The Hebert Brothers Collection

Prologue

Adele

This could not be happening.

I sat up straight and tried to control my breathing. It was a technique I’d learned in therapy after my dad died. There weren’t many things I could control in life, so I focused on box breathing. In for four, out for four.

Because the rage that was usually set to a low simmer inside me was threatening to boil up again.

“I think there’s a mismatch here,” he said, sitting back in his seat with the kind of unearned confidence that made me homicidal.

I clenched my fists. How was this happening again? I’d date someone for six months or so, and then they’d dump me. For any number of lame and questionable reasons.

I just wasn’t worth hanging on to.

As he explained, ad nauseam, why his work was so important and why he was so special, I zoned out, studying his face for clues as to how things had gone so wrong.

Weak chin, patchy stubble, and beady eyes. Long ago, I had learned to never go for the hot ones. They were always full of themselves and thought they could do better. I had liked Blake. He was quirky, and I enjoyed his dry sense of humor.

“I think we have different values, goals,” he said expectantly.

Licking my lips, I racked my brain for an appropriate response and came up empty. “Sorry?”

“I’m ambitious, and academia isn’t for the faint of heart,” he said slowly, like I was a child.

I snorted. I wasn’t sure what academia was for most of the time.

“And I’m in my thirties now. I need a partner who will be an asset when it comes to my career.”

God, I was such an idiot. I’d left work early and curled my hair, excited for a night out. We had made plans for him to spend the weekend, so I had deep cleaned my house and stocked the fridge in preparation.

In all these months, we hadn’t gone out much. Only to the annoying pub near campus where he and the other junior professors would drink cheap beer and one-up each other, each trying to establish themselves as the smartest of the bunch.

We had been dating for six months. Sure, we’d kept it casual.

I met him a few months after losing my dad in a truck accident, so I wasn’t in a place for serious.

But we’d been exclusive and having fun. I’d also spent those six months driving to Orono to see him because, apparently, coming to Lovewell was “inconvenient.”

I owned my own gorgeous home, while he lived in a dingy apartment with the other junior faculty.

But according to him, staying close to home was important because he needed to ensure he was rested and focused.

You know, because his job was so important.

Talking to bored, hungover freshman about the fucking Crusades.

And I was “just a mechanic.” Novel, sure, but ultimately unimportant to fancy fuckers with PhDs like him.

I was less important, despite my higher income, my position leading a large team, or the level the responsibility I was tasked with.

The entire point of my professional life was to ensure the safety of dozens of employees at Gagnon Lumber.

I could sense it, the anger and rage bubbling up inside me. It had taken thirty-plus years to learn to control. But right now, I wasn’t sure I could stop it, and I wanted to preserve my dignity.

“Just so I understand,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “You’re dumping me?”

He nodded, looking way too calm for someone who might be swallowing his teeth in the next few minutes.

“Then why are we here?” I hissed. “Why did you drive to my house and pick me up and take me to one of the nicest restaurants in the state?”

He shrank back. “I planned to do it when I arrived, but you looked pretty, you know, like you made an effort. I felt bad, so I figured we could have a nice meal.”

My eye twitched and bile rose in my throat. “Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t want to make this messy, Adele. It’s one of the things I really liked about you. How no-nonsense you are. Not like other women. I assumed you’d understand.”

And now I was ready to explode. It was how I operated.

Once wronged, I’d hate you forever. So despite how excited I’d been to spend the weekend with him, the switch had flipped.

I now despised him and wanted to throw him into the ocean.

“Understand what? That you think I’m not good enough for you? ” I snarled.

He paled, leaning forward. “Keep your voice down.”

I smiled, enjoying how nervous he looked. “Get. The. Fuck. Out,” I said slowly, swirling the wine in my glass.

“Don’t be hostile.”

“This is me playing nice. Leave. Now.”

I looked at him coolly, determined to retain my composure. Castrating him with a butter knife was oh so tempting, but I wouldn’t make a scene. He wasn’t worth it. There was no salvaging this. He didn’t see me as worthy, and I had learned a long time ago not to beg people to accept me or love me.

Sipping my wine and staring out the window, I ignored him as he walked out. I refused to give him any indication that I cared about his flat, pompous ass.

The waitress appeared, looking nervous. “You can take his beer,” I said, picking up my menu and giving her a quick smile. “I’ll be ready to order in a minute.”

She nodded and scampered off.

Another day, another insecure, unworthy man. Story of my goddam life.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t put myself out there. I’d joined the apps, and I went out of my way to leave my small town and head to where there were more options. I wore makeup and made small talk and attempted to be less scary.

But at five-eleven and with a traditionally masculine job, as well as a complete inability to suffer fools, most of the male population was scared off on sight.

I was beginning to lose faith. My mom and dad had adored each other, and they’d loved each other fiercely for almost forty years. I’d grown up witnessing the love they had for one another every day of my life.

So I knew it was possible. Companionship, love. Granted, my two older brothers were also chronically single, and my youngest brother, Remy, had an awful fiancée we barely tolerated. So maybe the soulmate kind of love was skipping this generation.

I wanted to hold on to my hope that someone would see the real me. But so far, every guy I’d met had decided I wasn’t worth it.

As soon as I was certain he had left the parking lot, I took a look around. I’d order dinner and then cross my fingers I could get a ride share to take me all the way back to Lovewell. If not, I’d swallow my pride and call one of my brothers.

The bar area was bustling with people chatting and drinking as the sun began to set outside. It was one of those industrial style places, with exposed duct work and water served in mason jars. Not really my style, but I was hungry, and I’d be damned if I let shithead Blake ruin my evening.

And then I looked up and met a familiar set of dark brown eyes.

Fuck me sideways.

Finn Hebert. At the bar. Staring at me. I reflexively reached for the butter knife on the table.

Of all the cocky asshole shitheads to witness me getting dumped.

Why did it have to be him? Was Mr. Canton, my sadistic eighth grade math teacher, unavailable?

Did Ritchie LaVoie, who’d taken my virginity and then joked about it with the whole school after, have a previous engagement?

Because while tonight had been humiliating as it was, knowing a Hebert, and that Hebert, of all people, had witnessed it, only made it worse.

All while looking especially handsome. His long hair was pulled back into a man bun. He was wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose the tats on his forearms, and his dark jeans were molded to his legs. The man wore clothes really well. Bastard.

Finding clothes that fit my tall frame was always a challenge. But this asshole was NBA-player tall and looked like he’d stepped out of a hot Viking lumberjack magazine.

He picked up his beer and sauntered over far too gracefully for someone who was the size of a baby giraffe.

“Everything okay?” he asked, looking down at me.

“Yes.” I glared at him. “My date had an emergency. I’m trying to enjoy my glass of wine.”

“Great. I’ll join you.”

Before I could protest, he had taken Blake’s chair and was leaning over to clink my glass with the lip of his bottle. I held my middle finger up against my wineglass.

He ignored my rude gesture, instead looking around the space. “I’ve never been here,” he said, bringing his beer to his lips.

I watched the muscles of his throat contract and raised one eyebrow. Why was he being so nice? Had he used all his dad’s money to buy a better personality? I was in no mood for chitchat, especially with this overgrown frat boy.

Briefly, I fantasized about whipping off one of my heels and throwing it across the table so it lodged in the middle of his smooth, tan forehead. My aim was impeccable. There was a reason I had won so many axe-throwing tournaments. And I knew I could do serious damage.

But then I dipped my chin, taking in my flats. Blake was self-conscious about his height, so I’d stopped wearing heels—though I had quite a collection—in order to appease him.

I smiled to myself. He was such a dickweasel. I wanted to go back to my shop, invent a time machine, and travel back six months so I could decline his offer to buy me that first drink. Because what had I been thinking?

Looked like I had hit the desperation stage. Perhaps I should call it a day and adopt some cats.

“Are you laughing at me or with me?” Finn said, interrupting my thoughts.

I pinned him with a sharp glare. “Obviously at you. I was planning my upcoming cat adoption. I’m prepared to fully embrace my spinster identity.”

“Seems a bit premature.” He dropped his forearms to the table so his hands rested not far from mine.

“I’m single, in case you were wondering.

” With that admission, he gave me a wink.

His posture was relaxed, and despite my better judgment, I was curious.

What had led this big, intimidating guy with all the tattoos, a young daughter, and a cocky smirk back to Lovewell?