by Hart, Taylor
She wanted to grab him and yank him back to her.
His eyes were serious. “I’m here to have dinner with you and then to fix your step. That’s all. If we hang out a bit, great.”
She smiled, completely embarrassed at her reaction to him physically. At her reaction to him emotionally—telling him she wouldn’t sleep with him and then attaching herself to him. The British guy returned: ‘And the lioness shows her true colors as she sniffs the lion.’
Gently, he put his hand on her cheek, cupping her chin.
She felt the blisters on his hand, the calluses of a hand that did stuff. Man stuff.
“What?” he asked her, gently kissing her again.
She smiled. “It sounds stupid, but I missed you today.”
His hand was back around her waist in a protective way, a way she had never even realized she wanted. “I missed you too.”
She smiled. “I mean, just as neighbors.”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
* * *
The next morning, Sam rushed out of the house, and when she got to the bottom of the step that didn’t match because Damon had put down a new two-by-four, she smiled, thinking of the playful, easy evening they’d had.
It had been better than she’d ever imagined. Light, fun. Easy teasing. They’d eaten. Then she’d watched him fix the step as she pulled out her files, spreading them out on the swing on the porch and halfway paying attention to them and halfway watching the way his bicep flexed when he worked the hammer.
When he was done, they’d sat together on the porch, wrapped in her grandmother’s quilt, holding hands with her legs on his lap and their hands entwined, teasing, and sharing little kisses.
He’d abruptly left at eight, telling her to get rested and he would text her.
Of course then she’d spent an hour on the phone with Zoey, breaking down every moment of it and then chastising her sister to quit the pot. She always had to make a case for that.
When she arrived at the office, she was surprised to see Don Johnson walking into the conference room with Luke. She was even more surprised when Luke invited her into their meeting to discuss the Midway project.
For the most part, Don had been pretty professional. She had only caught him looking directly at her breasts or trying to look down her blouse once or twice. Not that she had that much there, but creepers like him could never keep their eyes up.
In the end, Luke gave her express instructions to be the project manager.
After Don walked out, she pulled Luke aside. “Um, look, I know I’m new, but that guy creeps me out.”
Luke had given her a surprised look that turned skeptical. “Really? Why?”
“Well, we met for lunch yesterday to discuss the project, and he made a pass at me. Several passes.”
Luke didn’t give away his emotions. She recognized this trait as one he shared with Damon. They were both excellent at keeping a poker face.
“I’m sorry.” She hated complaining at all, but at a new job, it was the worst.
Luke exhaled. “Listen, I hired you to take over the real estate side of things, and I need your cooperation on these projects. I’ll take you off as the lead project manager, but you know you’re the consultant attorney on all of it. So you have to be crossing T’s and dotting I’s.”
She knew this. She resented this. She wanted to bring up the fact she shouldn’t even be doing this, but she didn’t. Park City was just starting to feel like a place she might like. Her mind flashed to Damon. She knew she had to make her end of things work. What was the stupid speech she had given last night? The one about doing one thing the same way you did all things. “Fine.” She let out a breath.
Luke hesitated, and she took notice, without meaning to, of how the similarities and differences between him and Damon. They were about the same height. Though he was blond where Damon was dark. He had green eyes instead of blue. He had a more open, political kind of face with laugh lines around the eyes. Damon definitely looked more haunted. Well, not to her. Not anymore.
She thought of sitting with him on the swing, their hands tangling together. The smell of his cologne and the taste of spaghetti on his lips.
“Sam?” Luke asked, looking confused.
Man, she was losing her marbles. “Sorry.”
He hesitated, and then she heard the sound of a text chirping from his pocket. He tugged out his phone but still looked at her. “Are you getting settled into Park City okay? Is your cabin okay?”
It’d been kind of Luke to let her live in the cabin for free. Granted, he wasn’t paying her a terribly large sum, but it was more than any other job offer she’d had coming out of law school. “Yes, thank you.” He looked at his phone and then cursed. “Stinkin’ Nick.”
She remembered Nick was their other brother, and she wanted to ask what the problem was, but she didn’t want to be nosy.
He looked back at her. “Okay, well, keep up the good work. Let me know if Don gives you any more problems, and I’ll have a chat with him.”
It didn’t really make her feel better. She didn’t like being a damsel, didn’t want Luke to have to have a chat with him. Didn’t like to be the squeaky wheel. But it was what it was.
Turning back to the hall, she moved toward her office.
“Uh, Ms. Worthington, Sam.” The girl at the front desk, Tina, was staring at her, looking like a deer in headlights.
“Yes?” Sam stopped.
“Well …” She looked uncertain. “I wanted to invite you to go out with a bunch of girls from the office tonight. Well, a bunch of us staffers. I … I know you’re an attorney, and you might want to only hang out with other attorneys, but we always go out on Saturdays, and I didn’t want you to feel left out in case you want to join.”
Pleased with the invite, Sam realized she did want to go out. Had yearned for some women to go out with. Zoey had lived with her for forever, so to go abruptly from that to living on her own had been quite the adjustment. She had been lonely. Almost too lonely. The past couple of nights with Damon had been nice, but it would probably be good to have other friends in Park City. She smiled at Tina. “Of course I want to go out.” She winked at her. “And Tina.”
“Yes.”
“I never want you to think there’s so much between us we can’t be friends, okay?”
Tina beamed. “Okay.”
“We both have our roles to play at the office, but outside of work, we’re all just women.”
11
Damon walked into Sicily’s, and memories instantly assaulted him. Memories of all the Saturday nights he’d spent here with his brothers in the back, where all the men gathered with a large television screen and tables full of different groups of men with pizza and drinks. All the laughter, all the cheering. It was the hangout for sports-invested men in Park City. The old-timers. Not the new money, not the ski bums or the rich tourists. No. Old man Antonio was pretty specific about who he allowed back there.
As soon as he saw him, Antonio smiled at him and moved forward, taking his hand and shaking it. “Damon, your brother Nick said you were back.”
Damon smiled and shook his hand. He loved the Italian accent. “How are you?”
There was a sincerity in the old man’s face and eyes, and Damon was slightly humbled. He hadn’t wanted to be “back” to have to face everyone. He’d never taken the time to face them before he’d left for Harvard, and he hadn’t really been back since then. Well, he had returned for the funeral, but that didn’t count. Not like living an everyday life and circling the town and enjoying friendships did. Surprisingly, he was glad he’d come back to Antonio’s now.
“I’m good. How are you? How are your girls? They must be grown up now.” When Damon was in high school, Antonio had been on his second marriage and had three tiny girls.
Antonio gestured to one of the very well-endowed waitresses, who was lean and tall and wearing a very revealing top. “My Jessica. I’ll introduce you. Come.”
Da
mon followed Antonio, not knowing if he wanted to be introduced.
Jessica finished taking an order, turned her very brown, darkly lined eyes to him, and broke into a big smile.
“This is Jessica. Jessica, Damon Freestone.”
Her eyebrows lifted, and she took his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Antonio gestured to the back room. Damon could see through the open doors that the television was on, and there were men seated in there already. “Take him back there and get him a drink on the house.”
“Thanks, Antonio.” He let himself be led by Jessica.
She seemed to scour him with her eyes and stick her chest out a bit further. “Well, let’s see. I know Luke and Nick, so you must be the brother who left. I guess you’ve finally come home.” She smacked her gum and winked at him.
Damon looked anywhere but at her. He noticed a sign pointing to the basement that read “Dance club.” Changing the topic, he pointed to the sign. “You have a club now?”
Jessica smiled wider, her red lips showing off her startlingly white teeth. Teeth that looked like they could easily eat him.
He took a step back.
“We do. Pop opened it a few years ago.” She winked again. “If you want, I get off at ten, and then we can go?”
Damon shook his head, not having a problem turning her down flat. She was definitely not his kind of woman.
He thought of Sam, their hands entwined as they breathed in the fresh mountain air. The way she’d pulled the hood of her hoodie over her wet hair as they sat on the swing together. Her legs draped comfortably over his.
He realized that was what he wanted.
It was shocking, how powerful the revelation was to him.
“Excuse me?” Jessica snapped in front of his face.
“Sorry.”
She frowned, and he could tell all the huntress had gone out of her. “Go ahead and get seated. I’ll bring you a drink.”
Damon moved into the room and noticed Antonio had upgraded it. The booths and the television were fancier. There was a lot more room for people.
He recognized a table of firefighters, some from C platoon at Station 1, and some from different stations on A platoon. Damon walked over to the table. “Well, would you look at this—a bunch of pigs who come to the same slop bucket.”
The Captain from C platoon grunted. “And look at this—too cool for school Boston decided to join us.”
Damon frowned at the nickname, but tried not to show too much emotion.
Another guy said, “You gonna order the clam chowda, Boston?” It was a stupid joke, but the rest of the table cracked up. Even the horrible accent made him cringe.
Waving his hand in front of his nose, Damon said, “Judging by the smell of this table, you already finished it all up and farted it out.”
The guys laughed even harder, elbowing and pointing at the clam chowder guy.
Cap kicked out the chair next to him. “Take a seat. The game’s going to start soon.”
Damon shook his head. “Nope, can’t hang out with you ladies tonight. Meeting my brothers.”
“Your brothers?” asked yet another guy who Damon couldn’t name. “What does that make us?”
“My sisters, obviously.” Yeah, Damon had missed this. No way he would admit it, but this banter and brotherhood was just one of the reasons Sam had been right on when she said he’d picked the right career. “All right, fellas, as the mayor of Boston told the city during World War II,” Damon said in his, much more accurate, Boston accent, “‘Keep clam and chowdah on.’”
Damon smiled as they all laughed, and he moved on to another table.
Someone behind him called out to him. “Red Sahx are going down tonight.”
Perfect. Pizza night had to fall during the one night the nearby Rockies played against the Red Sox. Damon walked past a couple open booths, not wanting to be part of the firemen sparring back and forth all night.
Jessica brought the drink and put it down, not saying anything.
That was fine with him.
He sat back and watched the big screen where the pitchers were warming up. He hadn’t paid much attention to sports the past few months, and his cabin didn’t have any way to hook up a television, which hadn’t bothered him. Baseball had never been his favorite sport anyway. Now, he tried to listen to the announcers and discover who was favored and how each team was doing this season.
Before he realized it, Nick sat next to him, calling out to the fireman table. “I can’t get away from you guys. I know you all wish you could be cops, but you don’t gotta follow me around.” He ignored the replies and looked down at the drink on the table. “Hey, thanks for waiting.”
It made Damon feel like a heel. “Sorry, Antonio gave me this one on the house.”
Nick’s look, one that said ‘of course, the famous brother returns and gets it free,’ made him feel doubly worse.
Damon leaned up out of his seat to catch Jessica’s eye and waved her over. He put up two fingers. “Can I have two more just like this?”
Thinking of his other brother joining them gave Damon a small twinge of nervousness. “Where’s Luke?”
Nick checked his phone. “Should be here any second.” He seemed to sense Damon’s nervousness and, like a true brother, pounced on his weakness. “Ready for family time?”
Damon shook his head. “Did you get the information I wanted?”
Nick pulled out a small sticky note and handed it to him.
Damon read the paper. “Don Johnson. Midway address. Clean record. This isn’t helpful at all.”
Nick sighed as Jessica brought two drinks and set them down, winking at Nick, who winked back and followed her with his gaze as she walked away. “Well, you didn’t say, ‘Nick, be a private investigator and find out all the trash on our boy.’ No, you said run the plate. That’s what comes back when you run the plate.” He pointed to the paper. “And with an eighties name like Don Johnson, really? I just have to know one thing. Does the Miami soundtrack come on when he walks into a room?”
Damon scrunched up the paper and stuffed it into his jeans pocket, not wanting to throw it away yet, but not getting much reassurance from it. He smiled despite the fact Nick hadn’t given him much information. “I’d forgotten about that old show.”
“Why’d you want it anyway?”
Just then, Luke slid into the booth, looking like he was running for office, decked out in a jacket and tie. “Want what?” he asked casually, taking the drink in front of him and immediately guzzling half of it down. Then he took the little napkin Jessica had put down beneath the drink and used it to wipe his face.
Neither of the brothers replied.
“Hey.” Nick offered.
But Luke wasn’t one to let things go even if they weren’t a big deal. “Want what?” he asked again, but he focused on Damon.
Damon instantly had the feeling that he’d just walked into a “come to Jesus” moment with his brother. One that would either result in mending things or blowing them up. So he focused on Luke, giving him a challenging stare. “None of your business. That’s what.” He took another swig of his drink and averted his eyes to the television.
Nick let out a rippling laugh, the kind that sounded uncomfortable, like a child dealing with divorced parents and trying to mediate. “Look guys, can we not do this? I wanted to bring us together because we’re living in the same town, and it’d be nice.”
“It’d be nice if someone had told me Damon was moving back to my town.”
“You’ve trademarked it, have you?” Damon shot back.
Luke stared at Damon, returning the challenge. “Well I didn’t leave it.”
“Stop.” Nick put out a hand.
Damon could feel Luke’s desire to swing at him. He longed for the opportunity to swing back. “What’s your problem, Luke?”
He grunted. “You’ve been my problem since I was born.”
Damon knew, once again, Nick had chosen a public place to ensure
they didn’t rip each other’s heads off.
More people funneled in, and some people Damon didn’t recognize sauntered over to the table, saying hello to Luke and Nick. Of course, Nick politely introduced them to his other, in his words, “less good-looking” brother and blabbed about the upcoming fight.
Luke seemed surprised when he heard about the fight and glanced at Damon in question.
Damon shrugged and sipped his drink. “He wants to get his butt kicked.”
Luke actually smiled and hailed the waitress over, asking her for a pepperoni pizza.
All three brothers watched as the first pitch was thrown.
Luke turned to him. “I suppose Sam spoke to you.”
Damon didn’t want to give anything away, so he just nodded. “Yep, your wishes have been fulfilled, King Freestone.”
Luke didn’t comment.
Nick grinned at Damon. “I think you’re going to be surprised when I pound you. Been working on my left hook.”
“Your funeral.” Damon shrugged.
Luke’s lips twitched again.
It was a common dispute amongst the brothers—they always wanted to see who top dog was.
Damon decided to throw a bone to Luke. “I bet this out-of-shape lawyer could even handle ya, Nick.”
Nick almost choked on his drink. “He wishes.”
Luke’s eyes connected with Damon’s again, both of them clearly measuring each other’s moods.
“How’re the real estate projects?” Damon asked, partly to make peace and partly to acquire information about this Don guy from Midway.
The pizza came, and plates were put down with a stack of napkins. Luke took a piece. “Good. I’m developing a lot of property at the moment. Deadlines are crazy, but I guess that’s good.”
Damon took a piece, and so did Nick. They all fell silent as a long fly ball went toward the right field wall. The Red Sox player—who Damon couldn’t even name—caught it in the warning track.
“What projects are you working on close to home?” Damon tried to ask casually.
Luke took a bite and chewed, and Damon watched the gears in his mind turn. He’d always had that same pensive look when he was thinking hard about something. “There’s one just outside of Kimball Junction that’s a time suck. Can’t get the contractor to stay around, and the crew takes after the contractor. We’re behind schedule, and people are waiting to get the houses done. Rich, elitist people with attitudes.” He sighed. “That’s part of the reason Sam is here now to help manage all that.”
