Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
NASH
Havenbrook had always been my home, and I could never see myself living elsewhere. Asher and Nat had both wanted something more, for as long as I could remember. Considering the life I’d led up to now, I should’ve been the one itching to leave. To be able to move somewhere new and start over with a clean slate. A place where I wasn’t known as Little Nash. Where people didn’t see me as the boy whose momma left him or the kid of the town playboy. Where I could just be myself without any stigmas or preconceived notions brought on by my name.
But the truth was, I loved Havenbrook. Loved the town and the people. Loved that, though there was gossip, the townsfolk cared about and looked out for one another. Loved how it’d always felt like a home to me, even when mine had been crumbling around me.
What I didn’t love was that it was damn difficult to get the supplies and equipment I needed in a town that was little more than a tiny dot on a map.
My normal lumber supplier hadn’t received the shipment we were expecting, which was how I found myself driving an hour to get what I needed. With how many clients Rory and I had booked, there was no room for delay in our schedule, so I couldn’t wait. Unless I wanted to be pulling some eighteen-hour days—and I absolutely did not—I needed to move to Plan B, and that meant a road trip.
I’d just finished loading up my truck with the lumber I needed for a couple jobs—one of which was Rory’s front porch—when a truck pulled into the gravel lot. Bright-red letters proclaiming Bozeman Builders was emblazoned on the driver’s side door, and I clenched my jaw. Another reason I loved Havenbrook—I didn’t have to come face-to-face with King Construction’s closest competition on a daily basis.
Despite my prodding, my dad hadn’t told me much of anything since our initial discussion. Hadn’t given me a clue as to what Bozeman was offering to take over the business, which meant I had no idea what I was up against. No idea if my dream of buying out my old man was even a remote possibility.
No idea what I’d do if it wasn’t.
Construction had been all I’d ever done—had been all I’d ever wanted to do. Building was in my blood…was me down to my very bones. And while my dad hadn’t been the ideal fatherly example, my granddad had always been there until the day he’d died. Family meant something to me…probably more than it should’ve, all things considered.
While I’d had no intention of seeking out Bozeman and getting information from them on the deal, I also wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip right past me when it fell into my lap.
I affixed a red ribbon to the wood sticking out of the back of my truck bed and kept an eye on the competitor’s pickup as it parked next to me. Before the guy even got out, I recognized him as the face of the business for the past couple decades—Henry Bozeman. A guy right around my dad’s age, son to John Bozeman—who was nearly as old as dirt—and current deal-maker for the business.
Bozeman Builders was only one of a select handful of businesses that I kept tabs on. I’d always made it a point to know the goings-on of my competitors, just to stay on top of things, but that’d never been more necessary than now.
Henry stepped out of the truck, doing a double take when he spotted me. He snapped his fingers and pointed in my direction. “You’re Nash’s boy, huh? Shit, you look just like him.”
Yep, I’d heard that a time or two in my life. Which just proved that I could do everything the exact opposite of my father, could repair my name and reputation, but people were still going to see my old man whenever they looked at me.
“Seems you and my dad have been busy.”
Henry laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Tryin’ to, but he’s holdin’ strong. At least for now.”
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind Henry would never willingly give up any details if he knew I was looking to cut him off at the knees, so I had to play this just right. Get him talking enough to glean some information that’d clue me in to exactly what I was up against.
“Those are some interesting terms y’all’ve talked about.”
Henry’s brows lifted. “If by interestin’ you mean highly competitive and extremely generous for the current market, then yeah.”
“Y’all surprised he didn’t go for it immediately?”
The other man shrugged. “A little. But I’m not worried. It ain’t every day a family-owned construction company in a tiny town like Havenbrook gets offered six figures for a handful of clients, a glorified shed, and a few tools.”
That was a load of bullshit, and we both knew it. King Construction offered a hell of a lot more than what Henry had reduced it to. I had busted my ass to gain a steady stream of new clientele, traveling to neighboring towns to do so, as well as repairing our name with Havenbrook’s residents who were hesitant to trust a King. My granddad had built that five-thousand-square-foot “glorified shed” decades ago, and it’d been where King Construction had thrived.
And that was exactly why Bozeman had offered six figures. Because King Construction was a genuine competitor that was finally making a name for itself—mostly thanks to my hustle and reputation—and Bozeman was worried about what might happen in the coming years.
But six figures… Goddamn. I had no idea if that general ballpark was low, mid, or high, and there wasn’t a way to ask without showing my hand. Low, I might be able to swing. I’d been living in a studio apartment above The Sweet Spot since I’d moved out of my old man’s place, exchanging my handyman services for rent. Because of that, I’d been able to save a lot of pennies over the years and had a nice little nest egg in preparation for this very day. I’d just always assumed I’d have a bit more time to accrue the money. But mid-six? No way. And high-six? I’d be completely and utterly fucked.
Henry continued as if he hadn’t just shit all over everything I had made of our family business. “Your old man’s only in his fifties, but I bet he’d like to retire early. Christ knows I’d love to!” He chuckled. “He might be playin’ the long game, but we all know it’s only a matter of time till he says yes.”
He rested a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, like we were old friends. “Would love to have you on board when everything gets finalized. I’ve seen some of your work, and I’m impressed. But we can talk more about that later. Put in a good word for us, will ya?” With a wave, Bozeman ambled off toward the lumberyard.
Fuck, I hated that guy. He was a condescending prick who did shitty work for too-high prices simply because he could get away with it. There wasn’t a whole lot of competition in the area, which was no doubt why they were so keen on buying out King Construction. Get a major player out of their way—one who delivered on time and on budget, who did quality work for a fair price—and they’d be golden.
Well, fuck that. I wasn’t going to work for a business that cared more about stuffing their pockets full of money than they did about their clients. I just had to figure out how the hell I could possibly go up against a deal like the one they’d offered.
In a perfect world, my dad would pass along the business to me, just like my granddad had done. I had no idea the details on the exchange—and hadn’t been old enough to even contemplate asking my grandpa before he’d passed. But I knew, without a doubt, my dad couldn’t have possibly paid much for it, if anything at all.
I also knew it’d be too much to ask for my old man to be quite so generous. It wasn’t in his bones—not with his time, his attention, or his love. And certainly not with his business.