Chapter 3 #2
Clenching her jaw, Rory stormed into her kitchen and dropped her stuff onto the light oak kitchen table.
If she was going to deal with Connor without killing him, then she was going to need a hot cocoa fix.
As she waited for the water to boil, she fed Bunny and sorted through her notes.
If he wanted to pretend that they were going to play nice, then that was fine with her since none of this bullshit mattered anyway.
The real battle wouldn’t begin until tomorrow. So, if he wanted to play these pointless games now, that was more than fine with her. After she mixed up her special hot cocoa, took a sip and sighed happily, Rory grabbed the top folder and made her way through the house.
If she didn’t absolutely adore her house, she would have sold it and moved a long time ago, but she did, so she couldn’t.
This was her house, her baby, and nothing and no one was ever going to make her give it up.
As she’d restored the house to its original condition, she’d fallen in love with it and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
Her only hope was that Connor got sick and tired of playing these games and decided to sell his house and move far away.
Just the idea of having a Connor-free day had her releasing a heartfelt sigh.
Now, if it would only come true, she might actually cry tears of joy, Rory thought as she headed up the back stairs to her room.
As she walked across her large bedroom, she wondered if Connor was going to use their new situation to his advantage and make her life a living hell over the next five months. Then, she snorted at her own stupidity.
Of course, he was going to make her life a living hell.
He’d been doing it for over twenty-five years now and wasn’t showing any signs of boredom yet.
Every single day for the last twenty-five years, he’d gone out of his way to make her life difficult.
It didn’t matter what she was doing or where she was, Connor found a way to leave his mark on her day.
She still couldn’t forget her eighteenth birthday.
It had started off great. Her brothers woke her up at two in the morning by tying her up and gagging her, a James tradition and one that her father tried to make her brothers skip that year.
Thankfully, they hadn’t thrown her in the trunk of Craig’s car as tradition dictated.
Instead, they’d tossed her in the backseat, threw a black pillowcase over her head and teased and tormented her for ten hours by refusing to tell her where they were going.
When they finally pulled the hood off her head and she saw where they’d brought her, she’d sighed happily as she gave all of her brothers bear hugs. Really, how many brothers were sweet enough to bring their little sister to Canada on her eighteenth birthday to get her drunk?
Best. Brothers. Ever.
For the first four hours, everything had been perfect.
After she ate, because her brothers refused to let her drink unless she had food in her stomach, she’d tried beer, wine, and started doing shots.
Her brothers had taken turns watching her, doing their best to keep her out of trouble, but after the first hour, she’d barely noticed them.
She’d danced to every song as she savored the delicious beverages the bartender sent her way.
All the men at the bar had been super nice, too.
They’d bought her drinks so that she didn’t have to spend a cent of her own money and they’d all jumped at the chance to dance with her.
The night had been going perfectly until she thought she spotted Connor lurking in the corner, watching her.
When she couldn’t find him again, she just shook it off as an overactive imagination and yummy alcohol.
Sometime after that, things got kind of fuzzy.
From what little she could remember of that night, she knew that it was all Connor’s fault that she woke up the next morning handcuffed to him on a bench while a Mounty with a fresh blackeye glared at them from across the room.
If it hadn’t been for Connor, she wouldn’t have needed to be placed in a cell for her own protection while her father tried to plow through a dozen officers so that he could wring her neck.
The only pleasure she got out of that awful experience had been watching her father take a swing at Connor, who must have been hungover, because he’d just stood there and took it.
“Stay,” Rory told Bunny as she pushed back the thick dark curtains that helped her pretend that the asshole didn’t live next door and opened the sliding glass doors.
“Took you long enough.”
“What the hell are you doing on my porch?” Rory asked, not really caring. As long as he didn’t break into her house, and surprisingly he didn’t, then she really didn’t care.
“For our meeting,” Connor said, leaning back against the banister as he sipped his beer.
“We don’t have a meeting,” Rory said even as she allowed herself to enjoy the sight before her and took in the impressive chest and set of abs that most men would kill for.
While her brothers were huge, Connor had the type of body that any Hollywood leading man would kill for.
Not that she would admit this to anyone, but he was by far the best-looking man that she’d ever seen.
Her eyes moved back up to his chest and paused at the black Celtic tattoo that started on the left side of his chest and ended at his shoulder.
It was large, beautifully drawn and unbelievably hot, the tattoo, not the man.
She hated the man, but on any other man she would have been hard-pressed not to trace that tattoo with her fingertips or, better yet, her tongue.
As she forced her eyes elsewhere, they landed on part of the tattoo that, to this day, remained a mystery.
She knew that she wasn’t the only one who wondered who “LRJ” was and the reason why Connor had the initials placed in the middle of that tattoo.
There were a couple of betting pools going around about the identity of LRJ, but as far as she knew, no one had been able to figure it out.
Connor certainly hadn’t told anyone. If someone asked, and damn near everyone had asked at least a dozen times, well everyone but her, he simply shrugged it off like it was nothing.
“How many men do you have working for you full-time?” Connor asked, drawing her attention away from her rather disturbing thoughts.
“Fifty, and I have another ten men that I’ve already screened and interviewed for the job,” she answered, not caring if he knew any of this. They were working together, kind of, so they’d have to share a few things.
Connor nodded as he digested that information. He placed his now-empty beer bottle on the banister behind him. “How many are certified?”
“All of them.”
“Can paint?”
“All of them.”
“Interesting,” Connor mumbled, but she really didn’t think that it was.
Her father made damn sure that she knew how to build a house from the bottom up and she’d made sure that all of her employees did as well.
If they didn’t know how to paint, drywall, put up siding, or do masonry work, then she made sure that they learned.
Since every man that worked for her knew how to do every position, she never had to put up with delays or waste money by hiring outside help.
She also never had to waste time stressing over schedules or trying to figure out who knew how to do what since all of her men were trained to do whatever was needed of them.
“Anything else?” she asked, itching to get back inside and go over the plans.
“Are you in a rush?” Connor asked, chuckling.
“No,” she said, shrugging. “I just don’t like you.”
“I’m the best part of your day and you know it,” Connor said, no doubt really believing that.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy. Are we done yet?”
But Connor wouldn’t let it go, he never did. “Admit that I’m the best part of your day,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for an answer that he wasn’t going to like.
“I can honestly say with absolutely no hesitation that you, Connor O’Neil, have never been the best part of my day,” Rory said, wondering, not for the first time, what she did in a past life to deserve him.
“Puhlease, that’s bullshit and we both know it. I bet you fall asleep every night thinking about me and wake up every morning excited to see me,” Connor mused, sounding smug, too damn smug.
“Actually, you have that backwards,” Rory said, taking a sip of her perfect hot cocoa.
“Really?”
“Mmmhmmm,” she murmured around another sip of cocoa.
“How so?”
“Well,” Rory said, placing her cup of delicious hot cocoa on the small patio table, “I fall asleep every night smiling because I don’t have to worry about seeing you for at least eight hours and wake up every morning hoping like hell that will finally be the day that I don’t have to see you again.”
“But you’re still thinking about me and smiling when you do it,” Connor said with a wink, leaning over and swiping her hot cocoa before she could stop him.
“Hey!” Rory said, trying to grab her cup of cocoa out of his hands, but the bastard simply cupped the top of her head and held her back as he drank her delicious hot cocoa.
She hated when he did this to her. It made her feel foolish and little and as soon as she got the chance, she was kicking his ass.
“You bastard!” Rory hissed when he made a big show of finishing it off.
“That was a damn good cup of cocoa, Rory. Thanks,” Connor said, handing her back the cup as he dropped his hand away.
“How could you?” Rory mumbled sadly as she looked longingly down at the now-empty coffee cup where her delicious hot cocoa had once been.
“Are you ready to admit that I’m the best part of your day yet?” Connor asked, leaning back against the banister.
She glared up at him before looking back down at the empty coffee cup in her hand and then back up at him.
“Aw, shit,” Connor muttered, jumping over the banister and crouched down on his porch as she let the coffee cup go flying.
When it missed his head by a few inches, she groaned. So damn close, yet not close enough, Rory thought as it slammed into the side of his house and shattered.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to continue this conversation tomorrow night when you’re in a better mood,” Connor said, standing.
“I’ll make sure to bring plenty of coffee cups,” Rory said sweetly.
“Good,” Connor said, sauntering towards his patio doors, “because I could really go for another cup of that delicious cocoa,” he said, laughing when his beer bottle sailed through the air towards his head.
“Damn it!” She groaned when she missed again.
When the hell was her luck going to change?