Vince had the look of a man about to be released from a debt.
Neve supposed he was. Once the big stuff was handled, he and his team would move on. She punched his shoulder. “You look awfully smug.”
He grunted. “I’m pleased.” He lifted one shoulder. “I didn’t know if you could save this dump. Now I’m not convinced it’s the same cabin.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a bit too soon for me to rock back on my heels and congratulate myself. You, however, deserve a cold beer.” She gave him a sideways glance. “You get to Little Rock often?”
Vince couldn’t quite hide his grin. “Couple times a year, maybe.”
“You know, before I took this job, I’d been hunting for a new team.”
“Yeah?” He met her gaze. “What happened to your old one?”
“Mutiny.” She shrugged. It didn’t bother her so much now. “I was due for an upgrade anyway. I’ve decided I’m going to keep Kay, if she wants the job permanently.” Since it wasn’t in her nature to beat around the bush, Neve got to the point. “I like you, Taggart. And Kay likes Finn. We’d make a nice little family. Don’t you think? There’s the part where you’d have to relocate to Little Rock, but there’s never a shortage of work. I mean, unless you really love working on cabins—”
“I hate cabins.”
She nodded. “I’ll admit to being somewhat indifferent before this job.”
“And now?”
“Now I can’t wait to do my next inner-city loft.”
Vince’s grunt was different this time. A little bit disappointed with a pinch of hopeful. “I ain’t no use in a loft, and neither are my men. We build houses.”
Neve lifted an eyebrow, sensing more. “And…”
“And you design them, don’t you? Seems to me the math is pretty damn simple. You want a minute to work it out?”
She understood well enough but bobbed her head anyway. She didn’t need to do the math, only decide if she liked what the equation added up to.
Vince silently withdrew from her side, leaving her to ponder the noisy men shouting orders and grunting from their physical efforts.
Up until this cabin, she’d only ever moved walls to suit her design purposes—redefined space. She’d never imagined a house from the studs on up. What could she do with a blank template on an empty lot of land and a hearty, capable team at her fingertips? Duke’s experience would come in handy.
Neve bit her lip. Or would it? Did she only think so for an excuse to ask him to join their team? A professional reason to ask him to stay near, to stay in her life, despite how she shoved him away. She wiped sweat from her brow. It was the dumbest thing ever, but the big, stupid dog had done her in. She’d been waiting for a reason to love Duke, and he’d given her the only one in the world that could’ve accomplished the feat of tearing down that last wall of reserve.
The whole gay thing…well, what had he done, really? Lied about who he was attracted to. But he hadn’t changed since she’d discovered the truth. He hadn’t faked his personality, his love for Darcy the Pit, or his patience and cool temperament that were a perfect foible to her trigger-happy temper and sharp-edged personality. He hadn’t pretended to be someone else. She’d liked him when he was gay, had wished many times he were straight. How could she like him any less now?
She liked Duke but hated the lie. Hated the rejection. And she’d be damned if she’d sit through his “It’s not you, it’s me” speech. She already knew. She didn’t need the facts painfully reiterated, but Duke would naturally feel obligated to explain last night had been physical, not emotional.
So, she’d beat him to the punch. She’d be cold and distant. She’d make it apparent she had no attachments, no emotional stake in what had happened between them.
And Duke would never suspect her darkness was nothing but a shadow cast by a bright light she refused to let him see. Eventually, with enough time, it would dim into nothing but a memory.
* * * *
Duke approached her from the path, eyes down, hands curled into loose fists at his side. He glanced up when she cleared her throat. “There you are. Gavin wants to see you. He’s in our trailer.”
She’d seen that coming. She nodded. Duke turned back up the way he’d come, and she followed. They walked in silence.
Duke obviously had something on his mind, and she had a clue as to what it might be. If he hadn’t figured out how the pieces fit by the time they were done with Gavin, she’d happily show him. She’d waited long enough to clear the air. The whole lot of them were approaching soap opera territory, all because she’d kept her mouth shut.
Inside their trailer, Gavin sat at the dinette table, his lips pressed together in a universal expression of disappointment, and his hands folded neatly on the tabletop. “Neve,” he stated simply by way of greeting.
“Gavin.” She matched his tone. His lips pressed tighter together. She chose to remain standing. She crossed her arms and rested her hip against the counter. Duke took his usual spot on the sofa bed.
Gavin addressed her after a deep sigh. “Neve, I’d like to discuss with you the sort of etiquette I expect from my employees. I was rudely shocked by your behavior this morning.”
Neve pursed her lips and squinted at him. “I wasn’t aware you hired me for my good behavior.”
“Well, of course, I hired you for your skill, but—”
“Then it shouldn’t surprise you when I say I was rudely shocked by your behavior this morning. Nor do you seem to realize the insult you paid me. You don’t show up on a work site and start calling shots and going over my head. You want to come check on what your time and money is becoming, that’s well within your rights, but you should do it with some semblance of respect for the people out here doing their jobs. I’ve worked for weeks now to earn the respect of these men, a difficult task to begin with, being female. Now, recall your backhanded, sexist suggestion that I leave my site to enjoy the utterly useless and almost strictly feminine pastime of shopping for fun, and you’ll see the breech in etiquette was yours. Not mine. If you doubt it, ask yourself if you’d have made the same suggestion to Vince Taggart if he were heading the project.”
Gavin’s face turned red all over a second time. He cast a helpless glance at Duke, who only shrugged. He blinked rapidly before stuttering over an answer. “I assumed the men followed Duke’s lead. He’s the one with the experience.”
“He’s a consultant, which amounts to very little. I’m the one who makes the decisions and gives direction. An example is the deck you like so much. Duke had no idea I even ordered it built. Now, for my part, I apologize for my tone this morning. I might’ve had more tact in my decline of your invitation.”
Duke’s eyebrows went up.
She glared at him. He didn’t think she could say sorry when a situation called for it? Showed what he knew.
“There’s one other thing you should know, Gavin.” Neve inhaled deeply. “I wondered if you were aware that our mutual friend here”—she swung her hands to Duke, as though he were a shiny new car on a gameshow floor—“is as straight as a landing strip.”
Duke’s dark blue gaze slammed into her. His jaw clenched. Unexpectedly, he grabbed Neve by her elbow with a fierce grip and excused them from Gavin’s presence. He practically manhandled her outside the trailer, tugging her until they were several yards away.
She let him because she’d provoked him intentionally. Let him know what I think about secrets—and the harm they can do.
He let go of her and paced a few steps away, his hands curled into fists. His breathing came deep and labored. “You have such nerve. Gavin has been good to me, but how much do you think he’ll trust me now he knows I’ve been lying my ass off for years? How could you do this? Why would you do this? What makes you such a miserable fucking person?” His expression morphed from angry to pleading. The lack of ire somehow made the words more hurtful.
Neve ignored the pinprick of pain in her chest
and bit her lip. “You won’t like it when I tell you.”
“Since there’s not much I happen to like right now, I doubt one more thing is going to matter.”
“Fine, have it your way. Gavin’s in love with you.”
Duke froze, his eyes gone wide with terror and disbelief.
“You looked scared. You’re not a homophobe, are you, Duke? Because the irony would kill me dead.”
“But Gavin…no, Gavin’s straight. He’s totally straight.”
“About as straight as a crazy straw.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. You’ve been inadvertently leading him on for the last two years. Have you noticed his marked lack of interest in the cabin? The weird fact he’d only speak to you when he called? I put it out there because Gavin deserves to know the truth. He’s pining away for a relationship that has no future. I can relate.”
“Oh, I see. So, you’re suddenly the empathetic type?”
She wanted to smack the derision off his smooth face. Instead, she lowered her voice. “You don’t know me, Duke. Did you see Gavin’s face? He’s shocked. And probably mortified. Oh, and likely hurt. Because it sucks to be lied to. He’s been pursuing, however quietly, a straight man for over a year because you don’t have the stones to be honest. But, by all means, let’s feel sorry for you.” She shook her head, disgusted with him and herself. “Gavin’s refusal to deal through me in regards to the cabin was an issue born of his desire to get close to you. Just like I took the job to get close to him. It’s unfair to him and to you. Hell, and to me. Has it crossed your mind he’s not the only one disillusioned?”
Duke’s eyes narrowed. “That’s why you gave up trying to get Gavin to talk to you. That’s why you let him deal through me. How long have you known?”
“Since the look on his face five minutes ago. But I’ve suspected for a while. The cabin…” She waved her arms, indicating everything around them. “I don’t think any of this means much to him.”
The veins in Duke’s neck stood out. He swallowed. “You think…you’re saying all this…the renovation, the work, all because…”
“Because he’s in love with you.”
Duke seemed to wilt and buried his face in his open hands. “Fuck me.”
“Pass. Now, not so miserable, am I? I made the right call.” Surely, he understood now. She was honest, brutally so, but she was never cruel for the sake of being cruel. She’d spoken up to break the cycle of lies and misconceptions, a cycle Duke had created and perpetrated with one single, powerful lie.
“No, you’re still miserable.”
She’d expected a joke, or for him to at least line the remark with a soft buffer of sarcasm, but there was granite beneath the words and his gaze. Neve smirked, determined not to let the depth of the cutting remark show.
“There’s something to be said for tact, Neve. Empathy matters to us mortals, no matter how difficult it may be for someone with a stone heart to comprehend. Had you taken me aside and explained it, I’d have addressed it. I would’ve confessed to Gavin on my own terms and apologized for misleading him. I could’ve done some damage control. Instead, you made a harsh public display of both our secrets. I don’t know how he and I are going to face each other after this.” He shook his head at her like he’d never known a bigger disappointment. “You’re an asshole, Neve. Does it truly help you sleep at night to tell yourself at least you’re an honest asshole?” He stepped around her, not waiting for an answer.
Neve didn’t know what shook her more. That she’d so easily found the cold, heartless approach she’d been going for, or that she’d finally discovered Duke’s breaking point.
Chapter 11
Duke felt pretty useless walking around the cabin.
They were rounding the corner into the final week, but Gavin’s cabin already had the unmistakable glow of a high-end retreat. The stone countertops were a smooth, deep gray, and as Neve had expected, they blended well into the warm space. The doors had arrived, both the front door with its elaborate inlaid glass design Neve had cleverly chosen to compliment the French doors in the rear, and a much plainer one for the bathroom. The tiles had gone down, a wonderful pearlescent amber that glimmered in the low light of the bathroom.
Before departing, Vince and his guys had hauled the hot tub from Tim’s ranch and hooked it up. A small covered structure hugged the wall of the cabin between the back doors and the hot tub. Already cut logs were stacked and waiting for the first fire. Neve would probably have one burning when Gavin came to see the final masterpiece next week.
It hadn’t surprised Duke when Gavin and Terri announced their immediate departure, but it did offer a huge measure of relief. He didn’t have the guts to face Gavin. Not yet. How the hell was he supposed to work with the guy now? Did it qualify as a triangle if he had stirrings for Neve, who had her eyes on Gavin, who was in love with Duke? Somehow, he had to not only apologize, but do so without making the situation worse.
He blamed Neve. It was all Neve’s fault.
The lie that had snowballed and started this whole mess, her fault.
The shocked, hurt look on Gavin’s face when she artlessly threw out Duke’s secret, her fault.
Her distant anger in response to their lovemaking.
Yep. All her fault.
Easier said than believed. Duke left the cabin without bothering to remind Neve of his appointment with Cherish Rancourt, the head of the Red Hill Historical Society, this afternoon. After all, he was but a mere consultant, unlikely to be needed, let alone missed.
* * * *
The wide cracked sidewalks lined with trees and tiger lilies showed care in the landscaping, if not the maintenance. Alas, flowers were cheaper than concrete and labor.
Duke entered the historical society’s museum. The building’s overpowering musty smell hadn’t dissipated since his last visit. He hitched a man purse higher on his shoulder. He didn’t like carrying the strange box out in the open, in case he ran into that sly old fox, Hux.
The receptionist waved him toward the back, where he finally met Cherish.
No younger than seventy, she was an African American with her black hair shorn close to her head, the tiny black curls greased down into perfect swirls against her scalp, and no taller than four foot three. She wore oversized gold-framed bifocals that matched the rest of her thick gold jewelry and a dress suit, blazer, and flared calf-length skirt in the rich deep purple of good red wine.
Cherish had style and proved to be the epitome of the ever-so-famous southern hospitality. She smiled wide at Duke, welcoming him warmly with an offered hand. Her other closed over his as they shook. “Mr. Kennicot, is it? Am I saying that right? I’m so sorry, I hate to have to ask.”
“That’s right. You did fine,” he assured her. He took the seat she indicated. “Nice to meet you, Miss Rancourt.”
Instead of sitting behind her desk, she sat in the guest chair next to his and gathered her hands in her lap. “Oh, please, hon. You call me Cherish.” Best friends already.
Would Cherish be willing to give Neve personality lessons? “Yes, ma’am, but only if you’ll call me Duke.”
A small laugh. “Fair enough. It’s nice to meet you as well. What is it you’d like to know about Red Hill, Duke?”
Duke placed his bag on the floor at his feet and settled back into his chair. He could bask in Cherish’s friendly company all day long. Beat going back to the cabin and facing Neve’s stone-cold façade. “Well, Cherish, I’ve got some questions about the cabin we’re renovating up near Timothy Hux’s ranch.”
At the mention of the ranch, her mouth turned down. “Hm. Yep, I know the place. It’s one of the more colorful stories you’ll find in our little town. It’s not registered as a historical landmark, but I couldn’t tell you why. The cabin is called Beels Cabin after the woman who lived there. Or rather, for whom the cabin was built in the first place.”
“Florrie Beels,” Duke cut in
. “We learned some from Tim Hux. He also claimed the place is haunted by Florrie’s ghost. Lulu’s, too.”
Cherish readjusted her heavy gold frames, the smile vanished from her features. Duke regretted seeing it go.
She seemed to chew on her next words before finally launching into a slow, thoughtful telling. “I suppose the beginning is a fair place to start. Benjamin Hux is the main character, really. His daddy homesteaded that land up there back in the 1860s. At the time, the idea seemed crazy because of the way the valley sits up there so high. Back then, the ranch was called Huxley Ranch. Ben Huxley was born Benjamin Arthur Huxley in 1883 and, for some reason none of us can account for, shortened the name to Hux.” She held up a finger. “But…most people don’t recall he didn’t change it till long after he married Lulu. Lulu was Lulu Huxley, but all the boys were Hux boys. The minor change didn’t take long to stick, I guess, what with how people tend to like shortened names. But the reason why is lost to us. Now, Ben and Lulu’s boys were all born between 1908 and 1912. Three of them, all within a year or so of each other. And they went on to run the ranch together. Between them, only one brother produced an heir, which, of course, was Tim’s daddy in 1945, I believe, and he ended up the sole heir. He has the distinction of buying back about half of what Ben sold off in his time.”
Duke recalled Ben’s gambling addiction.
She waved her hands as if brushing away a fly. “Not that you care none for that. We’ll go back to Ben, Tim’s great-granddaddy. Now, Ben wasn’t a likeable man to begin with. He had a reputation in town, and the only woman ever could tolerate him was Lulu Basker, who had a harsh family life and an abusive father. She grew up poor, and so Ben’s offer was like a platter of gold and, of course, her parents greedily accepted the match. But she married Ben and cut ties, so her mama and daddy never got anything out of it. Well, that didn’t hurt Ben’s feelings none, you can imagine. He married Lulu under pressure from his daddy to produce heirs. For Lulu’s part, Ben had been a knight in shining armor. Despite his drinking and…” She paused and dipped her chin, apologetic but frank. “Whoring is what they called it then. Lulu didn’t care. ’Course, that behavior was somewhat more acceptable a hundred years ago. He’d saved her from a terrible life. She had money, comfort, and three healthy boys who’d inherit a profitable ranch. Life was good.”
To the Studs Page 19
