Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Esteban
Knocking once, I push the door open without waiting for Austin’s permission, because really—who does that anymore?
“You better not be pregnant again,” I say as I step into his office, grinning at the way his eyes immediately narrow at me.
Noah chuckles behind me. “Or being stalked. We don’t do repeat seasons of that show, man.”
Austin’s desk is neat, of course, because he’s Austin, but his jaw ticks the way it always does when he’s about to tell us something big. Or something that’ll wreck our schedules. Same difference.
“You two are idiots,” he mutters, motioning toward the chairs across from him. “Sit down. This one’s actually news.”
“That’s what you said last time,” I remind him, dropping into the seat. “And then two days later we were helping Violet install a new alarm system and pretending not to freak out every time a leaf rustled near her window.”
Austin rolls his eyes, but there’s a twitch of a smile on his face. “I’m serious. This is about work.”
Noah leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Alright. Hit us.”
Austin presses his fingertips together like he’s about to give a TED Talk.
“I won a bid for a private company—McNeal & Co. They specialize in high-end hospitality: hotels, restaurants, resorts. And guess what? This company is building a new ski resort just outside of Honey Springs. Boutique-style, eco-conscious, high-end. They just got county approval, and I won the bid for the architectural plans.”
I blink. “A ski resort? Here?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Apparently the area has just enough elevation, and they’re investing in the snow machines and infrastructure. It’s going to be a year-round destination. Lodge, cabins, fancy restaurant, spa—the works.”
Noah whistles low under his breath. “That’s gonna bring a ton of traffic to the area.”
“And jobs,” I add, my mind already racing through logistics. “Supplies, subcontractors, permits…”
“Exactly,” Austin says, grinning now. “And they asked me if I knew a reliable construction company to partner with for the project.”
Noah and I exchange a glance.
“You told them about us?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I did,” he says. “Told them about Ross & Báez—how you’ve handled residential and commercial builds, the work on Josy’s shop, and the community center remodel. Mr. McNeal was impressed. He wants to meet with you both next week.”
I let out a breath and lean back in my chair. “Damn.”
“That’s actually… huge,” Noah says, already pulling out his phone. Probably to check his calendar or message Josy.
“Try massive,” Austin says. “It’s a multi-million dollar project. If they hire you guys for even part of it, you’re talking steady work for over a year. Maybe more.”
Suddenly, I’m picturing crews on snow-covered lots, cabins going up against a backdrop of frosted pines, our logo on job signs tucked into the white powder.
My mouth stretches into a grin.
“Okay,” I say. “Now this is the kind of news I don’t mind getting called into your office for.”
Austin smirks. “Told you.”
I rub a hand over my beard, already running through a mental list of what we’d need to pull something like this off. More manpower, for sure. Our regular crew is solid, but a project this size? We’ll need to expand, bring in more subcontractors, hire a few more project managers.
And maybe we could finally stop wearing tool belts every damn day.
“You know what this means, right?” I say, glancing over at Noah. “We could finally level up. Big league stuff. No more scrambling between job sites like we’re in a marathon.”
He nods slowly, the weight of the opportunity sinking in. “We could stay in the office. Oversee. Manage.”
“Delegate,” I say with a grin.
Austin leans back, folding his arms with a smirk. “You two supervising from an office? That’ll be the day.”
I flip him off without looking, still caught up in the what-ifs. “I’m serious. This could change everything. We’ve been busting our asses for years. This kind of project? It’s the shot.”
Noah tilts his head. “What’s this guy like? McNeal?”
Austin’s face shifts, softening just a bit with respect. “He’s sharp. Self-made, started with nothing and built the McNeal Group from the ground up. He’s from Florida.”
I raise my eyebrows. “No kidding?”
“Yep. Grew up working construction with his old man. Then went into development, learned the business side, started small, and now…” Austin whistles.
“Now he’s one of the biggest players in boutique hospitality.
Still a family guy, though. Married with three kids.
Smart as hell. Quick-witted, knows what he wants. ”
I whistle low, impressed. “Sounds like the kind of guy I’d like to have a beer with.”
Austin grins. “Well, you’ll get the chance at the meeting next week. I’ll be at the meeting too, just to bridge the intro and keep things smooth.”
“Where’s it happening?” Noah asks.
“Here in town. He’s flying in to tour the land where the resort’s going to be built. We’ll meet at the site office near Briar Ridge, then head into town for lunch.”
I glance at Noah again, and he nods almost imperceptibly. We don’t even have to talk about it—we’re in.
“Alright,” I say, slapping my hand on Austin’s desk. “Let’s do it. Let’s go big.”
Noah’s grin widens. “Knew you’d say that.”
“Exactly,” Austin says. “He’s big on trusting the people he hires. If he likes you, he’ll give you the freedom to do things your way, as long as the job gets done right.”
Noah sits forward. “This is really happening.”
Austin grins. “Get ready, boys. This could be the beginning of something big.”
The Bistro at Honey Springs isn’t the kind of place Noah and I usually find ourselves in. No dust, no noise, no smell of sawdust in the air. Just dim lighting, warm colors, polished silverware, and soft piano music playing through hidden speakers.
Austin leads us in like he owns the place, nodding to the hostess, who guides us to a quiet corner booth.
I take in the place as we walk, clean lines, subtle elegance, a wall of wine bottles, and soft chatter from midweek lunch patrons.
Noah and I are dressed to impress, or at least as close to it as we get.
He’s in his signature black-on-black, beard trimmed sharp, hair actually combed back.
I went with a light blue button-up with the sleeves rolled just below my elbows, black dress pants, and loafers I had to dig out from the back of my closet.
We definitely clean up nice. Hell, I even put on cologne.
As we pass a table near the front, I catch a couple of women turning to watch us. One of them leans into her friend, whispering something with a smirk.
I nudge Noah and drop my voice. “If this whole construction gig doesn’t work out, I say we start a calendar. Blue-collar babes of Honey Springs. What do you think? You can be Mr. October.”
He gives me a side glance. “Only if you’re Mr. February. Gotta let the ladies thaw out after that chill you bring.”
I laugh, and Austin rolls his eyes as he slides into his seat.
“Can you two behave like professionals for thirty minutes?” he says.
“No promises,” I say, smirking as I take the seat across from him. Noah sits beside me and quietly scans the menu, probably not even reading the words.
Truth is, I’m nervous. I’ve been nervous since the moment Austin told us about this meeting.
For the last few days, this has been all I can think about.
I’ve been running timelines, budgets, team expansion plans, and even website upgrades in my head like a damn hamster on a wheel.
We’ve built our company from the ground up.
Every project, every long day, every busted knuckle has led us to this moment. And I don’t want to screw it up.
I glance down at my hands resting on the table. No calluses today, which is a rare thing. I trimmed my nails, even cleaned the dirt out from under them—made sure I didn’t show up looking like a guy who just climbed out of a crawl space.
Before I can overthink it anymore, the bell on the door chimes and Austin looks up, standing almost immediately. “That’s him.”
I turn and spot a tall man walking in. Mid-fifties maybe, lean build, salt-and-pepper hair combed neatly back, and a calm confidence in the way he moves. He’s dressed like Austin—sport coat, slacks, no tie—but somehow still manages to make it feel more laid-back than formal.
There’s something easy about his presence. Pleasant. Like the kind of guy who’s probably walked through a thousand meetings and knows how to read a room before he even speaks.
He spots our table and walks toward us with a quick but unhurried stride.
Austin steps forward to shake his hand. “Hunter, glad you made it. Let me introduce you to the guys I told you about.”
“Looking forward to this,” Mr. McNeal says with a smile. His voice is smooth, just the right amount of Southern in it. “Heard nothing but good things.”
Austin turns. “This is Noah Ross, and Esteban Báez. Ross & Báez Construction.”
We both stand to shake his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I say, grateful my voice sounds steady and confident.
Mr. McNeal’s handshake is firm, and his eyes lock onto mine with that kind of focus that makes you feel like he’s already assessing everything about you.
“I appreciate you boys taking the time,” he says, taking a seat. “Heard you’re some of the best in the business.”
Noah nods, sitting beside me again. “Appreciate that. We try to do right by our people and our work.”
“And that’s exactly the kind of crew I want on my sites,” Mr. McNeal replies as he settles in.
Austin flags down a server and motions for coffee for the table. I reach for the water in front of me, taking a sip while trying to keep my knee from bouncing under the table again.
“So,” Mr. McNeal starts, folding his hands on the table. “Let me tell you a little about what we’re working on”