Chapter 10
DARCY
I f I thought that Wren talking to me about my weekend of trying to fuck him out of my system was an experience I’d never recover from, it’s nothing to when I arrive at work on Thursday morning and find him waiting out the front, wearing construction gear.
First, my traitorous gut flips at how mouthwatering he looks, and then?—
My entire mood crashes. I know what those clothes mean.
I force what I’m hoping is an understanding smile as I approach, but honestly, it’s a crapshoot at this point. He’s giving up.
The rotten feeling sinking into me is disappointment that he’s throwing in the towel so easily and has nothing to do with the realization that this could be goodbye. Which would probably be the best thing to happen to me at this point, even if it comes with a healthy dose of feverish dread.
“One hundred bucks says they won’t let you get a step inside the building dressed like that.” I eye him again under the guise of taking in his clothes and not because I’m checking him out.
“Good thing I’m not going in there, then.”
“Ah.” I shift, tempted to scuff my shoe against the footpath but resisting. “Made your choice, then?”
“Huh?” Wren’s forehead wrinkles. “Choice about what?”
I wave a hand over him. “Going back to your old life.”
For some reason, he finds that highly amusing, and I end up with his thick arm thrown around my shoulder.
“Think you’re getting rid of me that easily, do you?
” He gives me a little shake. “Sorry to disappoint, but I think I’m starting to like having a brother.
Me and you against our annoying shithead younger brothers, like an unwavering partner-in-crime. ”
Holding my breath against his scent, I take his hand and unwrap his arm from around me. “What in God’s name are you talking about?” Now I can breathe again and it seems he’s not disappearing on me, his enthusiasm is endearing.
“I had Avery clear your day. She said Tobias could handle your morning meetings, and Junior should be getting to London in time for your 2:00 p.m.”
“But that’ll be, like, ten at night for him.”
“And?” Wren’s grin makes it clear that he’s more than happy about that fact.
And like the dumb fool I am, I’m curious. I take in what he’s wearing again and cock my eyebrow. “So what are we doing, then?”
“Slumming it.” He tucks his hands in his pockets and starts walking. “Now you get to be the one out of his depth.”
“This doesn’t sound promising.”
“Are you kidding? The thought of you struggling through something? Highlight of my week.”
“What are you talking about? I struggle through a lot of things.”
“Uh-huh, yep. Right.”
A choking noise gets caught in my throat. “Obligation, for one.”
“You were going to marry someone for obligation. No way do you struggle with that.”
Oh, if only he knew. I allow myself a split second to indulge in looking at him before I remind myself that I’m only making things worse.
Well, he made things worse first. Controlling in the bedroom—who tells their brother that?
Now, thoughts of Wren holding me down keep trying to push their way in, and I keep having to show those incessant bastards the door.
This interest in him is getting out of hand, but I’m clueless as to what to do about it other than wait for it to pass. And it has to pass. There isn’t a universe that exists where the things I’m feeling are reciprocated.
“Where are we going?” I ask, changing the subject back to the one thing we should be talking about.
“Worksite. I called in a favor.”
“You’re taking me to a worksite? I’m certain you have to have some kind of certifications for that?”
“You’re not the only one with friends in high places.”
I don’t want to know what he means by that. We turn the corner to where a shiny blue truck is waiting.
“This is me,” he says, pressing the button on the fob and climbing in.
I cautiously follow him. “You’re sure they had no problem clearing my schedule?”
“I wouldn’t tell you if they did, would I?”
I shoot him a look. “I suppose not.” Wren has parked in the sun, and his car is stifling in my suit. I try the window, but the button appears to be broken.
“No, you’ve just gotta …” Wren leans over me and thumps the door, then tries the button, watching as the window slides down.
But I don’t watch. I can’t. Not with him leaning over my space like this.
I’m trying not to inhale, entire body stiff as a plank—and I mean entire .
Even without breathing, I can smell him, and this close, I can make out every hair in his short beard …
count every eyelash … see the small lines bracketing his barely there smile.
“There. Better?” he asks, finally pulling away.
“Uh, yes. Fine.”
I can barely string a sentence together, not with the memory of his body close to mine. Not with his scent and his private smiles. Smiles I’m not convinced are intentional. Smiles that make me wish I could hate him.
Guilt flows through me, different from how it normally feels. Would Wren punch me if I told him the things in my mind? Would he recoil? Feel disgusted? Of course he would—as far as he can ever know, we’re brothers. The image tortures me, even though I know that’s exactly how it would play out.
“Now, we’re going to help a buddy. He’s building a house, and I told him we’d meet there and lend an extra set of hands.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but that sounds like a horrible use of our time.”
“Helping friends is never pointless.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Are you telling me you don’t have friends? Because you literally mentioned one the other day.”
Good to know he was paying attention. “I have friends, though they’re all from a narrow, approved group of people, and not one of them needs my help.”
“You’d be surprised.”
The only one who needs help here is me, and I’m starting to suspect it’s help of the professional variety. But screw it. Perhaps if I can see Wren in his natural state, it’ll help me fit together his pieces. Pieces that certainly do not fit with mine.
We pull up out the front of a lot about half an hour out of the city. It’s all suburban-wet-dream houses, and the frame of the one we’re across from looks like it’s going to end up the same.
“Are you sure I can be here?”
“Yep.”
“Aren’t there insurances or something to consider?”
Wren smirks at me. “I signed away your right to sue should you be injured. Hey, maybe I’m planning to off you and take all that business for myself.”
“If you were Junior, I’d suspect that’s exactly what you were planning.”
“Aww, do you trust me, brother?”
Urg, that fucking word . I clamp my lips together.
The thing is, I still barely know him, and I’m beginning to suspect I trust him more than anyone, except maybe Carlisle.
Isn’t that sad? There’s no one else in my life that I’m connected to enough to build that confidence in, so instead, I’m letting my lust rule.
Wren leans over between the seats to reach something in the back, and I beg the universe to get me out of this tiny car. “Here.” He shoves a pile of clothes at me. “There’s a portable toilet over there for you to get changed in.”
“A portable … toilet?”
“Unless you’d rather strip off here?”
I eye the tiny blue structure, getting imagery of a coffin embedded in the ground. Then, face flaming, I shuck off my jacket and start to unbutton my shirt.
“Here, it is.” He smiles.
“I’ll embrace today, I’ll play your games, but dear god, I refuse to go in that germ bucket.”
“Ehh, just wait until you have to take a shit. You’ll be singing a different tune.”
I put on my poshest tone. “I’ll simply call my driver to bring my golden loo upon which to do my business.”
Wren looks amused. “You have a driver?”
“Of course that’s the part you’d question.”
His smile is far too friendly and teasing.
I strip my gaze away from his and remove my shirt before pulling the T-shirt he gave me over my head.
It smells like laundry detergent and him , so apparently, I’m in for a day of being tempted.
Figures. I’m trying to be good, but the odds are being stacked against me.
It’s not until I undo my fly that I look over at him. “A bit of privacy might be nice.”
“Ha. Good luck with that.” Still, he climbs out of the car, and I watch as he crosses the road to where a man is waiting for him.
I stand by what I said about this being an idiotic way to spend today, but I can’t deny there’s something almost like excitement bubbling under the surface of my skin.
I’m fast to change my pants and pull on his boots, which are about a size too large but should do for the day.
In fact, all his clothes are quite big, and I need my belt to keep the thick work pants on my hips.
I look ridiculous, guaranteeing there’s no danger of Wren falling for me like this.
Not that he’s the one with that particular problem.
“Okay, I’m ready for you to put me to work,” I say when I finally join them.
“Boss.”
“Come again?”
His eyes hold mine. “I want you to call me boss while we’re here.”
Jesus fucking Christ. All I can think of is him saying that to me in the bedroom, and I want to curl up and die. “On what world would I do that?”
“This one. My world. Besides, you could use some humility.”
“I’m plenty humble.”
“Uh-huh. How’s that helicopter going for you?”
“Fine. Boss . What are we doing?”
“Was that so hard?”
I shake my head at him. “You had better be prepared for all of this and more once we’re back in the office. Think I can get you to call me master?”
“Nah, that’s usually what guys are calling me .”
“Remember our rule.”
“The no sex talk?” Wren shrugs. “Remy also says it’s not a thing.”
“Remy also doesn’t have siblings. Try again.”
“Yeah, but you’ve never had a sibling like me before. It makes sense you’d have that rule with Junior and Tobias, because who knows what those freaks are into, but with me? I’ll be the brother you never had. We can share anything.”
I need to change the subject. “So. Building. Fascinating stuff.”
“I thought it was supposed to be Americans who were the prudes?”
“I’m not a prude. I’m here to work.”
“Fine …”
And thank fuck for that. Wren grabs me a hard hat and shows me around the site, filling me in on where they’re up to and what still needs to be done.
I have no hopes of following the complicated instructions, and I wonder if this is how Wren must feel every day.
I’m intelligent, highly competent, but here I’m like a fumbling four-year-old.
Can’t say I like it.
I watch Wren work for a while, my eyes constantly straying to his broad back rather than what he’s doing, and I let his deep voice wash over me without taking in a word.
“Your turn.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He presses down on the hand drill a couple of times, making it whir between us. “I want you to drill this screw into the wood.”
I blink at him.
“Need me to show you again?”
“No … I’m finally figuring it out.”
“Figuring what out?”
“Well.” I take the drill from him, and it’s heavier than I’m expecting. “Construction is sort of dirty, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. The wood dust is a real?—”
“Oh no. I mean dirty .” I test the drill trigger, and it whirs again. “You want me to drill this wood? This hard, hard wood?”
Wren tries to keep a straight face. He fails.
I pretend to pout. “I’m going to screw it so good.”
“I hope you’ve got good aim.” He cocks his eyebrows. “That’s a tiny hole you’ve gotta fit it in.”
“I’ve been training for this my whole life.”
But despite my confidence, I blip it on the first try, and the screw goes in crooked.
“Here, more like this.” Wren crouches beside me, sets his hand over mine on the drill, and takes control. This time, the screw goes in perfectly, no thanks to me and my gut, which has somehow lodged itself in my throat.
Wren winks. “Sometimes you’ve gotta double-team it.”
I can’t help it—my laugh bursts from me at how ridiculous this entire thing is. Me on a construction site, lusting after an unattainable man, while he unknowingly turns me on with sexual innuendo that barely makes sense.
“Wait until I show you my caulk.”
“ What ?”
He points to his bag.
“I don’t think I’m ready for those advanced lessons, boss.”
“You’ll get there.” His happy eyes drift over my face, setting off a series of tingles through my limbs. “I never thought I’d see the day. You’re all … playful. Relaxed. Loose.”
“Loose?” Don’t let me laugh again.
“You’re so stiff all the time.”
I can only assume I’m possessed by this point because I lean right into his space, lips hovering by his ear, and rasp, “And now you know what my weekends look like.”