Nope, nothing attractive at all.
Chapter 3
Duke had never been to war. He imagined waiting for Neve to storm his loft felt a lot like waiting for a decorated general to launch a well-planned assault. He tugged his beard, unbraided and left to run wild. He ought to shave it, but he liked how it hid his face like armor. He’d feel naked and exposed without his raiment of hair. By the time Neve’s booming knock sounded on the door, he’d almost prepared himself.
She stood on the other side of the threshold in her pajamas, which didn’t surprise him. Unlike him, Neve didn’t need protective gear. Not when her personality was such a weapon. She’d twisted her long hair into a bun on the top of her head and had on gray sweatpants with a hole in one knee and a white T-shirt so small it strained over her tiny breasts. Braless, she hadn’t left a damn thing to the imagination. Size, shape, and even the slightly darker shade of her nipples all on fine display.
Dear God, give him back the racy yellow bra.
Would she be so comfortable showing off her assets were he straight? Probably. Neve never lacked for confidence. Her golden eyes no longer snapped and buzzed like a flickering flame, but they bored through him with an intensity that made him look away.
She pushed past him and headed for the refrigerator. “Make some of your gay tea, but hurry up. Let’s get this over with.”
He rolled his eyes but started for the kitchen anyway. He snatched up the olive green kettle. “Chamomile is not gay tea.”
“Quit being so sensitive. All tea is gay tea.”
He’d agree if he weren’t pretending to be offended. He filled the kettle at the faucet and switched on the gas burner. He folded his arms, rested against the counter, and watched Neve bury her head in his fridge.
She pulled a takeout container from the shelves. His dinner. She sniffed the box. “Onions?”
“Nope.” Possibly the only thing they had in common. Besides their jobs, information he’d deliberately withheld.
She snatched a fork from the drying rack and deposited herself on the sofa. “This is going to be fun,” she mumbled around a mouthful of sweet and sour pork. “We’re going to learn a lot about each other tonight.”
Duke tugged his hair into a ragged ponytail at the nape of his neck. “Man, you’re ballsy. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
She forked another huge bite into her mouth. “Like hell. You intentionally kept your job a secret. We’re in the same damn profession, and you’ve hidden it for two years. This morning you outright lied about what you do. Now, normally, I’d agree with you. I don’t give a shit how you earn your living, Duke, but this seems oddly personal. You’re going to explain this covert bullshit to me, or I’m going to make the next six to eight weeks pure hell. Your choice.” She didn’t bother to look him in the eye as she delivered the threat.
He took it to heart. Duke pulled the kettle from the burner when the whistling began. “You’ll do that anyway. It’s part of your charm.”
“You make jokes, but you’ve never seen me at my worst. You’ve never done anything to—” She stopped.
Duke glanced up from pouring hot water over tea bags.
Neve poked at her rice.
“To what?” he pushed. “Piss off the queen?”
No answer, but she at least managed to meet his gaze. She didn’t shrink under his questioning look. That wouldn’t be Neve-like.
He shook his head. Who cared, right? Apparently, he did. He came around the island and set two steaming mugs on the coffee table. He sat next to Neve and angled toward her. “Don’t stop now. You said we’re going to get to know each other. Nothing wrong with you going first.”
She blinked and dropped the fork as though her appetite fled before the answer. “You’ve never done anything to let me down.”
Wow. Why did that answer shock him? Perhaps he never considered she had reasons for being such a bitch. Then again, there was something to be said for impossible standards. And that he’d let her down implied she relied on him. For what, exactly? Neve had a steady string of boyfriends. Every few months some new idiot strolled out of the elevator looking like he’d won the lottery.
Intrigued, he plopped against the cushions. His sofa wasn’t svelte and stylish like Neve’s but a hand-me-down with a network of holes and patches he’d used to cover other holes. There was history and a few stains, but he liked stuff with a past.
“I design bras. I didn’t tell you about my old job because it isn’t relevant. We don’t talk about that sort of stuff. When would I have brought it up? The thought never crossed my mind to randomly mention we once had something in common.” More like having stuff in common with Neve had toed the line of “getting involved.”
Her gaze was still hard. She didn’t attack, though. “How did you go from renovating plantations in Georgia to designing bras in Arkansas?”
“Renovating didn’t come until later. After attending an art institute, I met a contractor at a bar. Random act of the universe. I started helping him on job sites, giving input here and there. I liked it enough I dropped out of the institute and went to work for him full-time. Eventually, when I felt I’d surpassed my mentor, I branched out on my own. End of story.”
Her impeccably shaped eyebrows went up. Women had this thing about their eyebrows where they never seemed to get them right. Too thin and weird-shaped or bushy like a squirrel’s tail. But Neve’s were nice. “Vale House? Bras?”
He groaned, impatient with rehashing history. “You know the rest. An old geezer with even older money hired me to restore Vale House. I did the job, then I quit the profession. Went back to art design, moved to Little Rock, took a nine-to-five at a bra company making easy money. Trust me, bras are nothing compared to houses. They’re easier, for starters, and tend to come with better benefits.”
Neve flashed a smile. She might be made of brick, but at least he could get a laugh out of her occasionally. She finished his leftovers and moved to throw away the container and rinse her fork.
Duke waited, eyeing her as she moved comfortably through his home.
“I understand tact.” She rested her hip against the island, her arms folded, and regarded him with her best poker face. “For instance, I’d never dream of telling my sweet granny she’s got pickle breath when there hasn’t been a pickle within ten miles of her house in a decade. I wouldn’t call out a kid for having underdeveloped motor skills. Those circumstances require a diplomatic approach. I might offer Granny a Tic Tac, but I’m not cruel.”
“Neve, c’mon, you don’t owe me an explanation.” Leave it to Neve to forget women were supposed to be emotional creatures. She was going to get him with logic.
“The general populace is different. I admit it. I’ve got some crazy high standards and even higher expectations, but there’s no excuse for lying to spare someone’s feelings. You’re not doing favors when you hide the truth from people. In the end, lying does more damage than good.” She glanced away briefly. “Trust me. You can say I’m harsh with my deliverance, but I won’t ever lie to you, Duke. I despise lying, lies, and liars. Unless you’re a small child or my sweet granny, don’t expect any different when we’re working together. If an idea sucks, I’m going to tell you it sucks. And I’ll expect the same from you.”
He squinted at her. Her philosophy struck him as surprisingly unrealistic for such a grounded woman. “Everyone lies. It’s human nature.”
“It’s cowardice, but I won’t argue about it being our nature. Yeah, we all lie. We lie because we’re afraid—afraid to cause hurt or anger, afraid to be the messenger who gets shot, afraid to share, afraid to hate, afraid to love.”
Afraid to relate. Duke smoothed a hand over his beard. “There’re other reasons to lie.”
She ignored him. “What were you afraid of when you didn’t tell me what you did for a living? Afraid we’d have something to talk about? I don’t get it.”
“Not a damn thing.” It was like havin
g someone read his mind. No wonder people didn’t like Neve. She picked open their brains and threw the contents in their faces. “Sorry. I don’t go around spewing random information about my past. It’s not like you and I sit down and have heartfelt discussions like we’re best buds or something. Why would I tell you?”
Her mouth clamped shut, her lips pressing together until the skin around them turned white. He waited for an outraged outburst, an ugly insult.
Instead, Neve made a visible effort to relax her shoulders and take in a quiet breath. “I’d like to start on the cabin this weekend. If you’ll arrange for a rental car, I need to spend the next few days finding a general contractor in the area. There’s a town called Red Hill nearby, and I’m sure they have a local guy.”
“You’re going to hire locally instead of getting a team together here in Little Rock?”
She gave him a flat smile. “I support small business. See? I’m not a complete asshole.”
“I never said—”
She pushed away from the counter, ducking her head and waving her arm. “Forget it.” She opened the door to let herself out. Her bun had lost its shape, falling into a limp ponytail.
God, he couldn’t wait for this to get started so it could end. “Great. It’s gonna be loads of fun. I can’t wait.”
She took a step, gripped the edge of the door and stopped, her head down. “Don’t lie to me again, Duke. I hate liars.”
The door slammed shut. He threw his head back and yelled after her, “I am not a liar!”
* * * *
“You take liar to a new level of scum.”
Duke shrugged one shoulder and gazed around. “It’s not that bad.”
I’m going to kill him. I’m going to strangle him with his own hair. Frustration and awe at the condition of the cabin made it difficult to push words through Neve’s throat and past her gritted teeth. She opened her arms wide in exaggerated appraisal of the main room, which also happened to be the only room. “Are you blind? Gavin needs a wrecking ball and a construction crew, not a designer.”
Wall to wall logs formed the floors and ceiling, which arched high in an A-frame style. No insulation. No electricity. Minimal plumbing. Neve wanted to cry. She’d wasted hours on the trip out here.
Duke stood firm in the center of the room, black strands of hair falling pin-straight around his shoulders. Definitely long enough to wrap around his neck a few times. “The contract is signed, Neve. The location trailers will arrive soon, along with Vince Taggart and his team. They’ll spearhead the tough spots while we focus on design.”
Her temper flared. “Which ‘tough spots’ would you be referring to? The questionable foundation, the rotted steps out front, the half-completed plumbing installation, the blocked fireplace, the lack of lighting, or the complete and total absence of a bathroom?” She crossed her arms, cocked her head, and waited for an answer to make sense of what she’d been hired to do with the empty composite of dusty wood.
“It’s no biggie.” He smoothed down his beard. His other hand rested on his cocked hip. “Vince’s crew is bringing along a Porta-Potty.”
She inhaled. “Do you want to die? Because we’re in the middle of nowhere, and I can probably hide the body pretty easily.”
Duke put a consoling hand on her shoulder and ducked his head as if to share a secret. “Isn’t this why you hired Vince and his team? Sure, there are some structural issues. I expected as much. This place has been abandoned for years. The way I see it, we have more time to design a new floor plan. The timeframe shouldn’t change. We told Gavin between six to eight weeks. It’ll be closer to eight than six, but still well within range. Although, there’s one other thing I haven’t mentioned yet.”
She’d hired Vince Taggart because he came locally recommended. No telling if he had the chops for the full extent of the job, though. Neve had expected the hole in the floor where part of the old logs had rotted through and for the fireplace to need a good scrubbing and chimneysweep. But this…
“I’m a designer. I can remodel and rearrange what’s already there, but I didn’t sign up for this.”
“If we work together, we can do it.” Sincerity swamped Duke’s steady blue gaze.
Neve shoved his hand from her shoulder, causing him to lose his balance. He recovered with only a slight unhinging of his jaw.
Funny, he’d gone out of his way to distance himself from her the last two years, keeping secret the one thing they would’ve had in common. He was only out here because she’d forced his hand. It wasn’t a team effort. It was a hostage situation. “Only, we aren’t working together, are we? This is my gig. From what I understand, you’re here to mumble bullshit and call it consulting, so save your pathetic pep talk. I’m going to search for cell reception, call Gavin, and give him my professional opinion of this dump. You stay here and chant or something.” With care, she avoided the hole in the floor and survived the dangerous descent down the precarious front steps.
The cabin sat elevated off the ground by the thick stump of an oak tree at each corner, and likely one centrally located beneath the cabin. At the time it was constructed, the space beneath would’ve been used as a larder for packing goods in snow through the long winter of the Ozarks.
Generally, Neve found people unfamiliar with the Arkansas mountain range seemed surprised at the snowfall. Because, of course, Arkansas was considered part of the South, with a capital S. And everyone knows the South is muggy and hot, with lots of old grannies sitting on their big porches eating apple pie and inviting strangers in for their famous sweet tea. Mountains were still mountains, and snow blanketed the range every winter.
Winter was a long way off, though. Summer commanded the acres and acres of untouched Ozark forest that stretched out from the high hilltop where the cabin perched. Walls of green reached for the sky, but by the time they finished the cabin, provided they avoided major snafus and kept to the schedule, the hills would be poised to explode into the vibrant colors of fall—golden yellow, bright orange, scarlet, and crimson. An autumn rainbow would blanket the scenery until the leaves all turned the same tired shade of brown and fell to their slow deaths in the soil below.
Well, that was dire.
Neve blamed the gloomy turn of her thoughts on Duke. She’d failed to get anywhere near Gavin in the process of taking on the project, and now she didn’t even have a project to keep her occupied. She’d spend the next three weeks sitting on her thumbs waiting for Vince’s team to do the necessary major lifting before anything on her side of the drafting table could be put into action.
“Neve, wait.” Duke’s impatient plea ended with a grunt.
She turned around in time to witness his boot catch a warped plank and send him flying. Instinct pushed her to try to catch his fall, but she failed to reach him in time, which was fortunate, as she narrowly missed being crushed beneath his weight and the momentum of his three-foot drop to the ground.
He landed with a thud and groaned. He rolled over, one hand clutching his side. “Ouuuch.”
Neve leaned over his prone form. “Did you need something?”
“An ambulance.” Breath rasped through lips screwed up in a grimace of pain. How she noticed through the thick web of his beard was a mystery. “I think I cracked a rib.”
It was a quarter-mile trek back to where they’d parked the rental car at the end of the steep, winding gravel path. The final leg to reach the cabin coursed through forest too dense and rugged for anything besides a four-wheeler to traverse. Gavin would have to let them clear a path in order to move supplies. Hiking the distance wasn’t an option for a team hauling lumber and machinery.
“Wait here. I’ll hike to where I can get reception.” She patted his shoulder and straightened, holding her cell phone aloft. Definitely no bars out here.
Duke groaned again. “Wait here. Ah ha. You’re hilarious. Wait, maybe it’s not—” He yelped and grimaced as his fingers gingerly tested his side. “Damn. O
kay, yeah. It’s cracked. Go, hurry.”
“Lucky for you, I’m headed that way.”
Lucky for him, she missed his mumbled reply. She headed for the marked and well-beaten path back to the gravel road and kept her phone held high in case a bar or two sprang into action. She kept a steady eye on the signal icon, paying small mind to her surroundings.
Snap. Neve paused and scanned the thick swells of green foliage on either side of the wide trail. She swallowed and brought the phone to her chest. It’d make a better weapon if it had reception, but it’d have to do against…what sort of predators roamed the Ozarks? Bobcats? Coyotes? If a mountain lion or black bear shot through the trees, she’d be worse off than Duke, despite his vulnerable position. They wouldn’t even be hungry anymore once they were done with her, and he’d never know she unwillingly and begrudgingly saved his life.
Another crack sounded through the undergrowth to her right.
Neve swung toward the noise and braced for an encounter, fists up, one clutching her cell phone like a dagger. She’d laugh at her silliness if goose bumps weren’t playing the fiddle over her skin.
“I ain’t going to hurt you.” Hands up, the stranger emerged from behind the screen of the tree line and engaged her with a disarming smile. Tall with tight faded jeans, a cowboy hat, and a two-pound belt buckle.
Neve released the breath held hostage. She’d take Yosemite Sam over a black bear any day. Easier to aim a well-timed kick to a man’s groin than outrun something with four legs. She lowered her makeshift weapon, refusing to feel mortified. “You make a habit of sneaking up on people in the woods? Next time I might have something more dangerous than a cell phone aimed at you.”
The man’s smile widened beneath a neatly trimmed mustache. He had a friendly enough countenance. Non-threatening hazel eyes watched her with mild amusement from beneath the curled brim of his hat. Those sideburns, though. They inched dangerously toward mutton-chop territory. He slid his thumbs into the belt loops on either side of his zealous buckle. “Timothy Hux.” His head dipped forward in the customary cowboy howdy-doo. “My ranch is a few miles southeast of here. I noticed the car come up the road early this morning. Figured that Little Rock boy done gave up and sold the place. Thought I’d walk over and introduce myself to the new neighbors.”
To the Studs Page 5
