by Ginny Frost
Brett grinned. “Oh, yes. You will.”
“I called your brothers, too. Ted is out, but Ryan’s already on his way. God bless you rednecks with your four-wheel-drive trucks.”
Anger coiled in his gut. Forget the redneck comment, which normally would have earned Stanley a beatdown. But he called Ryan? Seriously? Why did Little Brother have to be called in?
Dealing with Jo’s mother sucked bad enough, but to add stuck-up, know-it-all little bro to the mix? He didn’t need this shit. For one full second, he considered refusing the job, throwing Jo over his shoulder, and staying in bed until spring.
Jaw tight, he said, “Ryan, huh? Before you called me, you called him?”
On the other end of the phone, Stanley hedged with an odd sound in his throat. “Well, I called your cell, then the shop. Your dad always used to be there, day or night. I got Ryan. The call must have forwarded, and…”
His words became faster and faster as Brett’s silence loomed. Finally, the guy lost his cool.
“Jesus, Brett. I thought we were doing this legit, with the right forms and paperwork filed. Not on the DL behind Ryan’s back. I mean your dad.”
Rage burst up from his stomach. No longer a little tickle in his gut. Ryan, always Ryan. Brett, Dad, and Ted made Kramer and Sons what it was. Ryan breezed into town and everyone peed their pants to get ahold of him. Ryan was no better at carpentry and electric than another Kramer. Why did they fawn over him when Brett stood there, tools in hand, ready to get the job done?
Time to stop the nonsense. “Shut up, Stanley. I’ll be there when I can. Tell Ryan.” Standing, he crossed to the phone base and slammed the receiver down. He kept the old red phone for the satisfaction of doing that. Clicking End on a cell phone didn’t feel the same.
A light touch danced on his arm, and he spun, ready to launch his fury. Jo stood next to him, her eyes wide.
Brett stepped back. “I’m sorry, Jo. I just…” He scrambled for the right words. “Stanley called my little brother, and…”
“And it pushes your buttons?” she asked. “You mentioned things were tense, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. What’s the deal?”
Brett scrubbed the back of his neck, feeling stupid and childish for the rivalry. But it still chapped his ass whenever Ryan bested him. Not supposed to be in charge of the company, not supposed to have the best job, best girl, best everything. Ted first, then Brett, and maybe something left over for the little shit.
“I, uh…” He didn’t know where to start. “Ryan took over my dad’s business, kinda shutting out me and my other brother. I work for him now.”
“And you hate it?” She raised an eyebrow, but not her voice, as if she weren’t judging him.
Curious.
“Of course, I hate it. He’s my little brother. I don’t want him to be the boss, my boss. I’ve worked for Dad since I was sixteen. He never considered me when he handed over the company to Ryan. Now I’m stuck.”
A nervous tickle danced along his limbs. It always happened when he focused too much on perfect Ryan and his complete success in the universe. Brett threw up his hands and headed for the mudroom.
“Now I gotta go dig out the Excelsior, and Ry is probably already there, finished the work, and fixed the rest of the old wing.” He huffed, pulling on his coat, knowing half of what he said constituted bullshit, and the other half made him feel like a failure.
“Huh,” Jo said. She studied him from the kitchen as he threw on his big coat. “But you are going to the hotel anyway?”
He glanced over in time to see her raise an eyebrow, and he scoffed. “I gotta go. It’s my job. You can stay here. I’ll ramp up the woodstove, and the couch is comfy.” He sat on the bench to pull his boots on, and Jo slid in next to him.
“You’ll need some help.”
“No. And your mother…”
“It’s my problem. Let me help. I can talk to your brother.” She nudged his shoulder.
“My brother is my problem. Look, I’m gonna head back, plow the parking lot, and shovel some. Fix the generator.” He shrugged.
“Let me help with the snow and the brother. Well, at least I can be there for you.” She cocked her head, looking like an adorable puppy. Why the hell she did she want to insert herself into his stupid problems? ’Course, he’d never once mentioned problems at work with any woman he dated. Were he and Jo dating? He did sleep with her on her wedding night. The thought drew a smile to his lips, and he let out a chuckle.
“Fine. Come with. But Ry’s got a new chick. So don’t even think about…”
“Running off with your brother after dallying with you?” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if considering.
Brett nudged her this time.
She met his gaze, a wry smile on her lips. “I would never. Besides, it’s a matter of perspective. Like with my mother. She’s always seen things one way. And I saw it differently. You and Ryan need to check your point of view.” She tapped his arm and stood. “Which one of these giant coats won’t swallow me whole?”
Chapter Nineteen
Jo sat quietly in Brett’s truck as they pulled into the Excelsior’s lot. The trip had taken a while. He epitomized the perfect winter driver. Every drift, every deep pile, every awkward stop became child’s play for Brett. He even stopped once to help someone out of a jam. She liked him a little more with each mile back to the hotel.
Not to mention, his superior driving distracted her from thinking about her mother and the confrontation awaiting her. Worry wasn’t the adjective to describe her mindset. More disinterested amusement. Mom could say whatever she wished. Jo had no use for anything she might say at this point. A surprise wedding, who does that?
She was here for Brett. Her whole purpose in returning stemmed from his expression when talking about his brother. With no siblings, she didn’t understand the rivalry, but Brett felt it—and hard.
She wanted to support him, but also show that people in their thirties don’t need those birth-order roles anymore. He was a man in his own right, but a reminder never hurt.
The exterior of the Excelsior looked both menacing and inviting when they pulled up. Piles of white fluff covered every surface. How would he plow out the white lumpy blanket of a parking lot? The snow made the place seem homey, but the rows of dark windows lent an ominous atmosphere.
No lights shone in the lot, and a few rooms were lit on the left side of the building, where her room and most of the wedding guests were. Odd flickers flashed on the first floor, and one window shone brighter than daylight. What is going on?
Brett hemmed as he drove through the lot. He’d already lowered the plow on his truck and moved through the strip to the end of the last row. He turned and headed down the first row, but it was already plowed. The semi-clear asphalt path ended at another pickup parked by the front door.
Brett sighed.
“Ryan’s here already. Doesn’t it figure? He must have jumped in his truck as soon as the call went out. Son of a bitch.” Brett slammed a fist on the dash, his jaw tight.
Jo placed a hand on his arm, urging him to ease up the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “Does it matter? He’s plowed one row, and the power isn’t fixed yet. You still have time to swoop in and rescue everyone.”
He scoffed. “I’m no superhero,” he said, slumping in his seat. Deftly, he plowed out several parking spaces and backed the truck into one.
Jo grinned. “Who says you’re not?” She placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Now let’s go save the day.” She rubbed her hands together, a smile crossing her lips.
“Yeah, but your ma… I don’t want you to think you have to…” He hesitated. How cute.
Turning to face him, she said, “Brett. I’m an adult. I can handle my mother. I’m not at fault here.” She stated the words with cool confidence, hoping he’d see the similarity in his situation. She knew nothing about the real dynamic between the man and his brother. There might be some serious underlying conflicts.
If she could face her mother, he’d deal with Ryan.
He stared at her for a moment, then blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Okay. First, we’ll talk with Stanley and get a job list. I’ll divide up the work with Ryan. I don’t know if Stanley’s day guy is still here or not. But since he couldn’t fix the Wi-Fi, I got no hope he’ll get the generator running.” He pulled in a deep breath and exited the truck.
***
Brett closed the door with a bit of slam. The anger still boiled in his stomach, but Jo made an excellent point. They were adults. Ryan had no right to call him down like a little kid. He’d help Stanley and put the place back on its feet. Just another snowstorm, the same as the eight last winter. He crossed to the back of the truck in time to meet Jo walking around from her side. He put his hand out for hers as if they’d done it a million times.
Head ducked, she gripped his hand, her cheeks pink. Probably from the wind. But he grinned anyway, loving her shyness. Together, they strode inside. The lights in the lobby flickered, dimmed, and then brightened in the three seconds they stood there. The clerk, Tiffany, stood at the desk. Her mouth opened in an O when she saw Jo’s hand clasped in his. Good, maybe now the chick will leave him alone.
“Where…?” he started, but Tiffany raised her arm and pointed to Stanley’s office. Brett nodded and pulled Jo in after him. No way was he leaving her without backup. Tiffany probably already grabbed the phone to dial up Jo’s ma.
Inside Stanley’s office, the tension was palpable. Ryan stood on one side of the desk, Stanley on the other. Their matching scowls spoke volumes. Brett’s gaze flicked from one man to the other, Jo’s words echoing in his ears. “See him as another adult.”
“What’s the ’sitch?” he asked, ready for Ryan to berate him for arriving late or leaving, or for Stanley to complain about the quality of his work. Neither man said a word, just stood scowling at each other. He glanced back and forth between the two, waiting for an answer.
None came.
I don’t need this shit.
“What’s the biggest issue? Power or a snow-plower?” He grinned at his little joke. Jo slapped his arm, and he winked at her. She shook her head.
“Apparently, the building has many power issues, starting with the Wi-Fi today,” Ryan said. “Know anything about that?” His gaze swiveled to Brett, but the anger still pointed straight at Stanley.
What the fuck?
“Yeah, Jo and I fixed…” Brett glanced at the lovely Josephine. “Jo fixed it. The router had… issues, and she handled it. So what’s the problem now?”
Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but Stanley cut him off. “The power situation is more complicated than the Wi-Fi thing.” He waved a hand as if dismissing the issue. “Ernie failed to inform me about the problems with the panels downstairs. He also neglected to do maintenance on our backup generators. We are in a hole here, gentlemen.” He glared at Ryan, and something prickled at Brett’s neck.
“Don’t fucking tell me you are blaming Kramer and Sons for your current situation.” Brett scowled at the manager. “The hotel is a big fucking place, and you should have a dozen guys working here to keep it up.”
Stanley held up a hand to speak, but Brett plowed through him.
“You hired us to renovate a few old rooms, not to do electrical work, not to plow your lot, not to maintain your generators.”
“Perhaps you don’t understand the entire situation here, Brett.” Stanley’s tone implied Brett was a toad of a blue-collar worker.
Brett snorted through his nose at the comment. Fuck him.
Ryan placed a hand on Brett’s arm. He snatched it away, turning his fury on his little brother.
“Did you or Dad forget to mention something when you sent me here?” He filled the words with anger and sarcasm, not caring if it cost him everything—the job, the girl, the brother.
Ryan blinked at him. As usual, he seemed clueless when he fucked up and someone called him on it.
“Whoa, Brett. Let’s put the blame where it lies. Stanley called me when the power went out, and he didn’t understand how to get the generators running.”
The tension built higher until the air seemed too thin to breathe. I should leave. He wanted to take Jo home and enjoy a nice quiet snowy weekend with her. Not sit here and listen to more bullshit about his terrible job skills.
He reared back, ready to blast both men for their assholeness and rage-quit, but Jo grabbed his hand. “Hold on there, superhero. What is the conflict here, gentlemen? Was Brett hired as a contractor, or a maintenance man?”
Damn, she put it so precisely, he could kiss her. But better not. It might blow his angry mindset, and these two might need a beat down.
“Contractor,” Ryan said.
“Maintenance,” Stanley said.
Ryan scratched his chin and glanced over to Brett. “What’s your call, bro?” A twinkle in his eye said he was up to something.
Brett stared at his little brother for a second before it clicked. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the documents on there. Dad always insisted they have the paperwork for every job with them. Digitizing the records had been Brett’s idea.
He tapped the doc on his phone. “Here’s the contract from the owners, signed for the job—Spencer Drake and Oliver Weston.” He handed the phone to Stanley. “It says here: Renovation to west wing’s bathrooms. Seems clear to me, but we can call Mr. Drake or Mr. Weston for clarification.”
Stanley threw his hands up. They had beaten him. Stan was always a schemer. Nice to watch the old con artist taken down a peg.
“So, when we’re done plowing, I expect a check to be ready.” He winked at Ryan and led Jo out into the lobby.
Chapter Twenty
Brett stamped the snow off his boots before entering the Excelsior again. The wonder twins stood at the desk, eyeing him with disdain. Who cared? He did the job, saved Stanley’s ass again.
The now-functioning generator slowly heated the frosty hotel. The parking lot was clear, and he managed not to bury any guest cars as he cleaned. Job done, mostly by himself. After shoveling the sidewalks, Ryan must have scuttled back to Stanley’s office to drink the good scotch.
Fuck them anyway. Brett solved the problem on his own, as he’d done a thousand times for Dad.
Inside the building, he made for the lounge to find Jo. Hopefully, her monster of a mother wasn’t aware she'd returned. He pictured finding her as he did the first day, nose buried in her laptop, oblivious to the universe around her. He’d have to break her of the habit. Not because he wanted all her attention, but some blue-collar boob might proposition a pretty woman on her own and end up taking her home. Thank God, he was the first idiot to hit on her.
Before he disappeared into the lounge, the office door opened. Ryan called to him.
Yep, drinking the scotch with the asshole. Brett grumbled.
“Can I speak to you a minute?” Ryan asked.
Brett stopped short with a huff. He was tired, smelly, and wanted to take his new girl home. He had no desire to fight with him.
“Sure,” he said, without too much disgust. He spun around and marched into the office, not bothering to glance at his brother.
Throwing himself into the armchair, Brett scowled, poised to defend himself and quit the job. Not the best decision, but he wasn’t ready to lose face with Ryan yet.
No Stanley behind the desk. What the…? He glanced over at Ryan, who plunked down in the chair next to him.
“Fifteen minutes to get the generator going again?” Ryan spoke the words with a casual air, which made the hair on Brett’s neck stand on end. His brother let out a low whistle. “Impressive.”
Brett glowered. “I had to dig the damned thing out. Snow and ice covered the intake because Stanley can’t hire a competent maintenance man.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the other shoe to drop. No way Ryan would be nice after that.
“Stanley and I were talking. He thinks he found the perfect maintenance
person.” He tipped his head, and Brett received the message loud and clear.
Maintenance at an old hotel? Fixing Wi-Fi, cleaning clogged drains, and rewiring ancient outlets. Yeah, the dream job he always wanted—cleaning other people’s shit for a living.
Great.
Since he no longer wanted to work for Kramer and Sons, he might not have a choice. The commute would suck, but maybe Stanley could swing rooms for him to live in.
He blinked, not wanting to consider that road yet. He wasn’t ready. He wanted to spend a snowstorm stuck with his new lady, listening to her crazy computer stories, and enjoying her body. Ryan’s gaze never faltered for a second.
Brett sighed. Time to embrace the inevitable. “So, where’s Stanley with a cherry offer for me? I don’t got all night.” He pressed his lips together, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.
Ryan blinked, sitting back in his chair. “He and I… talked. He wanted to know what kinda deal to offer to get you here permanently.”
“Please tell me you didn’t sell me to the bastard for magic beans, Ry. I’m in no mood for this. I spent the last couple hours…”
Ryan held up a hand. “Stanley threw some interesting carrots out there. Salary in the mid-seventies, free room, discount at the restaurant.”
Brett threw his hands in the air and bolted from the chair. He paced the room as Ryan sat watching. An offer like that? More than he made at Kramer and Sons. But he’d be working for Stanley, a bigger dick than Ryan. And just maintenance, not building, creating, working with people to make their dream project become a reality.
He didn’t want that.
He stopped behind his chair, gripping the top of the headrest. “Where’s Stanley with his great offer?” he repeated.
Ryan crossed his legs, his posture pure relaxation. “I asked him for a minute of your time first.”
Here came the counteroffer. Family tradition, loyalty, and Dad’s wishes as the topping on the cake. He braced his arms, ready to say no to whatever Ryan was about to offer.