by ML Nystrom
“Hmm.” I nodded in acknowledgement. Okay, blonde bimbo is not his girlfriend. He still may be keeping the other one around. Stop it, Eva! Not your business, just here to work. No ogling the man candy.... Shit, now I’m thinking about him in the bathroom again!
I shrugged, schooling my thoughts and my face.
“I hope you liked the music. We did a couple of original songs last night in one of the last sets, but you’d already left. Right after you punched out your brothers,” he said, taking off his black leather riding gloves. His eyes were intense even though his voice was light and joking and that panty-melting look was on his face. Blue hair. Growling. Shaking head with a bone. Boner. GAH! Too much! Must escape!
I ducked my head and pulled out my measuring tape once more, keeping my hands busy and giving myself something to do so I wouldn’t burst into peals of laughter. “Yep. They’re the younger twins of the family and a major pain in my ass most of the time. I missed the next set since I don’t think the bouncer was too keen to have me stick around. He didn’t say much, but I caught him giving me the stink eye. Sorry I missed your personal stuff.”
I heard him chuckle again. “No problem, babe. The bouncer’s name is Mute and he doesn’t say much to anyone. You’re not banned for life. We’re playing again next weekend.”
Babe? Really? And was that information or an invitation? Feeling a little awkward, I marked a two-by-four with a carpenter’s pencil and stuck the squared-off implement behind my ear. “You got any brothers?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
He hesitated long enough for me to look up. “My brothers are the club.” His voice sounded tight. I almost asked another question, but checked myself. Nope, not going there, Eva!
Owen came back over and grunted a greeting before picking up the circular saw and cutting the piece of wood exactly to the length I’d marked. I really liked working with Owen, as he never second-guessed me.
I was trying to figure out what to say to extricate myself and get back to work, but at that moment a shiny red Mustang pulled up and an equally shiny woman climbed out. Jeans, high-heeled boots, dark sunglasses, and all attitude. She strode across the loose gravel lot. I grinned—Betsey was always a welcome sight.
“Hey, darlin’!” she greeted, waving. Her long nails were painted a dark orange color that should have clashed horribly with her dyed red hair, but somehow the woman was able to pull it off. “You got time to show me my new workspace again?” she asked politely, but there was an authority to her that made me think not many people told her no. She was funny, fierce, the reigning queen of the MC, and totally dedicated to the club. I liked her a lot.
“Yeah, I got a different mock-up on my computer.” I smiled and let my tape measure snap back in its case. “Owen, you got this?”
My brother grunted and nodded. At six feet tall and two hundred and fifty pounds, most of his communication was as apelike as his appearance. Owen was a workhorse, plain and simple.
Since Owen always seemed to be at a loss for words, I filled the silence by talking about the construction of the new River’s Edge bar. “We’re following the plans for construction but making adjustments as needed. The framing hasn’t changed and neither has the budget. It’s in Eastern white pine with an exterior of cedar log siding. Connor found a local supplier that had some really nice knotty pine inside paneling that give the walls an interesting grainy look. It won’t be a fully traditional log structure, but this framing and siding allows for wiring, plumbing, and insulation that a straight-up log cabin doesn’t.” I showed Betsey into the work trailer and pulled up my design on my laptop.
“I really lucked out with the supplier Connor found. He’s got the bar tops I like to work with in my bar designs. I used the same knotty pine as the image for the bar top to match the look of the walls, but if you want a nice contrast, bald cypress would be a great choice. I kept the basic L-shape of the original but expanded the floor width to give you a bit more work space.” I clicked on the bar top to show what the finished product would look like. “This particular one is coated in a thick baked-on resin that will keep the wood looking new for years. The finish is matte to keep with the rustic look, but I can get a shiny finish if you want. The matte finish doesn’t scratch up too much and when it does, it can be buffed out easily. The shiny is harder to maintain with all the elbows, purses, glasses, and whatever else your customers will slap on top.”
I clicked on another image. “I also included a Chicago style bar rail. That’s the lip you see around the edge. That is a separate installation that you can either do in contrasting or matching wood. I recommend it so any spills are contained on the bar and not leaking on your customers. The drain trough runs the entire bar length and any spilled beer can be wiped down with little splatter on the working side as well.”
I kept clicking, showing her the increased shelves, ice machine, keg taps, two deep stainless steel sinks, and my other ideas for her bar. My excitement for the project was starting to show. I really liked designing and making stuff. “Most of your customers are here for beer in the bottle and the rest want beer on tap. You said most other sales are hard liquor shots, and only a few tourist people want mixed drinks. You don’t go through a huge amount of glassware in a night so instead of a bulky under-the-counter box washer that takes up so much space, I found these light brush washers that take no time at all to use, take up very little space, and are very thorough. Even take off lipstick stains, which the box washers don’t do as well.”
“I love that idea! Liftin’ them big trays of glasses get heavy when you hafta get them in and out of the washer,” Betsey stated, looking over my shoulder and placing her taloned hand on one of them. “Biggest use we have is them big beer mugs. I tried them beer glasses but Bruiser is so dang big he ends up droppin’ them half the time.”
“You really know your stuff.” A low male voice vibrated close to my ear over the other shoulder. I jumped a bit as I hadn’t realized that Stud had followed us into the work trailer and was also looking at my designs. Sweat broke out on my brow, and I suddenly felt nervous about his approval.
“I like the continuity of using the knotty pine but with a darker wood for the rail. Would a stain work?” he asked, seeming to be genuinely interested.
I all but squeaked back, “Yep, I could do a stain instead of contrasting woods. The grain pattern would look more uniform as well.”
Betsey clapped her hands twice and made her decision. “I like it! Let’s use a darker walnut color on the rail. Great ideas! I love ’em all!” She fingered my ginger hair. “Darlin’, your coloring is gorgeous! What kind do you use?”
I stuttered a bit. “Um—this is just me. I don’t color my hair.”
“That’s your natural color? Lord a’mercy!” She continued to poke at my head. “There’s so much of it! You have enough hair for three people. And these curls! Do you have any idea how much money women pay to have hair like that?”
I supposed I should’ve felt uncomfortable having a virtual stranger mess with me, but I’d noticed Betsey had a habit of mothering everyone around her. It was actually nice to talk to a woman for a change.
“Yeah, it’s kind of a pain sometimes, but I don’t want to cut it. Maybe tame it a little. I use a lot of leave-in conditioners, but the job site can be rough on it sometimes.” I was keenly aware that Stud was still in the room and probably listening. Hair care was probably low on his list of priorities, but for some reason he was sticking around.
“Psalm, the woman that owns the Soap-n-stuff store in town has some homemade conditioners that are fantastic for this kind of hair. Tambre loves her stuff. You’ll need to go there sometime. In fact, come on up to the Lair this Sunday afternoon. We’re grilling out. The boys will be out and I can introduce you to the other ladies. You need some girl time, being around all this testosterone all day!”
All day? Make that all my life!
She glanced at her watch and kept talking, not even waiting for me to answer.
“Well, poop! I gotta run get my grandkids. Sign on whatever we gotta sign for this update, Stud. I can’t wait to see the new and improved River’s Edge.”
With that, the whirlwind that was Betsey left the building. I was surprised a dust cloud didn’t follow her.
“I hope I have her energy level when I reach her age. Hell, I wish I had it now!” I declared.
Stud laughed out loud, his parted lips showing strong white teeth. “You and me both, babe.”
Again with the babe! My stomach fluttered. What could I say? The man was super-hot and I was not immune to it.
“Eva! Where you be, child?” A deep bellow sounded outside just before my da burst into the work trailer. The gray fuzzy caterpillars that served as his eyebrows pushed together and the number eleven appeared as two deep lines between them. “What’s the matter with ya, lass? You’re supposed to be working alongside Owen. Get your ass back out there. You shouldn’t be in here with a fireann singil!”
I didn’t know which was worse, my da calling me, his twenty-four-year-old daughter, a child, or chewing me out for being alone with a man. I felt my face flush with embarrassment and for a moment really wanted to hide. But as a MacAteer, it was ingrained in me from the cradle not to back down from a fight. At least Stud didn’t speak Gaelic.
“Argh! Keep your pants on, Da!” I yelled back in irritation. “Betsey was here and I was showing her the updates for the bar. Stud’s here to take care of the final approval.” I stood up and placed my hands on my hips, giving my father as big a stink eye as I could. “I need to place an order for the needed bits.”
“Work now, order later,” he gruffly instructed, and sat down in the chair I just vacated. “I’m not paying you to be on the phone. Let Connor know. Get on with it, ya cailín leisciúil!”
It wasn’t the first time my da had called me a lazy girl, but it still hurt. I hazarded a glance at Stud. He was looking at my father with an unreadable expression. I was sure he didn’t understand the words my da used, but I did see the muscle in his strong jaw flex.
I bit my lip trying to contain my anger at the dressing down in front of Stud—a client. I called to my Irish bitch, rolled my eyes, and huffed out the door, making as grand an exit as I could. “All right, all right! I’m going!” Fuck my life! Too much drama!
I nursed my snit during the rest of the day, but working with Owen helped a lot. His silence and steady work pace calmed me down and kept me going. Measure, cut, nail. Measure, cut, nail. Over and over again. Patrick and Angus worked as a team on another wall, and Conner and Garrett worked another. Da supervised, groused, and cursed, checking behind us making sure measurements were correct and the nails were firmly set. It was a long day, but between the six of us, we got the four main walls framed.
I had taken off my work shirt and was just wearing a thin white tank top. The heat and work from the day showed, as sweat had soaked through the fabric and made the head to toe covering of sawdust stick to me. No matter. This was one of my favorite moments, when we attached the ropes and raised the heavy frames into place. Just seeing the main structure being set was magnificent! The building was far from completed, but this was when we got to see what we were truly working on and what the end result would yield. Owen and I were pulling, Patrick and Angus were lifting from the other side, and Connor and Garrett were nailing down the bracing. Da was coaching—or at least that’s what he thought he was doing. He was mostly yelling.
“Get it up! Pull harder! Don’t let it slip!” He gestured and pointed. “Come on, Owen, put your back into it. Eva, get off your ass!”
My hands were encased in heavy work gloves and the lifting rope was wrapped between them. My arms were taut, and I was breathing hard as I leaned back further, straining to lift the first frame. It came off the ground slowly but smoothly and settled into place, just as planned. Patrick and Angus moved to balance the structure in place. Connor and Garrett hammered the frame and bracing in place, while the other four of us held it. After this one, we had three more to lift. I turned my head and out of the corner of my eye noticed Stud was standing in the doorway of the work trailer. He had spent the day there, at the corner desk working on his computer, a briefcase full of papers beside him, him wearing glasses the whole time. I’d seen him there, clicking away at the keyboard, when I had entered the trailer to take a break and cool off in the air-conditioning. He’d smiled at me every time and had said something friendly or joking, and I had quipped back. Now he was watching the lifting procedure with interest.
“Pull at it harder, Eva!” my father bellowed, breaking into my thoughts.
“That’s what he said!” Patrick called out, laughing at his own joke.
I rolled my eyes and barked at him, “Amaideach bodalán!” Owen and I attached the ropes to the second frame. Da yelled out, “Get it up!” and Angus loudly yelled back, “That’s what she said!” More laughter rang across the job site.
Both Owen and I were pulling hard at the fourth frame as it lifted off the ground when it happened. Owen’s foot slipped, and he fell. The huge frame became unbalanced and was falling back, its weight coming down at an odd angle on top of my brothers who weren’t in position to catch it. I was holding back the entire weight of the frame and it almost jerked me off my feet. With a cry, I lay back into the rope, pulling with everything I had in me. I could feel my feet sliding a bit and I set my weight and strength against the massive frame, trying to keep the heavy bulk from slipping back. If it fell, it would either break apart or hurt one of my brothers. My arm muscles bulged with strain, sweat poured from my skin, drenching my tank, and I cried out against the pull in my shoulders. I felt something give, but I couldn’t let go.
“Hold it, Eva!” I heard Connor call. I couldn’t answer as I was too busy breathing and pulling. Owen got his feet back under him and finally added his strength to mine. Patrick and Angus were able to get under it safely and take more of the weight. The frame lifted into place. Connor and Garrett started firing the nail guns, shooting the heavy nails into the frames and foundation. Braces went up and the basic structure was completed.
Once I could let go, I bent over and took heaving gulps of air. This wasn’t the first time I’d held a frame by myself, but it was the biggest and heaviest I’d ever helped to lift, and the few seconds I’d had to hold this one alone had done some damage. Why Fergus had decided to make the frames in single long units instead of three or four shorter ones per wall, I didn’t know. I had heard Connor arguing with him over that before the frames were constructed, but it was Fergus’s call since he was the boss, and we all had to do as told. I think sometimes he made decisions just to argue with Connor, making sure everyone knew who was in charge, even if Connor was right. Connor usually backed down from the force that was our da, but all of us knew there were times Da was just being stubborn. So far no one had been seriously hurt, but we had had a few close calls. This was one of them.
A dripping wet water bottle appeared under my bent torso. I glanced up, dirty, sweating, red-faced, and puffing, to see Stud standing next to me, cool, drop-dead gorgeous, and breathing normally with his mouth closed. If I’d had the strength, I would have rolled my eyes.
“Thanks,” I gasped and took the bottle. I twisted the cap off and took a long swallow, hoping not to choke. The cold was almost painful against my throat.
“You okay?” he asked. “That was a lot of weight to hold. Did you strain something in your back?”
His concern was nice, but noticed. Connor was watching us.
“Nah,” I gasped, my breath getting back to normal. I stood up straight even though my back protested the movement. “I’m good. Takes more than a giant piece of wood to lay me out.” Oh shit! Did I really just say that out loud!
Patrick had sidled up and now slapped me on my back, pitching me forward a bit. “That’s what she said!” he crowed. “Nice work, sis! We’ll make a man out of you yet!”
I wished he knew how much that statement bothered me.
I retaliated by putting two fingers at the top of the bottle, pointing it at him, and squeezing the middle sharply. A small jet of water shot out, hitting him square in his laughing face. This shut him down temporarily and started Angus roaring with laughter.
“Never will make a man out of her, Patrick! She’s got tits! Little ones, at least!” he belted out while grinning from ear to ear and walking up to us, pointing at me.
I looked down at my chest and saw the sweat had plastered my thin sports bra and tank to my skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. I wasn’t big chested, but I was rounded and proportioned fairly well. My nipples were even shadowed enough to see and had drawn into tight little buds that were visibly poking out. Stud was right there looking!
I flushed with embarrassment, but since my skin was already reddened from the exertion of lifting the frames, I figured no one could really tell. I covered by taking aim and blasting another stream of water, nailing Angus in the face as well.
Da was across the job site dressing down Owen for slipping. Garrett was shutting down and bleeding out the air lines on the compressor for the nail guns. Connor was putting tools away in the giant rolling chests that were stored in the work van.
“How ’bout you two fucking degenerates go help clear the site so we can get this day over? I’m ready for a shower and a shot!” I declared, tossing the empty bottle at Patrick, standing just past a frowning Stud.
My brother caught it with a big goofy grin and chucked it into the nearest trash bin. “Da put an Irish stew in the pot this morning. You coming over for a bit?” he asked.
I hesitated. Da was a great cook and his stew was the best. “Yeah, I’ll come grab a bowl in a few minutes.”
My brothers wandered off, laughing and smiling. The two biggest, happiest men I knew; nothing much affected their perpetually fun-loving natures. They drove me crazy, but it was hard to stay mad at them too long.
I grimaced and grabbed my left shoulder and rotated my arm. It had taken the majority of the weight when Owen slipped. I hadn’t felt anything tear, but I knew something had been badly pulled and I would be sore tomorrow. My deltoid twinged as I stretched and massaged it. I felt another hand join mine in kneading the tight muscle.
