Chapter 3 Caleb #3
Bill Pierce, our superintendent in charge of all the foremen, appeared in the doorway, his usual scowl firmly in place.
“What the actual fuck are you assholes up to?” he demanded.
“I hope you didn’t run here,” Ry said from the floor.
Bill had suffered a minor heart attack earlier in the year, freaking us all out.
But he liked to say it was so minor, it hadn’t even registered, and honestly, he seemed good.
Shaped like a spark plug with a fierce persona to match, he never took shit from any of us.
Of course, that was because his daughter, Hazel, had been a pseudo-Colburn in our wild teen years, and Bill had been our only positive authority figure growing up.
He hadn’t gotten the memo that he worked for Ryder now.
Still on the floor, I patted my hands around, looking for my glasses.
Tucker threw them at me and nearly took out an eyeball.
Ryder got to his feet. “Just settling an argument.”
“You assholes about finished? Because we need to talk about getting a finish-carpentry subcontractor for the Henderson job.”
Awkward silence.
Hazel was a finish carpenter. She ran her own crew, and though she’d left Star Falls after high school and had only recently returned, she had a reputation for being incredibly talented.
But Hazel’s mom—Bill’s deceased wife—had made Ryder promise never to hire both Hazel and Bill at the same time because father and daughter couldn’t get along to save their lives.
“I’m just going to say it,” Bill said when no one spoke. “Hazel’s the best out there, plus she needs the work.”
Tucker grimaced. He and Hazel had been close in high school, and even though Bill had made it clear Hazel was completely off-limits to us hooligan Colburns, we all suspected there’d been something between Tucker and Hazel.
I’d long ago stopped asking. My baby brother could be a slab of impenetrable steel when he wanted to be.
Ryder blew out a sigh and met Bill’s gaze. “Hazel’s work is amazing,” he said. “And you know how much we all care about her. But—”
“You promised her mom you wouldn’t have us both on the same job, yeah, yeah, I know. But Caleb’s running the Henderson job, not me. And since, as it turns out, the kid’s surprisingly good at his job, I can stay out of it.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said dryly.
“Come on, son, you know you were a huge question mark when Ryder put you into play, giving you our biggest job to date to oversee. Especially since the last time he gave you more responsibility, you boned the owner’s daughter and got us fired.”
Ryder rubbed his temples.
Tucker came back to life to smirk.
I hoped he’d choke on it. “Hey, she came on to me at the Cork and Barrel during a darts tournament. I thought it was a one-night thing. I had no idea she’d fall in love in two minutes.”
Tucker snorted. “Is that all you gave her? Two minutes?”
I reached out to shove him, but Bill got between us. Brave. Stupid, but brave. “You did your thing and ghosted her,” Bill said. “Because you’re a serial ghoster.”
“I’m not—” I drew a deep breath. Shit.
“Can’t even say it with a straight face, can you?” Bill said.
“Enough,” Ryder said quietly from behind his desk. “Back off him.”
I didn’t deserve his defense. Ryder hadn’t wanted me to sleep with that client’s daughter because it could affect the business, which I ignored because, as usual, I had to prove him wrong. I really, really hated it when it turned out I was the fuckup.
“I’ve already got some feelers out,” Ryder said to Bill.
“Is one of them that asshole Ricky Herman?”
Ryder grimaced. “Yes, and—” he said when Bill opened his mouth. “Yes, he’s an asshole. But he’s good, and his price is right. If he doesn’t pan out, we’ll meet about next steps.”
The man nodded, mouth grim. “Fine.”
The last half of our meeting was so boring, I drifted off, waking when Ryder kicked my feet off his desk. “Thanks for agreeing so readily,” he said almost cheerfully.
I studied him warily. “Agreeing to what?”
“To being the face of Colburn Restorations at the Star Falls gala this weekend.”
Oh, hell no. The gala was an annual affair, fancy as shit, and filled with pretentious people and even more pretentious food. “I definitely didn’t agree to that.”
“You did. I said, ‘Who here can’t go?’ And both Tucker and I raised our hands. You didn’t.”
I whipped my head to Tucker, who was fighting a grin, the prick. I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Shit.”
“Oh, and we’re a major sponsor, so you’re giving the keynote.”
“Shit.”
“You already said that.”
I pointed at a smirking Tucker. “He should do it. He’s prettier.”
“Can’t,” he said. “Have an arson class this weekend.”
I was on a sinking ship. “I don’t have a speech prepared.”
Ry laughed. “Like you’d prepare a speech anyway. We all know you’re going to wing it.”
True…
“And you did say you wanted more responsibility…”
Damn. I had said that. And I’d meant it.
A few years back, Ry had lost his business partner in a skiing accident.
Auggie was his best friend, as well as Kiera’s—our sister’s—husband and the father of her three-year-old twins.
His loss devastated all of us. Kiera retreated into herself for two years.
Ryder didn’t have that luxury; he had to be both himself and Auggie at work, and it took a toll on him.
So I’d made it clear that I was all in, willing to do whatever needed to be done in order to back Ryder and the business. But it was also self-serving, because working here with my brothers, renovating historical landmarks, felt like a pretty sweet life.
“The gala was Auggie’s thing,” Ry said softly. “And you’ve said you wanted to take on his responsibilities. So…” His voice hardened. “You’re doing this.”
“I don’t have a tux.”
“So make sure you’ve got one by the weekend.”
***
Four days later, I stood in my kitchen wearing a stupid tux, handing Hank’s backpack over to Tucker. “Everything he needs is in here.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Ha ha, and don’t forget, he steals cookies after you think you’ve put him to bed.”
Tucker shrugged. “So?”
“So…sugar keeps him up at night. You’ll wake up to him standing over you, his face an inch from yours, wondering why you’re screaming like a little girl.”
Tucker looked at Hank.
Hank looked back, eyes innocent.
Tucker turned to me, unconvinced. “You seriously telling me he’s capable of getting out of bed and to the kitchen to steal cookies?”
“Yes! Don’t let that face fool you.”
Hank sighed.
Half an hour later, I headed inside Bufford Hotel.
I was met by a spectacle of flashy decorations and a sea of black tuxes and fancy sparkling dresses.
Drawing a deep breath, I stepped inside, my gaze catching on a stunning woman across the ballroom.
Shiny chestnut-brown hair not in a messy ponytail, but falling like silk to her bare shoulders.
She was dressed to the nines, wearing an emerald-green dress the exact color of her eyes, not a speck of dust or dirt in sight.
Emma Sumner.