Blake

OPENING THE DOOR TO MY OFFICE, I stormed past my secretary, Karen, and plopped down in my oversized chair that had seen better days. My desk was in a current state of disarray and no amount of organizing was going to help the situation. I blew a breath of hot air through my nose.

Jesus, I already had a headache and it was barely 7:00 a.m. I rubbed at my temples.

Karen poked her head in my door and cleared her throat. “Good morning, Mr. Whitmore. Would you like your coffee black today?”

I glanced up at her. She’d been with me for almost seven years now and likely knew me better than my own family. She was a middle-aged, single mother of three boys, and I paid her well enough to not go looking for a second or third job. As sad as it was, that was the extent of my knowledge on her. All I cared about was that she did a hell of a job and had been the only secretary who’d tolerated me for this long.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Add some sugar, though, will ya?”

She nodded and pushed her bright red glasses up her nose. Too bad I also didn’t care enough to tell her their color shielded her pretty green eyes. While she wasn’t the type who made men catcall and whistle, I figured she was a good woman who’d be a good catch for someone out there. “I’ll bring you some aspirin too. Looks like you’ve had a long night.”

She didn’t ask any questions or pry. She simply disappeared from sight while I heard the coffee pot going in the other room. I shut my eyes and replayed my evening over in my head.

Molly.

The blond bombshell across the street, was becoming a pain in the ass and unfortunately intriguing as well. When that rapping on my door startled me out of a dead sleep, I was ready to throw it open and tell whatever woman to get lost. I’d been so exhausted from the late nights this past week, and I was looking forward to a full night’s shuteye. Didn’t help I was a little groggier than normal after taking a few shots of whiskey to drag me under.

It’s not that I wasn’t used to random women showing up on my doorstep looking for a good time. It had happened plenty of times. Women in this town knew me, and others came from neighboring areas to see if I lived up to the hype. I’d had all sorts of types stop by like one look of them and I wouldn’t be able to resist. I think some would be shocked that nine times out of ten, I usually turned them away. Last night was no exception. I simply wasn’t looking for the attention. But when I opened my door to see wild blond hair, wide blue eyes, a tiny trimmed waist and a plain white tank top that left nothing to my imagination, I was more fascinated than I was annoyed.

The fact Molly said she’d planned on doing the remodel herself without the assistance of a general contractor or help left me scratching my head. Never in my thirty-five years had I come across a female who was so adept to be this independent. Most came kicking and screaming that their husbands thought they knew what they were doing. Somehow they fucked it up and now needed a real man to do the job. That’s where I came in.

Truth be told, the house across the street had been an eyesore for the last five years, and it was either something that needed to be torn down or taken down to the studs and rebuilt. I’d looked into purchasing it myself not long ago. I thought it would be a good investment property that I could rent out. Location was perfect, and I had plenty of companies I used out there that owed me a favor. I could have done it all cheaply. But it boiled down to the bank not budging on the price. I’m sure it was more of a personal decision than a professional one. I’d slept with the loan officer at the bank and she wasn’t so fond of me any longer. I decided it could be someone else’s headache.

That headache, though, was clearly still mine.

I picked up the warm ceramic cup and took a sip. It was still too hot and I burned my tongue. Waving my hand at her, “Let’s go.”

“At eight-thirty, you have a teleconference with Ace Plumbing. Mr. Randall wants to discuss striking a long-term deal to be your go-to when you need work done at any of the sites.”

I huffed. “Fat chance. That man still thinks there are unpaid invoices from two years ago and has yet to show me proof of this.”

She moved on. “Ten o’clock, the Bernstein’s will be in to finalize the plans for their vacation home. At one you need to go down to the Port Angeles building department to get the new permits for the Metro Diner. But you might also need to stop at the bank to get a blank check just in case the owner hasn’t gone down to pay it yet. Justin never gave me a clear answer if he’d already stopped in to do it, or if it was coming out of the renovation budget. After that, you’ll need to race back here because you have a phone conference with your brother about him selling you his share of the company.”

I groaned. “For shit’s sake. Are we still dealing with this? I thought we’d settled with him last month.”

She curled in on herself, so I knew she was going to hit me with a blow. “You did, but”—she cleared her throat even though her voice got softer—“he decided he wanted more money, or you get less of a share.”

I stood up so fast my chair nearly tipped over. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted. “What in the hell is his problem? He doesn’t even want this damn company.” I began pacing. “You’d think that being my brother the asshole would see that family is more important than the almighty dollar, but I guess not. He truly hated me. I wasn’t so certain I blamed him either. I wasn’t always particularly fond of me either.” I briefly wondered if I would have pulled the same move on him had the roles been reversed.

Probably.

Glancing up at Karen, who was watching me with uncertainty, I sat back down. “Sorry, not your concern. Go on.”

“It’ll be okay, I'm sure. There’s nothing else, actually. Unless you want to go over to the new apartment complex on Highway 101 in Sequim to make sure the plumbing company installed all of the new fixtures.”

Thinking of plumbers made me bounce my thoughts back to Molly. Exactly who I didn’t want to give any more of my precious time to.

I nodded. “Okay. Could you bring me the applications you sorted through? I need to hire a few more workers. I can’t handle any more cocky sons of bitches who think they know every damn thing about tiling and roofing. The last one thought it was okay to lay tile down over linoleum instead of going down to the subfloor.”

Karen chimed in, “Sure, but maybe we should look into hiring outside of our usual locations. Seattle is full of good talent.”

“Seattle is full of suits like Thomas, who think their shit doesn’t stink.” I wore an obvious chip on my shoulder.

“It’s your choice. But the stack isn’t as thick as you were hoping.”

I grabbed my mug and sucked down a swig of coffee. It was bitter on my tongue, just like my attitude about the day. “I’ll make it work.”

She got up and left but briefly came back to give me what I’d asked for. Once she was out of sight, I leaned back in my chair. This was going to be one hell of a day. Most of it was pretty standard but dealing with my brother usually caused me to take long drives. I’d hit a bottle, but I didn’t drink.

I wish I knew what his angle was besides the money. Was he trying to stick it to me? While I owned majority of Whitmore and Co. I was slowly trying to buy out the rest of my father’s and brother’s shares. The process had been long and grueling. I understood, well, sort of, why my dad was reluctant to let his ownership go. He started this company from the ground up. He went door to door almost forty years ago, passing out fliers and asking if people needed a handyman. He’d made his prices competitive and his craftsmanship quality work. His name quickly spread through the Washington Peninsula, and he soon had more business than he could see to on his own. He hired someone to work beside him, and it grew from there. Now we were the largest contracting company next to the big boys in Seattle. I gave him credit where credit was due, but since I started running everything, I’d expanded farther, opened a second location in Tacoma, and took it to another level. I had to. My dad didn’t just start letting the company go, he started letting himself go.

After my mother passed away, Dad made best friends with Jack Daniel’s, and every once in a while Jose Cuervo when Jack ran empty. Substance abuse was a bitch, and I was always the one to scrape him up off the floor. He’d been booted from jobsites and bars. I tried my best to keep him sober years ago, but I wasn’t a babysitter, and my dad wasn’t a toddler. I didn’t want him in trouble or to see him get hurt, but he had been a thorn in my side I wished would just stay at home and away from the liquor stores.

Thomas, my dad’s namesake, was given twenty-five percent of the company, and I had the other twenty-five. Tom, my dad, used to own fifty, but I’d bought his shares. My brother was clinging hard to his remaining ten percent. He willingly let them go to me at a very cheap rate back before he became a hotshot architect in Portland, Oregon. Since my mother had been gone, Thomas had ended his selling to me and now taunted me with them like a carrot dangling on a string. He was angry and bitter and blamed me for Mom’s death. I did too, but that was no reason to be a dick about the company.

Ninety-percent owner, and I was the sole proprietor of Whitmore and Co. Nobody else gave a shit whether it all went down the drain, or if it was sold off to someone farther east. Would it have been easier for me to let it go and go to college like my brother had? Sure. But my mother’s pride in the business my dad built was more than enough to keep me invested. It made me money, it gave me a name, and I’d earned respect. I’d rather fling myself in front of a semi than see what I’d grown get tossed aside.

My day dragged. It was just after three when Karen buzzed me that I had a call holding on line one. I steeled myself to hear my brother’s voice on the other end. To my shock, it was a raspy female voice on the other end.

“This is Blake Whitmore.”

“Mr. Whitmore, the man with the golden pecs and abs of steel?”

“Excuse me?” I asked. Who on earth?

“This is Sandra from across the street.”

She stated it like it would immediately click and I’d know who she was. I thought my neighbor’s name was Molly? I knew all of the people who surrounded me. When I didn’t respond she sighed heavily.

“I’m Molly’s agent. The one you met last night.”

Oh yeah, the skinny, mouthy one, I thought as she jogged my memory. “Right, yes, Sandra.” What was she calling me for? “What can I help you with?”

“I was hoping you might possibly be free later this week or beginning of next to uh—refinish some cabinets,” she answered, completely unsure of what she was saying.

I raised my brow and set the pen I’d been holding down. “Cabinets. Like kitchen cabinets?”

“Yes, mhmm.”

I gathered last night that she wasn’t from here, so I could only imagine she was trying to be a nosy friend, or at the very least was attempting to find an excuse to flirt with me. Which wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibilities. While today might not have been the best days for something like this to happen, because my blond little neighbor across the street was involved, I’d bite.

“And do you know approximately how many cabinets need to be refinished?”

She paused. “Six—no, wait, eight.”

I could tell she was pulling a random number out of her ass. “And will the countertops need to be replaced? I’m assuming so since the ones in that house are in horrible condition and dated.”

“Mhmm,” she said again.

I made a few noises over the phone as if I were writing this all down. “While typically I’m not the one who does this anymore, my main guy, Edward, will be happy to stop by and get some measurements and we can get the work started in just about a week or two.”

“What? No, I’m calling for you. Edward, Schmedward. I’d appreciate it if it were you doing the work, and I know Molly would prefer it too.”

“That’s mighty presumptuous of you, Sandra. I’m a busy man. Does Molly even realize you’re calling me? Because something tells me she’d rather skin a cat than me come back over and do any work on her house.”

She chuckled deeply. She sounded like a smoker and I assumed she was one. “She doesn’t have a clue.”

My interest just rose another level. My day went from complete shit to very amusing. “Huh, and what makes you think you’re doing her any favors by calling me?”

“Because my lovely little client doesn’t have the gumption to admit she’s going to need help on this craptastic house she bought, and her pride won’t allow her to make the call to the man who can get it done.”

Her flirtatious tone was oozing across the airwaves. It was like a gentle stroke to my ego. Karen had given me one of those stupid desktop calendars she’d written in little notes here and there. It gave me a general idea of where I’d be and when each day. She always verbally filled in the details each day. My eyes shot to next week’s list of to-dos.

“Suppose I was remotely interested in taking on this job myself, what’s in it for me?”

I nearly heard her snicker through the phone.

“Pride, domination, pounding of your caveman chest, of course. Are you looking for further compensation than that on top of your usual fees?”

I wasn’t actually, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to play my cards right here. “No.” I chuckled. “But I’ll be sure to pound my chest every night before I lie down to go to sleep.” I paused, more for dramatic effect. “Tell me, Sandra, what happens when I show up with my tool belt on? Will you be the one to insist I come in to do the work? Because I can guarantee Molly will likely slam the door in my face.”

“Did she last night?”

“No.”

“Hmm, well, there you go. You just let me handle the home owner, and you can help yourself with the rest. If something more comes up, then I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how it needs to be dealt with, now, won’t we?”

Her demanding attitude was a bit of a turn on. She gave me the feeling she was a dominant woman in and out of the bedroom. I occasionally gravitated toward those types, but I was into more submissive ones. While I was completely aware I was an asshole, I knew there was a time and a place. I may have noticed how attractive Sandra was, but it wasn’t her who aroused my dick last night.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Here’s what I can do. I’m free for a short window of time on Monday right after four. If you think she’s not going to toss me out on my ass as soon as she sees me, then I’ll come take measurements and discuss with her exactly what she’s looking for.” I sounded reasonable, even to myself.

“I’ll make sure she knows you’re coming. Look forward to seeing you again.” Sandra was pleased, by the lighter tone in her voice.

I hmmm’d into the phone. “You as well.”

We hung up. I sat there looking at my penciled in markings in Monday’s square.

‘Pain in the ass neighbor @ 4pm.’

I smirked. Yes, I’d say my day had definitely taken a turn toward interesting.

That was until Karen called my name from the other side of the wall. “Blake, your brother is holding on line one.”

I frowned. “Here we fuckin’ go.”