by Elley Arden
“Tell me you don’t think he’s yummy,” Rena added.
With her gaze glued to the contract in front of her, Nel lied, “I don’t think he’s yummy.” She quickly followed the lie with a truth to calm her churning stomach. “I think he’s complicated, scarred, and a bit unstable.”
But the yummy part was getting harder to ignore. It changed complicated, scarred, and unstable to darkly handsome, tortured, and passionate — any number of words that dangerously romanticized the man’s flaws.
Rena scoffed. “You’re lying. Besides, even if he was all those things, who cares? He’s around for two months — less than that now — and then he’s all over the country playing baseball. No worries. If you keep it about sex, how complicated could it get?”
Nel should’ve known this would be the advice to come from a woman who had been having sex with the same man for four years — and she still refused to admit the man was more than a friend. From Rena’s perspective, two months was still acquaintance territory, and the perfect amount of time to cut loose without relationship strings attached. But from Nel’s perspective, two months was all it took for infatuation to render her stupid enough to let a man of questionable integrity mess with her head.
When Nel fell, she fell hard, opening herself up to being taken advantage of. She promised herself that what happened with Will would never happen with anyone, ever again. Business first. And when her business was thriving she’d have plenty of time to slowly, deliberately find someone to share her life with.
By then, Grey would be long gone.
“If we keep it about the house, it won’t get complicated at all,” Nel said. “That’s the best approach.”
“That’s the boring approach.”
The phone rang. “Saved by the bell,” Rena teased.
Nel wished, but a phone call wasn’t going to save her from the conflict brewing in her belly since spending the day with Grey. She could divide the hours into two groups: pre- and post-bombshell. She still couldn’t believe his father slept with his girlfriend. As a screen junkie, Nel had witnessed a lot of dysfunction in movies and on TV, but what Grey’s father did, seeing the pain of it in Grey’s eyes, trumped the most twisted plot — and had Nel seeing Grey … differently. She hadn’t completely changed her mind about him. No, it was more like she understood him, and she sympathized.
It sucked to be screwed by someone you loved. She had no idea what it felt like to have a father who was anything less than The World’s Best Dad, but she had a lover who ended up the biggest, lying, cheat in her world.
Sure, Will hadn’t been unfaithful in the classic sense, but in some ways what he did was worse. When he named a partner who wasn’t her after all his heartfelt promises, he might as well have slept with his entire female office staff. Betrayal was betrayal, no matter how it was cut. So, yeah, she got Grey. And “getting Grey” had her mind wandering; her thoughts indulging. That had her worried. What if she did something stupid like focus more on getting to know the man than renovating the house? As it was, in the last sixteen hours, she’d thought more about his tragic story and surprisingly beautiful smile than she did about wall colors and hardwood flooring.
A smile, no matter how gut-wrenching, wouldn’t make them a million bucks.
The longer Nel spent sweating in that house, the more she questioned her ability to command such a price. But after yesterday, she understood why he wanted the large sum … at least she thought she did. It probably was some sort of retribution, sort of like punitive damages for enduring what his father had done.
She wanted him to get every penny.
Despite the snarl of feelings and the nagging thought she should stay away from the house — and Grey — today, she planned to head over after work and tackle kitchen demolition. They’d be sledgehammering cabinetry and wielding power tools. They wouldn’t be standing around chit-chatting, getting to know each other better.
There was nothing to worry about.
Riiiiiight. Nel blinked and the empty contract beneath her fisted hands came into view. She needed to focus on her workday. With a shake of her head she determined to do just that.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Rena said, laughing.
Nel had no idea how long Rena had been off the phone, apparently watching Nel struggle with her thoughts. She looked up to rebut or brush off the playground rhyme with a snide comment of her own, but Rena had spun the screen of her laptop around so it faced Nel, and all seventeen inches of LCD filled with a full-color picture of a beardless, baseball cap-wearing, grinning Grey.
Rena laughed harder. “Yum, yum, baby.”
Staring at his smiling face, Nel couldn’t find a single brain cell willing to argue.
So it was going to be that way. Fine. She was attracted to him, but just because she was didn’t mean anything was going to happen.
• • •
Five hours later, creeping down Route 19, Nel gave herself props for managing to stop home to change and still make it to the Kemmons house with daylight to spare. Leaving the office early was one of the perks of being a business owner. And she was doing all of this — from grueling manual labor to unsettling interaction with Grey — for the sake of her business, she reminded herself.
Focus on the prize.
The real prize wasn’t commission on a million-dollar home, although that was nice. No, the real prize was staking a claim on an upper-class neighborhood. A realtor’s business thrived on referrals. Nel had seen entire neighborhoods claimed by one firm on the merits of one fast, lucrative sale. To stake her claim on Mulberry Run and expand into the Glenridge neighborhood would change the demographics of her business, not to mention increase her income.
Something she thought about with a little less enthusiasm … staking a claim here would also put her head-to-head with Will Fortune, who’d been trying to weasel his way into the South Hills for two years now. But it was slow going for someone so entrenched in the northern suburbs. He’d been lucky a time or two, but nothing made enough of an impact to translate into a referral base that mattered. Heck, Nel hadn’t seen a FOR SALE sign in these parts for at least a year; partially because people loved the neighborhood, and partially because listings stalled in the dead of winter.
But that was about to change, and Will wasn’t going to like it.
Despite the shard of gloom that wedged between Nel’s breasts whenever thoughts of Will came around, she smiled up at the Kemmons house, slowing the car’s speed so she could appreciate the stunning Georgian-style mansion. All the physical labor and mental turmoil was going to be worth it in the end.
The garage doors were open.
Turning into the driveway, Nel glimpsed Grey standing in the middle of the three-car garage, staring at his feet. He had what appeared to be a broom handle shoved into a drain that was overflowing with black goo.
When she pulled into the drive, he looked up, a twisted expression on his face.
It was all going to worth it in the end, wasn’t it?
She pushed out of the car, shoving her keys into her back jean pocket. “That doesn’t look good.”
His grimace tightened. “It’s not,” he said, looking down, drawing Nel’s gaze along with him. Black sludge continued to bubble from the backed-up drain. “About that plumber … ”
Nel slipped her phone from her front pocket and scrolled through her contacts. She wasn’t happy about the setback, but she was happy she could further prove her worth to Grey — from a professional standpoint. She liked to earn her money.
“It’s going to cost me an arm and a leg, isn’t it?” Grey asked.
“Nah. I’m really close with the guy. He’ll give you a good deal.”
When her brother answered, she turned her back on Grey and walked down the driveway out of earshot.
• • •
She had a boyfriend. Of course she had a boyfriend. Whatever made him think she didn’t? And why did it bother him so much?
Unbelievable. He jammed the end of the broom handle he was strangling into the drain, knowing full well it wouldn’t do a damn thing to break the clog. Staring down sewage, and his biggest concern was Nel’s relationship status? Idiot. All the construction dust must’ve coated his brain, making it too clogged to function. Just like the fucking drain. He stabbed it again.
“That’s not going to help.” She strolled up the driveway, lifting the bottom of her Pitt sweatshirt to slip her phone into her front pocket. Her jeans were tight, her stomach flat, and he glimpsed pale skin before she dropped the hem. His gut clenched. Now was not the time to be horny, and Nel was not the woman to be horny for. He would never make a move on a woman who was taken — he was not like his dad.
“I know it’s not helping,” he snapped, sucking too much ripe air into his nose and nearly gagging. “How long until your boyfriend gets here?” Smooth; real smooth.
She stopped, standing outside the garage, eyes wide. He wondered how much of his moodiness she’d take before she walked away. No commission could be worth dealing with him.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Whether from his attitude or the smell in the garage, her nose wrinkled. “He’s my brother.”
Grey’s grip loosened on the broom handle. He wished he wasn’t so relieved. He also wished he never brought up the topic in the first place, because now he was dying to know if she had a boyfriend.
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she said, seemingly reading his mind. And then she shot him a wrinkled-brow look full of attitude. “I’m sick and tired of stroking egos.”
Despite the fact that he figured the stroking egos comment was directed at him, he felt a grin coming on. She was feisty and brave, and he liked it — he liked her.
So she didn’t want to stroke his ego. Lucky for him, there were other things she could stroke.
His grin was cut short by a gurgling sound at his feet.
“I bet it’s tree roots,” she said, stepping closer, but standing outside the ring of black.
Her shoulders sagged as she shook her head. The gesture socked him in the gut, making him wince. “Brother or no brother, how much time and money is this going cost?”
“A lot.” She nodded. “Best case scenario, Paul runs a cutter down the line and breaks up the roots, but you’ll have to note it on the seller’s disclosure, which could hurt us during negotiations.”
Grey returned to strangling the broom handle, so hard now he was surprised the wood hadn’t cracked. “And the worst case scenario?”
“The garage floor and driveway down to the curb gets jackhammered so the terracotta pipes can be replaced with PVC, and then new concrete will have to be poured when the job is done.”
He closed his eyes and wished for a whiff of fresh cut outfield grass. Once again, he questioned why he was here and what he was hoping to prove. Wouldn’t going to see his newborn nephew be a big enough gesture of brotherly love where Jordon was concerned? Maybe.
But Grey couldn’t walk away now. He owned this godforsaken house with the master bedroom he couldn’t enter for fear of getting physically ill, and the gutted kitchen, and the backed-up sewer, and …
The urge to throw the broom handle against the garage wall overtook him. He yanked the stick from the hole and opened his eyes, a muscle twitch away from launching the wood from his hand. But Nel was standing there.
“Why is it so important to you?” she asked, her voice not a whisper, but not the usual matter-of-fact tone he was used to, either. “Making a lot of money on this house isn’t going to change what he did.”
They were words he didn’t want to hear. Flicking his wrist, he sent the broom handle skipping across the garage floor in the opposite direction of Nel.
“Maybe not. But he owes a million bucks to somebody important, and that’s a debt I’m going to make sure he pays.”
“Sounds like something you should let the police handle.”
Grey scoffed. “It’s too late for that.” Stepping outside the mess on the garage floor, he walked to the lowest corner where he could breathe fresh air. He pressed his back to the cinderblock wall and drove a hand through his hair. “This is the only way to pay back my brother.”
Once again he’d shocked her with something he said. She walked closer, brows arched high, shoulders rising and falling with each noisy breath.
“Your father owes your brother a million dollars?” she asked.
“Yep.” And even though he didn’t have to tell her more, for some reason he wanted to. “Years ago, he was Jordon’s agent. He negotiated a million-dollar signing bonus, and took the money and ran.”
More noisy breathing, and then silence as she gnawed her bottom lip.
“He wasn’t a very nice man,” she finally said.
“The worst.” But he decided to keep the extent of it to himself.
“I’m sorry.”
Grey nodded, sorry too, but unable to voice the sentiment past the thickening in his throat.
“What about your mother?”
The vacuum in his heart sucked free the blockage in his throat. “She died. A long time ago.”
A harsh expletive slipped from Nel’s pink lips, the ugly word so foreign coming from such a pretty woman, he almost smiled.
“I’m messed up,” he said instead.
“Nah. All things considered, I think you’re doing well.” She stepped closer, sweeping a hand to her side, gesturing to the mess. “Dealing with all this for your brother’s sake? When you could be … I don’t know what baseball players do when they aren’t playing baseball, but surely you could be doing something better than this. This is amazing.”
It didn’t feel amazing. Being here felt physically and mentally exhausting. Between the dogs and the memories, he wasn’t sleeping through the night, despite sixteen-hour days spent wielding a sledgehammer and power tools. At this rate, he’d show up in Florida too tired to run down a shot to the wall.
Nel stood beside him, placing a hand on his sleeve. “We’re going to fix this house, and then we’re going to make a million bucks. I promise.” She squeezed his arm and let loose a smile that pinked up her cheeks and shined in her clear blue eyes.
Now, that? That felt amazing. And he smoothed his hand on top of hers to tell her so.
CHAPTER SIX
Nel jumped when she heard a car engine, ripping her hand from underneath Grey’s and spinning around to see Paul’s van rolling up the driveway. She widened her guilty smile and waved frantically, a heavy thumping in her chest.
She was in big trouble … and it had nothing to do with the sewer.
“Hey,” Paul called, as his work boots dropped to the cement.
“Hey,” Nel called back, conscious of the slight quiver in her voice. Her face felt on fire. Her mouth was bone dry. And all her traitorous brain wanted was to turn back the clock to the moment when Grey’s hand rested on hers, and she’d been lost in the magnetic pull of his gorgeous eyes.
Stupid.
Paul clomped past her, his tool belt weighed down with wrenches and a filthy flashlight. He was dirty, but he was always dirty. Even clean Paul looked gritty. Somehow all that grime didn’t dull the shine of his great big heart. As far as brothers went, he was the best. When they were little, he’d been the only one to let her crawl into his bed during thunderstorms, and when she was a teen, and Johnny Krebs had called her flat-chested, Paul threw a punch to defend her honor. And here he was today, after hours, away from his wife, helping his little sister out again.
“Paul Parker.” He held out a hand to Grey. “I hear you got tree roots.”
“That’s what Nel says.” Grey glanced at her, making eye contact and Paul seemed to disappear.
&
nbsp; She stood there, locked in unsettling, silent communication with Grey, but she had no idea what information was being exchanged.
Was he mad she suggested tree roots? Did he doubt the claim? But he didn’t look upset. His eyes were soft; the skin around them smooth. And she had the deliciously unsettling feeling he was thinking about her in a most favorable way.
She looked away.
“Let me hook up my machine and see what we find.” Paul headed back to his truck, leaving Nel and Grey in awkward silence.
She poked the toe of her tennis shoe into a crack in the cement and determined to keep things professional. After all, she had no proof it was anything but. Reassuring touches did not equal lustful moments.
As if to test the theory, she stole a glance at him. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the drain, while she stood at the edge of the garage, wringing her hands. He didn’t seem to be showing signs of the unrest that plague her; probably because he wasn’t thinking the same way about her. She wanted to believe it, but the air buzzed with something uncomfortable, something that pushed on Nel’s chest, urging her to speak.
On the heel of those thoughts, what would she say?
“Paul’s a good plumber.” Not that. Dork. She wanted to slap herself in the forehead.
Grey didn’t lift his head all the way, but he lifted enough to see her. His eyes crinkled at the edges. “Good to know.”
“I just didn’t want you thinking he’s not as good as someone else, because he’s my brother.”
He stared at her a little too hard, a little too long. “Yeah, I wasn’t thinking about your brother at all.”
Her heart lodged in her throat, trapping a whimper. The intensity of his gaze heated her face all over again.
“Have you had trouble with the drains before?” Somehow Paul’s question and the clanging of the machine he pushed up the driveway were louder than Nel’s pounding heart.