by Rie Warren
“That’s what I said.”
“Holy shit. It’s like a telenovela!”
“It is not like a telenovela. And I don’t think he’s sexy, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize this job.”
“You definitely thought he was sexy the other night. I practically had to wipe the drool from your mouth, chica.”
“Well, now I think he’s a little uptight, and maybe a control freak.” I turned into the long driveway that led to his house. “Besides, he’s a widower.”
She gasped, loudly I might add. “So a telenovela.”
“Look, I’m here. Catch up later.” I had a full day planned organizing my crew, making sure all the appropriate materials were on time for delivery, and beginning stage one of the demolition.
Mr. Bishop wasn’t going to make this remodel any easier since he insisted on residing in the house with the work going on instead of simplifying matters by getting a rental for a couple months. So I had to take the stripping and remodeling room by room. Well, this woman was up for any challenge he chose to throw at me.
First step, transform the kitchen and open it up to the dining room.
Frank and Brian showed up shortly after me, two big beefy dudes I could count on to razz me mercilessly while they followed orders down to the letter. They were like giant sledgehammer-wielding warriors who were total teddy bears at heart.
“Hey, sweetheart. Grabbed you a coffee. Heavy on the sugar.” Frank handed me the cardboard cup then hitched up his pants over the slight paunch of his belly.
Brian pushed his Keller Construction hat back from a prematurely receding hairline. “Stop tryin’ to kiss ass, sweetheart. You know the boss lady only has eyes for me.”
“Yeah. Yeah. We’re practically engaged.” I winked at Brian, accepting the coffee from Frank’s huge paw. “My next tat will read Stevie Loves Bri-Bri.”
Frank snorted.
“I already got my tat for you. It’s on my ass. Wanna see it?” Brian retorted.
Flipping them the middle finger, I ambled up the front porch and knocked on the door.
“Anybody home?” Frank asked.
“Doesn’t look like it.” I was surprised there was no sign of Kane.
I had the keys to the house, but now, knowing it was his property, I felt like I’d be intruding . . . or snooping.
“His car’s here though.”
Brian whistled through his teeth. “Flash ride. The dude’s loaded, huh?”
Shrugging, I turned back to the pair. “So, before we get started, you looked at the email I sent you?”
“Aw, Stevie, email?” Frank bellyached. “You know I’m too old for that shit.”
“Practically Stone Age,” Brian mumbled.
“The gist of the email was—”
“Treat the property and the property owner with nothing but respect. Do whatever Stevie says, no questions asked.” Both men held up their right hands like they were swearing on the Bible. “And don’t act like complete slobs.”
“Meaning don’t leave your tools lying around and tidy up at quitting time, right?” I laid down the law.
“All right all right, boss lady. When’d you grow a pair?” Brian sniffed like I’d actually offended him.
I slapped my work gloves against my thigh. “You’re just jealous because my balls are bigger than yours.”
Just then, Kane appeared around the corner of the house, smirking. He must’ve heard the entire exchange. And he was wearing sneakers, gym shorts, and a muscle shirt. His chest heaved a little, and sweat drizzled down the sides of his face. It looked like he’d just put in a five-mile run or something.
And that look on him was deliciously appealing. Especially when he lifted the bottom of his shirt to swipe at his face.
He’s not sexy. I don’t wanna rub myself all over his hot sweaty body. And oh my God, abs!
“Mornin’.” He seemed much more approachable—downright fuckable—all mussed hair and big smile. “Kane Bishop.”
Frank and Brian jumped to attention, introducing themselves and shaking his hand while I tried to reel my tongue back in.
“Got everything you need, boss lady?” Kane approached me, cheeks flushed from exertion and his grin widening.
I could do with a long hot romp in your bed right about now.
I nodded mutely, hoping to high hell Brian and Frank didn’t catch onto any weird tension between us.
“I’m just going to hit the shower. You’re starting on the kitchen, Stevie?”
“Yep.” And now I couldn’t help but think about Kane wet and naked and soaping up in the shower.
Just kill me now.
With Frank and Brian on appliance disposal—Kane was donating the almost-new stainless steel stuff to Habitat for Humanity—I decided to work out some sexual frustrations with a little sledgehammer-versus-cupboards action.
Amid a rain of debris, wearing a hardhat and safety glasses, I halted mid swing when I noticed Kane just inside the kitchen, cradling a mug of coffee in his hands.
Fresh from his shower, the hair at the back of his neck curled damply, and the silver streaks at his temples glimmered even brighter.
“Shouldn’t Frank and Brian be doing that?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble in the ringing silence.
I hefted the sledgehammer. “I like getting my hands dirty.”
One corner of his lips curled up, as if he read innuendo into my comment. Perhaps he did. It wasn’t my fault. Kane in a well-fitted suit with his big fat watch and heavy black stubble made me almost swallow my own damn tongue.
If he was gonna keep hanging around the jobsite I’d probably nail my finger to a beam.
I got my swing back on, methodically working around the perimeter of the kitchen.
“Doesn’t this bother you?” Stopping, I snapped my goggles up to my hardhat.
“What?”
“Watching me destroy your kitchen.”
“You’re a lot more graceful than most construction workers.” His brown irises glowed with gold flecks.
Rolling my eyes, I slid the goggles back in place. “You should probably be wearing protective gear.”
I glanced over, and he didn’t seem too concerned. Not my fault if a flying splinter punctured one of his beautiful brown eyes, although it would be a shame.
Remaining where he was, he sipped coffee and watched me.
Unnerving.
Sexy.
Damn him.
Ten minutes later, I removed the hardhat and glasses, and leaned on my tool. “Don’t you have a job to go to?”
“I’m avoiding clients.”
I wiped dust from my face with a rag from my pocket. “Seems like that would be a hazard to your business.”
“Probably. But this couple is extremely high maintenance.”
“Huh. I can’t imagine,” I teased, drawing one of those rare full smiles from him.
“I’m not that bad.”
“Micromanager,” I mumbled under my breath.
Kane chuckled. “Gwen usually just ignores me. Not that I’m giving you license to.”
“Ah, Gwen.” The pregnant woman from the bar who’d turned out to be his draftswoman, I’d figured it out through subsequent texts regarding this remodel. “I like her.”
“Yes, Gwen. Apparently she likes you too. That’s why she wanted me to dance with you at the bar.”
The bar.
That night.
The almost kiss
Involuntarily I licked my lips, and Kane’s dark eyes darted to my mouth. Temptation heated between us, heavy and immediate.
Damn, damn, damn. I wanted nothing more than to crush myself against him, finally find out how good a kisser he was. Instead I repositioned my hardhat and pocketed my rag.
“Are you gonna hang around here all day, or what?” I asked a little bit belligerently.
“It is my house,” Kane stated with an amused inflection.
I huffed.
“There a problem, boss lady?” h
e asked, wearing a knowing smirk.
A smirk I was able to ignore when my phone started ringing. I quickly answered, expecting another round of squeals from Carmen, but as soon as I heard the voice on the other end, clammy sweat broke out across my forehead.
“I told you not to call me ever again,” I hissed.
“Hey, princess. You know I’m not that easy to get rid of,” Ethan the Asshole drawled.
Turning my back on Kane, I dropped my voice even more. “Do I need to sic my brother on you again?”
“He doesn’t scare me. You Kellers don’t have the money to fight my family. Besides, we both know you never had it so good as when you were with me. I paid for your way, precious, and you’re only free of me when I say so. Not the other way around.”
Swallowing down a curse, I hung up and slammed my phone onto the center island.
Kane watched me quizzically. “A problem?”
“A boyfriend.”
“Oh.” He straightened up, his mouth pinching at the corners. “I thought you were single.”
“I am. Ex-boyfriend. Can’t take a hint.”
Relief washed across Kane’s features, but then his eyes narrowed. “Do you need help with that?”
“No. I mean, that’s definitely none of your concern. And remember, I’m a professional, I don’t intend to bring my personal life on the job.”
But over the next fifteen minutes, my phone continued to blow up, all to the tune of my stalker-ex-asshole.
Each time, Kane’s attention snapped toward me, and each time I ignored the calls.
“Did you ever think about changing your number?” he asked.
“I already did. As well as my locks. He has a lot more resources than I do at his command.”
“Are you serious?” Kane’s brows cranked low, and he looked very unpleased. “Maybe I should answer it next time.”
“I have a better idea.” Stomping from the house, I opened the glove box in my truck and tossed the phone inside.
Ethan wasn’t gonna ruin this for me, and Kane definitely didn’t need to get involved.
Nobody needed to get on the wrong side of the Rutledges.
****
Perhaps Ethan had gotten the picture because there were no new messages when I retrieved my phone at the end of the day. And thank God, Kane had finally gone to work, because his presence made me jumpy and nervous . . . and super horny.
By the time I made it out to my dad’s for the weekly potluck dinner, I was jonesing for a nice cold beer and a big fat steak.
I walked out onto the back porch where the grill was set up. “I brought brownies and brews!”
Gabriel hopped up and snagged the twelve-pack.
“Nice. No hug for me?” I joked.
“C’mere, squirt.” He snatched me in a headlock and messed up my hair with a knuckle rub until I batted him away.
I fumed, trying to untangle snarls from my hair, and all he did was crack a smile, crack a beer, and slurp it while he watched.
“Hate you,” I mouthed.
“Love you, sis.” He passed me my own brew.
Dad barely took his eyes off the grill to ask, “How was the first full day at Bishop’s?”
“Solid.” I took a glug of beer.
Dad looked at me a bit longer. “Did you get the kitchen demo complete?”
“Yep.”
“Clean up the workspace before you all left?”
“Yes, Dad.” I sighed.
“You haven’t pissed off the client, have you?”
“Jesus, Dad. No. Give me a little credit okay?”
He grunted and went back to the steaks.
Admittedly, I’d been a Grade A fuck-up in the past. First dropping off the grid after Mom died. Living rough until my only choices were to sell my body, sell drugs, or return home with my head hanging and my heart heavy. It’d been unbearable—witnessing Mom’s slow death, suffocating on sadness afterward, all the neighbors with their pity smiles and plastic casseroles. It hadn’t been much better when I’d come back. So I’d barely made it through high school before I went to work at Keller Construction.
I hadn’t earned a good reputation the first time around. And that was when I’d hooked up with my first loser boyfriend. Kyle the coke-fiend. Kyle the liar. When I was with him, I played hooky all the time. Dad fired me. I kicked Kyle to the curb.
I’d started taking life seriously, because I didn’t want to disrespect my mom’s memory by shitting all over my own existence.
Finally I’d grown the hell up. Earned my job. Worked my ass off. I deserved Kane’s account.
But Dad’s Spanish Inquisition was just another reason to make sure I didn’t cross the line with Kane.
Easier said than done.
“Give Stevie a break, Pops.” Gabriel, two years older than me and my champion, pushed me down into a chair.
Another grunt was the answer.
I supposed Dad had a right to be all up in my business, since it technically was his business. We all worked for Keller Construction, family owned and operated, and I was the youngest contractor on the crew. I just wished he’d trust in my abilities the same way he did with Gabriel.
I managed to avoid further scrutiny for the rest of the evening, at least until all the plates were polished clean of food and Gabriel broke into the brownies. With Dad scrubbing the grill utensils inside, he opened his big mouth after swallowing down an entire brownie in one bite.
“Ethan staying off your back? ’Cause if not I can still knee-cap that Downtown douchehole.”
I stuffed my face full of brownie to get around answering. Gabriel didn’t need to know Ethan was still harassing me. I had way too many alpha males in my life.
Dad ambled back outside, and he must’ve heard Ethan’s name, because he muttered in a disgusted tone, “Shame you had to break up with that boy. From such an established family.”
I nearly gagged on my dessert. I’d made Gabriel promise not to tell Dad about Ethan’s true personality, his scary tendencies. I wasn’t naïve about the building business. I knew one wrong word from the mighty Rutledges could damage Keller Construction’s reputation beyond repair.
That was one reason—despite Carmen and Gabriel’s urging—I hadn’t done so much as filed a restraining order against Ethan.
So my dad still thought the vile shit had been a massive improvement in boyfriend material for me. And dumping Ethan was just one more disappointment in a long line of many mistakes, according to Dad.
Gabriel looked about ready to dis all over the Rutledge name, but I gave him the death glare.
“He was a good man, Stevie. A damn good man from an excellent family that’s sent a lot of business our way. Don’t know why you can’t keep one like that and finally settle down,” our dad continued.
Ethan Rutledge was not a good man. Kane Bishop might be one. If he wasn’t a lot older than me, grieving a dead wife, technically my employer, at least temporarily, and probably not the least bit interested. My face flushed at the thought of him.
“Looks like Stevie might have her eye on someone else.” Gabriel knew me way too well, poking his finger in my direction.
I kicked him in the shin.
He winced but laughed over the pain. “Oh yeah, that’s a sure sign. When she starts beating up on me.”
My eyes blazed, my face blazing hotter.
I pursed my lips. “There’s absolutely no one.”
“You know I’m not stopping until you tell me so I can run a background check and a Google search.”
“I hate you,” I said in a seething tone.
“Oh yeah.” Gabriel heckled. “I think I should vet all your future dates.”
I rolled my eyes. “I think you should vet my middle finger.”
Brothers.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kane
A WEEK PASSED WITH Stevie at my house morning, noon, and night, every day except on the weekend. She proved herself to be more than competent, as well as a little hothead
ed, and she certainly wasn’t shy about sharing her opinion on my design choices.
More than once we’d gotten into a heated argument, nose to nose, and I found myself on the verge of pouncing on her, caging her against a wall—one she’d usually half-demolished—and kissing the holy hell out of her.
She won the spat about the bathroom redo and the bedroom windows.
She wouldn’t back down when it came to completely updating the back deck that overlooked the Intracoastal Waterway either . . . adamantly choosing cedar planks because she said it would add warmth to the house.
“Just whose house do you think this is?” We’d stood facing one another outside while the May sun sprinkled a light sheen of perspiration on her bared shoulders and the colorful peacock tattoo.
“Certainly not mine, Mr. Bishop. Because I’d definitely have a cedar deck so I could enjoy the views with a beer every evening.”
She always called me Mr. Bishop when she wanted to really annoy the hell out of me.
I’d begun looking forward to butting heads with her. She pissed me off, and I’d never felt so alive.
I also hadn’t looked forward to spending time at home this much since Alice’s death. A recurring thought, which doused all but the hottest fire and pushed heavy guilt down on me.
Alice . . . well, she’d been nothing like Stevie. Naturally elegant and soft-spoken, Alice taught kindergarten and nurtured all things, from sadly limp plants to tiny broken animals. Our relationship had been comfortable, gentle, easy. Not always perfect, but never fractious.
Stevie challenged me every step of the way, sometimes over nothing at all. She was absolutely stunning, and one hundred percent obstinate. Nothing about her was easy, and she’d be more likely to wield a sledgehammer than cuddle an abandoned kitten in her arms.
Stevie was the hottest fire, and I was old enough to know when I shouldn’t be hankering after a younger woman.
The word hankering was enough. Gwen would have a field day with that alone.
When Stevie met Cecilia the first time, she’d whipped out a dirty hand with bitten-down nails for a shake. Alice always had manicures.
Cecilia smiled up at her, braces and all. “Are you going to do something super cool to my room too?”
