One Taste

by Cari Quinn

“Lunch break at the mess hall down the road. Meals will be included as well as a room for you and your traveling companion up at the house.”

  Shane slapped sawdust off his jeans and looked around. Six thousand square feet of stables. Well, what would be stables after he was done. Doyle hadn’t been exaggerating when he said it was almost complete. That was a good thing. Most men in his situation would have lied through their teeth to get a new foreman to finish the job. The stable had a mix of new- and old-world flavors with the exposed beams and steel-framed girders that were prepped for drywall. Insulation had been done already, and it was just a matter of finalizing the project.

  The tips of his fingers tingled with the need to do and create. He knew the building side of things. Code violations and masonry practices varied from state to state, but that was easy enough to verify. He had a sixth sense about space. He knew exactly what a job needed and how much time to devote to it. It was this side of him that his old man relied on to get a job done.

  Lawrence Justice was a big-picture guy. He’d known how to sell, how to buy, and how to place the right people into the right jobs. But he never understood the magic of a space. He knew a building would bring in revenue, but he didn’t care about the end product. Only the happy customer and a check in the bank mattered to his father.

  Which was why they worked so well together. Shane didn’t give two shits about glad-handing clients. He couldn’t stand dealing with the schmoozing and the dinners and the parties. And as much as Larry had dealt with that portion of Justice Construction, Shane had still had to make an appearance every once in a while.

  Where he was truly happy was finding the magic in a hunk of wood. Whether it was a bookcase, a chair, a table, or a built-in unit—that was where he shone. Most of the time a client didn’t know what they really wanted. And he was tired of pouring all his energy into the soul-sucking business side.

  That was only one of a million reasons why he’d gravitated to carpentry. Renovations and the feel of wood under his hands made sense. It was where he belonged.

  But he’d put his foreman’s hat on one last time to get them to New York. To find a way to take care of Kendall.

  “Do you think this is something you can take on?”

  Shane turned to Doyle. “How many men do I have at my disposal?”

  “Forty.”

  “Christ, and they’re not further along?”

  Doyle smiled. “I had a feeling about you.”

  Shane leveled his eyes at the older man. “You fell under Kendall’s spell. Most men do.”

  “Well, there is that. She’s a dangerous one, son.”

  Shane blew out a tired breath. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Doyle hooked his thumb behind his buckle. “I’m sorry to hear about your father, but that’s the reason I’m hiring you. Justice has a good reputation, even out here. Your Kendall is the pushy sort who gets things moving, but I have a feeling you’re the one who actually gets them done.”

  That was his claim to fame in the company. His father found the jobs, and Shane got them done. Under budget, above code, and within schedule. “I don’t make friends on the job. Being friendly makes them think they can pal around with me. And all I want from them is good, clean work and fast work.”

  “Good. Jefferson, the foreman who left, he wanted to be everyone’s friend, and look at the mess I’ve got to deal with.”

  The bite of rough-cut wood under Shane’s palm made him itch to work. He hadn’t had wood or a tool in his hand for weeks. “If you can approve overtime and maybe a bonus for the men to spring them into action, I’ll have you done in under a week.”

  Doyle tipped back his hat. “And you think that will get them moving?”

  “If you’re not lying about a hardworking crew, we’ll be golden. I’d say five days.”

  “Five?”

  Shane nodded. “Ten-hour shifts, forty-five-minute lunch, and a handful of ten-minute breaks, and I’ll get this done. If I see slackers, I need to know that I’ve got the final say about whether they stay or go.”

  Doyle’s mustache twitched up a fraction of an inch. “I can’t wait to see you in action, son.”

  Shane did a slow turn at the center of the stable. The main area had a twenty-foot ceiling and the frame outs for a loft and a grooming area. “This is a really big room for just housing horses. What exactly do you do?”

  “We’re a stud farm as well as a thoroughbred training center.”

  “Racing?”

  “No, just really good horseflesh for ranches, show horses, and professional riders.”

  Shane nodded. The larger-than-normal space made sense. Especially if they did breeding on-site.

  “Let me show you the rest.”

  Shane followed Doyle through to the main room. Stalls were set up, and a stack of doors lay against the back wall. A small office was off the front, and a crude desk on sawhorses held blueprints as well as a computer. Filing cabinets lined the naked drywall.

  “This is the foreman’s office?”

  Doyle nodded. “All you should need is in the files and on the blueprints. The cabinets have all the breeding files for the horses, so leave those alone.”

  Shane looked down at the blueprints, then peeled back the first two pages. He’d study them and figure out what needed to be completed. “Who’s been the acting foreman?”

  “Dell Murphy.”

  “Am I going to have trouble?”

  “Doubtful. He’s a damn good supervisor, but he likes the working more than the behind the scenes.”

  Shane understood that part all too well. But for a week’s worth of headache, he’d get Kendall and himself to New York and finally get to start over. “We haven’t exactly talked money.”

  “No. I wanted you to see the state of affairs before we did.”

  Shane straightened his shoulders and faced Doyle. “If your boys are as good as you seem to think they are and everyone’s willing to work, then I think I’ll be pulling your ass out of the fire.”

  Doyle took off his hat, pushed back his hair, and set his hat back on with a low tilt to the brim. “You’re a smart man, and I’ve got eighteen mares coming in for insemination in ten days’ time. Lucky for me I’ve got enough money to match my demands.”

  Shane inclined his head. “That’s good to hear.” Doyle named a figure, and Shane had to physically stuff down his surprise. For five days of work—seven on the outside. “You’ve got yourself a foreman.”

  “Excellent.” Doyle stretched out his hand.

  Shane shook it. He heard murmurings in the barn. “No time like the present to get acquainted.”

  “Let’s go get this done, then.”

  Shane followed him out. On the way through, he counted fourteen lounging man-boys who were barely out of high school as well as a handful of people honestly working. A few lifers were doing enough to get by, and a man in his early forties was surrounded by a circle of men who were obviously getting direction for the rest of the afternoon.

  As Doyle walked behind him, men straightened up and suddenly looked busy. But it was all for show. Just how many times did one square foot of the floor need to be swept? Shane stood in the doorway, warm sun and a cool breeze at his back. The space was already phenomenal.

  He ran his hand over the smooth, soft white oak frame. An eleven-foot door with heavy wrought-iron hinges and studs gleamed with a clear coat of varnish. The oak was solid and stately and fit the overall feel of William Doyle. Hay and cement dust motes swirled in the sunlight. With work and effort, the stables would be amazing.

  Shane eased back against the doorjamb, cataloging the three dozen men gathered around. He memorized faces and would eventually put names to them, but a trio of men in their thirties put up a red flag. Strong backs, knowledge in their eyes, and bellies gone slightly soft with beer and laziness.

  They would be the ones to watch.

  Doyle crossed his arms and waited until Dell Murphy noticed him.

&n
bsp; Murphy turned when his audience stopped being entertained. He pulled his battered ball cap off, and the middle-aged man’s harried smile made Shane’s shoulders relax. The man wasn’t power hungry. He was doing the best he could. “Just getting the men set up for the afternoon, boss.”

  “That’s why I’m here. You’ve been doing great, Murph, but I’ve got a seasoned foreman in from California who’s going to help us out.”

  Murphy’s shoulders straightened. “I’ve got it under control.”

  “I handed you a raw deal, and you did a great job, but I’ve got a stable full of mares coming in next week. I need this done.” Doyle turned to Shane. “This is Shane Justice. I want you to work with him to get the men scheduled. We’ve got some long days ahead, and I’m willing to pay overtime if you boys are willing.”

  The murmur through the crowd along with nods ironed out the rest of the knots in his back. Money talked, and Doyle was going to back up his claim.

  Shane dropped his arms to his sides and walked up beside Doyle. “I’m not your pal, I don’t like excuses, and I’m well aware that you’ll hate me by week’s end. But if you give me five days, I’ll give you enough overtime in your paycheck to make it worth it. Buy your girlfriend something pretty, have a round on me at the local bar, I don’t care what you do—but do it after we’re done here. I don’t want hungover idiots shuffling in ten minutes, fifteen minutes, or an hour late. Be here to work, and Doyle will pay you handsomely. Anyone not willing to do the work, let me know now.”

  There was a light grumble, and one of the trio spoke up. Color Shane shocked. He was tall and slightly more athletic than his entourage, but he was still soft. “Who are you to come in and take over?”

  Doyle opened his mouth, but Shane held up a hand. “For the next week, I’m your boss. Don’t like it? I’ll be happy to give your overtime to men hungrier and willing to work harder than you.”

  “You don’t know anything about me, buddy.”

  “I know your type. Those two with you probably do twice as much work as you do.”

  The dark-haired man beside him found his boots fascinating, and the shorter man with a shaved head stared at Shane with glittering eyes. Oh yeah, trouble right there. Shane inwardly sighed.

  He dismissed the man and turned to Murphy. “How about we go into the office and talk? I’m sure you’ll get me up to speed.”

  Doyle clapped his hands. “All right. That’s what I like. Thanks for your help, everyone.”

  Shane just hoped the handful of troublemakers he’d seen could control themselves until he got the hell out of there.

  Shane pushed through the afternoon. The initial complaints from the men had died down quickly. As he’d thought, most of them were hard workers, but they needed direction. With clear goals in mind, they were able to focus and get their jobs done.

  The incentive of overtime didn’t hurt either. He hitched his tool belt on and followed his nose to the fresh-cut pine they were using to frame out the stalls. He nodded to Murphy, and they both fell into an easy rhythm of cutting and nailing. The afternoon passed, and the shadows deepened before he lifted his head.

  Rhythm lost, he looked up to see what had caused a commotion. He should have known. Kendall walked through the barn, her sunny hair scraped back in a high tail that twitched with her bouncy walk. She was a beautiful woman, and while unconscious of it most of the time, a room full of men would make any woman strut her stuff. Kendall was no different. He moved into the hallway between the stalls and crossed his arms.

  A grin split her face wide with crinkles and lightly bronzed skin and enough bawdy bravado that he wanted to lift her up against the nearest wall and taste her sunshine. The number of men who were probably thinking the same thing tightened his fists under his arms.

  Instead of denting her smile, Shane’s scowl made her laugh. Even more men took notice. “There’s my Oscar. I’ve missed you.”

  His brows snapped lower when she leaned in and nipped at his jaw.

  She looked over her shoulder. “Am I not supposed to kiss the boss? Is that frowned upon?”

  “Jesus, Sunshine.”

  She gripped his forearm, and the soft press of her breast kicked him where it hurt. “Well, I can’t be in too much trouble.” She jammed her hand into the crook of his arm until he loosened and let her in. “I didn’t realize there were so many young guys on the crew.”

  He focused his gaze on the dozen pairs of eyes that looked their way instead of the woman by his side who smelled of horses, hay, and wildflowers. A sprig of wheat hung drunkenly from her hair. He picked it out, hooking his hand around her waist.

  Half of the men fell back into line, but a few still remained. Especially one who was far too cocky for his peace of mind. He’d gotten the lowdown on the trio he’d been worried about. And as he’d figured, Murphy had spilled all sorts of information.

  Lon Mackie—an ex-football jock who continued to live vicariously through the memory of his glory days—watched intently. He hadn’t gotten the memo that those glory days were fifteen years back.

  She gave Shane a side eye. “You didn’t just stake your claim or something equally asinine, did you?”

  He dug his fingers into her belt loops. “Why? Have designs on someone new, Kendall?”

  “Well, there are quite a few men to choose from here. Ones that certainly have a better disposition than you, Oscar.”

  He stiffened and dropped his hand.

  “God, you’re no fun to tease.” She laughed and hitched her shoulder under his arm until he had no choice but to push her away or let her in against his body. Because she smelled so good, he opted for the latter.

  “I’m a sweaty mess.”

  “Manly sweat and sawdust make me weak in the knees.”

  “They do not.”

  She giggled. “How do you know?”

  He rested his chin against the top of her head. He hadn’t known he’d missed her until she showed up. His muscles loosened, leaving his shoulders to ache. In just a few days she’d burrowed into him until he couldn’t think without her in the vicinity. That was dangerous and stupid. She wasn’t his to keep. Wasn’t his to worry about.

  “Where have you been?”

  She peered up at him. “Earning my keep.”

  He frowned. “You don’t need to do that. This job will pay for us to get to Winchester Falls as well as have plenty of spending money. Hell, we’ll even have money for the house if it needs upgrades.”

  She stiffened. “Why would the Heron need upgrades?”

  “Every house needs upgrades.”

  She pressed her cheek against his chest, oddly quiet. Especially for Kendall. He nudged her back. “What?”

  “Now you’re going to get talkative?”

  His lips twitched, but he managed not to laugh. His Kendall was a mouthy one. “We’ve agreed not to talk about New York until we get there, but I need to know what I’m in for.”

  “It’s a B and B, plain and simple. We have a dock, a half dozen good-sized rooms, and four acres of land that we own. We’re on a lake, and the area isn’t overly developed. It’s beautiful.”

  He heard the wistfulness in her voice. Even with just a few words he could picture it. He’d looked at the area on the Web and knew it was close to the national parks in the northern part of New York. But not exactly on state land. Their lake was smaller, more remote.

  Good for a getaway.

  Good for a developer who would want to cash in on the picturesque Northeast.

  “Do you actually have herons?”

  He felt her cheeks stretch into a smile against his chest. “Yes, quite a few, actually. More Canadian geese than I’d like, but we have a cheerful mutt named Brody that keeps them moving for the most part. I take the fishing trawler out a lot—both for tours and just to even out when I get to…”

  Shane smoothed his hand down her ponytail and cupped her nape. He did the same with wood and didn’t need her to explain. He lowered his head and caught her
mouth in a slow, thorough kiss. After a long day in the dust and listening to men cracking on each other, her taste was as welcome as an icy beer. He drank her in, forgetting where he was for a moment. She tasted of candy and heat, of things he’d never known he wanted. That Kendall taste he couldn’t get enough of.

  The shrill whistle jerked him back to his surroundings.

  “Does that come with overtime?” Lon cracked. “I’ll be workin’ plenty of hours, then.”

  Shane bristled.

  Kendall flicked her finger along his beard and tapped his chin. “He’s teasing.”

  Shane gave him a hard stare across the hallway. Lon put his hands up. “Boss perks. Got it.”

  “Relax. He’s just jealous.” She popped her foot up and went on her toes to brush her lips against his.

  He wrapped his other hand in the coiling fat curl of her ponytail and looked down at her. Her dark eyes flashed, and his half-ready cock hardened. “I think I need a break.”

  Her eyes widened, and a half laugh escaped her. “Wouldn’t that be a little obvious?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “What if I do?”

  He wrapped another length of her hair around his fingers until he hit the top of her tail. “Do you?” Her throat worked as he let her go and clasped her hand, leading her down the hall. “I just need a second.” He whisked her into the large stall at the front of the stables. The men were working at the back, framing out the twenty stalls that lined the walkway. This room was blessedly empty.

  The sweet scent of hay lured him closer. A shaft of sun highlighted one bale, and he drew her down beside him. He pulled her into his lap until a knee perched on either side of him.

  “Do you really think we should do this on the first day?”

  “I haven’t seen you in hours. I just want—” He cut himself off to nuzzle her neck. Salty with the day, her taste filled his mouth. She lowered herself until the seam of her jeans rubbed along his strangled cock.

  “Oh, well, then. I see.”

  He grunted and caught her mouth. “No talking,” he mumbled.

  She moaned into his mouth, and he filled his hands with her ass, grinding her against him. The quick shudder of her breath and the roll of her hips was worth a little hiding. He wanted to rip off her jeans and slam inside her until dust motes, sweat, and exhaustion were just a by-product of her. Until he heard the sound that meant she was close. That twist of her fingers in his hair, the way she palmed the top of his head when she was almost there.