Hammer & Nails

by Large, Andria

  “Superstar!” I breathe, wiggling my fingers in his face.

  “Are you finished?” he grits out.

  I straighten up. “Yes, I am. Hey, you have a wicked vein popping out of your forehead. Might wanna get that checked,” I say and press my finger against the bulging vein close to his temple.

  Nolan swats my hand away. “I have had about enough of your shit, Harley!” he bellows.

  I take a step back from the rage radiating off him. Okay, maybe I pushed him a little too far. He steps forward and I continue to back up. He follows until I bump into a wall. His large body crowds me as he braces his hands on the wall on either side of my head. He lowers his face until his eyes are level with mine. The dark blue is storming mad.

  “Now you listen to me and listen well. I am literally five seconds away from firing your ass. I don’t know who you think you’re dealing with, but I will not tolerate being treated like this,” he growls, and it sends shivers down my spine. Whether they are good or bad shivers, I’m not exactly sure, but good Lord, he’s sexy when he’s livid.

  “I was just teasing you. Hammerstein, MC Hammer, Can’t Touch This…”

  “I got the fucking joke!” he barks in my face.

  I wince. “Damn, alright, touchy subject, I get it.”

  His face is so close to mine that I can see his nostrils flaring from the force of his breath. I catch a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing and it smells delicious. I swallow hard and wait. Wait for whatever else he has to say.

  ~Nolan~

  This is so not the position I expected to be in when I decided to stop by and see how things are going. But Harley had to go and run her mouth. Now look - I have her backed against a wall, her sexy body only inches away from mine. When I first see the outfit she is wearing, I think I’m going to have to somehow hide the boner that’s threatening to appear. She’s wearing overalls, which aren’t usually anything close to sexy. But the only thing under them is a pink sports bra that shows off her very ample cleavage and toned, flat stomach. How is it possible for a woman, who is so rough around the edges, to be so attractive?

  My anger at her earlier antics dies as desire flares. I’m about to do something stupid, I can feel it, but I can’t stop myself either. The urge is too strong. My eyes flit over the pencil tucked behind her ear. I pluck it from its perch and toss it over my shoulder. Stupid pencil. She opens her mouth to bitch at me but I silence her with a searing kiss. She is stunned motionless for a second before she melts against me. I press my body against hers, trapping her against the wall. A breathy moan escapes her, spurring me on.

  I hook my finger into the hair tie holding her hair up and yank it out. Her long silky hair cascades down over her shoulders. The smell of her shampoo wafts over me. She smells like lavender. I like it. I like it a lot. My fingers delve into her soft hair, giving me control of her head. I tilt her head slightly so that I can kiss her more deeply. I can feel her hands gliding over my back as she kisses me back with abandon.

  Fuck me, this has to end. I don’t even like her! I slowly pull back and open my eyes. Holy Mother of God! She looks absolutely stunning with her hair down. Her face is flushed and her chest is heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

  “You should wear your hair down more often,” I murmur softly before turning and walking the hell out of there before she can say anything in return. I can’t explain what just happened, but I need to get away from her fast so I can think. Without looking back, I get in my BMW and speed off.

  By the time I get to my father’s place, my head is a freaking wreck. I can’t make sense of what happened. I don’t know why I did it. It doesn’t change anything, she’s still infuriating and annoying. So what if she’s the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. There are other gorgeous women out there. Women that I can tolerate being around.

  “Ah, there you are. Where have you been?” my father, Gene Hammerstein, asks from his seat in his favorite armchair in the living room. He’s got his bifocals perched on his nose so he can read the newspaper in his hands. I swear my father is the only one who buys newspapers anymore.

  “I went to check out how my house is coming along,” I murmur.

  “And?” he asks, looking at me from over his bifocals.

  “It’s coming along,” I reply shortly.

  “And the girl? Is she working, too, or just supervising?” I note a hint of distaste in his tone. My father was raised with the mindset that the woman is to stay home and take care of the children while the man goes to work and provides for the family.

  My mother, AnnMarie, stayed home, took care of everything relating to the house – cleaning, cooking, and raising me. At least until she got sick. Well, she wasn’t sick at first. First, she found a lump in her breast. She went to the doctor and found out that she had breast cancer. Stage four breast cancer. I was only ten at the time, but I knew it wasn’t good. Even with going through all of the treatments, she only survived a year.

  After my mom passed, my father decided that we needed a change in scenery, so he bought the Bruisers and moved the two of us to Boston. With my mom gone, I would spend my days after school at the office with my dad. He taught me everything I needed to know about the business. Which was great and all, but it’s not what I wanted to do. I wanted to find a cure for breast cancer so other kids didn’t have to lose their moms like I did. I went on to college at Harvard University and got my PhD in Biology. But once I graduated, my dad guilted me into working for him. Plus, he threw a number at me that my 26 year old self couldn’t refuse. I didn’t even fight it.

  “She’s working, too,” I tell him.

  He grunts, makes a face, and returns his eyes to the paper.

  I have to bite back a snippy comment as I get a flash of irrational irritation at his words. What do I care if he disapproves of her working? My dad is kind of behind in the times when it comes to that. We’re not in the 1950s anymore. I don’t expect women not to work, though, I usually don’t expect them to work in a field that is mostly men; but, hey, whatever. Now my father, on the other hand, wants me to find a woman like my mom - calm, complacent, agreeable, submissive… Harley is none of those things. She’s bold, loud, smart-mouthed, and in control. She acts a lot like a guy, really. My dad would not like her at all!

  ~Harley~

  “Nate, you’re a guy…”

  “No way! I am?” he teases from his seat behind his desk.

  I stopped at the office, which is just a little storefront in downtown Boston, to look for the phone number for the electrician I like to use. It somehow disappeared from my phone. Or maybe I never put it in there? Who knows. Anyway, now that all of the walls are down in the Hammerstein place, I’ve noticed that some of the wiring is old and outdated and will never be able to accommodate everything that Nolan wants to do. So I need an electrician to come and update the system.

  “I just…I need to know where a guy’s head would be at in a certain situation.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “The girl pisses off the guy - who doesn’t like her to begin with - to the point that he’s yelling at her and getting in her face. Out of nowhere, he kisses her stupid, and then leaves without a word about what just happened.”

  Nate stares at me, his shrewd brown eyes studying me. I fidget under his scrutiny. No doubt, he knows that I’m talking about myself. And possibly Nolan.

  “Is there someone I need to beat up?” he asks seriously.

  “No, definitely not.”

  He sighs. “Just because a guy doesn’t like you personally, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still think that you’re hot. He might be physically attracted to you, and got all riled up from being angry, and that’s why he kissed you. Sometimes, anger can turn into lust when it comes to someone who physically excites you. I find that there is a thin line there.”

  I nod. “Okay, that’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “Are you sure I don’t need to kick someone’s ass?” Nate asks, narrowing
his eyes at me.

  “I’m sure.” I smirk.

  “You just have to remind any guy that gives you a hard time that you have three older brothers. They won’t mess with you ever again, I promise.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I know. I’ve used that line many times.”

  I finally find the number I’m looking for and start for the door.

  “See ya later, bro!” I call over my shoulder.

  “See ya!” Nate calls back.

  I walk out the door, turn toward where my truck is parked and run face first into a rock hard body. Solid arms come around me, as I flail and curse. Once I’m sure that I’m not going to fall, I realize that the hard body I’m pressed against is not wearing a shirt and is a tad bit sweaty. He smells fantastic, though. Actually, he smells a lot like Nolan…goddammit! I look up into the sapphire blue eyes of said man.

  I push away from him and he easily lets me go. He’s panting slightly and is wearing a pair of gym shorts. Um, hello! He’s fucking ripped! Who knew all of this was under his uptight apparel? I mean, I knew he was built from when he kissed me and pressed against me yesterday, but I wasn’t expecting him to be a fucking fitness model!

  “Harley, what are you doing here?” Nolan asks with a frown as he rests his hands on his hips.

  “My office is right there,” I tell him, pointing to it. “What are you doing here?”

  “My office is a few blocks away. I go running on my lunch break.”

  “Ah, right. It’s Saturday, though. Why are you at work on a Saturday?”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “Got some things to catch up on.”

  “You don’t have much of a life outside of work, do you?”

  He gives me a bored look. “I’m not even going to buy into this line of conversation with you,” he mutters and starts to walk off.

  “Hey! Wait a sec, I have to tell you something,” I call after him as I trot to catch up to him.

  “If it’s something snarky, just keep it to yourself.”

  “It’s about your house, dick.” I snap.

  He whirls around. “You know, you have really bad communication skills for being a business owner.”

  “I communicate just fine with everyone else. Apparently, your almightiness can’t handle it.”

  “Do you call all your clients ‘dick’?” He snarls.

  “Only when they’re being one.”

  “With the way you act, I’m surprised you even know what a dick is,” he throws in my face.

  I gasp in outrage. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I squawk, even though I know damn well what he means. He’s basically saying that no guy would want me.

  He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Nothing, forget I said it. What did you want to tell me about my house?” he asks quietly, his voice carefully controlled.

  “Oh, no. You got some shit to say? Say it to my face,” I bite out.

  His eyes flip open and I can see the rage simmering in them. “You act like a man, you curse like a truck driver, and you are the most obnoxious woman I’ve ever met!”

  “Now tell me how you really feel,” I mutter, deadpan.

  He throws his arms up. “See, this is what I’m talking about!”

  “Oh, get over yourself.” I huff.

  “Just tell me what you need to tell me so I can go,” he grumbles.

  “I’m calling in an electrician, your system needs to be updated.”

  “Okay, fine, good. See ya,” he mumbles before taking off in a jog down the street.

  I watch his back as he goes. He’s got a nice back. And a nice ass. Shame it’s wasted on such a asshole.

  ~ Four ~

  ~ Nolan ~

  I pull up in front of my house and park. I look out my window to see that there is a light on in my soon to be office. What the hell? It’s ten at night, no one should be here. I glance around toward the driveway and see that Harley’s truck is parked in the driveway next to the dumpster. Dammit, that is the whole reason I came here so late; I wanted to avoid seeing her and dealing with her. So, do I stay or do I go? It’s been a week since I stopped by and I’m dying to know what kind of progress has been made. Screw it, I’m going in.

  I get out of my car and start for the front door, quietly opening it and walking in. I hear Harley grunting and huffing. What in the world is she doing? I walk over to the doorway that leads into the office and almost have a heart attack. Up on a high ladder in the center of the room is Harley. She’s holding up a sheet of drywall with the top of her head and one hand, while she tries in vain to screw it in place with the other. Is she out of her mind? She can’t do something like this by herself!

  “Jesus Christ, Harley!” I snap and rush over to the ladder.

  I quickly climb up behind her and plaster myself against her back as I reach up and hold the drywall up to the ceiling. Harley pants out a “Thanks” and finishes screwing the drywall into the joists. After that’s said and done, we both climb down the ladder. I watch Harley as she wanders over to the other drywall sheets stacked against the wall. She pulls out her measuring tape and stretches it across the board, making little marks with her pencil here and there. She completely ignores the fact that I’m standing here or that I just helped her.

  “What are you doing here so late?” I ask.

  She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Working,” she says without looking away from what she’s doing.

  I walk over to her. I’m really confused by her behavior. She’s very subdued right now and it’s kind of freaking me out. I gently take her arm and turn her toward me. She sighs heavily and keeps her eyes downcast.

  “You could have seriously injured yourself and there would have been no one here to help you if I hadn’t not stopped by. What were you thinking?” I ask softly.

  “I’m trying not to think, that’s the point. Working helps me not think,” she murmurs.

  I frown. “Why would you not want to think?”

  “Because today is a bad day and I don’t want to think about it, okay? And I don’t want to talk about it, either.” She huffs, finally lifting her emerald green eyes to meet mine. Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so sad.

  She extracts her arm from my grip and turns back to the drywall.

  “Listen, you can’t be doing this on your own…”

  “So help me then.”

  After a moment’s consideration, I concede, “Okay.”

  Her only reaction is a lift of her eyebrow but she doesn’t say a word. I pull off my button down shirt so I don’t mess it up, which leaves me in only a black T-shirt and jeans. Over the next hour and a half, we work in comfortable silence. The only talking is Harley giving me directions. Once the ceiling is finished, Harley starts to clean up her tools. I help by handing her things. I’m utterly confused by her. I never thought she had the capability to remain silent for so long. I really can’t take it anymore. It’s not natural. As much as she annoys me, this just isn’t right.

  “So why is today such a bad day?” I ask into the silence.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Didn’t I say I didn’t want to talk about it?”

  “Come on, I just helped you put up a ceiling, don’t I deserve a little reward?” I huff, motioning to all the white dust on my black T-shirt.

  Her lips twitch as she fights off a smile.

  “Alright fine, but if I answer, I get to ask you a question, too,” she says.

  I nod in agreement. “Okay.”

  “It’s my birthday today.”

  I give her a confused look. “Uh, happy birthday. Why is that so bad?”

  The sadness in her eyes deepens. “My mom died shortly after giving birth to me,” she replies quietly, a small hitch in her voice.

  I close my eyes and hang my head. “Shit. I’m sorry. I understand how you feel.”

  “You do?” she asks, and I can hear the doubt in her tone.

  I lift my head and look her in the eyes. “Seems we have something in common. My mother pass
ed away when I was ten from breast cancer.”

  She rolls her lips in and nods in understanding. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

  “I guess that explains why you are the way you are.” I smirk, hoping to lighten the dark mood that we seem to have fallen into.

  She snorts. “Yeah, this is what happens when you are raised by your father and three brothers.” She chuckles and motions toward herself.

  “Oh Jesus, three brothers?” I breathe.

  She smiles fondly and it makes my heart flutter in my chest. Damn, she’s so pretty. “Oh yeah, it might do you well to not fuck with me too much.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Great! Now you tell me.”

  She sends me a teasing wink. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. Be glad you’re not my boyfriend.”

  I groan. “Thank God for small miracles.”

  She snickers, scrunching her nose up, making her look so freaking cute. We stare at each other, something passing between us - an understanding, maybe?

  “My turn. Why don’t you have a Boston accent? Your father has owned the Bruisers for a long freakin’ time.”

  “We lived in Philly until I was 12, then we moved here when my dad bought the team. I just never picked it up, and neither has my dad.”

  She nods. “That makes sense. It’s weird that you never picked it up, though, living here for so long.”

  I lift a shoulder in a small shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “I bet you can do it if you tried.” She grins.

  I laugh. “No.”

  “Come on! Let me hear the Boston in you, Nolan.” She teases.

  I shake my head. “No, no, I really can’t.”

  “Sure you can. You have lived here for how long? I’m sure you’ve picked it up a little bit.”

  I sigh. “Alright fine. But this is a one-time thing.”

  “Okay!” She chirps, watching me excitedly.

  “Yo, bang a u-ey so I can hit the packie and grab me some beeah fuh suppa.”

  Harley burst out laughing. “That was wicked awesome! You are really good at it.”

  “How about we call it a night?” I smirk.