“The dialogue between client and architect is about as intimate as any conversation you can have, because when you’re talking about building a house, you’re talking about dreams.”—Robert A. M. Stern
Dalton peeked his head in. “Dude, Cal called an emergency conference. You free?”
Brady nodded, grateful for the interruption. He’d spent too many hours bent over his desk, gaze trained on his computer. “Anything wrong?”
“Don’t know. Just said it was important.”
“Okay, let me grab some coffee and I’ll meet you in there.” He headed to the kitchen, which was stocked with every piece of machinery needed to work 24/7. From the stainless steel refrigerator, cappuccino maker, soda machine, vending machines, and mahogany cupboards stuffed with goodies, everyone made sure cravings could be satisfied. He headed to his stock of specially ground Kenyan coffee, anticipating that first whiff of pure bliss, lifted the airtight cover, and found...something else.
He frowned and took a sniff. This wasn’t his coffee. The scent of fake beans drifted to his nostrils, weak and wimpy and painful to his coffee-loving soul. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he marched to the front desk. “Rachel, why was my coffee switched out?” he demanded.
The older woman was in her sixties, but looked a decade younger. With smooth skin and a polished appearance, Rachel would be the one to know what he was talking about. She was ruthlessly organized and on top of supplies. A smile wreathed her face. “Charlie found a supplier who sold in bulk and saved us tons of money. She said it’s exactly like the brand you like but half the price. Is it good?”
Son of a bitch. He glowered, trying to yank back his temper. “No.”
Her face fell. “Oh. Well, I guess I can switch it back if you’d like.” She paused. “Seems like a waste of money, though. Charlie said the amount we save could go toward the local pet shelter to help the animals. Wasn’t that a great idea?”
His temper hitched a notch higher. Now she was spreading her frugality around the office. He gave plenty to charity, and he refused to have his few indulgences yanked from him. He’d already lost his pastries. “I’d appreciate if you switch it back.”
She nodded, her eyes flaring with disapproval. “Of course.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” He headed toward the conference room, skipping the coffee. The men were already seated around the polished table. Cal took the head, sprawled out in his usual battered jeans, T-shirt, and work boots. Dalton was popping Hershey kisses into his mouth, looking the most relaxed of the crew. With his surfer hair caught in a man bun and long, tapered fingers drumming the table, he didn’t seem nervous about the emergency meeting. Tristan sat between them, clad in his high-powered, custom suit. He sat completely still, a slight frown on his brow from the interruption of his tight, controlled schedule.
Brady took his customary place to Caleb’s right. He’d grown up with these men and looked at them as family—not friends. He’d met Cal in college freshman year and been invited to his house for the weekend. Instantly, he’d clicked with all the brothers and began splitting his time between them and his family, who lived a few towns away. He’d been fascinated with Pierce Brothers Construction from the first day, loving the idea of working for a family firm. He got his degree, passed the architectural board tests, and was hired immediately by Cal’s father, Christian.
Of course, the tight-knit family he’d signed on to had finally splintered into pieces after they’d lost their beloved mother, Diane Pierce, driving all the brothers in separate directions. Tristan had headed to New York City to do real estate, and Dalton fled to Florida to open a wood restoration business. Brady had stayed with Cal and become a constant in the business, drawing up all the plans for houses and even doing some home renovation when needed.
When Christian died of a heart attack, the will had stated the brothers must work together in the family business for one year or it would be sold. They’d agreed to do it, and after a hard road, they eventually forgave each other and moved onward. When Brady looked at all of them now, a sense of brotherly connection and fierce loyalty shimmered in the air. Having them all back was a gift. He was now a full partner in the company and helped drive all the decisions. He had everything he’d ever dreamed of—financial security, a job he loved, a dream house, and friends who were family.
If only he could find his damn wife.
He pushed his distracting thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on the conversation. As usual, Cal got straight to the point. “We have a problem with Charlie.”
Dalton cocked his head in surprise. “What’s the problem? I thought her work was stellar.”
Brady jumped right in. “I knew it. I didn’t want to be the one who said I told you so, but I had doubts from the beginning.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with her work. And I still don’t understand why you two can’t be in the same room together without sharing dirty looks. Sydney came to me about something that concerns me.”
“Is she in trouble?” Tristan asked. Concern lit his amber eyes. “If she is, we’ll help her.”
“She bought a house on her own to flip.”
Dalton grinned. “Good for her. She’s come a long way since I met her.”
Cal snorted. “And a longer time since you tried to make Raven jealous by pretending you were interested in Charlie. I still love that story.”
“Didn’t she give you a shove and a tongue blistering in the parking lot of My Place?” Tristan jumped in.
Dalton groaned. “Leave me alone. I was screwed up and didn’t realize Raven was the love of my life. I paid for my sins.”
Brady remembered Cal telling him about that incident. Seemed Dalton and Charlie became friends, but when he broke up with Raven, he tried to use Charlie to make his ex-lover jealous. It backfired when Charlie confronted him, refusing to break female code and giving him a few hard truths.
Dalton’s skin turned a shade red. “I should’ve never told you. I was drunk at the time.”
“That’s when we get all the good stuff,” Tristan commented. “The Raging Bitch IPA does it every time.”
Brady laughed. He was constantly entertained by the crew, but he brought back the purpose of the meeting. “So, Charlie bought a house to flip. Why is that a problem? Isn’t she able to do her own sideline as long as it doesn’t affect Pierce Brothers?”
“Yes, but I found out the property is on the outskirts of town in Trapps. I happened to do a drive-by today and several things concern me.”
“That’s not the best area,” Tristan said. “It’s pretty close to some of the hot spots. How many houses on the block?”
“Only a handful. It’s on a dead-end street, so no immediate neighbors. Good lot. Crappy house, but structurally sound. Has potential,” Cal said.
Tristan steepled his fingers. “She’s got an eye for property.”
Brady kept the surprise from showing on his face. He had no idea she had enough money to invest in her own house to flip, let alone know how to pick one. Sure, she was enthusiastic about her job, but he figured she wouldn’t be around on a long-term basis. “Who’s her crew?” Brady asked.
Cal leaned back in his chair. Worry glinted from gunmetal eyes. “No one. She’s doing everything herself. Sydney says she intends to do her work in the early evenings after Pierce Brothers and on weekends.”
Brady stared at Cal. “You mean she’s working alone, in that neighborhood, at night?”
“That’s right,” Cal said.
Dalton groaned. “We can’t let her do that. If something happens, we’ll never forgive ourselves.”
Cal nodded. “Agreed. Let’s put a plan in place and bring her in for a discussion.”
“Who do we have available to help her out?” Brady asked.
“Jason?” Tristan suggested.
“Nope, he’s on a job for the next few weeks. Actually, all my main crew members are booked for the next two months.”
“Maybe we can get her to delay the work,” Brady said. “Wait until we can offer her some help.”
Dalton shot him a look. “You don’t know Charlie very well, do you, dude?”
He glowered. “I know she’s a real pain in the ass.”
Dalton grinned. “You like her.”
His mouth fell open. He closed it with a snap, embarrassed at his obvious reaction. How juvenile. Dalton loved to jab at him and try to get him flustered. Some people thought it was part of his charm. “I have no opinion on her,” he said way too stiffly. His dick stirred and screamed him a liar. Dammit, he had to focus on the problem at hand. “Dalton, why can’t you give her a hand a few days per week?”
“Can’t. I’m helping out Raven with the bar, building Cal and Morgan’s new house, and have a ton of side jobs.”
Cal rubbed his head. “It’s the height of summer and we’re at our peak. I’m slammed.”
“Same here,” Tristan said. “I’m traveling a lot and cramming in renovation on a few projects. There’s just no damn time.”
Silence settled. Very slowly, all the men swiveled their gaze to him. It took him a few moments to realize their intention.
“Hell, no,” he bit out. “I work on renovation only when there’s no other option.”
“I think this fits the guidelines,” Cal said. “You did mention you were caught up on most of our clients. Can you make the time?” Cal asked.
Frustration zipped through his blood. “I’m caught up, but there’s always a ton of work. I can’t afford to get behind by playing babysitter.”
Dalton winced. “If she heard that, she’d come after all of us. She may be small, but Charlie is scary when she gets mad.”
Brady smothered a groan at his friend’s expression. When had they all become whipped by their women? Tristan seemed to be the only one left with some common sense, so he directed his words to him. “Look, I agree she needs someone at the site, but can’t we hire an intern for her?”
Tristan regarded him thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea. I can ask around and see if there’s an alternative. In the meantime, I think you’d be perfect to help her out. You can book your mornings out for clients, then spend late afternoon to evening working on the house. I’m sure I’ll be able to find someone who wants extra money or to learn the trade.”
“We’ll help cover the overload on your work schedule,” Cal added. “I just need to know you’re on board before we bring Charlie in to tell her the plan.”
The men around the table waited for his answer. A strange foreboding shivered down his spine, as if he knew things were about to change but he didn’t know how. He quickly thought over his options and realized he had none. She couldn’t be alone in that neighborhood, and he was the best one to help out until they found someone else. It would only be temporary. “I’ll do it.”
Cal let out a breath. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Now I just need to find the right way to tell her so it doesn’t look like we’re bullying or forcing her to accept help.”
He shook his head. “Just explain to her it’s not safe for a woman alone, plus she’s getting free help. Win/win. She’ll be grateful.”
Cal and Dalton burst into laughter. He glared at them but noticed even Tristan was barely holding back a grin. “You really have no clue, do you?” Dalton asked. “I can’t wait till you finally fall for some hot-tempered Latina woman who tells you how it really is.”
He arched a brow. “I’ve always told you the perfect woman in my life not only respects my decisions, but listens. I have no problem claiming the leadership role.”
Tristan lost the battle and grinned. “Can’t wait to meet her. Guess you plan on being single a long damn time.”
He shook his head at their good-natured jabbing. They’d been on his case for years about the type of woman he sought out, but Brady knew what was important to make a long lasting relationship. He’d seen it every day. If his father gave an order, everyone listened. Things ran smoothly and respect layered the relationship. Was that so bad? He wasn’t some monster who wanted to order his lover around. He craved a give and take, with the knowledge he’d protect them both. It may be old-fashioned, but it wasn’t wrong, and damned if he was going to keep apologizing for it.
“Okay, let’s get this over with and call her in. I’ll try to present it in the best way possible. Everyone ready?”
They nodded, and Cal opened the door to get her.
* * * *
Screw the Pierce Brothers.
Charlie seethed as her gloved hands began ripping out various junk from the house and dragging it to the dumpster. They had the nerve to summon her to the office and dictate who would help renovate her house? The house she’d invested in alone? And by renovate, they clearly meant babysit. A watcher. A keeper. Some big strong man to handle any trouble thrown her way, like she couldn’t protect herself.
Hell, no.
Gritting her teeth, she threw her pissed-off energy into the cleanup, going over the entire episode in her head. Cal had taken the lead, but it was Brady’s quiet judgment that made her crazed. He stared at her with a touch of disapproval, as if her rejection of their proposal was yet another stupid move she made because she wasn’t smart enough to accept their help. He figured she’d be grateful. When she’d thrown it right back and told them no, thank you, they had the gall to practically threaten her. It had gone so bad she’d stormed out, almost tempted to quit and go on her own.
Almost.
But she needed this job. She wasn’t far enough along on her own, and Pierce Brothers had the perfect setup. It would be easier to quit if she thought she was being placated by men who didn’t respect her, but deep inside, she knew that wasn’t the case. They were protective of all their employees, and had clearly explained they only wanted to be sure she was safe in the neighborhood. Yes, she appreciated their concern, but she wanted to do this job herself.
At least she’d made her opinion quite clear when she politely thanked them for their concern and promised to kick anyone’s ass who showed up on her job site without prior approval.
Yeah. That had gone real well.
Blowing out a breath, she spent the next hour moving crap into the dumpster, only pausing for a water break. The junk removal was the easy part. She needed to attack the wall dividing the kitchen and family room, but she’d need a set of finalized plans. She refused to ask Brady for a favor, and if she paid him, he’d only treat her like a chore rather than a client. Her backup architect wasn’t as good but would have to do. Then she’d concentrate on getting rid of the crap cabinets. She had her eye on some functional, low-cost ones at Anthony’s in stark white. It would brighten the place up. She guzzled water, enjoying the silence. Dalton always worked with boy bands blaring, and Cal loved his metal eighties stuff, but she loved the quiet. Nothing needed but the flow of her thoughts and the movements of her hands as she restored and rebuilt. Her soul practically sang amidst the sawdust, mold, and rotted wood.
She was on her last trip when she spotted the small shadow on the front lawn, staring at her. A young boy—definitely a teen—stood on her property, a shocked look on his face. Seemed he hadn’t expected her presence. He had large, dark eyes, beautiful brown skin, and long, lanky legs. He wore black cargo shorts, a gray T-shirt, and orange and white sneakers. Resentment practically beamed her like a laser. Obviously, she wasn’t wanted. “Hi,” she called out. “I’m Charlie.”
He blinked but didn’t move. Shifted his weight back and forth on those fancy sneakers. “What are you doing here?” His voice held the sharp edge of youth, with the high pitch of puberty. “This ain’t your property.”
She regarded him curiously, sensing no aggression but more of a possessive inflection of tone. “Actually, it is,” she said lightly. Tugging off her gloves, she took a few steps closer. “I bought it. Plan on renovating it and selling. Are you from this neighborhood?”
He jerked back, averting his gaze, but not before she caught the flare of anger and grief in his dark eyes. Ah, she’d finally figured out who her visitor had been. The books, the lamp, and the blanket told her he’d been using her house as a crash pad. Normally, she’d let it go and urge him to be on his way, but something about the boy called to her.
Hands clenched into fists, body tight, he seemed to fight with himself before shaking his head and pivoting on his sneaker-clad heel. “Nah. Forget it.” He’d taken a few steps before she called out again.
“It’s your books in my house, isn’t it? The Outsiders?”
He stiffened, slowly turning back around. He lifted his head with pure rebellion. “Yeah. It is. I wasn’t trespassing. Didn’t know anyone lived there.”
“I know. I just recently bought it. Was trying to figure out how someone got in there.”
He shrugged. “It was open.”
Her lips twitched. “Oh, my bad. Do you like the book?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“The Outsiders. It was on the top of your stack. Surprised you’re reading it.”
“’Cause you don’t think kids like me can read? Think I’m more into comic books?”
She jerked back, frowning. His tone shimmered with resentment. “No. I didn’t think the book was well known in your generation. Figured it was a bit out of date, you know? It’s from the eighties. And I take offense to both statements. A kid is a kid, and comic books rock.”
Her words had the intended reaction. A quick grin slid across his lips before quickly being squashed. She wondered why he was holing up in an abandoned house. Trouble at home? Friends? School? It could be anything, but he’d be prickly if she didn’t mind her business.
“I saw it on TV,” he admitted. “Looked cool. The book’s good.”
“I had such a crush on Matt Dillon when I first saw it,” she sighed.
He rolled his eyes. “Can I have my stuff back or you gonna call the cops?”
“Nothing to call the cops for if the house wasn’t locked. Come on in.” She turned and went inside, not stopping to see if he followed. Slowly, he trudged through the sagging door, his gaze taking in the space now cleared of junk.
“Where’s the other people?” he asked.
“It’s just me. You gotta problem with that?”
Again, that grin came and went. Charlie liked the way it softened his features and took away the edges. “No, just seems like a lot of work to rebuild a house where it’s only gonna get trashed again.”
“Why? The neighborhood is solid enough. I figured a family will want in, and I like the property. I also intend to renovate it, which is quite different from a rebuild. Besides, you must like something about it to be hanging around.”
He studied her with a gaze way too shrewd for his age. “I like a place where no one bothers me. You really think someone will buy it?”
“I really do.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’ll even make you a deal.”
Right away, he stepped back, poised to run out of the house. “Don’t make no deals.”
She nodded. “Good. Means you’re smart. Just saying if you’re ever interested in seeing how to renovate, I’ll show you some stuff.”
“You don’t even know me.”
She shrugged. “Just an idea. If you have nothing to do, I’ll be here working every day from 4 pm on. Got electricity now so no need for the oil lamp. But you can’t sneak in anymore. And I don’t allow friends or anyone else on my property when I’m not around. If I find that, I will call the cops. I have to be careful, too.”
Interest flashed over his face. “What kind of stuff?”
“I’m tearing down that wall, then gutting the kitchen.”
“With big machines?” he asked.
She laughed. “Nah, with my sledgehammer.”
His eyes widened. Interesting. Too many kids weren’t keen on manual labor. They liked sleek computers, video games, YouTube, instant gratification, and conversations that never occurred face to face. Renovating a house bored them to tears. Hell, she didn’t judge. She had been the oddball her whole life. But if this kid wanted to learn, she’d love the company.
Much better than Brady Heart.
“I’ll think about it,” he stated.
“Cool. Let me get your stuff.” She returned with the blanket, lamp, and books and stuck them in a plastic grocery bag. “What time does school let out?”
“Three. I have basketball on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“If you want to work here, you need to let your mom and dad know.”
“Mom doesn’t come home till six.”
“How old are you?”
The defenses shot back up. “Old enough.”
Latchkey kid. Most were with both parents needing to work. She’d been the same, sometimes staying alone till late, making her own dinner and putting herself to bed. She was used to her own company and had no issues or excuses about being abandoned. Her mother had done her best and given her all. Charlie had been one of the lucky ones. She backed off, not wanting to spook him. “I know. I was ten when I started staying by myself.”
He studied her face, finally nodding. His shoulders relaxed. “I’m thirteen.”
“Ugh. Crappy age.”
He laughed, seeming surprised. “Better go. Thanks.”
“Hey, what’s your name?”
“Jackson.”
“Good to meet you, Jackson. Hope I’ll see you here so I can get a little help.”
He lifted a hand in the air and disappeared through the door. She thought about him for a while, wondering about his circumstances, wondering why he intrigued her. Maybe she’d see him again. Maybe not. Either way, at least she wasn’t spooked about her mysterious visitor any longer.
If she told Brady, would he back off?
Probably not. He pictured himself the white knight ready to rescue a damsel, except it wasn’t in a castle with a dragon, but a dilapidated house on a back end alley.
She checked again on her stash of pepper sprays readily available and her baseball bat leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. Hmm, if she wrapped it in barbed wire, would it be extra scary? Like Lucille from The Walking Dead?
Nah, that’d just be more like serial killer.
A giggle burst from her lips as she imagined Brady catching sight of her with a deadly bat. His appalled face would be almost worth it.
She glanced at her watch and figured she’d squeeze out another hour. Might as well hit the gross, scary, serial killer basement.
Glancing back and forth in the quiet, she grabbed her pepper spray just in case and headed down the rickety stairs.