Give It Up

by Lee Kilraine

  I wanted to hit something. Punch something really, really hard. But also, I wanted to slap myself because even though I knew he didn’t really mean what he was saying—about giving me the job title and responsibility of my stepbrothers—that darn heart of mine wanted to fall for it. Dumb, Sam. Dumb. Especially because I didn’t ever want to work for him again. I just needed to hear him say it and mean it, dammit.

  “This job is a huge get, Sam. Don’t fuck it up. I’d be happy to sit down with you and offer my help.”

  Of course he would. Because his little girl wasn’t smart enough or talented enough to pull it off. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad. Deep breath, Samantha. Sunshine thoughts, not storm clouds.

  “I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. Actually, my company is working with—oh, well, here’s Beck right here.” Beck had just walked in the foyer, and I motioned him frantically into the kitchen. “Dad, this is Beckett Thorne of Six Brothers Construction. Beck, this is my father, Dean Devine.”

  Beck blinked, then smiled, extending his hand for a handshake. “Mr. Devine. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve admired your company’s work for years.”

  “Call me Dean, son.” My father perked up at Beck’s compliment. Dean Devine may be stingy with handing out praise, but he loved receiving it. “I’ve heard of SBC. Good things, of course.”

  “I actually worked on one of your construction sites when I was in college,” Beck said. “It was a great learning experience.”

  “Good to hear. So, you’re on the King job too? Is my Sam one of your subs?”

  “I’m not a subcontractor, Dad. Beck and I are working on this renovation together. Equal partners.” Because not everyone thinks you have to have a penis to be good at business.

  “Oh. How about a tour, Beck? If you wouldn’t mind. You can tell me more about yourself and your business, and we can get out of Sam’s way.”

  “I’m sure Sam would want to do the honors.…” Beck looked at me with raised eyebrows.

  “No. Go ahead, I’d like to finish this sketch while the light is at this angle.” Might as well let my dad and Beck drool all over each other. I didn’t want to listen to that.

  * * * *

  An hour later, I heard my father leave through the front door. He didn’t bother to come back to say goodbye. Whatever. I closed my sketchpad, having gotten some good ideas down.

  “Why didn’t I know Dean Devine was your father?” Beck had reentered the kitchen.

  “Because it’s not important?”

  “Devine and Sons has been one of the top ten national builders for the last ten years. The have a great reputation.”

  “I know.”

  “Why didn’t you go into the family business? You know, follow in your father’s footsteps.”

  It would probably be bad for our working relationship if I punched him in the face right now.

  “I don’t know, Beck. Did you follow in your father’s footsteps?” I snapped back at him.

  His face stiffened and his eyes hardened. “No. No, I didn’t. And I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to come out of my mouth. My only excuse is I have great respect for your father and how he’s built his business. I might have been a little starstruck. We studied his business in one of my classes, so I guess I feel a connection.”

  Right. I’d heard this from other people in the industry. I knew my father was a big name in the world of home builders. That was a big part of why it grated so much. Other people put him on a pedestal but didn’t see that he had one very big blind spot when it came to women in the industry. Or maybe it was just a blind spot when it came to his daughter. My mother said I needed some sort of closure, but I was holding out for his love and respect. Sometimes it sucked being an optimist.

  Chapter 12

  Samantha

  The next two weeks were challenging, exciting, and sometimes a pain in the butt. Guess who was responsible for the pain in the butt part? Thank goodness even though Beck and I still weren’t agreeing on much, that hadn’t slowed down the job. Progress was made, since we knew what had to go in the demo process. It was what was going in those newly cleared-out spaces that was the problem.

  It was a calming sight at the end of each day to see the dumpster on the front driveway getting fuller and fuller. Most of it was the drywall that had to be opened up for the rewire. The house hadn’t been remodeled since the eighties, so there were a lot of tacky brass light fixtures and old white appliances to toss. Well, not toss. Anything that still worked we donated to the nearest Habitat for Humanity Thrift Store. There was also brick that was crumbling and lots and lots of tile work that had to be scraped off in order to create a new canvas to work with.

  Today Beck and I were meeting at his office in an attempt to finalize something between us. I’d be happy if we could just agree on a single room at this point. It’s not that Beck and his brothers weren’t talented. They were. I could appreciate their ideas. They just had a totally different feel than I had envisioned. More importantly, a different feel than I thought would suit Lila and Denver.

  Also, I was pinning part of this on my father. It’s possible my father’s visit a few weeks ago, the one when Beck all but bowed to him, was having an effect on my desire to compromise. The image of my dad and Beck all chummy made me want to stand my ground when Beck and I discussed design ideas. Stand my ground and dig in my heels.

  Once again, my father’s timing was stupendously unhelpful. It’s like he had a hidden “time to squash Sam’s dreams” radar or something. Anyway, it was a problem I was aware of, and was going to attempt to agree with Beckett today on something.

  I’d only seen the outside of the SBC offices on my last visit. Considering their office was in a swankier section of town than Devine Designs, it was no surprise to see it was bigger and nicer than ours. Light-filled yet boldly masculine, with modern clean lines and no clutter.

  The nun behind the reception desk was a little surprising.

  “Hello. I’m Samantha Devine. I’ve got an appointment with Beckett Thorne.”

  “Oh, you mean Mr. Thorne.” The woman peered up at me sweetly, her eyes magnified three times their normal size behind her thick glasses.

  “Yes, ma’am, Beckett Thorne.” Since there were at least four Mr. Thornes working in the office, five if Asher worked with his brothers, his first name seemed like important information.

  “Do you mean the one that looks like James Garner or Cary Grant? Or maybe you want the one who has those blue eyes like Paul Newman.”

  “Uh…” No idea, although blue eyes like Paul Newman sounded like Beck. The door opened to my left, and I turned my head to see Gray exiting an office, swinging a set of keys in one hand. “Sister Mary Teresa, time for a lovely drive around the park. Oh, hello, Sam. Tell me you’re here to join our softball team.”

  “Ha, no. I’m here for my meeting with Beck.” Although these Thorne brothers with their good looks and charismatic smiles were awfully hard to resist. “Um, your receptionist is calling to let him know I’m here. I think.”

  We both turned to see she’d gone back to her knitting.

  “I’ll take you back. Sister, hang on to your habit, we’re going on a date when I get back.” He smiled over his shoulder at the receptionist as the two of us walked toward a corner office.

  “I’m not putting out, Mr. Thorne! But I’ll let you buy me a barbecue sandwich from Poole’s,” she called down the hall at us. “I haven’t had barbecue in three decades.”

  Not putting out?

  Gray laughed and called back, “That’s what all the ladies say, Sister!”

  I turned to look at him and all he did was grin.

  Beck’s office door was wide open, so Gray simply tapped once with a knuckle before we entered.

  “Beck, Samantha’s here for your meeting,” Gray said.

  “Hey, Sam. Let’s go
across the hall to Wyatt’s office. He’s got more space to spread out.” Beck moved from behind his desk, grabbing a laptop on his way, and settled a hand at the small of my back to usher me through the door.

  His firm hand had me sucking in a breath, my stomach fluttering. Because it opened a flood of memories of our one, extremely hot night together. The fact that it had been two years ago didn’t dull the hotness one bit. It was hard to concentrate when I wanted to shimmy around so his hand could touch me all over.

  “Wyatt’s not going to be happy,” Gray said, but he didn’t look like it was a big deal.

  “Uh, I don’t want to get your brother angry.” I looked between the two of them. “We can head over to my office.”

  “No, it’s fine. He’s out back working in the woodshop. We’ll be over at the jobsite before he’s back and he’ll never know,” Beck said.

  “He’ll know.” Gray winked at me. No surprise he was a winker. Some guys just were and it came off naturally. And kind of cute. Gray was that kind of winker. Guess that was part of his rumored charm. “I’ll let Eli know he’s got the phones. I’m taking Sister M.T. through the park and then stopping at Poole’s before I drop her off. Can you believe the woman hasn’t had barbecue in thirty years? I’ve got a meeting with a client for a bath reno, but I’ll be back after that.”

  “Is that what she told you? I just took her yesterday. Whatever you do, don’t let Sister get jalapeños on her sandwich. No matter how much she tries to sweet talk you into it. I made that mistake and we got a call about it.”

  “Why that lying, sneaky nun. She’s my kind of woman. Sam, I’m looking forward to working with you.” He gave me that wink again. He did. Still cute.

  “Back at you.” He was way less uptight than Beck, that was for sure.

  We settled in at the large conference table next to a bank of windows. Beck took the time to lower the blinds so we’d be able to see our computer screens. I sat and laid out my sketches before setting up my own laptop next to Beck’s.

  He sat in the chair next to me and opened his laptop, before rolling the blueprints open in the middle of the table. “Okay, not to beat a dead horse, but we’ve got to decide on something today, Sam. We’ve got about a week left before Lila wants to see our plans for phase one.”

  Beck’s gaze landed on mine, and while the light blue of his eyes snagged my attention (it always did) there was a tenseness about him that hadn’t been there before. His hair looked wilder and shaggier than I’d ever seen it, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He was still drop-dead sexy. But guilt poked at me that my inability to find a place to compromise might be making him lose sleep. My fingers itched with the urge to run through his mussed hair and soothe him. I interlocked my hands together and held them firmly on the table in front of me.

  “I know. I know, and I’m not being stubborn on purpose.” Not consciously. “It’s that this is a huge deal for Devine Designs. We’ve got a lot riding on this—just like you—and I need this to represent our best work. Work I believe in.”

  “I get that. I feel the same way.” His gaze danced around my face, sizing me up for a few seconds before he continued. “Let me ask you something… Do you actually believe in chi flow, and feng shui, and energy flowing through a home?”

  His eyes held mine captive even when I wanted to look away. So bright blue, like truth-seeking beams, and they broke me. Before I could stop myself, I was spilling my guts.

  “I tried it in my own apartment and had no luck with it. And it doesn’t seem fair that some evil person like Hannibal Lecter or Darth Vader could add wood elements or soften corners or create a yin-yang spot in their home and have good things happen to them. Shouldn’t it matter more what’s in a person’s soul than your house?”

  “So that’s a tentative no.” Beck’s eyes twinkled with humor, and his lips tilted up into a sexy grin.

  “If you repeat that to anyone, I will deny I ever said it and…and…throw eggs at your sweet pick-up truck.” Okay, yes, I had a thing for his truck. Not that I’d tell Beck. That would be like revealing his kisses melted my brain. Why would I hand over that ammunition? But I also knew it was a threat that worked. Silly, right? Egging a vehicle seemed harmless, since a little water cleaned it right up. All I knew was that guys took knees to their junk and eggs to their vehicles very seriously.

  “See? I knew you liked my truck.” He smiled at me. Then he got serious. “Don’t ever egg it. It’s hell on the paint.”

  I rolled my eyes. “On the other hand, who am I to decide what a client believes is right or wrong? No one died and made me queen of karma. So I think it’s only fair to accommodate a client’s wishes when I can.”

  “I agree. We try to make our clients happy too. But trying to get the yin-yang energy by both of us doing the rooms together isn’t working. Here’s the thing—we’re both working on the same house, right? Both of our energies will be throughout the whole house design. Instead of focusing on each room—let’s widen the lens. Pull back and visualize how that energy flows throughout the entire project.”

  He was a great salesman. Passionate and convincing. His eyes grabbed a person’s attention and didn’t let go. And he used his hands again when he talked. A bit distracting but maybe that was all part of his plan.

  “You’re hesitating—but at least this will help us get this project moving. I’ll be honest, if we delay finishing these plans any longer, making that December gala date looks dicey.”

  “I know. I feel bad though. Lila wants—”

  “And she’s going to get what she wants.” He picked up one of my sketches, flicking the paper with his index finger. “Look at this. Your plans are fresh, beautiful, and unique. I’ve seen your portfolio. I like to think my brothers and I bring as much talent to this job as Devine Designs. Let’s divide and conquer, Sam.”

  “Okay, but I get the kitchen, master, master bath, dining room, and Lila’s study.” I raised an eyebrow at him when his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. Like he was trying not to show any reaction but wasn’t one hundred percent happy. “You can have Denver’s study, the family room, the foyer, the backyard, and the pool house.”

  “Deal.” He stuck his hand out and we shook. I tried to ignore the heat and tingle of my hand in his.

  That sensual tingle made me think this was a good solid plan. Because now I didn’t have to spend hours next to Beck while we tried to find some non-existent middle ground between our styles. I could hole up in my office, far away from his testosterone and his pheromones and his blue eyes and his rough face and his big callused hands and his—run, Samantha. Run like your ovaries depend on it.

  I stood abruptly, surprising Beck, but it was best for my sanity that I leave now.

  “I—I’m so excited to get to work on my rooms.” I gathered up all my renderings and shoved them into my soft-sided bag. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go.”

  He handed me my laptop, and I slipped it in the case too.

  “Sure, okay. We’ve both got a lot of work to do before Lila comes by the house on Monday.” He stood next to me tall, hard-muscled, and distracting, which reinforced exactly why I needed to get away from him. To avoid thinking about him being tall, hard-muscled, and distracting.

  “We do. I’ll just be going so we can both get right to it.” Slinging the strap of my bag over my shoulder, I walked to the door and out to the front reception area with Beckett following behind me. No, I couldn’t see him. But I sensed him.

  “Call me if you have any questions,” he said.

  “I don’t have your phone number.” That fact made me trip over my own feet. Because that’s when I realized I’d had hot, wild sex with a man—and I didn’t even have his phone number.

  Beck held out his hand for my phone. I fished it from my bag and handed it to him, getting a sad, twisted vicarious thrill to watch his fingers dance over my keypad. And then he hi
t me with those blue eyes and said, “Now you do. Call me anytime.”

  I was afraid I would.

  * * * *

  On Monday, Lila arrived with her usual vibrating excitement for life. She swept in wearing a loose tank dress, a summer hat, and flip-flops. Her wild curls were braided, probably in deference to the heat. I bet most of the female population of Raleigh was either wearing their hair up or chopping it off in this heatwave. I sure kept my own long, thick curls up in a messy bun, trying to catch the most pitiful of breezes on the nape of my neck. Something needed to break soon, or people were going to lose it.

  First we took her on a tour so she could see the changes. We pointed out where walls were removed (not many) or where walls were pushed out. The whole house would need new wiring to get it up to code, so much of the drywall had been ripped out and would be replaced after the electricians rewired the whole house. Lots of changes but nothing much to see.

  “Let’s get to the good stuff.” Lila led the way into the sunroom. After Beck pulled the tarp off the couch so Lila could sit, she made herself comfortable and said, “Show me what you two have got for me.”

  I nodded across at Beck and we set up both our laptops on the table in front of where Lila sat. Beck went first, clicking through SBC’s renderings of the rooms, taking time to explain the details and answer Lila’s questions.

  Next it was my turn to take her through my rooms. The kitchen and bathrooms, the formal dining room, plus Lila’s home office. I went through the fabrics and paints, discussing the feel and highlighting the places we planned to use elements to divert or bounce the good energy so it would flow through her house. I wrapped up, ready to answer Lila’s questions, only instead of asking questions, Lila sat quietly staring at the two computer screens.

  “I don’t like it.” She sat back, her gaze alternating between me and Beck while she shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s not working for me. Something’s missing and I can’t quite place it.”

  Well, crap. I mean, I thought the designs were stunning. I was darn proud of mine, and Beck and his brothers had done fabulous work.