by Marla Monroe
“Yeah, thought of that. I’ll let you deal with that while I look over the construction plans to see if there’re any holes in them.”
Jethro smiled. Deacon didn’t deal with people very easily. He tended to lose his temper or walk away when they annoyed him. Jethro didn’t mind being the “face” of their business. He generally liked people. Deacon, on the other hand, didn’t know how to relate to most of them and ended up alienating himself in the process. Things just worked better if Jethro did all the talking when it came to the contractual part. Deacon would make comments and suggestions on the plans when there were weak areas that needed to be clarified.
“What’s their names? I’ll do some digging to see who we’re dealing with,” he said.
“Buchannan. Didn’t get a first name from Patsy. She just listed a Ms. Buchannan as wanting to discuss refurbishing a building for her home. That’s all I got.”
“Hmm, wonder if she’s related to Buchannan Shipping? They’re a pretty large company with offices in nearly all of the major cities in the US. Could be a big job depending on the size of the building. Maybe an entire floor,” Deacon said.
“Got the feeling from Patsy that it would be a big job. If it wasn’t so late, I’d call her and ask for more information. It really bothers me when she doesn’t write more information down when she makes appointments for us.”
“She usually does. Did you open your email today?” Jethro asked, knowing his partner hadn’t.
“Hate that shit. If she wants us to know something like that, she needs to send it to you and not me.”
“She’s trying to get you to use it. We aren’t in the office enough for her to tell us important information, so we need to be able to check our emails on the run.”
“You can check the damn emails. You can tell me when there’s something I need to know.”
“You’ve got to use it, Deacon. You don’t answer your fucking phone half the time. If you’d check your email, she wouldn’t have to call you over and over again until you finally answer.”
“I answer you.”
“Then why don’t you answer her?” Jethro demanded.
“Because she annoys me.”
“Everyone annoys you, man. Stop avoiding her, and she won’t contact you so much. She’s doing it because she can get a rise out of you.”
“Fuck. I hate hearing her chipper voice telling me to have a great day all the fucking time.”
“So, answer her calls, tell her thanks, and hang up before she can ruin your day with something silly like hoping you have a good day.” Jethro smothered a smile.
He could see Deacon’s curled lip from the passenger seat. The man really didn’t like bubbly personalities. He’d always try to piss on their happiness. It was a testament to Patsy that she hadn’t given up on the other man in the eight years she’d worked for them. She was still the friendly smiling woman they’d hired despite Deacon’s dislike of her.
They pulled into their drive where he and Deacon shared a small house they’d rehabbed during their first year of running the construction business. It was a three-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath brick house with a nice-sized yard complete with a deck for lounging and cooking out.
“I’ll fix something to eat,” Jethro said before he climbed out of the truck’s cab.
“Good. Don’t much feel like cooking anything. I’ll fix breakfast in the morning.”
He watched his friend head straight for his room to clean up. He washed his hands then looked over their choices. He needed to go to the grocery store as soon as possible. They were nearly out of everything. It always fell to him to go so that Deacon didn’t run over some poor shopper with the grocery cart when they blocked the aisle he wanted to go down.
Yeah, his partner had a personality problem, but Jethro loved him like a brother. They’d grown up together through an array of circumstances, and he’d do anything for the oaf of a man. He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d react if they were to get Rissa between them one day. It would be interesting. He liked interesting.
Chapter Two
Damn. Rissa looked at her nails. She’d chipped one of them. With only thirty minutes to finish getting ready and drive to the building where she’d meet the contractors she hoped to hire, Rissa stopped long enough to file the offending spot. She shrugged into her jacket and checked her appearance in the trifold mirror before declaring she was as put together as possible after getting a late start that morning.
Five minutes later, she drove downtown to the building she’d bought in hopes of making it into her home and the new business she planned to open, Rissa’s Intimates. It had been her dream for nearly four years now, but she’d had to put it on the back burner while her mother was ill and needed her help.
Now she had her business plans complete, and with the inheritance after her mother’s death, the money to put that dream into motion. First, she’d fix the top floor as her home then the bottom two floors as retail space and storage. The building’s top floor was enormous, and more than a single woman could ever need, but she wanted something airy and comfortable as well as the sitting area she’d need for entertaining guests.
As one of the heirs to Buchannan Shipping, Rissa would need to be able to uphold her reputation as gracious and a sort of celebrity, though she really didn’t relish that part of the family’s designation among polite society. She preferred to remain in the back, letting her brother and father run the businesses and handle the clients. Rissa made appearances when it was expected of her, but detested the limelight as much as her brother seemed to bask in it.
David and his fiancée, Sondra, were one of Texas’s favorite couples. When asked when she planned to settle down with Brad, she’d always declined to answer. Something inside of her didn’t really think she’d end up with him. He was rude on good days, and obnoxious on others, but her father approved of him and thought he would make a good match for her.
Sometimes it feels like he only tolerates me to stay in good graces with Father.
Case in point. When she’d called Brad about her flat tire, instead of offering to come help her, or at the very least, call a service for her, he’d told her to take care of it and fussed that she was making him late. It irritated her that he showed no affection toward her unless they were with her father or in the public eye.
She deserved more than that. She deserved someone who’d cherish her even if they didn’t love her. What was love anyway? Her mom had claimed that she loved her father, yet she’d often complain about his working so much, and ignoring her.
Rissa vowed that she wouldn’t stand for a man to ignore her or leave her to her own devices when he had to work late. Maybe that was why she was so disappointed in Brad. It was why, especially after the flat tire incident, she was seriously thinking about putting an end to their loosely arranged relationship. It wasn’t like he cared all that much for her. She was just a conduit to her father. He’d have to find another one.
Pleased with her decision, Rissa pulled into the parking spot behind the building she’d bought. One of the things she wanted done was to have a covered garage built that would hold six vehicles for when guests were visiting. She didn’t want anyone to get wet if it rained or have to walk out into the darkened lot to reach their car.
Rissa grabbed her purse and pulled out the keys to the building. She let herself inside then walked to the front through a series of doorways to unlock the front door where the contractors would enter. She’d made it with minutes to spare. The briefcase held the plans she’d had drawn up by an architect who was a friend of her father.
She spread them out over the counter sitting in the middle of the open space looking out over the street and smiled at her vision. She couldn’t wait to get started.
A knock on the front door jerked her head up to see two men standing outside. She waved for them to come on in then froze in shock at the men standing just inside the door. It appeared they were just as surprised to see her as she was to see them.<
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“Are you lost? Can I help you find somewhere?” she asked, stepping forward.
“Not unless the street number on the front of the building is wrong. We’re here to see Ms. Buchannan,” Jethro said, a smile so bright it lit his twinkling hazel eyes.
“Oh, well, I’m Clarissa Buchannan. I take it you’re the contractors I contacted to interview about working on this building,” she said, wondering if fate was laughing her ass off at her right then.
“That’s right. We’re Hall and Mullen’s Contracting. What are you planning to do with this old building?” Deacon asked, a scowl as deep as his partner’s smile had been.
“I’ve got the architect’s plans over here. I want to make a store out of the downstairs, a supply room on the second floor, and make my home on the top floor.” She watched as the two men bent over the plans.
Neither of them said anything for quite a while as they looked over each level of the plans then looked around the building without moving away from the counter. Finally, Deacon grunted and stepped back.
“Need to look around the building. Anything locked up where we can’t get in?” he asked.
“No. Everything’s open. Please, look around. I know you’ll want to test walls and stuff. I’ll wait for you down here.” Rissa crossed her arms, hugging her body, as the two men exchanged odd looks then started at the front door and walked around the front room before disappearing into the next.
She’d had several chairs from a secondhand shop delivered so that she could sit when she was thinking about what all she’d wanted to do with the store part. Now they came in handy as she settled herself to wait while the two men she’d just met the night before studied every nook and cranny of her dream. It was a little disconcerting, even a bit intimate to her. This was something that only her brother and Father knew about. She hadn’t even told Brad about it.
She nearly snorted at the thought. He’d have told her she was crazy, maybe even stupid for thinking she could run a store by herself. On top of that, he’d have tried to talk her father into stopping her from using her inheritance to finance all of it.
Rissa could hear him already.
“Why would you want to live above a store downtown like that? It’s low-class, Clarissa.”
It wouldn’t matter that it was something she wanted and dreamed over. He’d see it as a crazy idea that held no merit. She was lucky her father understood her need to follow her dream. It was something her mother would have done had she wanted anything other than her husband’s attention.
Yes, it was time to cut Brad loose. She was ready to step out on faith, and didn’t want his negative attitude ruining her vision. No doubt, he’d try to dissuade her, but after last night, she was confident she was making the right decision.
It had nothing to do with the two men currently exploring her building.
Yes, they’d been a big part of her dreams last night, but she wasn’t harboring any feelings for them, only a mature, female appreciation of their buff bodies and very male appeal. There was no comparison between them and Brad. Brad would never stand up against them, but then she wasn’t trying to do that. Compare them, that was.
Really.
Maybe a small part of her had compared them, but it wasn’t the real reason she was breaking things off with Brad. It was his negative attitude toward her and the way he browbeat her when she didn’t measure up to his expectations. She deserved better.
After what felt like hours, the two men walked back into the front part of the building where Rissa rose and walked toward the counter where the plans were.
“Well? What do you think?” she asked.
“The plans will work for the building, but this is a pretty big project. Where did you want to start?” Jethro asked.
“My place upstairs. I want to be able to move into it as soon as possible. Then the second-floor storage area so I can begin receiving merchandise while you work on the bottom, store area.”
Deacon’s mouth drew into a straight line as if he didn’t approve of her schedule of renovations.
“What?” she asked.
Deacon jerked his chin toward the back part of the building. “We’re going to have to shore up the back while we work on the top floor. Until we have the rest of the support walls up for the bottom floor, the top could be unbalanced over the current beams in place. You’re messing with a couple of load-bearing walls.”
“Oh. Okay. Whatever needs to happen then take care of it,” she said then stopped. “If you’re taking the job that is. Are you?”
She wasn’t sure why, but she really wanted them to take it. Her stomach twisted like taffy as she waited for their answer.
“Yeah, we’ll take it, provided the money’s right. Do you have a budget set for the supplies yet?” Deacon asked.
“I have a loose one. I don’t know enough about what you’ll need outside of the information the architect provided me. I’m going to have to depend on you to be honest with me on that part.” She mentioned a dollar figure for their services after having done some research into some similar projects.
“We’ll figure what it’s going to take and get back to you on it,” Jethro said. “We’ll need a way to get in touch with you once we’ve studied the plans and figured the cost for handling this large of a project.”
“But you’ve done them before, right? I did my research, and you’ve worked on some of the best rehabs in the region,” Rissa said.
“We have, but we’ll want to be sure we’re covering all our bases here. We’ll call you in a few days if that will work for you,” Jethro said.
“Of course. You can keep the plans. They’re a copy for you to use. I have an original.” She pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to Jethro. “Those are my phone numbers. The bottom is my cell. Call me anytime.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you again, Rissa. I hope we’ll be working with you on this. It’s a great set of plans you have here.” Jethro reached out his hand.
Rissa took it, and instead of shaking it as she’d expected, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. She nearly gasped at the contact of warm lips to her cooler hands. He released her hand and smiled.
She turned to Deacon and nearly laughed at the look on his face as he stared at his partner. If looks could kill, poor Jethro would be feeding the worms. Instead of reaching out to shake her hand, the other man rolled up the plans and stormed over to the front door.
“Don’t mind him. He’s grouchy in the morning,” Jethro said.
“And at night when helping someone change a tire,” she teased.
“Yeah, then, too.” He winked before following his partner out the door.
* * * *
“I don’t fucking believe it,” Deacon all but snarled. “What are the fucking chances?”
“I told you I thought we might see her again. It’s a sign. Did you see how she kept looking us up and down? She’s interested.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s off limits. We don’t bang a client. One of our hard and fast rules.”
“She won’t always be a client, Deacon. While we’re working we’ll get to know her. Find out what makes her tick. That sort of thing.”
“You’re messing with gas, man. She’s trouble.”
“Trouble worth getting into.”
“Jethro, I’m telling you she’s off limits in every way. I’m not messing with some socialite rich bitch just to scratch an itch. That’s a sure way to screw up our reputation.”
“She’s not a bitch.” Jethro’s voice had turned hard as fast as Quikrete set.
“Yeah, right. She’s still rich and beyond us. All it would ever be is a romp in the sack to satisfy some fantasy she might have about having two men at one time. You know the drill. They all enjoy it one or two times, but anything longer they aren’t having any of it. Is screwing up our business worth that?” Deacon demanded.
“I’m telling you it won’t be like that. Something about her says she’s more than
just a pretty face with rocking curves. She’s nice and polite. She didn’t look down her nose at us and trusted us enough to wait downstairs while we walked around the building,” Jethro said.
Deacon wanted to punch his best friend for being so stupid. The woman would be trouble. He was sure of it. Then again, he thought most women were trouble. They’d either tried to separate him and Jethro by playing them off one another, or ran after a few nights of hot sex. Either way, women were only out to find a man to marry and settle down with, and that was okay, but they weren’t looking for two men to settle down with. That was their dilemma.
Society didn’t approve of more than one man for a woman. Hell, they didn’t approve of more than one woman for a man, though there was a lot more of that going around. He and Jethro had discussed dropping their dream of sharing a wife and finding someone to settle down with in a more traditional aspect of marriage, but they’d never gone so far as to actually do it.
They’d dated separately at times, but nothing had ever come of it. They just weren’t interested in dating without the other one to lend a hand at taking care of their woman like she should be cared for. Women were special and delicate no matter how tough an exterior they put up.
He knew better than most about presenting a hard outer shell so that people didn’t disappoint him. They couldn’t if he already expected them to do that in the first place. That’s how he managed to get through the constant revolving door of women they’d dated. Dated being a loose term for the two- and three-night stands they’d ended up having over the years. Only a handful of women had actually stuck around for more than a few months.
When they’d finally realized the two men were serious about sharing her permanently, they’d called them perverts and left without a backward glance. Those had been the hardest to deal with. It had hurt to have gotten so close to possibly having their dream within their grasps only to have it snatched away without apology.
