The Construction Worker & the Billionaire

by Sierra Rose

  It doesn’t matter anymore. You said yes. It’s already done. The best you can do now is let go of the reins a little bit and relax. Who knows, you might actually enjoy it.

  For the first time since leaving the hotel room that morning—watching Dylan pile happily into his limousine, while he waited on the curb for a cab—Logan managed a genuine smile.

  The house was perfect. Small. Cozy. New enough to be comfortable, but old enough to have a few rough edges. There was a flowering garden in both the front yard and the back, and a literal white picket fence ran around the entire perimeter.

  Logan stared at it in delight, before glancing up and down the street at the rest of the neighborhood. All in all, it wasn’t the kind of place he thought a guy like Dylan would want to live. It was clean. Quiet. Respectable. All things that his brother was most definitely not.

  A man mowing his lawn next door lifted his hand in an automatic wave, and Logan about melted right there on the spot. (He might have been a bit over-enthusiastic waving back.)

  With a spontaneous burst of excitement, he decided not to go in right away. Instead, he decided to ‘save’ the house for later, leave his things behind the swing on the porch, and set out on foot—exploring the rest of the town. A potentially hazardous thing to do, considering that for the next two weeks all his earthly possessions were currently in his suitcase, but he was feeling strangely charmed. Nothing bad could happen on the quaint residential street. This was a place of sunshine and rainbows. At any rate, he was sure his lawn-mowing friend would fight someone to the death to protect his belongings. Probably bury them beneath a bed of tulips.

  And so, without any further thought as to where things were or how far they might be, Logan set out walking down the street. The wind in his hair. A smile on his face.

  He had done his best to blend in, opting for nothing but jeans and a white t-shirt with simple shoes. Once he left the houses behind and got onto a main pedestrian road, he knew he’d made a wise choice. The second he slipped on his sunglasses, he was just one of the crowd. Just another anonymous, beautiful face walking down the street. No schedule. No agenda. No hordes of paparazzi trying to document his every move.

  For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, he was just...Logan. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed organ donor from the state of Cleveland. Part-time pedestrian, full-time cultural enthusiast. By the time he passed his second coffee shop, he was seriously considering dropping his last name altogether.

  “Dylan!”

  He kept walking, smiling obliviously and tilting his head back to soak up every possible ray of sun. They had plenty of that in Florida, of course, but he hadn’t seen it. He’d been inside.

  “Hey—Dylan!”

  Maybe I should pick up ingredients for dinner. Make some kind of stew. The thought flitted through his head as he walked past an outdoor produce market. It was whole-heartedly embraced, until he remembered that his newfound freedom didn’t necessarily come with a newfound skillset as well. Okay new plan: maybe I should go home first and watch a video on how to cook, then I should pick up ingredients for dinner. Make some kind of stew...

  “DYLAN!” A heavy hand clamped down upon his shoulder and he jumped around in surprise—staring incredulously at the giant standing before him. A giant who was staring right back down at him with a curious grin. “Dude, what’s with you? Didn’t you hear me calling?”

  Logan blinked in the bright light, as his eyes adjusted slowly to the man’s face. It wasn’t often that he met someone taller than he was—when you were over six feet, you could generally count on being the tallest person in the room—but this guy won the prize. He had to be at least seven feet tall. Seven feet of pure, hard muscle. Luckily, it was paired with a smile.

  “No, uh...I didn’t.” Logan took off his sunglasses, sliding them up into his hair. “Sorry.”

  For a second, he was terrified that the man was going to somehow recognize him. That he and Dylan weren’t quite as identical as they thought, and their entire plan was going to go up in smoke before it even got off the ground. But all the man did was stare with that expectant grin.

  “Well?”

  Logan froze where he stood, every muscle locking into place.

  “Well...hello?”

  The hand on his shoulder tightened dramatically, as the man threw back his head with a raucous laugh—inadvertently shaking Logan from side to side in the process. Logan caught his breath with a silent gasp, trying his best to smile back. The man was either oblivious to his own strength, or he and Dylan had long ago come to some sort of ‘ragdoll’ understanding.

  “Hello,” he chortled again, trying to calm himself down, “you’re hilarious.”

  Logan flushed with a blind sort of panic, feeling his own smile freeze on his face. He had yet to recover his balance, and whether the man thought he was funny or not, he was still holding him casually prisoner. “You know me...I aim to please.”

  “Always.” The man laughed again before growing suddenly serious, almost earnest in his anticipation. “But seriously, what did you think of it?”

  Logan’s eyes widened in panic, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

  “I thought it was...good?”

  The man made a sort of squawking cheer, then deflated completely. Slumping over at the waist as his entire body relaxed with an enormous sigh of relief. “Thank God you said that. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do. I felt like my entire life was depending on this.”

  Logan’s face paled the color of sour milk, as a wave of nausea joined the panic roiling around in his stomach. “Surely it’s not...surely it’s not that big a deal?”

  “Are you kidding?!” The man let out another breathless laugh, as if Logan had made yet another joke. “I swear, I thought Cindy was going to leave me if this thing went south!”

  Logan took a faltering step back, feeling a little sick.

  “Like...metaphorically?”

  Fortunately, the man was too preoccupied to notice that his young friend was unraveling before his very eyes. The second Logan said the word good, he’d pulled out his phone and started texting at the speed of light. A wild sort of triumph flickered in his eyes as he finished his message and sent it off with a victorious ding.

  “Well—I did it!” he declared proudly. “I bought the boat!”

  Whatever color was left in Logan’s face drained right out. His teeth clamped down hard upon his lip as he swayed on the spot, feeling like he was trapped in some kind of bad dream.

  “A boat?” He barely had the strength to repeat it. “Like...a little boat? The returnable kind of boat? Or more like a—”

  The man laughed and clapped Logan on the shoulder with the force of a mammoth, half-collapsing his knees. “You should know! You were the one who checked it out for me! And thanks for that—by the way! I just didn’t have any time, what with the new baby.”

  ...new baby?

  This time, it was Logan who bent over at the waist—putting his hands on his knees as he pulled in deep steadying breaths. That sunshiny mood of his vanished on the spot, as he found himself suddenly wishing he had a boat as well. To sail straight back to Florida.

  This giant had just leveraged his home, his marriage, and the future of his new child to buy a boat?! All based on Logan’s bullshit recommendation that it was good?!

  How the fuck could you buy a boat via text message anyway?!

  “Listen...” In an act of desperation, Logan actually took a step forward—trying to mitigate whatever damages he could. “Whoever you just texted, you should probably text them back. This is a big decision, right? Something you should do in person? And yeah, I thought that boat was just fine, but you should definitely get a second opinion—”

  “Why would I do that?” The man looked confused, like there was a chance Logan was pulling his leg. “Who the hell in Cleveland knows more about boats than you?”

  What the fuck?! How does Dylan know ANYTHING about boats?! My PI didn’
t say anything about maritime hobbies! I thought the guy worked in construction!

  Logan froze on the spot, doing some quick thinking.

  “Uh...I don’t really—”

  “Besides, all I needed was for you to check the strakes and remove the cowling. You did that, didn’t you? And it was all good?”

  “Yeah, I...I cowled the strakes.” Logan wiped a drip of sweat from his forehead, feeling like the temperature just jumped about fifty degrees. “I’m just saying, you should probably talk to someone who actually works on the water. Like...some kind of fisherman—”

  “A fisherman?!” The man let out another barking laugh. “You want to go down to the pier, and track down a—”

  “Yes! That’s a great idea!” Without thinking, Logan grabbed the man’s jacket, and started pulling him down in the general direction of the water. “Let’s go find a fisherman, and he can tell you whether or not the boat—”

  “Dude.” The man planted his feet, jerking Logan back with him. “Are you drunk?”

  There was a beat.

  “...yes.”

  There was a moment of silence (during which Logan literally held his breath), before the man burst out laughing all over again. “Of course you are. We must go find a fisherman! What the hell was I even thinking?!”

  Without another word, he took off back down the street—chuckling under his breath all the while. Completely oblivious to way Logan stayed rooted to the sidewalk behind him—pale, and clammy, and wishing for death. He was already halfway up the next block, before he turned around with a cheerful wave of farewell.

  “Come by sometime next week—we’ll go out on the water! See how she runs!”

  Yeah...if the thing even floats.

  Logan jerked his head up and down, fighting back the wave of bile rising up in his throat.

  “Sure. See you then.”

  He waited until the man had rounded the corner. Waited until he’d gotten his heartbeat down to a reasonable sprint. Then he spun around on his heel, and started heading right back up the way he came. Dylan might have assured him that everything was going to be fine, but it hadn’t been more than two hours, and Logan had already gambled some kid’s future college fund on a hypothetical boat. A boat he could only hope was remotely sea-worthy.

  He needed to get back to the house. Lock the doors and shut the windows. Quarantine himself from the rest of Cleveland. Hole away somewhere that trouble couldn’t find him.

  Just calm down. You literally swapped lives with your twin. There was bound to be at least one mishap along the way, right? Keep your head down, and nothing else will happen.

  It was residential Cleveland. How much trouble could there possibly be?

  Chapter 11

  For the first time in longer than he could remember, Logan went for a run. It was an impromptu run, of course. Designed to ‘flee the scene’ rather than ‘exercise.’ But it was a run nonetheless. By the time he got back to Dylan’s street, the endorphins were flowing, the panic had subsided, and he was breathing in huge gulps of the crisp Cleveland air.

  He felt fantastic!

  His problems seemed more manageable when they weren’t looming seven feet tall in front of him. The boat seemed like a bad memory the second he got away.

  With a burst of youthful strength, he put on a rush of speed and jumped the white picket fence altogether, skidding to a stop on the front porch. His suitcase was there waiting for him.

  See—no one stole it. Things are looking up already. He dug around in his pocket with a little smile, searching for the house key Dylan gave him. Now if I can just get inside—

  “Hey there!”

  Logan whirled around on the spot, shielding his eyes from the sun as he searched for the source of the voice. Just a second later, he saw her. A busty blonde woman, leaning against a minivan parked in the driveway next door—a huge smile plastered across her face.

  “Hey.”

  Now that he was looking at her straight on, she was pretty impossible to miss. Busty had been a generous word to describe the surgical lengths to which she’d enhanced her body. If she took a deep breath, it was likely she’d bust out of her shirt altogether. Not that there was much of a shirt to begin with. The minivan had thrown him for a moment, but there was a provocative edge to the way she was leaning against the trunk. A sly sparkle he didn’t fully understand.

  “You just get back from a run?”

  Logan’s hair was damp with sweat, and her eyes dilated hungrily at the way the sun was glistening off his muscles. The tip of her tongue wetted her bottom lip, and he bowed his head to hide the self-conscious flush sneaking up his cheeks.

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry—I’m kind of a mess.” He flashed her a quick smile, hoping to excuse himself before she asked him to appraise a condo, or a pool, and then proceeded to buy it on the spot. “Have a good—”

  “Mitch is still at work,” she said abruptly.

  Logan nodded slowly, racking his brain to remember whether Mitch was one of the names Dylan had told him to watch out for. He didn’t think so. The only instructions his brother had left were not to answer the phone if it was a number from California.

  Finally, when he came up blank, he flashed another polite smile.

  “Cool.”

  His hand was on the door, he was giving all the appropriate signals to leave, and yet, it was like she was waiting for something. Something he didn’t understand.

  Did Dylan run over her dog or something? She looks about ready to pounce.

  He waited another moment, but when she simply stared at him, he put his key in the lock.

  “I’ll see you later—”

  “Can you help me carry in these groceries?”

  He froze mid-step, staring over at her in surprise.

  Of course that’s what she wanted! She said her husband was gone, she was standing next to the open trunk of her car. That’s what neighbors did, right? Dylan probably helped her do stuff like that all the time, and there he was—staring at her like an asshole.

  “Yeah—of course!” He jogged quickly down the steps, wishing he hadn’t sprinted all the way back in the sun. His white tee-shirt was almost completely transparent and it clung to his chest in a way he deemed highly inappropriate to help with groceries. “Sorry, I think I’ve been out in the sun too long.”

  She flashed him a bright smile, placing the first of the bags in his arms. “That’s alright. I figured you were probably down at the docks—helping Sam test out that boat.”

  Sam. The giant has a name.

  There was a hitch in Logan’s breathing, before he nodded his head in a hurry. “Yeah, that’s a done deal.” His heart quickened nervously. Unfortunately...

  She flashed him another smile and bent over to fish something out of the trunk. Bent very far over. In the kind of clothes that made Logan clear his throat softly and look away.

  A second later, she straightened up with a grin. Jiggling her keys.

  “Thought I lost them.” She spun around on her heels, and headed up the walk. “I’m just going to open up the house—would you mind carrying those in?”

  “Not at all.”

  Logan grabbed two more bags for good measure, and shut the trunk before following her up the cobblestone path. The door was open, but the woman was nowhere in sight when he got to the welcome mat. He hesitated uncertainly, peering about the empty house.

  If you’d been smart enough to ask Dylan his neighbors’ names, then you could call her.

  He cleared his throat again, and tried anyway. “Uh—where would you like these?” From the looks of things, she’d bought nothing but popcorn and wine. “I can set them by the door—”

  “No, Dylan, would you mind putting them in the kitchen?” she called from somewhere in the house. “Just up on the counter will be fine.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Logan glanced around the house once more, and slipped off his shoes before walking swiftly across the white carpet. A part of him was thrilled—
he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been asked to do such a domestic chore. Carrying in the groceries. Truth be told, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d set foot in a grocery store. But another part of him felt very uneasy walking unaccompanied into this woman’s house. Posing as a friend. Someone she obviously knew. Someone she obviously trusted.

  The two-week swap was only supposed to be for him and his brother, but he was feeling like a trickster for the first time. Surely this woman wouldn’t have invited him into her home, if she knew he wasn’t who he said. Surely she wouldn’t be so cavalier with a stranger—

  “Oh my gosh.”

  The bags slipped from his arms on the tile floor. The woman was waiting in the kitchen alright. Perched invitingly on top of the counter.

  Completely naked.

  And damn, was she hot!

  “Dylan!” She straightened up in surprise when he dropped the bags, but didn’t leave her position. A second later, she burst into giggles. “Sorry, did I startle you?”

  Logan’s mouth fell wide open, and he hastened to avert his eyes. Staring at the ceiling, at the floor. Anywhere that wasn’t this woman and her impossibly large breasts!

  “No, I...uh...sorry, I didn’t—”

  “What’s the matter, baby?” she purred, somehow making him blush even when he was staring determinedly at the cupboards. “I gave you our secret signal.”

  It was perhaps the only thing she could have said to make him turn around. He stared at her incredulously, refusing to look anywhere beneath the chin. “Our secret signal?”

  “I asked you to help me bring in the groceries.” Her eyes locked onto his, as she slowly opened her legs. “And now I’m going to ask you to do something else...”

  Turns out, Logan went running twice that day.

  “Dylan—what are you doing?” The woman took off after him, not bothering to gather up her clothes as she bolted through the living room and threw her naked body against the door. “Or is this something new?” Her eyes danced with sudden mischief. “Are you playing hard to get?”