and eyed him over the rim. “How long have you known Noah?”

  Damn it, she was disappointed Noah hadn’t asked first.

  “Since high school—we went to the same boys’ school.” Her eyes widened in surprise when he named the school. “I got in because my mom worked a secretary there and finagled my tuition as part of her salary.”

  The upper-class kids had not accepted the ‘scholarship candidate’ as part of their ranks—all except Noah who hadn’t cared how big his parents’ bank account was. Or wasn’t. It was only Noah’s friendship that made him go back each day and not beg to be transferred back to the public school system.

  “Why do you live together? I mean, he’s Charles McNaughton’s son. He could afford to live wherever he wanted, but he stays with you.”

  “It’s a long story, but his father got pissed off when Noah announced he wasn’t planning on following dear old dad into the family business. Next thing Noah knows is his trust fund is cut off and his father’s kicked him out of the family. So me and my family are all he has now.”

  The DJ changed from some fast rap number that no one could dance to and look dignified to Norah Jones’ Come Away with Me. Talk about a perfect distraction. Max held out his hand. “Want to dance?”

  Aware of heads turning to watch their path, he led her onto the teeny dance floor wedged between the tables. She felt right in his arms—her curves and valleys hitting all the right places.

  Max rested his cheek on her hair and breathed in her scent—there was a hint of perfume, probably something expensive, but he liked it. It was subtle and spicy, which suited her perfectly. Between her scent and the way she snuggled against him as they danced, Little Max rose to the occasion. Great, just what he needed—the song would end and she’d pull away revealing his erection.

  Dipwad was there, circling the fringes, eyeing Hayley. Suck it, asshole. She dumped your sorry ass. And if I have anything to say about it, you don’t get a do-over.