Adam harbored no such delicacy. The words clodpole and jackass had been uttered multiple times already, and Monty had no doubts the other man’s vocabulary would only grow more violent as the day went on. Since he had no idea how he was supposed to handle this kind of overt aggression, he’d gone with instinct.
Instinct, as it turned out, really wanted him to win.
“I’m no cheater,” Monty said. “Should we go again?”
Adam nodded and extended his hand. Monty shook, but only after first bracing his feet against the roof’s underlayment in case the man tried to pull him over the edge. He meant it—he wasn’t going to die up here today. Georgia had greeted him that morning with a huge smile, transformative in the way it started at her lips and took over her whole expression, softening her from the inside out. Her brother Danny hadn’t smiled, but he had gone so far as to shake Monty’s hand, as had several other of the men and women who were working below, all of them as unimpressed by his presence as they should be.
He felt like he was fourteen and cutting class to hang out with the cool kids—the kids who were good at wood shop and gym and hung out under the bleachers after school. He’d never been one of the cool kids before, and he could see now why so many of them fell into delinquent behavior.
Because it’s fun. Because there’s more to life than playing by the rules.
Seriously. If someone were to pass him a clove cigarette right now, he’d be all over it. He’d even inhale.
“Oh, we’re going again,” Adam confirmed with a nod. “But this time, I think we should make it interesting.”
“I like interesting things,” Monty said carefully. He hoped this guy didn’t mean money. The last thing he wanted to intrude on this day was a reminder of the bank account awaiting him at home—and all the responsibilities that came with it. “What did you have in mind?”
“That depends. I’ve got friends in high places around here. Anything pique your fancy?”
That sounded innocent enough. Monty cast a look around the work site, searching for an item worthy of their competition. The house they were working on was mostly finished already—apparently, they were only doing surface stuff today—so it was all roof shingles and siding on the outside, tile and carpet on the inside. He appreciated that he got to start at the finish line rather than being thrown, hard-hat first, into tasks like foundations and plumbing. He was a fast learner, but not that fast. He didn’t want the structural integrity of anyone’s home depending on him.
And it was clear this would be a home someday soon. The subdivision was filled with just that, homes. Most of them bore similar architectural styles—neat and compact, the yards small and the design simple—and Georgia had proudly informed him that many of them had been built with her help.
She had every right to be proud. Monty might help fund projects like these, but she was the one who actually made things happen. Even though he tried to make personal connections by working one-on-one with kids like Thomas, he sometimes forgot that there was a whole other side to philanthropy. An active side. A side where you could emerge in the daylight and shoot nail guns at strangers.
His gaze moved in Georgia’s direction, irrevocably drawn toward the woman who managed to pack so much life into each day. There was no denying she was in her element out here. Like the rest of the eight or so volunteers milling around, she’d donned the mandatory yellow hard hat—an interesting complement to her standard coveralls—what looked like a fifty-pound work belt strapped around her waist, and boots so large she could have waded the Amazon in them. On any other woman, the combination would have been too much.
But Georgia wasn’t any other woman, and she looked just right.
Monty’s fascination with her was more than admiration for her cheerful efficiency and greater than awe at her physical strength. If he had to choose, he’d say it was that so much efficiency and strength could exist inside a person who unabashedly lived in the apartment above her mother’s garage. Georgia didn’t care about beauty or material gain or what others thought of her. She didn’t hide her shortcomings or shy away from her flaws. She said exactly what was on her mind and let the fallout scatter where it may.
No one in his world operated along similar lines. He was surrounded by people—family members, business associates, ex-girlfriends—who did everything they could to hide their weaknesses. Nice clothes, expensive makeup, polite conversation, invitations to weddings that were, in their own way, a mirage of money and happiness...no one ever came out and said what they were thinking.
He wanted to go home and say it. I’m hurt that Ashleigh is getting married, but the pain isn’t nearly as great as the relief. He wanted to stand up and shout it. I’m tired of always doing the right thing if it means I have to sit and watch my life pass me by.
As if feeling Monty’s scrutiny from above, Georgia glanced up and waved, her smile bright and honest even from this distance. He waved back. Despite the heat, a combative partner and a blister he could feel forming on the web between his thumb and forefinger, he was enjoying himself for what had to be the first time in years.
“Oh, no. Oh, hell no,” Adam said. Monty turned, startled to find that the other man had moved from combative to downright murderous. “You better not say that the thing piquing your interest is my sister, or so help me, I will throw you from this roof. I don’t care who you are or how much money you have.”
Monty froze, his mistake suddenly so clear he almost laughed out loud. Of course this man was related to Georgia—that same pronounced chin and nose, those eyes with an almost yellow ring around the center, the way he would gladly throw Monty to the ground and start wrestling with him right then and there. There was only one line of blood with such a strong compulsion for bodily harm.
“You’re her brother.”
“One of three. Older by several years and well-connected when it comes to harassment lawsuits, in case you were wondering. I got a three-sixty on the Bar.”
This time, Monty really did laugh out loud. “That’s impressive, but how does your Mensa score compare to Danny’s?”
Adam didn’t appear to understand his reference right away, but the longer the pair of them stood at an impasse, the more the other man weakened. “Danny’s IQ is no joking matter.”
“I’m appropriately in awe of his intellect, I assure you.”
“Damn straight you are. He could hack into your entire hotel chain’s infrastructure and dismantle you from the inside out by this time tomorrow.”
Monty’s brows went up in surprise.
“You don’t believe me,” Adam said. “You think I’m exaggerating.”
“No, I’m sure he’s quite skilled.”
“You corporate CEOs are all the same. You think you’re infallible, but that’s only until the walls come crashing down and it turns out you’ve been skimming money off the top all along.”
Monty didn’t bother correcting him. He was neither a corporate CEO nor a thief, but he doubted anything he said would alter this man’s opinion.
“Here—I’ll show you what he’s capable of.” Adam pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and poised his finger above the screen. “Do you have your phone on you right now?”
“Ye-es. Why?”
“Here’s my number. Dial it.”
Monty didn’t make a move to obey.
“I’m not going to do anything to harm you, so you can relax. Georgia made us promise to be nice to you today, which I’m assuming includes not tampering with technological devices or kicking you off the roof when your guard is down. I only want to make sure you understand what you’re getting into.”
“What I’m getting into,” Monty echoed.
“Just dial already, would you? Jesus—I feel like I’m talking to a stone wall.”
The insult accomplished what persuasion could not. He w
asn’t a stone wall and he wasn’t a sheet of black ice and he wasn’t afraid of Adam Lennox or his brothers. To prove it, he punched in the numbers and hit send.
Five seconds later, the cheerful sounds of “It’s a Small World” began emanating from the device in Adam’s hand.
“I can’t get rid of it,” Adam said as he hit cancel, cutting the world off when it was full of fears. “No matter how many times I change the SIM card or take the damn phone back to the store for a replacement, nothing anyone can do will change the ringtone. Danny puts it right back on again. I have no idea how.”
Monty released a burst of laughter that surprised them both. “I can see how that might get annoying.”
“Ha-ha. Tell me about it. I have two daughters, and they fucking love it. They sit at home all day and call me just to hear me yell. Do you want kids? They’re monsters. Take my word for it and cut those tubes while you can.”
Since that sounded an awful lot like Adam was approaching acceptance, Monty merely ducked his head in a gesture of agreement. He had a feeling discussing his thoughts regarding procreation probably wasn’t a wise step anyway.
“Don’t think this means I like you.” The bluster was back in Adam’s voice. “It was meant to be a warning. Danny knows his shit, and he’s not afraid to fling it.”
“I’ll be sure and keep my electronics to myself at all times.”
“If you know what’s good for you, that’s not all you’ll keep to yourself.”
Monty didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “I don’t mean any offense to you or your brothers, but I think Georgia is fully capable of handling herself.” From where they stood, looking down on her as she oversaw the delivery of an enormous roll of beige carpet, she seemed like the most capable person in the world.
“I’m sure it seems that way to someone who doesn’t know her very well,” Adam said, “but tell me—what do you see when you look at her? What is it about her that appeals to you?”
Monty was startled by the question, direct to the point of bordering on inappropriate. “She’s my friend.”
“Bullshit. Friends don’t give up their Saturdays to build houses in ninety-degree weather when they could easily buy ten houses on their own. What do you see?”
Monty felt himself being pulled into the argument—probably because it was ninety degrees and he didn’t enjoy having his every motivation questioned. He drew himself up to his full height and answered as honestly as he could. “She’s strong.”
“And?”
“She’s nice.”
“And?”
“She doesn’t ask annoying questions.”
He could have said a few more things—about how he wanted to run his hands over every inch of her legs, or that he liked the way she kissed, without restraint and as if he was the most virile man in the world—but he suspected those answers might result in one of them being carried away on a stretcher.
Adam held up three fingers, ticking off each one as he spoke. “She’s strong because she’s had to spend the majority of her life defending herself against assholes who can’t see her real value. She’s nice because she can rarely tell the assholes from the non-assholes until the damage is already done. And she does ask annoying questions. She asks them all the time. You clearly haven’t spent any length of time in her company or you’d know that.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that if you do anything to hurt her, I will come after you. So will Danny. So will Charlie. If I see so much as one tear fall from her eye over John Montgomery the Third, I promise you’ll be John Montgomery the Last.” He hoisted his roofing nailer. “Now. Are we on for that next row?”
Monty had never felt so strong an urge to nail things in his life. He wanted to nail hard and nail often and kick the ass of the man sharing his roof. Not once, in his entire life, had he made a woman cry. He’d never made anyone cry. In order to do that, he’d have had to make an impression on their lives that actually meant something.
People were often disappointed in Monty. They were put off by his reserve. They accepted his offer of marriage and returned a polite no, thanks before going off to find their soul mates in Nepal.
But to cry over him, a person would have to care first. Someone, somewhere, would have to feel love.
“Oh, I’m still game,” Monty said, simmering with an emotion he barely recognized, let alone understood. “Did we decide what the stakes are?”
“How about this—you win, and I won’t grab my brothers and nail you to the wall?”
“That seems dramatic, but okay.” Monty didn’t much care what the losing stakes were—he had no intention of letting things progress that far. He was more than a lump of inertia in his own life, and he’d labor up here all day to prove it. “And what if you win?”
“Then you leave Georgia alone. Off the job site, out of her life, zero contact. Done.”
Again, that seemed a touch dramatic, but Monty was as game as he’d ever be. “I suppose I don’t have any other choice.”
“Damn straight you don’t,” Adam replied. “And I have to say, I’m a little disappointed at how easily you caved. I thought you’d push harder, seeing as how you and Georgia are such good friends.”
“Oh, we’re still friends.” Monty flexed his hands and got ready for the race. “I just don’t have any intention of losing.”
* * *
Georgia knew it hadn’t been the best idea to pair Monty and Adam on top of the roof for nail-gun duty, but when she’d called roll to find that the Palecki brothers had once again failed to arrive, her options had been limited.
Staffing shortages had been a problem since the day she’d risen to the position of head contractor for the Ransom Creek Chapter of Homeward Bound—a position she’d been working toward most of her adult and adolescent life, though she hadn’t known it at the time. Unpaid, undervalued, impressive to just about no one but herself, this job was the one thing in this world she was unequivocally qualified to do. It was the one thing she had when all the rest of her life seemed to be constantly circling a drain.
Or so she’d thought twelve months ago, when the offer first came in. Armed with her newly minted contractor’s license and dewy-eyed with optimism, she’d been prepared for things like grueling physical labor and long hours and the occasional flesh wound. Fun things.
What she hadn’t been prepared for was the bureaucracy. As it turned out, most volunteers were here to build contacts, not houses. For every five who signed on to the program, only three showed up. Of those three, she was lucky to keep one for longer than a few weeks at a time. The second they figured out that she didn’t own a larger construction company with actual paid job openings, and that, yes, she did expect them to follow her orders despite being in possession of two X chromosomes and the breasts that went along with them, they were out the unfinished framed wooden door.
It was a confirmation of everything Georgia had ever known about herself. It didn’t matter how important the project was, or how good she was at her job, or how hard she tried to create a niche for herself—people didn’t respect women who defied traditional gender roles. People didn’t respect her, period.
And now poor Monty and Adam were the ones paying the price. Mostly Adam, from the looks of it.
“Should I ask why my brother is wearing a sandwich board inviting everyone to enjoy his hot nuts, or is it better that I not know?”
Monty, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him in a tightly fitting polo shirt and a pair of jeans that looked as if they’d been dipped in tar, laughed. He laughed, as in actually opened his mouth wide enough to show signs of human pleasure.
“We found that sign over in the Dumpster when we were cleaning up. Why would someone throw such a gem away?” He glanced over at where Adam stood as the butt of every good testicle joke known
to mankind, her brother’s face growing increasingly red with each jab. “To be fair, I might not feel the same if I was the one inside it. I almost was. My hands started cramping up at the end.”
Georgia just stared at Monty, her mouth agape. She’d broken him. She’d pushed him into proximity with the Testosterone Trio before he was ready, and now he was cracked.
“We did an okay job, right?” He turned to squint into the late afternoon sun, making a survey of the freshly covered roof. “It looks good to me, but I’m not the professional.”
It took her a moment to realize that she was the professional he referred to. “It’s fine. I mean—it’s great. An excellent example of a roof. One of the best I’ve ever seen.”
“Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?”
“You seem...off.” His brows came together anxiously. “I’m sorry if it was cruel to make your brother put that on, but he lost fair and square. And it was his idea to do the challenge in the first place—we were down to all or nothing at that point.”
“All or nothing?” she echoed, feeling bewildered.
“We made quite a few bets today.”
“And you won?” No one won against Adam. Not in anything. If you got too close to his king in chess, he had this way of “accidentally” knocking the board off the table when you weren’t looking.
“Not all of them, but I won the ones that mattered.” He paused. “Why didn’t you tell me your brothers were going to be here today?”
“I didn’t know. They cornered me at breakfast and demanded to be let in. I don’t know if you spent enough time with them to notice, but the Testosterone Trio is difficult to evade when they come at you all at once.”
Because I Can (Montgomery Manor) Page 9
