Seven.
Rhett
The scent of lavender and coconut flood my senses to the point I’m nearly pinning this woman to my chest. Fuck, she smells good. I inhale deeply just as her arms begin to fall and I’m forced to let her go.
Shea takes a tentative step away from me, having to swipe her eyes and the few tears that escaped her in her joy.
“Sorry, that was a tad bit unprofessional.” She laughs lightly.
“You just have no idea what this means to me, truly. I mean, after the other contractor bailed and dealing with the flood and Tyler…” She blows out a breath.
“It’s been a really testing few days for my sanity. ”
I nod, pushing my hands into my pockets to keep them from reaching out and pulling her back into my chest. “I get it,” I say, having to clear my throat of the rocks suddenly grating on my emotions. “I should mention that, yes, I’ll take the job, but scheduling is…going to be tight.”
Her face, as hopeful as it was, falls slightly. “Oh, like…?”
“My brother and I just took a pretty big job with a tight timeline for completion,” I admit. “If you still want me as your contractor, it’ll be early mornings, late nights, and weekends.”
Any free second I have is yours, gorgeous.
The thought has me nearly biting my tongue, but I settle for shifting to put a miniscule more space between us.
This is a bad fuckin’ idea…
“Yes! Of course, I want you,” she rushes to say, then blushes, shaking her straying wild locks. “Contracting—or contorting?” She snorts, giggling with a wave of her hands. “Wow, I’m really digging my own grave here.”
I chuckle, loving how easily flustered she gets. Does she have any idea how adorable she is when she’s like this?
“What I’m trying to say is, yes,” she breathes.
“I’m willing to work around whatever your schedule has available.
I was hoping nothing that’ll keep me here longer than three months, but…
I’d love to pick your brain on how we could potentially finish the basement, add a second bathroom, or even add an ensuite upstairs to the primary bedroom? ”
Three months. The two words sit on my chest like a weighted canon ball.
Shot through the heart. Damn.
“Ensuite is doable,” I say, because talking about the job is safer than thinking about her temporary stay. “Second bathroom depends on the plumbing assessment. Basement finish adds time but adds value if you’re planning to sell after.”
Her nose scrunches faintly at the word sell. “Right. Sell…”
“I can have some basic plans drawn up by tonight if you want to go over them,” I hear myself say, knowing damn well I shouldn’t.
She blinks. “Tonight?”
“Unless you’ve got plans.” What the hell am I doing? “There’s a local spot, Tavern Nine. Good food, decent people, they have live music on Saturday nights. We could go over the scope there, easier than standing on a porch.” And now you’ve just asked out a client, nice work, man.
Levi would have a fuckin’ field day if he was here right now. For all the times I’ve preached professionalism and boundaries to him on the job—here I am, doing exactly what I forbid him to do every other damn week.
Her expression goes from surprise to uncertainty.
“Are you—” She tilts her head, those brown eyes searching mine.
I hold her gaze steady, fighting not to show any fear.
Whatever she sees has her shaking her head before nodding.
“Yes, um, that sounds great, but Tyler has to come,” she says finally. “If that’s all right?”
“‘Course,” I say. “I can meet you there around seven.”
She bites her lip against a smile. “Seven it is, then.”
I head down the porch steps before I do something professionally inadvisable, like replace her teeth with mine to bite down on those lush, full lips of hers.
I shake off the thought. I’ve got plans to draw up.
Levi appears in the kitchen archway and takes one long look at the island covered in graph paper, measurements, and an open laptop with a nearly completed reno plan for both Shea’s property and the resort project.
“Huh,” he mutters, moving to the fridge and pulling out a longneck. He leans against the counter, his silence deliberate.
I save the draft I’m working on and look up. “Say it.”
He takes a swig from his beer. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Your silence is loud.”
“That’s your conscience,” he says with a smug grin. “I’m just drinking a beer.”
I lean back on my stool and drag a hand over my bristled jaw. The clock above the stove reads 5:47 PM. I need to shower, change, and be at Tavern Nine by seven with a printed set of preliminary plans and a clear enough head to get through a conversation with a woman I cannot stop thinking about.
“I took the reno job,” I say.
Levi nods slowly, not surprised in the slightest. “And the resort?”
“Both are manageable.”
“Uh-huh.” He sets his bottle down. “This the same job that has you blowing up three pages of graph paper on a Saturday evening?”
I grunt.
He picks up one of the discarded drafts, studying it. “It’s a good layout,” he says finally. “Smart use of the upstairs square footage with the ensuite addition.”
“That was Shea’s idea.”
He sets the paper down. “She the one who bought the Hargrove place, flooded it, then gave you heart eyes this morning?”
I snort, snatching his beer from in front of him. I take a long pull. “What the fuck does heart eyes even mean?”
My brother sighs heavily. “She’s from California.”
I meet his eyes, my hold on the cool glass bottle tightening. I know where he’s going with this. Hell, it’s been on my mind since the moment I heard three months mere hours ago. “It’s a legitimate job,” I grumble.
“I know it is.” He runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair, studying me for a beat, and I know he’s deciding whether or not to push me on this. “It’s just—”
“Don’t.”
“—you said—”
“I know.”
“—if you ever fall prey to another pretty tourist again—”
“I said, I know,” I bark, cutting him off. I scrub my face roughly. “Fuck, man. I know, okay? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
My groan turns into a growl mixed with a heavy sigh. Fuck. I can pretend not to know what’s happening here, plead my case to my brother, tell him it’s a job, bullshit my way through it. But I’d be lying to myself on top of everything else.
I’ve got a problem. A weakness, really. And it comes in the shape of pretty women who never stick around long enough to fill the void.
All they do is make it bigger when they go.
“You remember… What was her name? Addy, Ava…?”
I sigh. “Amy.”
Levi claps. “Amy, yeah. Anyway, doesn’t matter.
My point is, she was here for a three-week holiday renting old Tom’s cabin near the resort, and you were there every fuckin’ day finding shit to fix—for free, mind you.
” He shakes his head. “Tom sent you over to reseal the damn back door and I watched you work yourself into the ground trying to get the woman to notice you. And when she finally did? You had, what, a few days with her and she was gone.”
I grit my teeth, my jaw working as I chug the last of his beer. I set it down with a clack on the granite countertop, and magically, Levi sets a fresh one in front of me.
I pop the top. “I remember.”
“You should also remember that’s happened…at least four times since.”
“Your point?” Is he trying to make me feel like shit? Because it’s working.
When it comes to the men in my family, most women flock to their side.
My eldest brother, Butch, for example. Never had to do a damn thing to get a woman’s attention, all he had to be was an asshole and they were throwing themselves at his feet.
All Duke has to do is, well, be himself.
Beau acts like he could fuckin’ care less and somehow saves the damn day.
Levi, while still single and hating it, at least gets women’s interest, but he’s a try-hard. Or a try-too-hard, rather.
And then there’s me. The nice guy, the steady hand, the brother everyone can count on, and yet…I go unnoticed.
“My point is,” he starts, hands on the counter. “Get hard.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“Get hard. Go hard. Do the damn thing.”
I shake my head with a half-hearted chuckle. “How about we save the speeches for Duke.”
Levi rolls his eyes. “Make your feelings known from the get-go. Don’t pussyfoot around it this time. Stop waiting and start acting. Or…keep it professional, don’t eye-fuck her, or daydream about the what ifs—pick one and stick to it.”
Maybe he has a point. Could I do that? Open the door for more and throw my heart on the line? What’s the worst that could happen? She leaves? Been there before, and I got the bumper sticker to prove it.
I open my mouth to respond, but Levi keeps going.
“Or,” he says, “fuck her, get it out of your system, finish the job, cash the check, and move on.”
I frown. So much for that brotherly advice going somewhere.
I push up from my chair, grabbing my laptop and papers. “Forget it. It’s not worth the time.”
He scoffs, calling after me, “Says the guy who just took a side gig that’s going to suck every last free second he has.”
Asshole. I flip him off as I round the corner and head for my room, kicking the door shut behind me and toss everything on the bed. I stand there for a beat, staring at the work I just spent hours on, and my brother’s words ringing in my ear.
It’s been a long time since I’ve tried, I realize.
I try hard enough, don’t I? Or, do I not try at all? Is that what my brother’s getting at? Coming from the try-hard of the family, it’s probably nothing to be getting worked up over. And yet…
When was the last time I tried to win a woman over? Damn near feels like forever. So why not? Shea’s beautiful, smart, funny. Any guy would be lucky to catch her eye. And if Levi is right—can’t believe I’m even thinking those words—then I’ve caught her eye.
Maybe it’s time I try to win something for me.
Her.