The Way Love Goes (Serendipitous Love Book 4)

by Christina C Jones

  “So,” I said, laughing a little as my voice choked with more emotion than I wanted it to. “That’s who it is, huh? The PR chick? Liv? How did it start, Ray? She was there in the office with you, working long nights? Asking you to come to dinner so you wouldn’t be lonely since I was gone? Innocent flirtation, turned into something more? Is that how it went? That’s how she replaced me? Or did this start before I was gone? Hmm?”

  His extended silence spoke louder than anything he could have said at that moment.

  “You know what? Fuck you, okay? How dare you call me to complain about getting cursed out after the way you’ve embarrassed and disrespected me? Are you crazy?”

  “Fallon, I—”

  “No,” I snapped. “Don’t call me again.”

  I snatched the phone away from my ear, and damn near broke a nail ending the call. As soon as I’d dropped the device back into my purse, anger gave way to another round of hurt, and my chest swelled with a sob.

  “Fallon…” I looked up to see Charlie in front of me, concern evident in her eyes. A second later, she’d pulled me into her arms as best she could with her swollen belly between us. “I’m not going to get in your business unless you want me to, but are you okay?”

  I nodded, knowing that the tears streaming down my face contradicted my assurance. “Yeah, I just… stupid ass ex-boyfriend.” I took a deep breath, then stepped back, wiping my face with the backs of my hands. “I’m just going to step in and clean up, get myself something to eat, and I will be just fine.”

  We exchanged goodbyes, and I left her peeking around the corner at her restaurant while I went inside. I rushed to the bathroom to wash my face with cold water, then sat down in the sitting area and pulled my phone out of my bag again.

  I needed to talk to my brother.

  Donnie answered on the second ring, sounding out of breath, but excited about something. “You’ll never guess who I’m rehearsing with, Sis!” he said, as if that had to be the reason I was calling. “Fine ass Pixie! I got the lead male role for her concert, and she wants me to be in her video too. I am in there. And I’m not just talking about the video either, if you know what I mean. Peep this, she pulled me to the side, whispering all in my ear about how she heard that a man that can dance, can fu—”

  “I don’t care, Donnie.” With my elbows propped on my legs, I dropped my forehead into my palm, keeping the phone pressed to my ear. “I mean, good for you, for getting another gig, but that’s not why I called you.”

  “I thought you loved Pixie though?” he asked, referring to the current black princess of pop, a gorgeous young girl with a slick mouth and signature short, technicolor hair.

  “I do, but I called to talk to you about Ray. I just got off the phone with him.”

  “Man, fuck that dude.” Donnie’s attitude changed almost instantly at the mention of Ray. “He ought to feel lucky I didn’t want to be late for rehearsals, or I would have done more than just threaten his ass.”

  I pushed out a breath. “I wish you’d done nothing at all.”

  “What? Fallon… that shit he did to you was foul. Somebody needed to call him out on it. Treating you like you’re disposable. Nah, he deserved to get his ass embarrassed, and I’m not sorry I did it.”

  “Well, I’m glad you feel better now, Donnie. Cause I don’t. I understand that you were trying to protect me, but I really need you not to do anything else. He called me, Donnie, and now I know something that honestly makes me feel like shit.”

  “And you’re blaming me?”

  “Well… kind of, yeah. You cursing him out didn’t accomplish anything except letting you vent out your anger, and pissing him off. Because you pissed him off, he called me, and “conveniently” let it slip that he’s been screwing his coworker for God knows how long, and … it just adds a new level of aint-shitness to this whole thing that I wouldn’t have known about if you’d left him alone. You feel better now, he probably feels better now, but guess who doesn’t?”

  Donnie let out a deep breath against the phone. “I’m sorry, Fal. I was just trying to… I don’t know.”

  “You were trying to defend your big sister’s honor. I get it, and I appreciate it, but I really just want to be able to move past this. And if he calls the police about being harassed, or calls me to complain, leaves messages, whatever, it just drags this out. And I want to move on. Okay?”

  “Okay sis. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I said, shaking my head. “I love you. And congratulations on working with Pixie, you deserve it.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “Thanks. Love you too.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I felt marginally better after hanging up with Donnie. A very, very small margin. The annoyance I felt toward Donnie was nothing compared to the rage toward Ray. His little sidepiece was cute at least, if that made it any better, but that girl had been in my home. Had grinned in my face when I went to Ray’s office to see him, had sat across from me at a table and shared a meal. All while she was either plotting to, or already screwing my man.

  And his ass had done nothing to stop it.

  They were probably laughing at how stupid I’d been, that this had been right under my nose the whole time.

  I tried not to dwell on it, I really did. I repeated “life is good” in my head until the words made me sick to my stomach, but by the time I made it home that evening, I was livid all over again. I didn’t think I could possibly be more pissed off until I stepped through my front door.

  I slipped, slid, and would have busted my ass because of the plastic still covering my floor if I hadn’t caught myself on the banister. “What. The. Hell?” I said out loud, as I looked around the living room, which was not painted and cleared of materials as promised. My floor was still covered in a thick sheet of plastic, and there were still buckets, rollers, and tubs of putty everywhere. Only one of the walls was actually painted.

  Silver lining – I really did love the color ‘Mellow Mocha’.

  “Where is your boss?!” I asked the two men with rollers in their hands, who suddenly started painting a little faster at the sound of my voice.

  Behind me, I heard footsteps on my porch, and then a male voice came into the room. “I’m right here,” it said. “Is there a problem?”

  I turned to see a man – a lot of man – filling my doorway. A tee shirt that read Keahi Renovation and Construction stretched across his broad chest, and his muscles flexed as he crossed his arms. He was fine. Goddamn, why was he so fine? Light brown skin, dark brown eyes, thick, well-groomed black hair on his face and head. Perfectly formed nose, and lips that were damn near prettier than mine, but didn’t look feminine on him at all. They just looked… kissable.

  Why is he so fine?!

  “Y—yes,” I stammered, snapping out of my little trance. “There is absolutely a problem, because I was promised that this would be done by today. According to the work schedule your company provided these buckets, plastic, and paint fumes would be out of here. And yet….”

  He pulled in a hiss of air through his teeth, and to his credit, he did look contrite. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. You are…?”

  “The person signing the check.”

  He frowned a little. “O—kay. So… the homeowner then, Fallon Perkins? I hadn’t had the plea— chance, to meet you before, because of scheduling, but I’m Sean Keahi. Your assistant hired me as your contractor and project manager for your renovation.”

  He extended his hand, and I reluctantly shook it, growing instantly more annoyed by the warmth and power emanating from it. And again, why the hell was he so fine?! It was pissing me off.

  “Mr. Keahi, I’m going to be very up front with you. This,” – I waved a hand behind me, toward the mess of my living room – “Isn’t a good first impression. I was looking forward to coming home and being able to relax, and instead I almost killed myself on this plastic coming through the front door.”


  “You didn’t see the signs?” he asked, stepping aside to gesture toward the sign at my front door. Of course I’d seen it coming in; some bullshit about “Safety First”, but it had been there since this morning. It could have been forgotten!

  “I saw the sign, but that’s beside my point. Why isn’t this finished? Are we behind schedule? I mean, there’s another four weeks estimated for this project, and if it’s behind schedule now…”

  Sean held up his hands. “It’s not, not really. This project isn’t the only one my company is doing. We’re doing the Pot Liquor project as well, and th—”

  “Oh, so your men are the ones doing the catcalling when I try to walk down the block.”

  I could tell he wanted to laugh by the way his lips twitched at the corners, but he shuttered it by swiping a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll speak to them about being more respectful.”

  “You should. It’s not a good reflection on your business.”

  He nodded. “I agree.”

  There was silence between us, until I grew uncomfortable under the touch of his gaze. “So back to why what you promised would get done isn’t finished? I don’t really care to hear about how you have other projects, because to me that just says you have a problem with allocating your time. I paid to have this project finished in a timely manner, and looking at it… it doesn’t seem to me like that’s happening.”

  Sean shook his head a little. “Okay, let’s just calm down for a minute, and we can—”

  “Excuse me? Did you just tell me to calm down?”

  “Ah, shit,” Sean mumbled under his breath, then cast his eyes up toward the ceiling. Good. He already knew he’d stumbled into a problem.

  “First off, here’s a lesson: Don’t tell a woman to calm down. And I’m not going to calm down when you’re in here making excuses for my money being wasted!”

  “Nobody is wasting your money, chill.” Sean unfolded one of his arms, gesturing with one of his hands as he spoke. “What I was trying to tell you was that there was a broken water main at the Pot Liquor site, so I had to call everybody there to keep the whole block from getting flooded. There’s a whole line of businesses there that are important to that community, and I needed to think about that. I made what I felt like was the right call, and that’s why your painting isn’t finished yet. I had to call my whole team to take care of that.”

  Oh.

  Well… I guess I appreciated him keeping the other businesses, including mine, in mind, but… still!

  “You know what? Whatever!” I snapped, stepping away from him to turn toward the stairs. “Men make me sick, always got a goddamn excuse for something! Well, you know what? I’m tired of excuses, and I’m not going to let it slide. Finish my project in the time you said it would be finished!” I stomped halfway up the stairs, and then turned to look back at his shocked expression. “Please.”

  And then I finished my exit, slamming my bedroom door closed behind me as I whipped out my phone.

  “Why is he so damned fine?” I sent to Ayden in a text, then pulled off my earrings and tossed them onto the counter. There was a cute little couch at the end of my bed, so I sat down there to read her response.

  “Who?! Girl you met a man that fast?! – Ayden B.”

  “The contractor, Ayden. He’s too fine. He gotta go.”

  “Ohhhhh, you’re talking about the big tall, fine, strong, extreme bae material, and did I mention FINE Mr. Keahi? – Ayden B.”

  “So you saw him?! And hired him anyway?!”

  “Uhhh, yeah. Because I saw him. Did you see his arms?! – Ayden B.”

  “So he can work on your house then. I can’t be lusting after this man Ayden!”

  “You can, and you will. – Ayden B.”

  “What do you think he’s mixed with? With a name like Keahi? I mean, I know he’s black, but there’s something else there too. Hawaiian maybe? – Ayden B.”

  “Ayden, I don’t know! I’m not about to ask this man about his ethnic background, or anything else, because you’re going to hire someone new. Somebody whose face I don’t want to sit on.”

  “YOU SHOULD TOTALLY DO THAT! – Ayden B.”

  “But no seriously, we can’t hire anybody else. Keahi is the best; I didn’t just hire him because he was fine. That’s just… a perk. – Ayden B.”

  “Besides, a little eye candy is the perfect distraction from dead people. – Ayden B.”

  Dead people? Wha— ohhhhh. Ray=Ex=dead and buried.

  “True. Okay. *heavy sigh* He is… like, distractingly gorgeous.”

  “You’re welcome! – Ayden B.”

  I shook my head, laughing as I sat the phone down on my bed. Leave it to Ayden to decide eye candy was what I needed. I didn’t really plan to spend any time purposely watching this man, but… there was nothing wrong with admiring God’s work when it came across my path, right?

  I’d been too distracted by how fine he was to mention my complaint about his work, but I’d talk to her about that later. Or maybe… I was a little bit ashamed that I’d gone off on him like that, when I wasn’t even mad at him. I was pissed at Ray.

  Mental note: apologize.

  I stripped out of my clothes from work and turned on the shower, hoping it would wash away the negativity of the day.

  I tried not to think about the gorgeous man downstairs as I stepped under the hot water.

  Three

  Sometimes, especially in business, it’s best to bite your tongue.

  This was definitely one of those times.

  Instead of saying some shit back that would have just further escalated the situation, I settled for watching Ms. Perkins’ ass jiggle in her dress as she stomped up the stairs. Not to condone disrespect, but damn – No wonder the guys at the Pot Liquor site were… ahem… admiring her. How could you not say something about an ass like that, especially when thick thighs and a pretty face came with it?

  Don’t forget that mouth, though.

  No.

  No, I doubted that smart-ass mouth would ever leave my thoughts, not as long as we were on this job. I turned away from the stairs to see that my guys had been watching her too, and were still standing there transfixed, with paint dripping from their rollers.

  “Aiight guys, back to work,” I said, clapping them on the shoulders as I passed, to look around the room and what we had left. If I was being all the way real about it… she kinda had a right to be mad.

  I had promised that we could have this part of the project done by now.

  I’d dropped the ball on distributing my workers, obviously, because with all the shit we had to do at the Pot Liquor site today, if some of them had time to be harassing pretty women on the street, they had time to be getting something done.

  Not to mention, I’d failed to let her know about the delay. This could have turned out a lot differently with a simple phone call to her assistant, to let them know things had changed. If I’d managed the expectation properly, I could have a client that was simply disappointed, instead of pissed.

  I was figuring it all out though, and there was something to be said for that, right? KRC – Keahi Renovation and Construction – was small, but we were capable of getting the job done. Or… had been, at least, when it was me and my dad. This was my first set of projects since he’d been gone, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t challenging, but I was up to it. Not only did I live and breathe this business… it was my last connection to my dad, and the business he’d built on his blood and sweat.

  So… failure wasn’t an option, not really.

  The Pot Liquor job was a gift. It was a project that honestly should have gone to a bigger company, but two months before the building burned down, I’d hung with Nixon – one of the owners. We’d grown up next door to each other, gone to high school together. Nix was one of my oldest friends, and since I hadn’t been out since my father passed, he and Carter – another one of my boys, another business owner on the block – had just shown up at my door w
ith a case of beer.

  We kicked it, hard. Those beer-soaked conversations had led to my admission that I was scared to continue my father’s business without him. Although he’d named me co-owner almost as soon as I turned eighteen, he was the heart and soul of the business. I was just the son who was good with a paintbrush and a hammer.

  But my dad had never been trying to hear that, and neither were Nixon and Carter. It wasn’t really a surprise to me that when the fire happened, and Pot Liquor burned down, I was one of the first few people Nix called. “You already know,” he’d said. That, and nothing else, and the only thing I could do was reply, “Yeah.” Before he hung up.

  Because… yeah, I did know.

  Settling into a mindset of fear wasn’t really a good move, not if I wanted to make my father proud. So I grabbed that project by the horns, and it was going so well, even with my small crew and tight list of subcontractors, that when I got the call about a home reno, I got cocky. Yeah, we could balance two projects at once; my dad did it all the time. The old brownstone needed a lot of work, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle while keeping both clients happy.

  And then I remembered the loud smack that reverberated through the room when Ms. Perkins slammed that door. So much for keeping both clients happy, huh?

  I thought about it for a few minutes while the guys resumed their work. If Tony Keahi had gotten on a client’s bad side like this, what would he do? There was, of course, apologizing, but I’d already done that. I couldn’t exactly go back in time and reallocate my work force, so that was out too. The business needed every penny of the job cost, so a discount would have to be my last, and I mean very last resort.

  So… I picked up a paint roller and got in line.

  I figured the best thing to do would be to get this room finished as soon as possible, so we could move forward to the kitchen. She was pissed about being off schedule, so I was gonna get us back on schedule.

  I kept the guys with me for a few more hours, then sent them home. It had been a long day for all of us, and I knew they were tired as I was. Not to mention, we were almost done anyway, just had to hit a few spots in the corners and around the ceiling before letting it dry overnight, so we could pull down the tape and do the trim tomorrow.