Dylan didn’t know what had caused her to ask the question. Maybe it was the fact that she was feeling full for the first time in months. Trey had pushed the basket of fries her way and the smell of them had called to her. It had been too long since she’d eaten so much, and her salad and soup hadn’t even arrived yet.

It stung, knowing she only had two dollars in her purse, hidden from her brother for emergencies.

But now she had a job, a real job, instead of putting in a few hours here and there at Carrie Ann’s when the owner felt like calling her. Sure, tips were great, but the job sucked. More nights than not, there were fights, and she was usually stuck in the middle of them, fending for and fearing for her own safety. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by her that every time her brother showed up, fights were inevitable.

Feeling the need to apologize ahead of time for anything Brent was going to do in the future, she glanced around and wondered how to go about it.

“About my brother…” She leaned in slightly. She wanted to make sure her job didn’t hinge on his. “I’m not… he’s…” She shook her head, at a loss for words.

“Hey,” Trey broke in, “I understand how siblings are. It’s funny, half the town judges me by what my older brothers do or have done. Do you know, I walked into my freshmen year at high school with a bad-boy reputation already firmly in place?” He sighed. “Teachers would call out roll call and once they saw McGowan behind my name, they would groan and say, ‘We aren’t going to have problems are we, McGowan?’ It was almost like they didn’t know my first name or care to know it. I was just another McGowan to them.”

She’d watched him talk. He had gotten very animated when he was lost in the story, and she found it almost hypnotic to watch. His blue eyes turned slightly darker as his emotions spiked.

“I’m not my brother,” she said softly.

“And I’m not mine.” He smiled. “So, we’re in agreement. You won’t judge me for being a McGowan and I won’t judge you for anything Brent might say or do.” He held out his hand for hers. She reached out and took it easily. Instead of shaking it, he held it firmly. “But, know this, if I ever see him push you around again, I have no problem living up to the McGowan name and kicking the shit out of him.”

Her smile grew. “Agreed.”

For the rest of their lunch, they talked about family. She heard all about his brothers and their new wives, along with small details about his mother. He’d warned her that his mother, Gail, and her new beau Tony might swing by their table when they left, and they had. Trey had quickly introduced her as his savior, who had taken over Rea’s job at McGowan Enterprises. She’d been happily surprised at her title of Office Manager. Not that she had anyone to manage, but the title was better than secretary.

She’d liked Trey’s mother instantly when the woman asked about her tattoos and had been sincerely interested instead of judgy like a lot of older people tended to be.

“Trey has several tattoos,” Gail had nodded towards her son. “Of course, he’s not the only one.” She’d winked at her.

“What?” Trey had broken in. “Who?”

Gail smiled and tugged on Tony’s arm to get him moving out of the diner.

“Mom?” Trey had called after her. “Who else has a tattoo?”

The woman had just chuckled as she waved and walked out.

“I think your mom has a tattoo.” She smiled as she finished her soda.

Trey was frowning into his empty plate. He’d eaten an entire steak, a baked potato, and a massive helping of broccoli, and he’d ordered a large slice of chocolate pie on top of it. She was surprised that he didn’t weigh three hundred pounds. “She can’t. I would know about it.”

Dylan just laughed. “Are you really upset about this?”

He frowned at her as the waitress set the massive slice of cake in front of him. “No, of course not. She was probably just messing around.”

“What tattoos do you have?” She couldn’t remember seeing any the other night, and since he was dressed in a long-sleeved button-up shirt, she didn’t see any now.

She could tell that she’d gotten his mind off his mother. He smiled at her and slowly bit into the cake. He handed her an extra fork. “Dig in.” He nodded to the dessert.

She chuckled. “Not going to tell?” she asked.

“With someone like you, I might have tattoo envy,” he answered.

She smiled. “It helped that I dated a tattooist for almost a full year.”

He nodded. “I dated one in Miami. Rainah worked at Tatts and played in an all-girl punk band.” He sighed heavily. “Good times.”

She took a nibble of the chocolate cake and held in a groan. It was hot and melted in her mouth. She quite possibly could orgasm right there in the middle of the diner with everyone watching. It had been almost two months since she’d been able to afford a chocolate fix.

“Jax had his own shop and played bongos on the streets of Seattle when he needed extra money,” she added between bites.

“Sounds like a real winner.” Trey smiled over at her as they finished off the cake. “What kind of name is Jax anyway?”

“What kind of name is Trey?” she countered.

His blonde eyebrows shot up. “It’s a nickname. I doubt if one person other than my family knows my real name at this point.”

“Oh?” She smiled. “What is your real name?”

He chuckled. “Not going to happen.” He waved the waitress over and handed her a credit card, then glanced down at his watch. “We’d better get back, I’d hate to be late for my meetings. Tyler gets pissy when I do.”

They drove back to the brick building that housed his family’s business.

When Trey parked in his spot, she noticed him frowning at an older truck parked near the doors.

“Are we late?” she asked.

“No.” He shut the car off and she missed the warmth from the seat warmers almost instantly. “I’ll warn you about this part of the job as well. Dealing with my uncle.”

She turned back towards the truck as an older man climbed out. She was surprised at how much the man looked like Trey’s father, which she’d seen in a family picture. She had studied the family painting in the waiting area while Trey had interviewed her brother.

Out of the three boys, Trey had gotten his father’s blonde hair and blue eyes. The other two boys had darker hair and brown eyes like their mother.

“Carl McGowan is a drunk. Anytime he shows up here,” Trey said quickly, “call the police.” He handed her his cell phone. “It’s in speed dial under PD.” He got out of the car, but before walking away, he leaned in. “Stay put.”

She found and dialed the number in his phone as she watched Trey move across the parking lot. The man sure knew how to wear a suit, she thought as she waited for someone to answer the phone.

“What’s up, Trey?” a woman answered in a sweet voice. She guessed it was the same woman from the other night but didn’t want to make assumptions.

“Hi, this is Dylan, I’m calling for Mr. McGowan. It appears that his uncle is here—”

“I’ll send Mike on over. Are you at the office?” the woman broke in.

“Yes,” she answered. There was a slight pause and Dylan could hear the woman talking to someone.

“Okay, they’re on the way. Who is this?”

“My name is Dylan…”

“From the other night? Your brother is Brent?”

“Yes, I’m the new office manager here.” She felt a slight twinge about throwing the fake title around.

“Oh, wonderful. They found someone to fill in Kristen and Rea’s shoes. Well, don’t worry, Mike and Tom are on the way over. Just keep Trey from killing his uncle before they get over there.”

The line when dead and Dylan tucked his phone into her coat pocket and got out of the car.

“I don’t give a shit what you think, there’s nothing here for you,” Trey was saying in a clear voice.

“You know as well as I do, that’s shit. I’m due…” Just then his uncle’s eyes moved past him and landed on her. She thought about retreating for a moment, but then held her ground. She’d never backed out of a fight.

“They’re on their way,” she said stopping next to Trey.

“Thanks.” He turned back to his uncle and she noticed that he moved slightly putting his body between her and the older man.

“Who?” his uncle asked her, ignoring. “You call the cops on me?” His eyes narrowed at her. She raised her chin slightly and didn’t answer. She knew the signs of someone far gone into the drink and didn’t care what he said. By the looks of it, alcohol wasn’t the only thing pulsing through the man’s bloodstream.

“You never could fight like a man. Always running away to get your brothers or making your bitch call for help.” The older man swung out, missing Trey as he easily ducked.

“Easy, old man.” Trey held onto his shoulders, stopping him from falling over.

“Let go of me you son of a…”

Trey moved so quickly, Dylan didn’t have time to respond. One moment his uncle was standing and, the next, he was sprawled face first on the ground with Trey standing over him. All Trey had done was let go of the man’s shoulders and his uncle had fallen into the freshly fallen slow in the parking lot.

“You’ll need to be careful how you treat our employees from here on out,” Trey warned, as he pulled the man back to his feet. “And you’ll want to be extra careful. The parking lot is slippery,” Trey said as the man gained his feet again.

Dylan noticed the older man’s face was bright red. He swung out, catching Trey unaware. The man’s thick fists slammed directly into Trey’s nose. Blood splattered over her as she gasped, and Trey cursed under his breath.

The fight between her brother and Trey had left marks on both men. For his part, Trey was sporting a swollen eye and lip. Her brother had a matching swollen eye and a cut across this bottom lip. Now, however, looking at the amount of blood flowing from Trey’s nose, she wondered if he’d broken it.

“Son of a…” Trey said, swiping his nose as his hand came away covered in blood. Instead of releasing his uncle, he gripped him tighter and pushed him towards the front doors.

She followed and when they reached the doorway, the police cruiser pulled in and stopped a few feet away.

“Damn it,” the officer said as he climbed out of the cruiser. “Did you have to hit him?”

“I didn’t touch the man,” Trey said, holding his hands up as his nose continued to bleed all over his white shirt.

“Trey didn’t hit him,” she jumped in. “He hit Trey.” She pointed to his uncle.

By now there were two officers there. One of them had Trey’s uncle and was holding him up.

“The boy attacked me,” his uncle was saying.

“That’s not—” she started, but Trey glanced at her and shook his head.

“It’s okay, they know,” he said softly.

She sighed and nodded. Trey reached into his pocket. “Why don’t you head in? It’s freezing out here.” He gave her the keys to the door. “I’ll handle this.”

She decided it was easier to retreat inside than argue. And she could grab some tissue to help stop Trey’s nose bleed. Besides, she hated dealing with cops. She’d had enough of them over the last four years to last a lifetime.

* * *

Trey stood in the cold and ran over the last five minutes with Mike Taters, the Chief of Police. The man had been around long before Trey had, and he knew that the chances of Trey starting a fight with his uncle were slim. He was guaranteed not to be put in cuffs.

His uncle, however, was cuffed and shoved in the back of the police cruiser.

“We’ll call and get his truck towed,” Mike added, writing something down in his book. “You’d better get that looked at.” He nodded to his nose. “It might be broken.”

“It’s not.” He sighed. “I know the difference.” He dabbed his nose with the towel Dylan had rushed out to him.

“Looks like he ruined your shirt.” Mike nodded to his chest.

Trey glanced down and cursed. “I’ve got a meeting in an hour.”

Mike chuckled as he walked away. “You boys always did look funny in suits anyway.”

He tried not to slam the front door as he walked in. Dylan was on the phone as he walked by. Stepping into his office, he threw his jacket on the sofa and pulled off his ruined shirt. His nose had stopped bleeding moments ago, so he was clear to pull on the backup shirt he always kept in the closet.

When he heard a funny sound, he turned around to see Dylan standing in the doorway. Her dark eyebrows were raised as her eyes scanned over his chest. When he started to put the shirt on, she rushed forward.

“Don’t.” She reached out and stopped him.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Why? Seeing me half-naked is making you swoon?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No.” She pointed to a spot on his chest. “I was just stopping you from ruining a second shirt.”

He followed her gaze to where her fingertip was touching his chest. There, on his skin, was a dark blob of blood that would have easily soaked into his backup shirt.

“But, if you’re so vain as to think that every woman who sees you without a shirt would swoon at your feet…” She turned on her heels and waltzed out of the room. “Who swoons anymore anyway?” she threw over her shoulder as he chuckled and wiped the blood from his skin.

Slipping on the new shirt, he wiped the rest of the blood from his face with water from the small bar area in his office. He checked to make sure his nose had stopped bleeding before cleaning his face. He texted his brothers to let them know what had happened and called his mother as well. He finished up with his family just as Dylan buzzed his meeting in and for the next hour, he listened to them drone on and on about the benefits of the latest submerged computer system that would help them search the land for oil and minerals. He and his brothers had already agreed to purchase the new system.

He ended one meeting and had less than five minutes before his next meeting. This meeting, however, was a lot different. Local boys flooded their conference room as he began going over the slides of their new school facility.

The ground breaking was set for some time in the spring, but Trey was having a hard time waiting that long. Just looking at the graphics and drawings for the Thurston McGowan Flathead Drilling Training Center got him excited. More than one hundred acres of prime Montana land was all theirs for this project.

There were going to be three large buildings for housing employees and families along with seven larger buildings for classrooms. Future plans included a daycare and even a general store.

If all went well, there was plenty of space around town for new home sites, which they hoped would be a big plus, since they were looking at some pretty big contracts from some of the in-state colleges that wanted to expand environmental studies at their facilities.

His father had put it in motion and all that needed to be done was seeing it through. All three of them were determined to do, even as their uncle fought it.

Tyler had received a call a week prior from a lawyer out of Helena. The man claimed to represent their uncle in the case against them. The man claimed that their uncle had proof that their father’s patents on his drilling and extracting methods were the sole property of Carl McGowan.

Less than an hour later, after Tyler faxed the man all the legal documents where Carl had signed away his rights to the patents for cold hard cash that he had spent years ago, the lawyer quickly withdrew his claims and they had not heard from him since. But, if Trey knew anything about his uncle, they hadn’t heard the last of it yet.

He spent almost two hours going over every detail with what he and his brothers were starting to think of as the ‘A Team.’ They were a bunch of men who where the best of the best at what they did. They knew all the ins and outs of the oil refining business and knew what equipment was needed, how much space, how much power, and most importantly, what would be needed to protect from any incidents and accidents.

He had hoped his brothers would be available for the meeting, but with Tyler at home enjoying the new baby and Trent filling in for Tyler in South Dakota for another meeting with suppliers, he was in charge. A scary thought.

When the conference room was empty, he sat alone looking over the proposed changes on his laptop screen. His stomach growled, and he desperately wished for a cup of coffee. There were a few more hours of work to do before heading home to a frozen meal and more work. Maybe he’d swing by his mother’s place for a hot home-cooked meal instead.

“Coffee?”

He’d forgotten that he wasn’t alone. Glancing up, he smiled at Dylan as she walked in with a cup in her hands. “I didn’t know how you like it, so I kept it black.”

“Just the way I need it now.” He took the mug from her.

“What’s that?” She nodded to the projected screen on the wall.

He had forgotten to shut the thing off, so everything he’d been doing was showing up on the screen.

“Our proposed site changes for the school.” He tilted his head. Seeing it bigger helped make his mind up about what he’d been toiling over for the past ten minutes on the smaller screen.

“What school?” she asked, walking closer to the wall and crossing her arms in front of herself as she gave the image all of her attention.

Standing up after taking a large gulp of the hot liquid, he moved next to her.

“The Thurston McGowan Flathead Drilling Training Center.” He smiled every time he said it out loud.

She narrowed her eyes at him as she glanced sideways his way. “The…”

“Thurston McGowan Flathead Drilling Training Center.” He chuckled. “It’s a mouth full. Basically, it’s a drilling school and an environmental study site.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Why are you opening something like this?” She motioned to the screen. “I thought you guys were in business to make money drilling for oil yourselves.”

“Well, we are, right now. But this was my father’s dream before he died.” He motioned towards the screen.

“A school to teach everyone else how to do what you do?” He heard the sarcasm in her voice and chuckled.

“It sounds crazy, we know.” He shifted slightly, turning towards her. “Our father was… a visionary.” He decided he liked the word and nodded.

“Like Disney?” she asked.

He frowned. “No, more like Nikola Tesla.”

She tilted her head. “The guy who makes the cars?” Her eyes were glued to his.

“Okay, a serious gap in your education,” he murmured as he turned towards the white board and picked up a marker. He drew out the plans as his father had laid them out so many years ago.

By the time he was done, there was a big circle with smaller entities pointing to one another.

“See?” He stood back and let her take it all in.

Once she was done looking at it, she turned to him. “So, you’re in essence getting paid for others reinventing your industry, while teaching them everything you know, so that once they’re done, your hope is to have the leading edge in methods?”

He nodded. “Okay, you just redeemed yourself for the Nikola Tesla mark.”

She smiled and slowly turned and lifted the hem of her shirt. He got excited at the amount of skin she was showing him, but then he laughed.

There, in delicate print along her ribs, was a tattoo. He leaned closer to read the fine print.

‘Be alone. That is when ideas are born.’

He smiled, remembering the quote. “Be alone, that is the secret of invention; be alone, that is when ideas are born, Nikola Tesla.” He smiled. “One of my favorite quotes from him. You had me there.” He wanted to reach out and run his finger over the quote but stepped back. “Why this quote?” he asked her, suddenly wishing he knew a lot more about the woman standing before him.

“Because, ‘I don’t think you can name many great inventions that have been made by married men,’ was a little too long.” She smiled as she laid her shirt hem back in place.

He laughed, really laughed. “There’s more to you than first meets the eye.”

“I have my secrets.” She shrugged. “I didn’t always want to be a waitress, you know.” She walked over and glanced down at his computer screen. “Your calculations are wrong here.” She pointed to a section of the drawings.

He frowned. “What?” He moved over and glanced at what she was looking at. He didn’t see anything wrong at first, but then she showed him the correct math while he looked over her shoulder.

For the next hour, he was schooled by their new secretary and wondered if they should have hired her as chief engineer of the project instead. He’d thought she was sexy as hell before, but knowing that there was a big brain underneath those dark locks of hers made her even more so.

He couldn’t deny his attraction for her anymore and wondered what the hell he was going to do about it.