Awaken Me
Book Six in the Holmes Brothers Series
Farrah Rochon
Copyright © 2018 by Farrah Roybiskie
Cover Design by Mae Phillips of CoverFreshDesigns.com
Cover Image by Darren Gundling, Photographer
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-947628-00-7
Contents
About this book
Awaken Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Also by Farrah Rochon
Chase Me
About the Author
About this book
As the baby of his family, Reid Holmes has happily played the role of the Charming, Irresponsible One. But as his 30th birthday approaches, Reid wonders whether he should be doing more with his life than working as a plumber for Holmes Construction. Now he has the chance to shed his carefree playboy image and go into business for himself, but is leaving his cousin’s construction company a sign of growing up, or the ultimate show of disloyalty? And with the arrival of Holmes Construction’s gorgeous new site coordinator, Reid isn’t sure now is the best time to jump ship.
* * *
When her father is forced to close the family’s longtime handyman business, Brooklyn LeBlanc sees her chance to break free of the job she’s been stuck in since age 15 and finally pursue her dream of writing comics. But responsibilities—and her secret role in the demise of her family’s business—forces Brooklyn to again put the career she truly desires on the back burner. At least her new job at Holmes Construction comes with a hot plumber she can spend the day fantasizing about. But what happens when her harmless workplace crush awakens feelings that aren’t so innocent?
Awaken Me
Chapter One
As the creaking ceiling fan whooshed rhythmically high above the bed, Reid Holmes tried his hardest to fight its hypnotic affect. He couldn’t allow himself to be lulled back to sleep, no matter how much his body craved another two hours in this bed. With a groan, Reid cracked one eye open.
And found himself nose-to-tip with a pert, dusky brown nipple.
He blinked hard and opened his eyes again.
Yup. Still there.
As far as nipples went this was a nice one. Pebbled and standing at attention, looking like a sweet, chocolate Milk Dud. And now he wanted Milk Duds.
His stomach growled.
Ignoring the hunger pangs, Reid focused on the more pressing matter of the morning, trying to recall who the erect nipple belonged to. He drew a blank. As gingerly as possible, he lifted his head from the pillow and scrutinized the face of the woman laying supine on his bed, searching his cloudy memory for a name. Any name.
He had nothing. Not one clue.
She shifted, and those perfect breasts thrust higher, his navy blue bed sheets falling even farther down her smooth, light brown skin. Reid did his best to remain quiet as he braced his hands on the mattress and began to lift himself up.
Until he looked over at the alarm clock on his nightstand and noticed the time.
“Shit!” He sprang from the bed.
He’d promise Alex he’d be at the construction site early to receive the shipment of electrical wiring arriving this morning. He should have been out of here by now.
Reid pushed at the sleeping woman’s leg.
“Hey…uh.” Fuck! What is her name? “Uh, ma’am, you need to wake up.” He caught her big toe and wiggled it. “Hey!” She turned onto her side and he saw the name Vivian intertwined with a rose tattooed on her arm. “Hey, Vivian, you need to wake up.”
She stirred, then she sat up and leisurely stretched her arms above her head, the sheet pooling at her waist.
Damn, she was fine. Too bad he was having such a hard time remembering what they did last night. He recalled snippets, like seeing those fire engine red nails clutching his back in his mirror as he held her up against the dresser and buried himself deep inside her. And he faintly remembered those flawless breasts bouncing as she rode him like a mechanical bull. And he was pretty sure some kind of strawberry-flavored lubricant had made an appearance during the course of the evening.
Hmm. Guess he remembered more about last night than he’d first thought. Just not her name.
She looked up at him, a sleepy smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
Oh, yeah. He definitely remembered that mouth. It had tasted like strawberry after she’d used some of that oil on a certain part of his anatomy.
“Good morning,” she said, lifting her arms in another stretch. She patted the mattress. “Get back in.”
Reid shook his head. “Umm, no, sorry. I can’t.” He glanced at the clock. “Look, I’m really sorry about this, Vivian, but I need to get going. I’m late for work.”
Her forehead furrowed with her puzzled frown. “Why are you calling me by my dead grandmother’s name?”
Oh, shit.
“I—” Reid started, but how in the hell was he supposed to answer? His fatal mistake was glancing in the vicinity of her tattoo.
She looked at her arm, then back up at him, her eyes spitting fire.
“Seriously!” She threw the sheet to the side and shot up from the bed, planting her hands on her bare hips. “You don’t even remember my name, do you, David?”
He’d given her his middle name, which told Reid he hadn’t been one hundred percent comfortable with her vibe last night, but not so uncomfortable as to pass up the chance to sleep with her.
“Look, I’m sorry, but, no, I don’t remember your name. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have a good time last night. I did. But I need to get to work, so…” Shit. “What’s your name again?”
“Fuck you! That’s my name!” She slammed her palms against his chest, pushing him out of the way. Then she strode her fine, naked ass into the adjoining bathroom. She was in there for less than two minutes before she walked out, picked her dress and underwear up from the floor, and quickly put them on.
She snatched her cellphone and a tiny purse that was no bigger than a deck of cards from his dresser and stomped out of his bedroom.
Following her into the living room, Reid said, “I’d really like to know your name.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
“You’re an asshole,” she shot back as she rapidly tapped on her phone.
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered. He blew out a weary breath. “Do you need a ride home?”
She extended her middle finger in the air as she continued toward the front door.
“What’s the address here?” she barked, then stopped at the door and picked up the mail he had on the table right next to the entrance to his apartment. She turned to him. “Who is Reid?”
Damn. This just wasn’t his morning.
“You gave me a fake name? God, you really are an asshole.” She looked down at the mail while typing into her phone—probably to get his address—then looked up at him again. “I would tell you to forget my number but I’m sure you already have.” She yanked his front door open. “Don’t follow me,” she shot at him.
For a half second Reid considered heeding her order, but he’d been enough of a bastard this morning. He followed her outside, making sure he kept a good three feet
behind. She seemed like one who wouldn’t think twice about taking a swing at him. Not as if he didn’t deserve it.
A moment later, a car with a black Uber sticker in the window pulled up to the curb.
“I’m sorry,” Reid said. “Can I at least pay for your ride?”
She ignored him and told the woman behind the wheel to drive.
Reid waited until the car turned at the first stop sign before heading back inside. He closed the front door and thumped his head against it, closing his eyes tight.
This shit was getting old.
There’d been a time in his life when waking up to a random woman in his bed was something he would brag about to his friends, but that time had passed. He didn’t want anyone knowing about what had just taken place in this apartment.
“You gotta stop this,” Reid whispered as he pushed away from the door.
He’d forgo a shower if he could, but the scent of whatever perfume Vivian’s granddaughter had been wearing clung to his skin. If he arrived on the construction site smelling like a field of spring flowers Reid knew he’d never hear the end of it.
He jumped into the shower and was out in less than three minutes. He quickly pulled on his jeans and grabbed a Holmes Construction T-shirt from the dozen folded neatly in his top dresser drawer. It would be nice if he could sit at the kitchen bar and drink a cup of coffee, but enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee before work was reserved for people who didn’t send random women storming out of their apartment after treating them like shit.
Reid stuffed his feet into his steel toe boots, slipped his wallet in his back pocket and locked up the apartment. Maybe, if he managed not to hit too many streetlights, he wouldn’t be too late.
He hit every single streetlight. Karma.
As he drove along Paris Avenue, Reid made an effort to block out the rough start to his morning. There was nothing he could do about it now, except maybe try to treat the next one better. Or, maybe he could make sure there wasn’t a next one. Going home with a stranger he met in a bar was something he’d done more often over the past decade than he cared to admit, but now that he was knocking on thirty’s door, it was time he grew up.
Reid parked his Chevy crew cab alongside the temporary fencing that cordoned off the Holmes Construction worksite. Two months ago, the charred, hollowed out remnants of an old strip mall stood here. Today, they were preparing to erect the interior walls of the second wing of a new urgent care clinic that was scheduled to open the week before Halloween. Whether or not they hit their target remained to be seen.
Last week, a tropical storm formed in the Gulf of Mexico and quickly made landfall on the Louisiana Coast, halting their work for several days. To make matters worse, half the crew had suffered flood damage. His cousin, Alex, who owned Holmes Construction, gave everyone three days off so they could take care of their homes. He’d provided them supplies at cost and even allowed them to use some of Holmes Construction’s heavy duty equipment for free.
It was just one of the reasons why those who worked here at Holmes Construction were so loyal. Alex had earned their loyalty. He deserved their loyalty.
He deserves your loyalty too, asshole.
He was loyal. He’d been loyal to Alex for years. Just because he and his buddy Anthony were considering starting up their own handyman business, that didn’t mean Reid was no longer loyal to his cousin. Just because he wanted to see if he had what it took to make it on his own, without having to rely on his family for help, that didn’t mean he was ungrateful for everything Alex had done for him over the years.
Reid pushed those thoughts out of his head. Guilt over the way he’d treated Vivian’s granddaughter had already staked claim on his psyche today. He didn’t have room for his guilt over possibly leaving Holmes Construction.
He entered the gate and went straight to the temporary trailer that served as Alex’s office on the site. He caught a whiff of freshly brewed coffee the moment he opened the door and his mouth started to water.
Alex looked up from his desk, then looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.
“I know, I know,” Reid said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the delivery. Did everything go okay?”
“It’s in the back. Lloyd and his crew will start wiring the lobby area this afternoon.”
“Good,” Reid said. He tipped his head toward the coffee pot. “Can I bum a cup of coffee off you?”
Alex nodded. “You look like you had a rough weekend.”
“You can say that,” Reid muttered.
“Shepard called out sick this morning too. Said he has a stomach flu. Should I believe him?” his cousin asked.
Reid shrugged. He had no doubt that Myron Shepard was suffering from something this morning, but it probably wasn’t the stomach flu. More like the hangover to end all hangovers. The guy had kicked back at least six shots last night. They’d been celebrating his engagement, after all. His longtime girlfriend had finally agreed to get married after years of Myron pleading with her. Reid personally didn’t consider getting hitched a reason to get shit-faced, but Myron was happier than a pig in slop. Who was he to judge?
One thing he and his friends could probably all agree on this morning was that they should have saved the celebration for their usual Friday night get-togethers, instead of partying on a Sunday night.
“Trust me, you don’t want Myron on the site today,” Reid said.
“Do I want you on the site today?”
“I’m straight.” Reid held up his coffee cup. “Once I get a little of this in me, I’ll be even better.”
Alex shook his head. “It’s a good thing you’re a damn good plumber.”
Some would take those words as a slightly veiled threat, but Reid knew he didn’t mean anything by it. The eldest of the six Holmes boys, Alex had hired Reid to work for him straight out of high school, back when they mainly took on residential jobs and when Reid didn’t know jack shit about anything other than running his mouth. These days, Holmes Construction was strictly commercial, contracting for both the state and private companies. It had taken Alex just over a dozen years to build his business into one of the only black owned construction companies in the south, with Reid as one of his senior plumbers.
Of course, he still ran his mouth more than he should, but at least he had the skills to back up his talk.
“Don’t worry about Myron,” Reid said. “I’ll make sure he puts in the extra hours to make up for today.”
Alex waved that off. “We’re behind, but not by that much. You know I always pad the schedule, especially for jobs we take on during hurricane season.” Alex tipped his head toward the door. “But I can’t spare too much more wasted time, so get your ass out there.”
Reid chuckled. “Alright, man. I’m outta here.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Alex called. “The new site coordinator starts today. She’ll be here at ten. I want you to show her around this week, help her learn the ropes.”
Reid halted in the middle of turning the knob, his brightening mood instantly turning dark again.
When the previous site coordinator left a few weeks ago, Reid had practically guaranteed the job to Donte Fischer. Donte deserved that job. He’d been with Holmes Construction long enough and had proven himself.
Going outside the company to find someone to fill the vacated position had been a shitty move on Alex’s part. It also made Reid look like an ass who didn’t have the kind of pull with the boss that everyone thought he did.
What was even shittier? Alex now expected Reid to hold this new person’s hand when his cousin knew damn well how Reid felt about the situation.
But apparently his feelings didn’t matter. Alex was the boss. It was his call.
He knew it was useless, but Reid decided to make one last argument on Donte’s behalf anyway. Folding his arms across his chest, he walked back to Alex’s desk.
“You want to explain to me again why you think someone who doesn’t even work here would be better for this
job than Donte?” Reid asked.
Alex took off the reading glasses he’d started wearing a few months ago and looked up at Reid. “No, I don’t want to explain it,” he answered.
“He knows the system and the workers,” Reid argued. “He’s stepped in more than once when your foreman got sick. And whatever Donte can’t do, I’m here to pick up the slack.”
Alex sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “Can you or Donte handle scheduling for both my guys and the subcontractors? Can you monitor project expenditures so we don’t go over budget, and file all the compliance paperwork with OSHA?”
Reid didn’t bother responding. They both knew the answer to those questions.
“Well?” Alex asked. “Can either of you do any of that stuff? And keep in mind that these are the things I’ve had to do on the weekends, when I should be spending time with my family.” He picked up the squishy stress ball shaped like a construction helmet and squeezed it once before tossing it on the desk. “Look, Reid, now that we’re branching out into multiple areas, it’s even more important that I find someone who can work as my surrogate for the times I’m not here.”
“So this new person you hired, is she supposed to be the second coming of Alex Holmes or something?”
“Close enough,” Alex said. “Brooklyn LeBlanc knows her way around a construction site. She’s Warren LeBlanc’s daughter.”
“From LeBlanc & Sons?” Reid asked. “Why isn’t she working for them?”
“Because after forty years in the business, Warren has decided to retire. I don’t have to remind you that I got my start with LeBlanc & Sons. Anyone who’s ever worked for them is welcome to work for Holmes Construction. In fact, I’m hoping to bring on their head electrician, Eddie Nunez. He’s one of the best out there.”
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