So Wright: The Wrights

by Jordan, Skye

  Just as the enormity of this project and Miranda’s potential hit Jack, she turned onto another street, where the containers had been fully constructed into homes. And to his surprise, no two looked alike. They might have been variations on a theme, all modern and sleek, but each had its own individual layout and style. Some had pitched roofs, others a single slant of metal. Some had courtyards and pergolas, others had decks and lawns. All had small footprints, but some were single-story structures, maybe eight hundred square feet, and others were more spacious split levels or two stories with about twelve hundred square feet. The perfect size for the elderly who were struggling or downsizing.

  But while his professional opinion of Miranda skyrocketed, his personal emotions swirled with conflict. She’d kept her job at Pinnacle from him. She’d kept the scope of this project from him. She’d been willing to break off their relationship rather than confide in him. Him. Someone who could completely identify with her abilities and ambitions. Someone who had connected with her on the most intimate level.

  His father turned in his seat, meeting Jack’s gaze with all the amazement this project warranted. “I think we’ve been underutilizing Miss Wright’s expertise at Pinnacle.”

  22

  Miranda turned out of the last cul-de-sac of completed homes with nerves fluttering in her belly. Roman was clearly on board with her ideas and her ambitions, but Jack had been strangely silent, his only conversation a few words with Marty. He’d seemed keenly interested in the construction of the homes when they’d toured a few of the finished units, yet hadn’t asked one question, hadn’t offered one comment. He hadn’t even met Miranda’s gaze.

  Now, as she neared the main entrance, old fears resurfaced. She’d crossed paths with her share of pessimists and cynics on the road to building this community. She’d had several contractors tell her she’d never be able to keep the costs down. She’d had several architects tell her the community would end up looking like a trashy tin-can city. As far as she was concerned, she’d proven everyone wrong. She’d managed to keep the costs staggeringly low, and the homes might be small, but they were charming and unique. Miranda would have been ecstatic if she and her mother had been offered a home like one of these when she’d been a kid.

  Roman and Jon were talking about all the potential uses for builds like this one when Miranda took the last turn toward the site of the community center and the hub of the project. All her concerns were shoved to the back of her mind as she took in the sight and smell that greeted her. Three large food trucks had set up near the snack shack, and each had lines of volunteers ten deep. The picnic tables beneath the trees were filled with more volunteers enjoying lunch.

  “What in the…” She cut a look in the rearview mirror. “Marty, did you set this up?”

  Marty glanced beyond her. The surprise on his face gave Miranda her answer. “No, but what a damn good idea. We should have thought to do this months ago.”

  “Good timing,” Roman said. “That barbeque smells amazing.” He glanced at Miranda. “Let’s talk more over lunch. I’m seriously interested in investing.”

  That tripped a series of mini explosions through Miranda, from excitement to terror. Marty’s assessment of her being afraid to succeed suddenly seemed far more accurate than she would ever have admitted.

  Miranda worked up a smile for Roman. “Fantastic.”

  She parked the utility vehicle beside the others and spotted Gypsy fluttering among the volunteers. Her sister broke away from a conversation with an employee of Roxie’s Rolling Café and hurried toward Miranda.

  “Hey,” Gypsy said to Miranda before addressing the others. “Grab some lunch. Everything is free.”

  Marty didn’t seem surprised by this at all. He rounded up the other men and started toward the picnic area as a group.

  “Free?” Miranda asked Gypsy, expecting another shoe to drop. “How is it free?”

  Gypsy was looking at the men as they surveyed the food trucks. “Is that your guy?” she asked with a tone of approval. “The blond one?” She turned back to Miranda with a spark of excitement in her eyes, but there was also something more subdued in her expression. “He’s seriously hot.”

  Miranda’s gaze jumped to Jack. He sauntered behind the other men, head down, lost in thought. Yes, he was seriously hot. He wore jeans and a T-shirt today, along with a day’s worth of beard growth. Something was going on with him, and somehow, she was sure it meant trouble for her.

  “Gypsy,” Miranda said, drawing her sister’s gaze. “I sure as hell hope you didn’t promise these vendors we’d pick up the tab for lunch. I don’t even have enough cash to buy the welding wire I need to finish the first phase of the last set of containers.”

  Her gaze returned to Miranda, and she could see Gypsy looked a little haggard around the edges. Her complexion was a little too pale, her eyes a little too tired. Miranda was second-guessing her decision to get Gypsy on the schedule at Spur’s. Tonight was only a ten-to-two shift, but Miranda wasn’t sure Gypsy was up to it.

  “No, no,” Gypsy said. “Marty told me about this work weekend, and I thought it would be a nice treat to supply lunch. I called around to food truck companies, and everyone loved the idea of this project and jumped at the chance to help out. Plus, it’s great exposure for them and they get a tax write-off. I’ve got different trucks lined up every weekend for the next three months.”

  It took a few seconds for Gypsy’s selfless act to register. When it did, all the tension drained from Miranda’s shoulders. “Wow, Gypsy, that’s…incredible.” A new mess of emotions crowded her chest. “Thank you. This is a really special thing to do for the volunteers.”

  Gypsy smiled. “My pleasure. I’m excited I could do something to add to this amazing project.”

  “Hey,” Miranda said, “do you feel okay?”

  “Sure, why?”

  “You look a little tired. If you don’t think you can do that shift tonight, I’ll cover for you.”

  She waved away Miranda’s offer. “Oh no, I’ll be fine, but thanks. I’m looking forward to seeing this bar in action.”

  Someone from the cupcake truck called to Gypsy. She reached out and gave Miranda’s arm a squeeze. “Gotta go. Talk tonight? Marty’s going to fire up that amazing BBQ you built and have a few friends over. Bring Jack, okay? I want to meet him.”

  “Sure.” Then she thought about Roman. “Hey. There’s a guy who wants to talk to me about investing—”

  “Roman. Marty told me. Sounds like an amazing opportunity.”

  Miranda sighed. She was going to have to have a talk with Marty about his loose lips. “I’m really not good with all that complicated business stuff. Would you mind sitting in? Giving me your opinion?”

  The smile that lit up Gypsy’s face reminded Miranda of what a sweet kid she’d been.

  “You bet,” she said, then started toward the food truck with an extra spring in her step.

  Miranda watched Gypsy go with the strangest sensation of her world spinning completely out of control. She found herself searching for Jack. Somehow, she felt the sight of him would settle her nerves. He’d separated from the other men, and Miranda caught sight of him as he headed toward the parking area.

  Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. He couldn’t be leaving. Not without his father. She started to follow, but was stalled three different times by various people needing various things.

  By the time she cleared the Mad Mex food truck, she found Jack leaning against the hood of his car, head bent over an open binder, feet crossed at the ankles. Knowing he hadn’t bolted made her breathe a little easier. Jack was so engrossed in the binder, he didn’t hear her approach until she was close enough to see what he was looking at.

  “Hey, where’d you get that?” She reached out and grabbed a corner, but Jack was faster.

  He twisted away, pulling the binder out of reach and protecting it with his body. “None of your business.”

  She reached around him one wa
y, then the other, but his arms were too long, his body too big. Their grappling for control over the binder degraded into a ridiculous game of keep-away. Miranda found herself facing Jack but still unable to reach the binder because he held her at bay with one outstretched arm, his hand against her head. This was exactly the way Dylan used to play keep-away once he’d grown bigger than Miranda.

  “Can’t you see I’m studying here?” he asked with maddening civility.

  “Jack.”

  He bent his arm, and Miranda fell into him. Jack wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted the other, holding the binder way too far overhead for her to reach. “You’re so rude,” he said with a mock frown. “You need to work on that.”

  She stopped fighting and sank into the feel of his body against hers. He’d already seen too much. She couldn’t make him unsee it now. “Damn Marty and his big mouth.”

  Jack closed the binder with a flick of his hand and set it on the hood of his car, then closed his other arm around her. “For someone who says she can’t shut up about this project, you sure took your sweet time sharing it with the architect you’re sleeping with. Why did I have to hear all this from a man I don’t even know?”

  The disappointment in his voice stabbed at her. “You don’t know me either. We only met a week ago.”

  “It’s been over two weeks, and you’re not watering down what’s between us. We’ve both dated enough people in our lives to know when someone is special and when they’re not. We have something here, and you know it. Of all people who would understand and support your dream, I’d be your biggest fan. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

  Her stomach tightened. A mix of guilt and self-preservation warred. “I… You…”

  “Those designs, this project, it’s amazing, Miranda. Groundbreaking in so many ways. You’re talented and driven, and you’ve got a heart the size of Texas. It only gives me more to love about you. Why would you deliberately keep them from me? It’s not like this project is a secret. The whole fucking county knows about it.”

  “Seriously? You expect me to talk about making tiny homes out of tin cans when you’re designing award-winning skyscrapers?”

  “I hate the way you minimize—yourself, us. What you’re doing here is just as big as what I do, but on an epically more meaningful scale. I create buildings for wealthy developers, where people shop and work. You build homes for people who have next to nothing. You give hurting people not just a roof over their head but a place to call their own. A place to be proud of.”

  His words cut right to the heart of Miranda’s purpose. One that often got hidden beneath layers of process and management and bullshit. She too often lost sight of what she was doing and why and had to re-center herself to remember. Hearing Jack put it all into words so easily made her feel both exposed and celebrated.

  He heaved a sigh. “Are you ever going to let me in?”

  “I’ve been keeping people out for decades. It’s not exactly a switch I can flip.”

  He dropped his head back and stared at the canopy overhead. “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

  “Come to our place for barbeque tonight,” she said before she could think about it. “Fear fluttered in her belly. Fear of judgment. Of disappointment. Of rejection.

  He righted his head. “Our place?”

  She took a breath and forced herself to continue. “I live with Marty and his mom. Gypsy’s staying there too. She just told me he’s doing a barbeque tonight with friends.”

  He seemed to consider the offer, and for a long moment she thought he was going to say no.

  She slid her arms around his waist. “I’m…trying, Jack. This isn’t second nature to me.”

  He smiled. “You are definitely trying.”

  She laughed and jabbed his ribs.

  “Text me the address,” he told her. “I should get my dad home.”

  The fist in her stomach uncurled and her lungs released. Before she could step back, he took her face in both hands and searched her eyes. The affection and frustration there made Miranda want to run. This man wanted in. And that meant trouble for her heart. Big trouble.

  Then he kissed her, and all her apprehension melted with the heat of his mouth.

  When she pulled away, she made a quick grab for the binder, then tossed it through the open window of her truck hard enough to hit the passenger’s window before it bounced to the seat.

  He tilted his head with a smirk. “You know that doesn’t mean you win.”

  “Depends on the rules of the game.”

  “I’m just going to go in there and get it.”

  She’d done it as a tongue-in-cheek way of taking a little control back, and they both knew it. “Whatever.”

  He lifted one brow. “That your rig?”

  “Yeah,” she said, walking backward toward the hub. “Wanna make something of it?”

  “Yeah. I do.” He grinned, and the sight made her stomach float. “Later.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  23

  Miranda woke to the feel of Jack’s long, lean, naked body stretched along the back of hers. His morning erection pressed against her ass, making her smile.

  Their weekend together had been amazing. Jack spent his days with his family at home, his evenings with Miranda’s family and friends around the firepit, and his nights in Miranda’s bed. Gypsy had stayed in Elaina’s trailer, giving Miranda and Jack the much-needed time and space to smooth the rough waters between them and connect on an even deeper level.

  Now, she stretched, rubbing against him like a cat.

  Jack groaned, tightened his arm at her waist, and kissed her neck. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby.”

  She wrapped her arm back and around his head, sinking her fingers into his hair. “What makes you think I can’t finish it?”

  “The time.”

  Time? Miranda cut a look at the bedside clock. “Shit.”

  Jack’s chuckle vibrated against her skin. But when she threw the covers back, he tightened his arm around her and murmured, “Be late.”

  “I’m already going to be late.”

  “Then you may as well be really late.”

  She laughed, pulled his arm away, and rolled out of reach. Jack exhaled sharply, slumping against the bed with a sound of disappointment.

  After a two-minute shower, she pulled on her work clothes while Jack lounged in her bed, watching, barely covered by a sheet. All she wanted to do was sink back in beside him.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and pushed into her work boots. “Can I send you final numbers on Roman’s offer after I talk it all through with Gypsy tonight? I’d like another set of eyes. The thought of taking that kind of money makes me want to throw up.”

  Jack reached out and clasped his hand over her jean-clad thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Absolutely. But you’ve got this, baby. And, it’s just the beginning. I’m so excited for you.”

  She leaned back to give him a kiss goodbye, only to end up beneath him and breathless. “Oh my God.” She pushed against his chest and rolled to her feet. “You’re so going to get me fired.”

  He propped his head in his hand, grinning as she grabbed her lunch, wallet, and phone. “I have a feeling you won’t be at Pinnacle much longer, by your own choice.”

  With everything in her hands, she leaned over the bed to give him one more kiss, escaping just as he tried to pull her down again. She walked out the door with a whole new view of how big her world had grown over the past few weeks with Jack, Gypsy, and Roman now in the mix.

  She opened the door of her truck and tossed her things onto the passenger’s seat before grabbing the handle above the door and pulling herself into the driver’s seat.

  “Miranda, wait.”

  Gypsy came down the stairs of Elaina’s trailer wearing sweats, her hair tousled. And, damn, she didn’t look good. She looked…sick.

  “Are you okay?” Miranda asked as Gypsy came a
round the driver’s side.

  “Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you a minute.” She stood beside the open door and crossed her arms over her middle.

  “I only have a minute. Jack’s already made me late. Thanks for staying at Elaina’s, by the way. It was good for Jack and me to have that time together.”

  “Oh, no problem. I really like him. You two are good together.”

  Miranda glanced at her trailer and smiled, then refocused on Gypsy. “What’s up?”

  “Marty and I have been talking, and, well, to make it fast, he wants to sell me the bar.”

  Miranda opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

  “He says that it’s just gotten to be too much for him,” Gypsy said. “It’s growing too fast, and he’s tired of trying to keep up with it. I offered to manage it for him, but he said he’s done. He wants to fully retire.”

  All Miranda’s air leaked from her lungs, but she quickly realized this might be the best thing for both of them. “I guess the bar’s success has been both good and bad. Can you afford it?”

  Gypsy gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I have a hefty down payment to invest, and I can get a business loan easy enough. The revenue at the bar is more than I need to repay that loan and live. It’s not even as all-encompassing as my job at the club was. I’m confident I can handle it.”

  “You haven’t been feeling well, and those hours could be really hard on you.”

  “I can manage. I’ve been through worse. But Marty and I want to know that it’s okay with you, because that’s really our first priority, and I don’t want anything coming between us now.”

  Everything inside Miranda softened. Her walls seemed to be crumbling all over the place. First with Jack, now Gypsy. And it felt good. Right.

  So right.

  “If it’s what you and Marty want, then yeah, I’m totally okay with it. And I’ll help out as much as I can.”

  Gypsy grinned, then squealed, hoisted herself up on the running board, and threw her arms around Miranda. “Thank you.”