“Each new situation requires a new architecture.”—Jean Nouvel
Brady stared at the house and wondered what the woman had gotten herself into.
Trapps wasn’t the best area to begin with. Drug dealers were known to haunt the adjoining neighborhood, and it was all too possible for them to wander over to expand their distribution. His assessing gaze took in the structure, and he began a slow inspection around the property, noting the half-full dumpster. Hmm, she’d gotten a lot done. Of course, after she’d stormed out of the conference room, why wasn’t he surprised she’d decided to work alone as a big “screw you” to everyone?
The house was small but solid. At least she got that right. The outside would need to be stripped and re-sided or painted. The lot was extra large for this area, but was now filled with overgrown weeds and creatures who probably had made a happy home. The cracked windows needed replacing, and so did the roof. He hoped she hadn’t invested in a house with electrical or plumbing issues. That’d be the main costs. Surface was easy enough. Bad wires, pipes, or mold killed you each and every time.
Guess he’d find out now.
He shook his head. Honestly, she was acting like a child. He didn’t want to be here either, but it was best to have some type of buddy system in a questionable neighborhood, especially when working alone at night. Did she want to court trouble for attention? Or was she so selfish she didn’t care about anyone else who’d worry about her?
Tamping down a sigh, he knocked on the front door, already prepped for her attitude. She’d be pissed he showed up, but he’d made a promise to his friends, and he was sticking with it.
She didn’t answer.
He knocked again, but after a few moments, he turned the doorknob and let himself in. The creak in the air should have alerted her, but when he called out her name, there was only silence. Where was she? And didn’t she have the sense to lock the damn door? Sydney had told him about the mysterious visitor Charlie didn’t seem to be worried about. What if the person consistently breaking in decided to pay her an impromptu visit? Smothering a curse, he walked further, examining the rooms.
Definite possibilities were here. It could be a cozy family home, even though the bedrooms were small and the kitchen needed updating. He took his time investigating, until he finally heard a clatter rise from the basement. Hmm, she probably hadn’t heard him come in. Real smart. Thank God he’d shown up because she definitely couldn’t be trusted to work here alone. His temper simmered at just the thought of the trouble she could be in if he’d been someone dangerous.
And then he saw the baseball bat.
His mouth fell open. Propped up in the corner, the large wooden bat was the perfect extra addition to help a criminal get further. He pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to throw open the basement door and stomp downstairs, giving her the scare of a lifetime.
Would serve her right.
He picked up the bat, running his hands down the smooth surface, and moved back into the kitchen. Who’d done her architectural plans? And why the hell wouldn’t she have asked him? Irritation prickled his nerves. She might not like him, but he figured he’d earned her respect with his work. Did she dislike him so much she refused to ask him for sketches? They were coworkers, and he wouldn’t have charged her.
Finally, he heard the door open to the basement. He opened his mouth to call out her name, then decided not to warn her. Maybe if he startled her, she’d realize anyone could have just walked right in the front door and availed himself of her only weapon.
He took a few steps into the family room, his shoes creaking slightly over the worn floors.
“Aghgh!”
Before he even managed to clear the corner, the warrior shriek hit his ears at the same time a foot smashed into his crotch. Exploding pain crippled his balls. The bat clattered to the ground. He bent over, grabbing his poor dick, which had retreated into his intestines.
Blinking through the agony, he tried to speak but a sudden shock of spray blasted his vision.
He didn’t remember if he screamed or not. Later on, he’d deny it on the Bible, not even caring if his mother promised a trip to hell for lying to God. At that very moment, hell was right in front of him, with his streaming eyes and throbbing dick, and snot pouring from his nose. He stumbled back, his ears ringing, and began rubbing furiously at his eyes, completely blinded.
“Brady!”
The feminine voice barely registered. He was intent on trying to live past the agony. His brain splintered on which was worse—his burning eyes or his weeping testicles.
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry! Oh, my God, I thought you were a criminal! Here, sit down. I’ll call 911. Do you need an ambulance? A doctor? Oh, my God!”
The words bubbled in the air and he desperately tried to make sense of them. Strong hands grasped him and lowered him to the filthy floor. A bunch of towels were pressed into his grip, and he tried to dab at his stinging eyes. His tear ducts had exploded, and wetness dripped down his cheeks. Had that whimper come from him?
So embarrassing.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” he managed to grate out.
“Pepper spray.” She shoved something at him, but he couldn’t see it. “Here, hold your head back. I’m going to pour water in your eyes to see if I can flush it out.”
“Son of a bitch!”
The water hit his eyeballs and more stinging commenced. He uttered a stream of Spanish—the only damn words he remembered were the curses—and wondered if Charlotte Grayson had not only taken away his vision but also his ability to ever pleasure a woman again. He craved to crawl into a ball and be left alone, but she kept pouring water on him, wiping at his snotty nose and edging way too close to his injured anatomy.
“The spray is only supposed to be temporary, but let me take you to the hospital. You look terrible.”
He still couldn’t see her face, just a rough shadowed outline of her figure. “You kicked me in the balls and sprayed me with that shit!” he bellowed. “Are you crazy? And I’m not going to the hospital.” If anyone got wind of this story, he’d be done. He’d never live down the gossip.
“You broke in! I came up from the basement and heard a noise and saw a shadow holding my bat. I thought you were going to kill me!”
“You left the fucking front door open! I knocked, but when you didn’t answer, I came right in. You would’ve been dead if I had been a killer.”
Was that a snort or was he imagining things? “Doesn’t seem like it. Looks more like you would’ve been going straight to jail since I took you out.”
Rage mixed with pain. He reached his hands out toward the fuzzy figure in an effort to throttle her, but she jerked out of his reach. “You took me by surprise,” he managed to choke out. “If I’d been a real killer, I wouldn’t have waited. I would’ve trapped you in the basement.”
“That’s why I brought the pepper spray down with me. And I did lock the front door. Hmm, I wonder if that’s how Jackson was getting in. Probably need to install a new dead bolt. I’ll get that done by morning.”
Was she trying to have a rational conversation with him or had his head truly exploded? He had no idea how long it took him to stumble to his feet, but he shook off her efforts to help and leaned weakly against the wall, fluid still streaming from his membranes. “Pepper spray won’t stop a killer,” he muttered, swiping at his eyes and nose. “You stormed out of the conference room like a toddler.”
Through a haze of fuzz, her mouth dropped open. He couldn’t mistake the fury laced in her tightly wound tone. “Maybe if you didn’t treat me like a toddler, I wouldn’t have to act like one. No one has any right to tell me what I can do with my own property. Or act like a bunch of overprotective big brothers bossing me around. Hell, no. I’ve got it handled. Now, are you going to the hospital or not?”
He glared through his tears. “Not. I’m fine. Just need to let the stuff work its way out. Funny, I seem to remember them taking you in for an internship and never treating you like an outsider. Cal and Dalton and Tristan trust you. You’re not just a worker there anymore, Charlie. You’re family. Don’t you get it yet?”
A brief silence settled. Oh, good. He’d managed to counter some of that stubborn rebellion. A flash of admiration shot through him, taking him off guard. What was that about? Yes, he liked her spunk, even if it was a tad too intense. Yes, he respected her work ethic and pride and vision. It was a quality he didn’t see very often, in either men or women. Maybe that’s why it was hard for him to deal with. Not that he had to. If she was his woman, he wouldn’t allow her to be fixing up some old house in a crappy neighborhood without supervision. End of argument.
But she wasn’t his woman and that was good.
This time when she spoke, her words were a bit softer. “I appreciate it. I do, but you have to understand I’m used to running my own life. How would you feel if you had a project that was important to you and Cal decided you needed a supervisor?”
He’d be pissed. Her point hit home. Brady wiped his eyes, finally able to see her form more clearly. “I get it. Listen, I’m asking you to let me help. Not because I think you can’t do this on your own, but if something were to happen, none of us would forgive ourselves. You’re one of us now. That means we help each other out. Who’s doing your plans?”
She rocked back and forth and took a while before answering. “Don’t know yet.”
“You don’t trust me with your house?”
“No, you’re a great architect. I just don’t want you to feel obligated, especially if I change stuff.”
A flash of regret hit him. He’d been a bit hard on her. “I won’t. I’ll do the plans at no charge, and I’ll help you renovate in the evenings. I’m sure you could use an extra hand.”
“I’ve never seen you involved in renovation. You never leave the office.”
She sounded slightly accusatory, which made his lips twitch. “I’ve done rehab in the past when needed. I prefer the office, but sometimes it’s good to switch things up. Get my hands dirty.”
Was she nibbling at her lip? His vision was still blurred and the burning pain lingered. How long would it take for this crap to leave his system? “We can try things out,” she finally said. “After a week, we’ll reassess.”
She didn’t trust him at all. Not that he blamed her. Maybe it was the sexual attraction that threw him off. Being mean because he wanted to drag her into bed. God, how juvenile. Like pulling a girl’s hair because he liked her. He’d thought he was better than that.
Evidently not.
“Agreed. Let’s get the new deadbolt installed before anything else. I’ll draw up plans once you tell me what your vision is. Who’s Jackson?”
“Oh, I figured out who was breaking into the house. Young teen. He’d been using the house for some alone time. Brought his books and stuff. I offered to let him help me work on the house if he wanted.”
He frowned. “Think that’s a good idea when you don’t even know him? He could be into drugs or staking out the house to bring his friends over. You can’t trust everyone you meet.”
She laughed, surprising him. “I don’t. I go with a gut feeling, and this one told me he may like learning how to renovate. He may not even come back.”
Another good reason he’d be here to help. “We’ll see.”
They fell quiet. He sensed her studying him for a while, but he was oddly comfortable under her stare. “I’ll need something from you though, in order to move forward.”
Suspicion leaked through him. “What?”
Her grin was pure cheekiness. “Admit I kicked your ass.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. Damn, she really had given it to him. “Only if you promise not to tell anyone. My man card may get yanked.”
“We’ll see how much you piss me off.”
He shook his head, wiping his face with the towel one more time. Finally, his balls had stopped throbbing and tentatively lowered back down. She had a wicked kick. “Fine. You grabbed your opportunity and took me down temporarily.”
She pursed her full, candy-pink lips and blew out a breath in disgust. “That was a sucky admission.”
“Best you’re gonna get after you almost castrated me.”
“Whiner.”
He laughed again. “Can we get out of here, please? Call it a night?”
“Sure. Let me just dump this last batch from the basement. Do you need me to drive you home or can you see?”
“I’m fine.” He moved a bit slowly, but by the time she was done, he felt able to see enough of the road. “We can work up the plans tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She paused by her ugly red truck. “I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Raven would be proud of you. Let’s just hope my date tonight doesn’t notice I look hungover.”
“Date?”
Her surprise made him frown. “Yeah. There’re actually women out there who like my company and don’t want to pepper spray me.”
She laughed. “Got it. Have fun.”
She got in her truck and drove off.
At least they’d come to some agreement. The Pierce brothers would be happy it was settled and they got to help her out. And Brady could handle a few evenings per week in her company. In fact, this strange attraction might fade after spending some time with her. This might be the best thing for him.
He drove home to get ready for his date, trying not to be concerned at his total lack of enthusiasm. This was his third date with Marissa, and she had all the qualities he was looking for. Besides being a stunning, quiet beauty, she was intelligent, soft spoken, and completely on board with a traditional type of relationship. He’d been thinking of seducing her tonight now that they’d gotten to know each other, but he always let his gut lead depending on what he sensed his woman wanted, or more important, needed.
He just hoped his poor dick was up for it after Charlie.