Chapter 2
“ H ave you read this thing?” Tristan asked, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned the page of the legal notice that fucked him over.
It made him wonder how long they’ve been working on this plan.
“Twice,” Quinn bit out as he sat there, absently drumming his fingertips against his desk while he glared out the window, debating saying the hell with it and starting his own company, but…
B.T. Construction was his life.
He took his first step in his father’s workshop and learned how to read and write on the back of old blueprints.
He learned this company from the inside out, did the grunt work, and worked his ass off, putting in sixteen-hour days for the past ten years only to have it taken away from him because his parents and the Thomases decided that they wanted grandchildren.
His father and Jonathan built B.T. Construction from scratch, working out of the back of an old, beat-up pickup truck they fixed up and took odd jobs around town until they were able to afford the tools they needed to take on bigger jobs.
That led to them taking on large renovations and flipping houses until one day, they had everything they needed to make B.T. Construction a reality.
Jonathan came up with the designs while his father did everything to make sure that they could build them, ensuring that they came in under budget and on time.
Every time. They started with starter homes and quickly worked their way up to luxury homes, building multimillion-dollar homes in New Hampshire and Massachusetts and it was all because of the spoiled brat that was about to fuck him over.
Christ, he never saw it coming.
None of them did.
Brooke always hated going to job sites. Still did.
But when she was little, she’d pout when her father brought her to a job site and when that didn’t work, she’d throw a tantrum until her father finally gave in and let her wait in the truck.
He stopped bringing her after she turned twelve, only to drag her to work when they were fourteen and decided that she needed to spend her summer doing something more productive than sitting on her ass all day watching reality TV.
She only lasted three hours before the men threatened to quit and her father had been left with no choice but to take her to the office and find something for her to do there.
That led to the staff, his secretary, and the water delivery guy for some fucking reason, all threatening to go on strike if he didn’t do something about her.
Left with no other choice, Jonathan took Brooke under his wing, showing her how the business ran and taught her how to design houses. She didn’t seem interested until she found out how much she could make and decided that she’d found her calling.
Jonathan worked with her, taught Brooke everything he knew, signed her up for courses, answered her questions, and gave her a paid internship while she was in college and she…
Barely went to class.
When she showed up for work, she spent most of her time on her phone or bitching about having to make copies, get coffee, or having to make revisions on the projects that her father assigned to her.
By the time she graduated college, one thing became painfully obvious, Brooke had no fucking idea what she was doing.
Her designs were fucking horrible and confusing. Clients hated them and their design team had no fucking clue what they were supposed to be. Jonathan kept working with her, hoping that she would figure it out only to realize that it was hopeless.
Then something interesting happened.
Brooke, who barely showed up most days, suddenly showed up to a meeting with a client that they couldn’t seem to please with a portfolio filled with designs that had the client begging to sign with them. Even Quinn had to admit that they were incredible. He’d never seen anything like it.
She’d somehow managed to nail everything the client wanted, along with everything they’d never thought to ask for and turned it into their dream home.
He thought it was a fluke until she did it again and again.
Word spread and soon, their waitlist went from a year to five, and then to ten.
They began receiving offers from firms around the country, hoping to get their hands on one of Brooke’s designs, but to her credit, she refused to work with anyone else.
It gave B.T. Construction an edge that he couldn’t risk losing.
He’d tried finding someone, anyone else, who could match her designs, but so far, none of them came close, which was going to be a problem since there was no doubt in his mind that Brooke was going to take their parents up on this deal.
“You could always offer to buy the business,” Tristan pointed out while Quinn watched as a familiar black pickup truck parked in the makeshift parking lot across from his trailer.
“Page four,” Quinn murmured absently, barely aware of Tristan’s muttered, “Oh, shit,” while he watched the little pain in the ass that had been making his life a living hell since the day she was born, climb out of the pickup truck with the black notebook that she took everywhere in her hand and-
“What exactly does she do?” Tristan asked as they watched Dylan drop down on the bench between two of their cousins.
“I honestly have no fucking clue,” Quinn said, watching as Dylan opened her notebook, pulled out a pen and deftly stole the sandwich out of Nolan’s hand. He watched as his cousin narrowed his eyes on the little brat before grumbling to himself and grabbed another sandwich out of his bag.
While Brooke hated every minute of the three hours she’d spent on that fateful day at a jobsite, Dylan had loved every minute of her first summer working for their fathers.
She showed up bright and early, wearing her father’s old tool belt, looking beyond fucking adorable, and sighed with satisfaction when she was handed a broom.
Every day, she showed up somehow more eager than the day before, asking questions, and taking on more tasks.
It didn’t matter how many splinters, stitches, or concussions she got, she always showed up the next day with a huge smile on her face, eager for more.
He kept her out of trouble, glared when she stole his food, and to this day, still felt terror surging through his body whenever she was within ten feet of a nail gun.
After that first summer, her father decided that perhaps it would be better if Dylan learned the business side of B.T.
Construction and found her a spot out of the way.
She’d made friends with everyone and had the ladies in the office, the water delivery guy, and their clients wrapped around her little finger.
After that…
He had no fucking idea what she did.
She randomly showed up at job sites, hung out by the coffee truck, annoyed his cousins for the hell of it, and made notes in her notebook before disappearing.
Some days, she showed up at the office, found a corner and did whatever she did in that notebook, and other days she didn’t show up at all.
When they had meetings, Dylan showed up, helped herself to the spread of baked goods they put out for prospective clients, nibbled on muffins and donuts while she sat there, staring off into space while Brooke went through the questionnaire that she came up with to help her create her designs.
As soon as the meeting was over, Dylan headed for the door, pausing only long enough to help herself to another baked good along the way before disappearing for a few days.
When their parents retired, they’d offered to let Dylan run the business side with Brooke, but she’d turned it down, content on doing whatever the hell it was that she did.
“This can’t be legal,” Tristan said, sighing heavily as he tossed the folder back on his desk and-
“I’m afraid it is,” the reason why he would never even consider this deal said with a heartfelt sigh as she opened the door without knocking and walked into his trailer.
“Get out,” Quinn said, absently drumming his fingertips against the top of his desk as he sat there, grinding his jaw while he watched Dylan settle more comfortably between his cousins and-
Made his lips twitch when she absently reached over and stole Lucan’s soda, took a sip, and shoved it back in his hand as she kept her gaze locked on whatever she was doing in her notebook.
He watched as his cousin’s eyes narrowed and knew the moment that his cousin debated throttling the little pain in the ass.
“We should probably have that talk,” Jenn said as Quinn grabbed his phone off his desk and sent a quick text, watching as his cousin’s hand twitched while he glared at Dylan only to pull out his phone, grumble, and shove his phone back into his pocket as he looked up and met Quinn’s glare through the window.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Quinn said, tossing his phone back on the desk.
“You should probably be nice to me,” Jenn said in that smug tone that he didn’t know existed until after she’d fucked him over.
“And why’s that?” Quinn drawled as he watched Dylan frown down at her notebook, shake her head, mumble something to herself, and-
Stole the rest of Nolan’s sandwich.
“Because if you’re nice to me, I might convince Brooke to let you keep your job,” Jenn said with a heartfelt sigh.
“That’s very generous of you,” Quinn drawled absently as he watched Dylan finish off Nolan’s sandwich while she took in the six-thousand-square-foot luxury home they were building.
“Almost saint-like,” Tristan said dryly as he watched Dylan worry her bottom lip between her teeth and-
“Or you could just marry me and finally get your hands on B.T. Construction,” Jenn said, drawing his attention to find the woman he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with, looking really fucking amused.
“Pass,” Quinn said as he ran his eyes over her, taking in the golden blonde hair that he used to love to run his fingers through swept up into an elegant bun, cold blue eyes that used to light up when they saw him, watching him with something close to pity before he took in the silk blouse highlighting every feminine curve and released a bored sigh as he glanced back at the window.
“Pity,” Jenn murmured with a heartfelt sigh as he watched Dylan write something in her notebook and-
Did she just swipe a screwdriver from Lucan’s tool belt?
“Brooke sent you?” Tristan asked while Quinn watched Dylan slip the screwdriver into her hoodie pocket and-
God, she was beyond fucking adorable, Quinn thought as he watched as she reached over and helped herself to a pair of pliers.
“My client thought it would be a good idea if we discussed your options.”
“And you?” Quinn asked, watching as Dylan’s gaze locked on the hammer hanging from Nolan’s tool belt.
“I want the house you promised me,” Jenn said while he watched Dylan try to look innocent as she placed her hand on the bench and slowly, ever so slowly, moved it towards Nolan and-
“It’s never going to happen,” Quinn said, watching as Dylan moved to grab the hammer off Nolan’s tool belt, only to think better of it when his cousin narrowed his eyes on the move.
“What if I doubled my last offer?” Jenn asked, reluctantly drawing his attention to find her watching him curiously.
“I’d tell you that you were wasting your time,” Quinn said, meeting her gaze before adding, “Again.”
“Are you planning on taking your parents up on their offer?” Jenn asked, letting him know everything that he needed to know.
“You’re here to find out if Brooke has competition.”
“Something like that,” Jenn murmured as she considered him. “Are you?”
“I thought I’d wait and see how this plays out,” Quinn said since he had absolutely no plans of ever getting married.
He’d made sure that it would never happen.
One by one, he bought all the houses surrounding his, renovated them and either rented them out to older couples or sold them to his cousins, ensuring that none of his neighbors were single women that could fuck him over.
He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want children.
Christ, he wanted them more than anything, but that dream died when he found out that the woman sitting across from him was fucking half the town.
“You know exactly how it’s going to play out,” Jenn said with a careless shrug as she made her way to the door.
“Brooke doesn’t want children,” Tristan pointed out.
“She wants B.T. Construction,” Jenn said as she left, letting him know just how far Brooke was willing to go to get it.
“What do you think will happen if she goes through with this?” Tristan asked as he glanced out the window in time to watch Jenn make her way across the makeshift driveway.
“She’ll abandon the kid to the mercy of a string of nannies and divorce her husband as soon as the five-year mark is over,” Quinn said dryly as he watched Jenn climb into a sleek BMW while he sat there, debating his options.
He could wait until Brooke got the company and buy it from her, but since she hated him, she would probably charge him double what B.T. Construction was worth.
That is, if she didn’t run the company into the ground first.