As they neared the other entrance, he let out an oath. If anything, the cracking paint and wallpaper, as well as the molding beams, looked even worse than before. If they hadn’t already done a full sweep of the place to make sure it was safe to even stand under the damn roof, he wouldn’t even be inside. This was going to be one hell of a job, and if he’d been in any other mood, and if it had been any other place without the strings that came with it, he might have been more excited about the prospects of being part of the restoration.
The place had good bones, he had to give it that, but that was about it. And, normally, while good bones were the reason he did this job and loved it—at least, usually—sometimes, he wanted to kick someone for letting a place get to this. Yeah, he’d be out of a job in that case, but to see something that had once been so grand and intricate end up the way this place was, hurt.
Buildings needed care, and most of the time, people sucked and didn’t do it.
“You’d think with a family with this kind of money, they’d take care of their shit a little better,” Graham grumbled.
“Good to know what kind of attitude you’ll have on the job,” a sultry voice said from behind him.
Owen mumbled a curse while Murphy’s eyes widened. Graham tightened his jaw. Great. The little heiress was finally here, and now he had to deal with whatever shit she’d brought with her.
He turned on his heel, rolling his shoulders back as he did. The shock to his system at the first look of her was a jolt.
Shit, were heiresses supposed to look that good in a business skirt?
Of course, they are, he thought to himself. They spent all their money on their clothes and whatever they needed to look the way they did, rather than taking care of the important things in their possession like the home they’d once lived in. God forbid this woman get her hands dirty to clean up the mess that the people residing here had left.
Her long brown hair had streaks of lighter colors in it, like blonde and chestnut, though she’d pulled it back in a tight bun at the base of her neck so he couldn’t see how long it was.
Her eyes were large, but not too big for her face, and had this honey brown hue to them that looked as if they might change color in different lighting. Her cheekbones were prominent, but not in the malnourished way that the one chick who’d hit on him at the last site had had. She wore a light brown business jacket with silver buttons over a cream shirt and a very tight skirt that matched the jacket.
If he weren’t already in a pisser of a mood, he might have wanted to see how far that skirt would slide up her legs as he fucked her. Especially with those tall heels she wore that had the little straps at the ankles to keep them in place.
And that was a train of thought he needed to end right now. He didn’t know this woman, and while his groin might have one idea, his brain needed to focus on the fact that someone had neglected this house for years. Yeah, it might not exactly be her fault, but she was here, and he needed someone to blame.
It made him an asshole, but frankly, he didn’t have enough coffee in his system to not be one. And add in the fact that this month was one he’d rather not think about…
She was lucky he didn’t walk right out and say “fuck it” to the whole project.
Owen cleared his throat next to him, and Graham held back a groan. That was why he didn’t have the option of leaving, and why he probably shouldn’t be a dick when it came to this woman.
But something about her rubbed him the wrong way, and apparently, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“If you don’t like my attitude, you can walk, princess.” Owen and Murphy each groaned under their breath. Hell, why was he acting like he was a toddler who’d stubbed his toe? He needed to get a freaking grip.
The woman narrowed her eyes before looking toward Owen. “You’re the one dressed for this, so I take it you’re in charge?” She pointedly didn’t look at Graham, and he couldn’t blame her, even though it annoyed him.
Owen moved forward, pushing Graham out of the way as he did so, and held out his hand. “Owen Gallagher. I’m the Construction Manager listed on record, and have been the one speaking with who I presume is your estate lawyer. These are my brothers, Murphy and Graham. They own the company with me, though in the future, you’ll only have to talk with me.” He laid on that Gallagher charm that had skipped Graham completely today.
“Blake Brennen.” She took Owen’s hand in a quick shake and then let go. She nodded at Murphy before turning to Graham. “If you have a problem working here, then leave. I’m only here because I’m listed on the estate as the executor, and because the will demands this restoration. I’m out of options. I really don’t care if you have a problem with me, but I will have a problem if you make mistakes on the job because of it.”
Graham’s brows rose, an inkling of respect and curiosity about the woman in front of him sliding through his defenses. The fact that she didn’t seem to want to be here any more than he did intrigued him.
“We’re here because this place needs help,” Owen said smoothly. At her snort, Graham’s lips quirked. “It’s true, and you can see it. I don’t know the full history of the place other than what’s in the documents I have, but I do know it has heart.”
Blake’s eyes hardened. “It might have had it once, but it doesn’t now.”
Interesting.
Owen cleared his throat, but it was Graham who spoke next. “The place went to shit, but we’ll fix it.” He paused, letting her gaze rake over him. He couldn’t help but like that part, even if on first sight he didn’t like her. “That’s what we do. We’re Gallaghers.”
She tilted her head, and as he studied her, he thought he saw something in her gaze that called to him. But he had to be wrong. Because he’d already told himself he didn’t like her. She was just like Candice. Too good for him, and too good for anything in his life.
Been there. Married that. He was out.
“I don’t know the Gallaghers, sorry,” she said finally. “If I had my say, I’d have the Montgomerys on this project, but apparently, they gave it to you.”
That wasn’t exactly the case, considering this was what the Gallaghers did, and the Montgomerys knew that. The fact that Jake was marrying a Montgomery was only part of the equation, but he didn’t know what all this Blake knew.
“Anyway,” Blake said suddenly, her chin raised. “Do you have everything I need to sign? Once that’s done, I’m out of your hair. In fact, I honestly don’t think I’ll be back. Good riddance to his place.
Hell, there she went, being all interesting again.
Owen moved forward and slid some papers out of his messenger bag. “I got it right here. Let’s go to my truck, if that’s okay with you. That way, we can go over everything.” He looked over his shoulder at Graham, narrowed his eyes, and took Blake gently by the elbow as they walked out of the building.
When Blake cautiously moved away from Owen’s touch, Graham did his best to not be happy that his brother wasn’t touching her. Hell, his dick needed to get in gear because he did not want that woman. He didn’t need her in her pressed suits with her fancy money and all the drama that came with it.
She’d said she wouldn’t be back, and he couldn’t help being grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with whatever was going on in her life, or the fact that his dick couldn’t help but stand at attention when she was near.
As soon as Owen and Blake were out of earshot, Murphy, who had been suspiciously quiet up until now, punched Graham in the shoulder. Hard.
“What the fuck, man?” Graham bit out as he rubbed his shoulder. His little brother might have been scrawny as hell growing up because of the poison in his veins and body, but he sure as hell packed a mean punch now.
“I should be asking you the same question,” Murphy spat. “I have never seen you act that way around a woman before, and I’ll be damned if you do it again. I mean, seriously, Graham, what the hell is wrong with you? Mom would smack the back of your head o
r kick your ass for doing something like that. Blake hadn’t even spoken a word, and you were already treating her like something on the bottom of your shoe.”
Graham felt heat rise on his neck, and he shrugged, shame filling him though he did his best to push it away.
“She just rubbed me the wrong way.”
“So?” Murphy asked. “Just because you don’t like her for reasons only God and your dickish brain knows, doesn’t mean you can talk to a woman like that. Hell, you especially shouldn’t talk like that to someone we technically work for.”
“Technically, we work for the estate,” Graham mumbled.
“Now who’s acting like the little brother,” Murphy sneered. “Get your head out of your ass and apologize to her when you see her next. Because you know what? Not only is Owen right in the fact that this job means something, but you’re better than this.”
Graham sighed and ran his hand over his face. He needed that cigarette, beer, and woman again. Only when he thought of the woman, she saw Blake, and he held back a growl.
“She reminded me of someone, and I took it out on her.” He grunted. “I’ll apologize.”
“Damn straight you will,” Owen said as he stormed back in. “She’s gone, by the way. So maybe call her and leave a message to say how much of an asshole you are. Because there’s no way she’s coming back here, though I don’t know if that’s all because of you. And who the hell does she remind you of?” As soon as he said it, he closed his eyes and cursed.
Graham sighed. “Yeah. Her.” They all knew whom he was talking about.
“Jesus, this month is going to suck,” Murphy whispered under his breath.
Murphy wasn’t wrong. And yeah, Graham was an asshole. Because no matter whom Blake was, she wasn’t his ex-wife, and he needed to get that through his head. What made matters worse—he hadn’t minded the fact that Candice was a trust fund baby when they were married.
It was only when their world had crashed down around him that it had become an issue.
An issue he would do anything to forget.
But nightmares never faded, and Graham knew that better than anyone.
2
Even twenty-four hours after stepping onto the grounds she’d never wanted to see again, Blake Brennen wanted to punch the smug smile off that annoyingly hot, bearded man’s face. Usually, assholes took a minute or two to show their true colors, and yet, this Graham Gallagher didn’t even bother to wait that long.
It could be that she was a magnet for those idiots, but she’d like to think it wasn’t her; instead, those guys were assholes to everyone they met. Or in her case, asses before they’d even spoken one word to her, considering Graham had already formed an opinion—a completely incorrect one—about her when she hadn’t even been in the freaking room.
Whatever. She sighed. She wouldn’t have to see him or his glare again because she wouldn’t be stepping one foot onto that property again. Good radiance to bad memories, bad tastes, broken dreams, and broken foundations. And if she had to speak to a Gallagher about something to do with the estate, it would be with the pleasant Owen.
He wasn’t an asshole.
At least, not to her face.
“Are you going to sit there and wallow, or are you going to actually work today?” Maya Montgomery asked as she leaned a hip against the side of Blake’s temporary station. The other woman’s brow rose, the tiny metal hoop glittering under the overhead lights. “I mean, you’re welcome to wallow before your first piercing appointment of the day, or you can take that walk-in standing at the front, who wants a tiny butterfly outline on her hip. I thought you wanted to make money, but if you don’t, no skin off my back.”
Blake snorted and stood up so she could stretch her lower back. “You’re getting moody, Maya,” she said with a smile. “Must be the pregnancy hormones.”
Maya flipped her off before running a hand over her still flat belly. “I’m not that far along, you know. The hormones don’t start kicking in until later.”
Blake just smiled and shook her head. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself at night so you can make it through the day, more power to you.”
Maya tilted her head, studying the other woman. Maya always had an uncanny knack for seeing beyond the layers Blake wore to protect herself. And that was something Blake needed to be cautious of. “Why? Do you know something about it?”
Blake shrugged, keeping her attention on her sketchbook in front of her as she gathered her things to go deal with the walk-in. “I watch TV. I know things.” Not quite a lie, but as she didn’t know Maya or the rest of Montgomery Ink all that well yet, some things were better tucked close to the vest.
She’d learned the hard way before what happened when she was too open, too fast. Money spoke, and people betrayed with the drop of a hat, leaving Blake the one in pain, bleeding on the floor.
She shook off the memories and worries that had no place in this particular shop and rolled her shoulders.
“So, she wants an outline of a butterfly, not the whole thing filled in?” Blake asked, changing the subject. From the look in Maya’s eyes, she hadn’t done a very good job being subtle about it, but there was nothing she could do now.
“Just the outline,” Maya answered. “From where she wants it and the size she indicated with her hand, I think that’s the right idea anyway. But ask her just in case.”
Blake rolled her eyes. “No, I was planning to drag her over here by her hair and tattoo something without even speaking to her. Because that’s how I roll.”
“At least, you fit the part of a tattoo artist and piercer now,” Maya said dryly while looking Blake up and down. “You want to tell me why you showed up yesterday in that banker outfit before you changed in the back? I mean, really, I never would have pegged you for a suit and heel kind of girl. Well, maybe the heels, but the suit? Not so much.”
Blake stiffened. She hadn’t realized Maya had seen her when she’d hurried back into the shop after leaving the estate. Because she’d been running late in the first place, she hadn’t had time to stop anywhere and change into her normal attire before work. As it was, she’d been ten minutes late, and had almost missed a piercing appointment. That was so not like her, but it wasn’t as if that morning had been normal.
She’d worn the suit to fit in, not because she’d wanted to. It had taken entirely too long for her to find the old jacket and skirt she kept in the back of her closet. Thankfully, she hadn’t gained that much weight since she’d worn it last. It had been a decade or so, but the curves she wore now had only made the skirt ride up a bit indecently.
She could clearly remember the way Graham’s gaze had traveled up her legs and settled on her thighs. Even though she’d been angry as hell with him, she’d still pictured her legs wrapped around his neck as he got her off. And then she’d imagined him turning her around, gripping her hips as he pushed the material up so he could pound into her hard from behind.
Hell, she wasn’t that woman anymore. Hadn’t been for the decade she’d hidden that suit in the back of her closet.
She’d only worn the damn thing because showing up in low-cut jeans and a tank that ordered the observer to kiss her ink suggestively probably wasn’t the greatest idea. Though she wanted nothing to do with the estate and the Gallagher brothers, she’d be damned if she embarrassed herself by showing up as she was, rather than with the veneer in place that had helped her hide for all these years.
Of course, with one look at Graham, she was pretty sure those layers—as well as the suit—would be stripped away if she weren’t careful.
She wished the will had let her choose the company to work on the estate. She knew the Montgomerys, and though they would have been able to find out some of her past, she trusted those in that branch of the family company to keep their lips shut.
Of course, now that she thought about it, maybe working with the Gallaghers would be better. They didn’t know her at all and didn’t have any connection to her. They wo
uldn’t be blabbing her business and the past she’d rather keep hidden to the others in her life. It wasn’t easy keeping secrets from those in the shop, though. They tended to notice everything.
She’d thought when she hurried into the shop after leaving the estate that she’d hidden her suit well enough for no one to see her. And since no one had mentioned it the entire day she’d worked, she figured she’d gotten off scot-free.
Apparently, she’d been wrong.
Maya Montgomery knew everything, and sometimes, even before it happened.
And that was one scary thought.
“You didn’t like my legs in that suit?” Blake asked, batting her eyelashes. “I mean, I thought they looked hot as hell. But if you have issues with it, maybe I should reconsider the banker suit I’m planning to wear tomorrow.”
“You’re an idiot,” Maya grumbled. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because, despite popular opinion, you don’t actually need to know everything going on in everyone’s lives at all times.”
Maya snorted. “That’s only going to make me more curious.”
That would be a problem if Blake planned to go back to the estate. But since she’d signed the paperwork, she’d done her duty. Now, the rest was up to the lawyers.
“Have at it, but sometimes, a suit is just a suit.”
Maya narrowed her eyes.
Blake blinked innocently back.
Maya flipped her off, and Blake did it right back with a smile. When Maya laughed and strolled back to her station, Blake was still smiling. She might be the new one in the shop, but she could feel the edges of the home she could have if she stayed long enough. These could be her people, and for some reason, that scared Blake more than she’d thought it would.
Once again, she shook off thoughts she’d rather not have and made her way to the younger girl standing at the front of the shop, browsing some of the stenciled designs hanging in pretty frames on the walls.
Love Restored Page 2