Chapter 2
Maverick
After the run-in with Belle, I needed to get out of there. I only attended the party because Cooper thought it would be a good idea since I was doing work on the patio. To avoid my family, I had walked behind the buildings to the parking lot where my truck was parked.
Everyone seemed excited for the bookstore to open. I was more interested to work on a project that had the potential to be unique. Belle had given me her ideas, but I'd added more detail.
The idea of expanding was a good one. Not that I'd ever tell Belle that. It maximized the footprint of her store and allowed customers to linger. When it was done, it would be the perfect destination for tired shoppers.
I'd harbored a grudge against her since high school, and I couldn't seem to shake it. At first, I had been attracted to her. She'd been content to read while the popular girls she sat with, chatted and giggled.
I invented excuses to talk to her, asking her why she read so many books.
Eventually, I asked her out, but as the night approached, I couldn't help but think about all the reasons why we didn't make sense. She was a straight-A student who never got in trouble. She was friends with the popular girls who bordered on mean, not that I'd ever witnessed her be that way.
When I drove by her house, I realized how much money her parents had. Not that my family was poor. But we were definitely more blue-collar to their white. There was no question that she'd go to college and that her parents would fund it.
I was the bad boy who disappointed everyone. I had so much potential but chose to get into trouble. I hated school and everything it represented. The social groups, the dating rituals, the sporting events. I wanted nothing to do with it. And dating someone like Belle meant being part of that world.
There had been a small part of me that questioned why she'd ever want to go with a guy like me. I hadn't done anything to deserve her attention. I'd done her a favor by not showing up that night. She'd deserved so much better.
But now we were working together; I had to get my shit together. I prided myself on being professional, on delivering exactly what the client wanted.
At home, I pulled out a beer and started a fire. When there was a knock on my door, I ignored it.
"I know you're in there. Open up," Morgan yelled.
I groaned as I got up and opened the door. I didn't bother waiting for him to come inside. I just walked back to my spot on the couch and picked up the warm bottle of beer.
Morgan grabbed another beer from my fridge. "Why did you sneak out?"
It irritated me that he acted like he lived here. "I didn't sneak out."
He raised a brow as he settled on the couch across from me. "You never returned after you said you needed air. Ayla was worried about you."
My heart clenched at the idea that I'd hurt Ayla. "I was going to come back, but there were too many people."
He knew how much I hated crowded spaces and large events. "I thought you were going to make an effort. This is a big job for us."
"I wanted to." My shoulders felt tight.
He scrutinized me for a long minute. "Is it going to be a problem working with Belle? You don't seem to like her."
Oh, I liked her well enough. All I'd been able to think about when we were alone behind her store was that I wanted to kiss her.
I wanted to press her against the brick wall of her building and show her all the ways we were different.
My hard to her soft. My bad boy to her good girl.
I was the dark to her light. The gruff to her sweet.
In no world did we make sense. I did her a favor when I stood her up when we were teens. There wasn't any reason to backtrack now. We were too different.
"I'll get the work done."
"You're planning on avoiding her, aren't you?"
"It's not a bad plan."
He just gave me a look. "How do you ignore the client on a project that big? You're going to have to run things by her, give her updates. Ensure her that dirt and noise won't interrupt her business."
A muscle in my jaw ticked. "Eve's the client."
"Eve's the owner of the building, but Belle is the designer. I saw the picture she drew of the renovation. She framed it and put it on the wall of her store."
I'd been the one to suggest she frame it, and I was pleased she'd done it.
She was a good artist, not that she'd ever done anything with her talent.
I remembered that her parents hadn't liked her drawing in her spare time.
I couldn't understand why they'd given her money to open a bookstore. "I can avoid her."
"What's your deal with her, anyway? She's sweet, attractive—"
I held up my hand to stop him there. I didn't need to hear what he thought of Belle. "She's a client. She's off-limits."
His eyes widened, and then he let out a guffaw. "You like her."
"I don't," I said curtly.
"What happened? Did you ask her out, and she shot you down?" he asked, amusement evident in his tone.
Of course he would think that. I swirled the liquid in my bottle. "It was the opposite."
A crease appeared between his brows. "You turned her down?"
"I asked her out, and she said yes. I just didn't show up to take her out."
His expression turned sober. "What did Mom tell us? Never stand a woman up."
But I wanted to do what was best for Belle. I assumed she'd want me to be a different guy, and back then I was entrenched in being the troublemaker. I took satisfaction every time the principal called my parents. My plan worked. She never looked my way again.
I was public enemy number one, and I relished that role. I'd never get the good girl. I didn't deserve her.
He dropped his head. "Fuck. That complicates things. Are you sure you're going to be able to do this?"
I set my drink on the coffee table and stood to pace. "I can be professional."
"I heard that you're gruff with her. You sure you don't want me to handle the finer details?"
I paused, irritation climbing up my spine. Did I want my brother handling Belle? Fuck no. "I can handle my job."
"This project is important to us. Ford is renovating the inn. Hudson is replacing the pipes in all the buildings, and now you're doing a massive patio project for the bookshop. This is huge for you and the business."
"I know what's at stake." But the fact that Belle had been in my head since I saw her earlier wasn't a good sign. Morgan had a reason to be concerned. I could screw this up. It was a big job, and everyone was relying on me. "It will look amazing when it's done."
Morgan nodded. "I'm not doubting your work. It's your judgment when it comes to Belle that I'm concerned about. Your track record is bad. If Mom finds out what you did—"
I raised a brow. "You're not going to tell her."
He let out a breath. "You know I won't."
We'd made a pact when we were kids never to tell on each other. We'd formed an alliance, and we'd been close ever since. At some point, Cooper had been added.
"Keep things professional."
"Trust me, that woman wouldn't give me the time of day.
" She'd been surprisingly cordial, but underneath, I'd hurt her.
She'd waited for me to pick her up, and I'd bailed.
The one thing that helped was that I knew she hadn't told her friends about me.
They would have thought she was crazy for dating someone like me. My friends certainly had.
So she wasn't embarrassed by my decision to stand her up. Maybe she was hurt for a little while, but she got over it. As soon as she realized how wrong we were for each other.
He raised a brow. "I'm assuming you stood her up because you didn't like her."
"That's right." The lie felt hollow on my lips.
"Then other than a little animosity, I don't have to worry about you screwing around with a client."
Ford had reunited with his high school sweetheart when he renovated the inn, and Hudson had met Angela when the pipe burst in her shop. But generally, we weren't supposed to hook up with clients. "You don't have anything to worry about."
He nodded, setting the empty beer bottle on the coffee table. "Good."
"I'll get my work done and steer clear of Belle.”
He stood and walked toward the door. "Be sure that you do."
I was at the bookshop early on Monday morning with a backhoe. The first stage of the project was digging up the area and leveling it. It was early enough that the store wasn't open yet.
I was there to doublecheck on the measurements for the patio and give the go ahead to start digging. As soon as I was satisfied that we'd staked the right dimensions, I waved for the driver to get started. The powerful engine started up, and I stepped back to supervise.
I wouldn't normally stay for this part of the project, but it was the biggest one I had at the moment, and I didn't want anything to go wrong.
The bucket picked up dirt and moved it. The side door to the building opened, and Belle stepped out in a pale pink nightie with tiny straps.
My heart skipped a beat.
I could see the dark outline of her nipples, and the lace hem teased her thighs. Was she wearing panties, or was she bare?
I was hot all over, moving toward her before I could second guess myself.
Belle waved her hand. "What are you doing? What's all this noise?"
"I'm working." My voice was gruff, and my brain was a little slow to react.
She crossed her arms over her chest, blocking her nipples but pushing up her breasts. Her feet were bare on the pavement, and her nails were painted a light pink. She was soft and delicate, and I wanted to push her inside the door and press her against the nearest wall.
"At seven in the morning?"
I was more than a little concerned that my crew could see her like this. "That's when we're allowed to start work due to the town's noise ordinances."
Her skin pebbled with goose bumps, and I couldn't take it anymore.
I pulled off my sweatshirt and shoved it over her head.
It would cover her—a shame—and keep her warm.
Once it was over her head and blocking that poor excuse for pajamas, I put my hands on her shoulders and directed her back inside where it was warm.
The door closed behind us. We were at the bottom of a staircase that went to the second floor. "Do you live on the second floor?"
She bit her lip. "Yes."
"I didn't know that. I thought no one would be here." But I should have suspected it. Angela lived above her shop before her pipe burst, and I thought I'd heard that Clara did too.
Now that she was covered in my sweatshirt, I could think clearly. Or at least that's what I hoped.
"Are you going to be here every morning at seven a.m. making a racket?"
I let go of her shoulders and stepped back. I couldn't touch her, because I'd press her against the nearest wall and kiss that curl off her lips. "You want a patio?"
She sighed. "I didn't think about the noise or the disruption."
"I'm sorry I'm interrupting your beauty sleep," I said, not sounding sorry at all. I felt oddly energized to be sparring with her before I'd even had coffee. Her hair was piled on top of her head as if she hadn't had time to brush it or to put shoes or a jacket on before she ran outside.
She sighed long and hard and took a few steps, her hand on the railing. "We're just going to have to adjust to working together."
I grunted because I had no intention of getting used to anything. I couldn't see a world where I interacted with Belle on any level. Unless it was me putting my hands on her and getting to know her intimately.
She turned slightly, her foot on the step; it caused my hoodie to slide upward.
All I could see was long legs and that pale pink polish on her toes. She was irresistible. I squeezed my neck. "You always walk around half naked?"
Her gaze narrowed on me, and her forehead creased. "What are you talking about?"
This was how I liked her: angry. When she was mad, I couldn't think about how much I wanted to kiss her and slide between those soft thighs of hers. "You might want to rethink your wardrobe. My crew isn't as nice as I am."
She scoffed. "Nice? I wouldn't call you nice."
"Ayla didn't seem to have a problem with me the other night." That little girl was an anomaly. She gravitated to my brothers and me. She wanted to play games with us and tell us about her day. I was completely entranced by her.
Her nose scrunched. "She's a kid. She doesn't know any better."
"And how's that?"
"Growly. Mean. And most certainly not a man of his word." She waved a hand in my direction as if she couldn't even bare to look at me. Then she turned and sashayed up the stairs.
I was momentarily stunned by the way her hips swayed as she moved. The hem of my sweatshirt rode higher on her thighs. Would I catch a glimpse of her bare pussy?
I gripped the railing and held on for dear life. There was no reason why I should follow her up the stairs to find out.
Then my brain rewound her words. She'd said I wasn't a man of my word. That pissed me off, but what could I say? I'd asked her out and stood her up. She was right. She should stay away from me.
"Next time you want to talk, wear more clothes," I ground out, determined to have the last word.
When she reached the door to her apartment, she gave me a haughty look, lifted her nose, and turned the knob. Then she slipped inside.
There was zero chance I was getting that sweatshirt back. And a small, primal part of me liked that she was wearing my scent and basking in the warmth of my body.
But then I stepped back and pushed open the door, the air cooling me down. Belle wasn't for me, no matter how much I wanted to kiss that snooty expression off her face.
It was a good reminder that we were from two different worlds. Women like her didn't go for men like me.