Chapter 3
Chapter Three
HUDSON
I was up early in my uniform of a navy-blue Kingston Construction T-shirt, worn jeans, and work boots. I added a Kingston Construction hat because I felt the need to be somewhat shielded from the journalist who'd be shadowing me. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with her.
I'd emailed her the schedule for the day and told her to dress appropriately. But now I was worried I should have been more specific. Would she show up in a summer dress and sandals anyway? The safety concerns of opened-toed shoes gnawed at me.
I wouldn't let someone get hurt on my watch. If she showed up in open-toed shoes I'd send her home. Easy-peasy. I'd have a reason to tell Dad that it wouldn't work out. That she wasn't taking the assignment seriously. I still had the last word on my jobsite when it came to safety.
Ralph popped his head into the room. "Hey, boss, there's a lady here."
"That's the magazine journalist I told you about," I said as I headed to the front porch of the house we were renovating. This one was empty, so I didn't have to deal with the owners living here at least. It was a complete redo with the house stripped to the studs.
On the porch, I felt dusty already, and I hadn't even gotten started yet.
The woman in question, Elena Perkins, got out of her cherry-red sports car, and walked toward me. She wore low waisted jeans tucked into boots, her button-down shirt tied in a knot at her waist and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and the protests died in my throat.
She paused in front of me and arched a delicate brow. "Am I dressed appropriately?"
I nodded, my throat dry. "You're missing just one thing." I pulled out the hard hat I'd hid behind my back.
Her eyes widened.
If she said no, I'd send her packing without any guilt.
"Safety is important to you," she said matter-of-factly as if she was making a mental note. She waited patiently while I placed the hat on her head.
It didn't quite fit with her ponytail, so she handed the hat back to me and removed the elastic holding her hair up, carefully plaiting it into a braid, the tail curling over her shoulder, teasing the swell of her breast under her shirt. The motion caused her shirt to ride up, revealing a tantalizing sliver of tan skin.
She gestured for me to place the hat on her head again.
This time, our gazes collided as I settled it on her head.
"Is this acceptable?" she asked.
"You're perfect." Why the fuck had I said that?
Before she could ask any follow-up questions, I turned on my heel. I rattled off the plans for the day. We were putting up drywall. It was boring work, and I figured she wouldn't stay out of my way, peppering me with questions and taking notes. Generally making a nuisance of herself. But when we reached the bedroom where I was working, she said, "What can I do?"
I paused. "You want to help?"
She nodded. "I want to get to know you. What better way than to do what you do?"
I had several smart retorts for that question, but I didn't say anything. I just nodded. "You can hold the boards while we install them."
She grinned. "I'm excited to get my hands dirty."
I wanted to get more than her hands dirty, but I was gentleman enough not to say that to a reporter who was doing a story on my family's business. I wasn't sure how long my sense of decorum would hold while working side by side with this woman.
This was not how I thought my morning was going to go. I figured I'd have some socialite who didn't want to get dirty. I never suspected Elena would want to work alongside me. It made me feel more vulnerable in a way. Like she could see me better if she was working next to me. The idea was ridiculous, but I couldn't shake it.
I moved the first piece of drywall and leaned it against the stud.
"What's everyone else doing?" Elena asked.
I chuckled. "Trying to stay away from you, I suspect."
Her forehead wrinkled. "Why would they do that?"
"They don't want to end up in a magazine," I said flatly.
Her frown deepened. "The story is about you and your family, not your employees."
"You can tell them that, but I don't think it will make them less shy."
Her lips twitched. "You're saying your coworkers are shy?"
"They just want to get their work done without any hassle," I insisted.
Her shoulders lowered. "I don't want to be a problem."
"Relax, I was just giving you a hard time." I meant it, but when her face screwed up with anxiety, I couldn't let her think that she was the reason why my men were avoiding us this morning. I think it had more to do with my surly attitude.
Her gaze met mine. "I promise I won't get in the way."
"Is this your way of getting close to me so you can ask me out?" I knew I was being an asshole, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from antagonizing her. "If so, it's quite the elaborate plan."
Her cheeks flushed. "I came home to take care of my grandmother, and this was the only job that's remotely in my field. My boss told me to write this story." She sighed. "Trust me, it's not what I want to be doing."
Now we were getting somewhere. "Where did you move from?"
"Boston. I went to college there and then stayed afterward."
"And now you're home to take care of your grandmother?" At her nod, I continued, "Is it a temporary move, or are you planning on staying?" There weren't many job opportunities on the island unless you were in the tourist industry.
"I'd like to find something permanent. I don't want to be far from Grams."
"Grams, huh?" I asked, charmed by the way her cheeks flushed red.
"After I graduated, my parents moved to Naples to be closer to my brother since he's already married with kids. But they're worried about Grams living here by herself."
"She's important to you."
"Very."
I moved to grab another slab of drywall. "Tell me why I can’t remember you in school."
Elena shrugged. "Clearly, I didn't make an impression."
"Are you sure about that?" She sure as hell did now in that getup. She might have been going for a casual outfit, but it was sexy as hell.
She shrugged. "I went to school with you all the way through."
"Do you look different now? Do you dye your hair, or did you wear glasses?"
She shook her head, her cheeks pink. "I did wear glasses."
I had a flash of memory: a blond girl in one of my science classes, her hair in one long braid and tortoise shell glasses perched on her nose. "I think it's coming back to me now."
Her cheeks were still flushed pink, and I wondered if my accusation of her liking me had some ring of truth to it. "Did you crush on me back then?"
She rolled her eyes. "Please."
"My brothers are more popular with women than I am."
Elena huffed. "Your dad is the one who insisted I shadow you, not your brothers.”
I drilled in the screws on the edges of the board. The noise made it impossible to talk while I worked. When I finished with one side, I moved to the other.
Elena stepped back once it was secured. "It must feel good to accomplish things so quickly."
"What do you mean?" I asked as I grabbed another piece of drywall.
"There must be a sense of satisfaction with each board you secure, and when you're done, you'll have a closed-off room." Elena gestured around us.
"I never thought about it before, but I guess you're right."
"I feel that way when a story is done, but there's so much that goes into the research part of it. I have to interview people and get to know them. Then figure out what the angle of the story is."
"What's the angle of my story?" I couldn't help but ask her.
"I'm wondering if it's the getting-to-know-you part that's the mystery. How many people know how Hudson Kingston really is? You know, underneath the strict set of guidelines, rules, and high work standard."
I frowned. "It sounds like you're stereotyping me."
She raised a brow. "Are you sure about that?"
"I have to be concerned about safety. I'm in charge of everyone working in this house. If someone gets hurt, it's on me."
She tipped her head slightly to the side. "That's commendable. Not every employer feels that same way."
"Why do I get the impression that you're interviewing me, even though it feels more like conversation?"
She grinned. "That's my superpower. I'm really good at getting information out of people. I've always been like that. Grams used to mention it like it was a good attribute."
"Tell me about her." As much as I wanted to get her focus off me, I also wanted to know more about her. I couldn't remember the last time I met anyone and had this sense of curiosity.
"She's lived her whole life on the island. Grew up in the cottage that she lives in now. She took walks on the beach and collected seashells. Her and my grandfather were high-school sweethearts. They lived together until he died a few years ago." The light in her eyes dimmed.
"I'm sorry about that."
"It's okay. It was a while ago now, and she's okay. She's content living in her cottage and getting her walks on the beach. Mom and Dad were worried about her, talking about putting her in an assisted-living facility closer to them, and I didn't want that to happen. Grams needs to be near the sand; it's a part of her soul."
"I think I know what you mean. I couldn't move away. I'd miss the salt in the air."
"I hadn't realized how much I missed this place, and how much the sand and salt water are in my blood."
"So many of the kids leave and never come back."
"There aren't a lot of job opportunities here."
"Those of us who get to live here are the lucky ones," I said, hefting my screwgun in the air to drive in the next set of screws.
"Can I quote you on that?"
I winked at her. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"
I pushed the trigger for the screwgun to drown out further attempts for her to respond. Listening to her talk about her grandmother with so much love in her voice made her more real. She wasn't just an opportunistic journalist that wanted to know my secrets. She was a person with wants and desires, hopes and dreams.
Would I have given up a career in another city to come home and take care of my family? I'd like to think so.
When the next board was secure, I turned off the screwgun.
"Have you ever thought about leaving? Maybe when you went to college?"
"I went to the University of Florida, so I wasn't far away, but no, I never considered another path."
"Did you need to go to college?"
"My dad is big on education. He wanted us to study business and finance so we could continue to run the business. He said we missed the education we would have gotten had we built the company ourselves. He wanted us to understand what it takes to run a business. He was worried that we won't be able to handle it when he's gone."
"Your dad wants the best for you."
I felt her gaze on the side of my face, but I refused to look at her. "Yeah."
"Did you ever have other dreams?"
I tried to think back to when I was a kid, and I couldn't think of any other hobbies. "I enjoyed school, sports, and working alongside my dad. Those are my favorite memories."
"When did you start working with your dad?"
I thought having her ask questions would be difficult, and I'd feel invaded, but she asked them in a way that felt like a natural conversation, like I was talking to a friend. "As early as I can remember, I was walking around on jobsites, asking him questions. I had my own set of tools, and he'd let me help him, just like you're doing now. He never acted like I was in his way."
"He was a good father," she said matter-of-factly.
"The best."
Her head tipped to the side. "What was it like growing up with so many siblings?"
I reached for bottles of water from the cooler I'd brought and handed her one. "It was chaotic at times, but my parents kept us in line. I think it helped that we went with Dad on his jobs frequently, got us out of Mom's hair."
"What about your sister? Did she tag along with your dad?"
"She's the youngest, and by the time she came along, Dad had his hands full with us." I lifted my shirt and wiped the sweat off my forehead.
"Was Luna okay with that?"
I sat on the windowsill. "We thought she was, until recently. That's why she went out on her own, flipping houses and doing interior design work on the side."
"Is your dad okay with her not working in the family business?"
I didn't want to say anything that would portray my family in a bad light. "I think he wishes she would have stayed, but he understands that he screwed up. When she first asked about expanding the business with interior design options, Dad shut her down. He couldn't see that it was a great idea. Now we send our clients to her, and she's operating on her own. That's better for her. She can create her own schedule since she lives here part-time.
"Oh, that's right. I think Kinsley said she's dating someone from Maryland."
"She went there on vacation, rented the cabin next to Axel's, and they fell in love. His family owns a Christmas tree farm there, so they travel back and forth."
"Is it weird that your little sister is in a serious relationship, but the rest of you aren't?" Elena asked carefully, probably worried about hurting my feelings.
I chuckled. "Not at all. She's way more mature than me and my brothers. Always has been."
Her gaze met mine. "You love your family."
I nodded. "Of course. No different than you."
She looked away from me. "I've interviewed a lot of people who have trauma left over from their childhoods, but it almost sounds like yours was idyllic."
"I don't know about that." The idea that our childhood was perfect made me feel uncomfortable, but I knew that's what a lot of people thought. We were most people's version of an ideal family unit, working a family business and getting along together.
"I don't think I'm going to find any skeletons in the Kingstons' closet."
I chuckled to cover my discomfort. "There aren't any."
"So everyone's content to work in the family business?" she asked carefully.
I stood and dropped my water bottle in a bag I always brought for trash and recycling. "Marshall joined the military after college."
"Was your father upset about that?"
"Not at all. He always wanted us to pursue our dreams. There are more than enough of us to run the business. Now let's get back to work. The walls won't go up by themselves." I grabbed another board, hoping she'd give me a break from the questions.
"Is this what you'd be doing if I wasn't here?"
My forehead creased. "We have an order of how we do things, and right now, it's drywall."
"Would you be the guy screwing in the boards?" she asked, moving into position, holding the board steady.
"I like getting my hands dirty as much as I like directing the project. I wouldn't do anything I wouldn't expect my coworkers to do."
"In Boston, I worked with a lot of men who didn't want to get their hands dirty, literally or figuratively."
I scoffed. "Who were these guys you were around?"
A smile curved over her face. "They preferred suits and corner offices."
"You won't get any of that here. I believe in hard work. It comes with a lot of callouses." Then I winked at her. "But the ladies haven't complained."
I wondered where the instinct to flirt was coming from. Elena was supposed to be irritating, not intriguing. I'd have to watch my step with her.