by Sarah Hegger
Blythe nearly swallowed her tongue.
Liz sidled up beside Bella looking like her skinny but mean henchman. “Bella’s a wonderful person.”
“To other people,” Blythe said. The entire situation had caught her enough off guard to get the truth out of her. “Bella is always nice to other people. She’s never liked me, not since Nate took me to prom.”
“That’s not true.” Bella stopped and frowned. “Okay, that may be part of it, but the rest is that you always look at me like you think I’m stupid.”
Stung, Blythe retorted, “And you always look at me as if I’m not good enough for you.”
“Well, that escalated,” Pippa said. “Do you think you might both have a point?”
Blythe glared at Bella.
Bella glared right back.
And suddenly Blythe saw the funny side. They were both well into their thirties and still behaving like tweens. She couldn’t stop the smile creeping on to her face.
Bella’s eyes widened, and then a smile spread over her face. “I was jealous of you. You were always so hot.” Her gaze swept Blythe from top to toe. “You still have the most ridiculously banging body.”
“And I was jealous because everybody always liked you. You were sweet Bella and could do no wrong, and I was always that Barrows girl, as bad as her brothers.”
Bella looked taken aback. “That is what people say about you.”
“I know that.” It didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. “I could be standing right next to you, and you could do something bad, and it would be blamed on me.”
Pulling a face, Bella had the grace to blush. “That actually happened a time or two.”
“Damn right it did.” Funny now that they were talking about it, the sting lessened a bit.
“But you’re doing good now.” Bella motioned the gym. “You have your own business, and everybody says you’re the best. Nate says you even moved out and took your younger sister and Wheeler with you.”
“Will,” Blythe said. “He really hates being called Wheeler.”
Liz snorted. “I can understand that for sure.” She gave Bella a gentle elbow. “You know I love the hell outta you kid, but you do have a bit of judgmental thing going on. Think that might have happened here?”
“It’s not entirely Bella’s fault.” Blythe couldn’t in fairness allow the other woman to take all the blame. “I certainly did my part.” She couldn’t meet any of their gazes. “I used to make sure to be extra flirty with Nate when you were around.”
“I knew it.” Bella jabbed a finger at her. “I knew you did that.”
“Yes, darling Tink.” Pippa smiled at Bella. “But who is married to Nate now?”
“Me.” Bella beamed as if she’d just remembered that fact. “I’m married to Nate.”
“There you go.” Blythe couldn’t help but smile at the unbridled enthusiasm. “You won.”
Liz eyed her. “Do you drink or are you one to those my-body-is-a-temple types?”
“I drink.” Blythe went cautiously there. “But not a lot. Because of my dad.”
“Right.” Pippa gave her a look warm with empathy. “That makes perfect sense. I think what Liz is trying to ask is if you would like to come out for a drink with us some time?”
Blythe blinked at them, trying and failing to navigate the new territory. She’d never had a female friend. Now it looked as if three women were extending the hand of friendship, and probably the last three women she would have expected to do so.
They were all staring at her and waiting for her answer. Blythe got it together. “That would be fun.”
“Good.” Liz adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “And then you can tell us exactly what’s going on with Eric, and why he tells his whole family to go to hell and jumps to your defense.”
Chapter Thirteen
Eric spent until midmorning combing through Gunning Contracting’s financials. He was sure Chase was doing much the same thing to theirs. Now they’d agreed to explore moving forward, it was time to peek beneath the drapes for both companies and start to put numbers to their intentions.
Something nagged at Eric, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. Gunning’s books were clean, no red flags, or not of the sort that might hint Chase was hiding anything. There were the usual weak areas, places that needed improvement, but Eric’s doubt wouldn’t go away.
He went next door to Matt’s office and knocked.
Matt looked up and motioned him in. It had been Dad’s office. Sentimental Matt still had the same oversize walnut desk and leather desk chair Dad had used. In Dad’s day, the office had smelled of the pack a day that had eventually killed him.
“What’s up?” Matt sat back in his chair.
Eric tried to put it into words. “I’ve been going through the Gunning books.”
“Problem?” Matt linked his fingers behind his head. More comfortable as a contractor than in a suit, he always wore a plain button-down over a white T-shirt.
“Nah.” Eric stretched his legs in front of him to get comfortable. “The books look fine. I’ve got accounting going through them as well.” He tried to express what the niggle was for him. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing here?”
Matt raised his brow. “Didn’t we have this conversation when Gunning first approached us.”
“I know.” Eric had made his money being smart and doing his due diligence. But mostly he’d made his way by listening to his gut. The same gut that wouldn’t shut up now. “We need this merger to stay in the game, but I’m hesitating.”
“About the merger, or merging with Gunning?” Matt not dismissing him was one of the reasons they worked well together. Also, as brothers, they had no hesitation in getting honest and real with each other.
Eric shrugged. He wished he could articulate this better. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s giving up control of Dad’s company.”
“This hasn’t been Dad’s company for a long time,” Matt said.
Matt had earned that right as well, giving up his young hopes and dreams to run Evans Construction.
His desk phone rang, and Matt picked it up. He listened for a moment, and then stilled.
That couldn’t be good.
The grim look on Matt’s face confirmed the bad feeling.
“We’ve got issues with Highgate again.” Matt put the phone down. “We have men refusing to go on site.”
Not this again. Eric swore under his breath. “I fired Barron Barrows last time I was up there.
“Okay.” Matt sat forward. “Let’s unpack that statement, shall we?” He counted the points on his fingers. “First, when were you last up there? And second, you fired Barron Barrows? Another entanglement with the Barrows family that you’re keeping secret, and who the hell hired him in the first place?”
Just because Matt liked to play big brother from time to time, didn’t mean Eric intended to let him. “Which question would you like answered first?”
“All your Barrows entanglements.”
“Okay, so I was on site one evening last week. The electrical contractor’s crew thought they could get more money out of us by refusing to work.” He shrugged. “I set them straight, and mostly I set Barron Barrows straight.”
“You threw him off site?”
“Yup.”
Matt interlaced his fingers. “Was this before or after Barron hit Blythe, and you went rushing around there to check she was all right?”
“I’m going up to Highgate.” Eric stood. Two reasons Matt could mind his own business: one, Eric really didn’t want to talk about Blythe. Two, it drove Matt crazy when he didn’t know shit.
Standing, Matt grabbed his truck keys from his desk. “Let’s go.”
“What’s this we business.” Eric got in front of him,
Matt pushed impatient fing
ers through his hair. “As far as I know this is our company, and we do shit like this together.”
Eric held his hand out for the truck keys. “Not when one of us has a wife and young baby at home, and things could get ugly.”
“Cooper says it’s already ugly.” Matt didn’t budge. “And I’m not letting you go up there alone. He says this thing is getting racial.”
“Fuck!” Eric took the keys. “I better get up there and see what I can find out.”
“I’m coming.”
“No, you aren’t.” Eric put a hand up to stop Matt. “You’ll stay right here, and later you’ll go home to your beautiful wife and your gorgeous baby girl. If this is going to get worse, I’m in just the right sort of mood to deal with it.”
Matt gave him a hard stare. “Yeah, about that…”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Matt crossed his arms.
Eric didn’t want to deal with this now. “It amounts to the same thing.” Sometimes Matt didn’t know when to back off. “Look, can you stop being my big brother for long enough for me to handle some stuff on my own? Maybe just trust me that I got this.”
“Sure.” Matt pulled a face. “Probably not, but I can try.”
“That’s good enough.” Eric pulled his own car keys out his pocket and gave them to Matt. “You can take the Jag home.”
* * * *
Eric arrived on site in no mood to make more friends. The idle crane and drywall crew beside the construction office didn’t improve his mood any.
Getting out of the truck, he gave the door a slam. Good thing Matt liked to buy his trucks sturdy.
“Where’s Cooper?” he asked the drywall crew.
A middle-aged man stepped forward. He jerked his chin toward the cluster of walls and framing that would one day be expensive condos. If he could get the site running like it should. “He’s up there.”
“And the reason you’re not up there?” He looked from man to man.
One or two met his gaze, but for the most part they averted their eyes and maintained a stubborn silence.
Fantastic! Suddenly everybody in his life felt like giving him the silent treatment.
Cooper’s bright red hardhat bobbed in an area that would one day be a deck with a horizon swimming pool. He was facing a group of sullen looking men.
The big bastard in the front seemed to be doing most of the talking, using his arms and getting right in Cooper’s personal space to make his point.
Eric grit his teeth. A bully really pissed him off.
Cooper was as tough as old boot leather. He’d been doing this job since before Eric’s ass was cracked, but he was getting too old to deal with loudmouthed thugs.
Stalking across the site, Eric made note of a number of safety and site condition infractions. Used coffee cups and coke cans littered the floor. He stopped and picked up a cigarette butt. There was no smoking on his sites, and his crews knew that. They were also responsible for taking their garbage with them.
“Cooper.” He joined his construction manager.
The big bastard stopped talking and stood trying to stare Eric down.
Good luck, dickhead. Eric was having a bad few weeks. He didn’t feel inclined to play whipped dog. “Problem.” He read the man’s name tag. “Ray.”
“Yeah I got a problem.” Ray sized him up. “I got a right not to be on site with a bunch of Mexicans.”
Eric wanted to shake his head to make sure he’d heard right. “Say again.”
“I’m an American, I’m not going to work with a bunch of illegals who take work away from men like me.” Ray warmed to his theme, his voice growing stronger as he spoke. A few murmurs of agreement rose from his group.
To the right of Ray’s group, the rest of Eric’s crew stood watching, ready to rush to the aid of the victor.
Their shit was costing him money every hour it went on. “This is a free country, Ray.” He kept the rage out of his voice, but it was a close thing. “And right now you got a choice. You get back to work or you get off my site.”
“Eric.” Cooper shifted closer to him.
The men behind Eric stirred and looked to Ray.
“You can’t do that.” Ray folded his arms over his chest. “I got rights.”
“So do I, and so do those men waiting by the construction trailer.” Eric didn’t let his gaze waver. Ray was like a feral dog; any sign of weakness and he would attack. Given the way he was feeling right now, Eric toyed with the idea of letting Ray come at him. It might be a great way to work off some of his frustration. “Need me to repeat your choices?”
Ray flushed and looked behind him. “If I walk, they all walk with me.”
“That so?” Eric met the eyes of every man behind Ray. Most dropped his gaze. One or two stayed defiant. Fine by him. He didn’t need their shit on his sites. Finally, he got back to Ray. “Make your choice?”
“Not gonna work with a bunch of wetbacks.” Ray sneered.
Eric reached the end of his rope. “Get your racist fucking ass off my site.” He raised his voice to make sure everyone heard him. “If any one of you agrees with this asshole, get the fuck out of here right now. Next time I’m going to do more than fire you. This is the only warning you get.”
Ray stepped right up to him.
They were evenly matched in height. If it came to a fight, Eric judged it a close call. Adrenalin flooded his muscles.
“This isn’t over.” Ray smirked.
Eric silently dared him to take the swing he could see in Ray’s eyes. “Bring it.”
Shoving past him, Ray sauntered offsite. Only three men followed him. They all climbed into one truck and peeled out.
Doing a slow circle, Eric looked at the rest of the crew. “Anybody else got anything to say?” He made eye contact again. “Last chance.”
“Your site, Evans.” An elderly plumber Eric had worked with many times picked up a pair of cutters and climbed his ladder.
Beside him Cooper let out a long breath. “Any ideas how we’re going to replace those men.”
“Nope.” Eric managed a tight smile. “Fortunately, that’s not my problem but yours.”
“Gee, thanks.” Cooper rolled his eyes.
A power drill started, and then a bandsaw, and conversation was at an end. “Keep your eye out for trouble,” he said to Cooper as they walked back toward the construction office. “I’ll arrange for some extra security for you.”
“I hope we’re not going to need it,” Cooper said.
“Yeah, but I think we both know we are.” Eric couldn’t see Ray backing down easily. “And you need to tighten this site up. I see too much garbage and shit lying around. While we’re at it, remind the crews that this is a no smoking site.”
Cooper nodded. “Will do.”
They went way back, he and Cooper, and they understood each other well. It was why Cooper was on this job. He was Matt’s right hand man, and this project represented a massive investment for the company.
A man leaned on Matt’s truck, a big man who straightened as Eric approached. About six-six and bristling with tattooed muscle, the guy had a shaved head.
He looked like trouble. As Eric drew near enough to recognize him, he knew he was trouble of the worst kind.
Everything in him went on high alert. “Brett.”
“Eric.” Brett’s voice came from deep inside that huge chest. “How have you been?”
“Good enough.” Ray was one thing. Brett Barrows belonged to a whole new definition of feral. It didn’t matter how big he was, Eric wouldn’t allow the guy to threaten Blythe. “When did you get out?”
“Couple of weeks.” Brett pushed his hands into his back pockets.
Fuck, he was a big son of a bitch, and there was not an ounce of fat on him. “Any reason you’ve been
bothering Blythe?”
Something flickered in Brett’s eyes. “She’s my sister, and she has my baby sister with her.”
“She doesn’t want to see you.” Only for Blythe would he stand there and compare dicks with Brett. The guy was as mean as he was big. Had he mentioned Brett was fucking huge? He’d gotten even bigger in prison.
Brett raised an eyebrow. “Way I hear it, she doesn’t want to see you either.”
Eric nodded to concede the point. “Why don’t we both keep it that way? Did you come by to say hi, or is there something I can do for you?”
“You got balls, Evans.” Brett chuckled. It made him look a mite less psycho, but not that much. “I heard you fired Barron.”
“Yup.” Now it made sense. Brett thought he could bully Barron back into a job. Eric silently dared him to try.
Brett nodded. “Good. He’s a prick.”
It took Eric a moment to catch on.
“Why would you hire him in the first place?” Brett smirked as if he could read Eric’s thoughts.
Eric slapped on his poker face, the one he wore in boardrooms “I didn’t. One of my subs did, but I made it clear I wouldn’t have him back on site.” Eric stepped closer to Brett. There was only one language bullies understood. “We going to have a problem about that?”
Brett gaped at him. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “You are one crazy motherfucker.” He shook his head. “You’d throw down about this, wouldn’t you?”
“Yup.” Eric met his stare. “And about Blythe. Stay away from her.”
“I aim to.” Brett stuck his hands in his back pockets. Muscle bulged along his shoulders and arms. How much could this guy bench press? “I’m not here about that. I’m here about a job.”
All the breath left Eric in a rush. As far as he knew, and from what Blythe had told him, Brett hadn’t worked a day in his life. Not legally anyway. “This is a legitimate work site,” he said and locked gazes with Brett. “And it’s going to stay that way.”
“Didn’t say it wouldn’t.” Brett shifted and rubbed the stubble on his head. “Look, let me be straight with you. I need a job. I got out of prison with the clothes I wore going in and about seven bucks and change. But I tell you now, I’m not going back there.”
