by Lee Kilraine
“Is that right?” I walked forward until I was in his space and in his face. I poked my finger into his chest with each word. “Then why did you put in a change order for the floor in the study?”
“Ouch.” He grabbed my finger in his hand. “First, stop poking me, woman. Those nails feel a lot better when you’re scratching them down my back instead of stabbing me in the chest.”
“Don’t you dare bring our sex life into this. That is totally separate.”
“Fair enough.”
“I had a reason for the way I ran those floors. It was part of the design. The lines were creating a flow from east to west. It’s the whole prosperity dimension that Lila is going to love. And you just came along willy-nilly and decided that my opinion didn’t mean squat, so you changed it.”
Beck shook his head. “No, Sam. That’s not—”
“Boom. Changed it. With a snap of your fingers and no consideration for me. Boy, does that let me know how you truly view me.”
“Hey, now wait a minute. That is not fair. I’m not like—”
“Thank you for letting me know how much value you place on my professional expertise.” Oh, my God. I was so upset I couldn’t catch my breath.
He dropped the roll of blueprints he was holding and grabbed my head in both his hands and kissed me. A deep, long, hard, wet kiss that had me wanting to melt into him. But before I could, Beck pulled back.
“Better?” His worried eyes searched mine. “Got your breath back?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I nodded, but took a step back needing more space between us.
“Damn it, Sam. I’m not your father or your stepbrothers. I get that you’ve got a hair-trigger with people discounting you, but I didn’t do that. Not even for a second. Not even before the lock-in when we weren’t getting along. I’ve always respected Samantha Devine, the businesswoman. So don’t pin that on me. Don’t put me in the vault with them.”
How did he know about the vault? Wait. Not important. What was important was he was trying to swing this around on me. I pulled in a deep breath. I wasn’t going to let him make me the guilty party here. No matter what he was saying, he’d still changed my plans without consulting me.
“Did you put in the change order or not?”
“I did.”
I crossed my arms over my chest so I wouldn’t punch him. I stared at him silently, giving him only my raised eyebrows and my “I told you so” look. After years of working with the men in my family, I had that look down.
“Sam, we crawled under the house to check on a foundation crack. And that’s when we discovered for some God knows why reason, the joists for that room were running the wrong way. You can’t run a floor in that direction unless you want the floor to buckle. You know that as well as I do.”
I did. I did know that. He hadn’t gone against my design or wishes. At all. But I was too angry to let him off the hook totally. “I do know that. I also know you didn’t call me to let me know.”
“I tried. I ended up leaving a message with Margo. So if Margo didn’t tell you, maybe you should track her down and poke a hole into her chest.”
Yeah, Margo wasn’t the best at passing on messages. So now I felt like an idiot. An idiot who had to apologize.
“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.” I pulled my gaze from his chin up to meet his eyes expecting him to be pissed about it. All I saw was humor. Maybe a little heat because he’d stoked up the flames with that breath-saving kiss. “You’re right. It was a knee-jerk reaction because of my past experiences.”
“I guess we’re a pair when it comes to trust, huh?” His lips tilted up at the corners, sexy and chagrinned. It was sweet the way he added himself in so I wouldn’t be the only crazy one. Very chivalrous. Or just very honest. Either way, I appreciated it.
He took one of my hands and pulled me into his chest. I felt…forgiven, accepted, and protected. I pressed my nose into his T-shirt, enjoying the scent of his laundry soap and light pine scent.
“I’m sorry,” I said just trying to have an excuse to stay in his arms a bit longer. I felt his lips against my hairline, and his big hand ran slowly up and down my back.
“It’s okay, Sam. I think I understand better than most.” He pulled back, searching my face before bending to pick up the blueprints from where he’d tossed them. “We okay now?”
I hoped so. I guess when you imprint on untrustworthy men, the trust thing was hard to overcome. Although we were almost at the end of our time together anyway. A thought I managed to avoid thinking about.
Chapter 23
Samantha
“All right, Margo, let’s hear where we’re at. Thanks for handling the llama love shack by yourself while I was busy with Lila’s job, but with the gala just over a week away, we’ll be back to a normal schedule soon.”
Margo snorted. “Let’s hope not. Not a normal schedule. I mean, after the pre-gala and the gala, I hope we’re swimming in new clients and contracts.”
“That’s the dream, or it will have been a major pain in the ass for nothing.”
“Oh, right,” Margo deadpanned. “Because having hot sex with the sexy, brooding, oldest Thorne brother has been such a hardship.”
I crumbled up a piece of paper in front of me and tossed it at her. “Ha! After weeks of butting heads with the stubborn man first.”
Margo leaned in, her elbow on the table. “Have you thought about staying together when the job’s over? You could, you know.”
“No, no. We agreed at the outset: this would only last while we worked together.” It had always had an end date. I swallowed past the tight feeling in my throat and rubbed my hand over the tightness in my chest.
“You know what I think?” Margo watched me through sympathetic eyes. “I think you fell for the guy. Hard. The real deal. Love. And you deserve it, Sam. You should tell him.”
“It’s not real—it’s not.” I shook my head emphatically. “Honestly. It’s just great sex. Really, really great sex.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” She sat back and pointed a finger at me. “Except if you do, you’ll be walking away from a rare and wonderful thing. Have you seen yourself around him? You’re happy. And I think you’re playing it safe to simply let him walk away. You’re a big fat chicken.”
Was I? Probably. But if I was ever going to take a risk, I’d be asking to get hurt to invest my heart in someone like Beck, wouldn’t I? I don’t do relationships, Sam. I don’t believe in love—I just don’t. He’d been honest with me the whole time.
Which I appreciated. We’d had a great few months together. And in about two weeks, after the gala, we’d go back to casual friends who ran into each other around town or at an industry event. And life would go on.
I steered our discussion on to our other open jobs and then spent an hour going over the punch list for Lila’s house. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving Day, and then after that everything would kick into high gear in order to wrap up the finish work in time to let the catering crew in to set up for the gala event.
“Okay, we’re ready. I’ll meet you at Lila’s first thing Friday morning,” I said. “It’ll be a little quieter there with the holiday weekend, so we can get a lot done.”
Margo nodded. “Sounds great. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me and my parents to my sister’s?”
“Actually, Beck invited me to eat with him and his brothers.”
“You make no sense, you know that?” Margo looked at me and shook her head. “That man’s a keeper. He just doesn’t know it. And you’re in denial.”
Denial didn’t hurt as much. Or if it did, I was in denial about it, so it at least seemed that way. Sad but true.
My cell phone rang, giving me an excuse to avoid a response. Not that I had an answer.
“That had better not be a work emergency. I’m already in countdown mode for heading ou
t of town.”
I fished the phone out of my purse and checked the caller ID. “It’s my sister; you can stand down.”
I took the call. “Hey, Jane. What’s up?”
“Saaaam.” The sad wail of my normally sunny stepsister had me sitting up straight. “I’m so d-done with this…hic…family. Done. I w-want out.”
“Whoa, Janie. Hang on, honey. Take a breath, and calm down. You know I love you. Can you stop crying and tell me what’s going on?” At twenty-two, Jane had taken my same path up through the family business. First during high school and then on and off during college. This semester she was interning there. Just like I had. Every time I asked how things were going during our once a week phone calls, much to my surprise and relief, she’d said things were great.
“I’m tired of being treated this way. Maybe I was too young when you left, Sam, and I didn’t understand—but I do now.” She broke into tears again only stopping to yell something to someone in the background, “No! Go away, Todd!”
Then her voice came back to the phone and she begged, “Please come get me.”
“Sweetie, where are you? At home?”
She sniffed. “No. I’m at Devine and Sons. They made me so mad I locked myself in Todd’s office. I put together this big presentation for all the regional sales reps. I did all the research, all the slides. Everything.”
Oh, hell. I knew exactly where this was going. I’d been there too many times myself.
“And then when it was time for the presentation, Dad told me to let Todd and Justin present it, and I had to sit there and watch them get all the credit.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that happened to you.” I gathered my purse, and Margo handed me my keys and gave me a wave, her face as somber as mine. I headed out the door. There was no question that I’d go get her. I knew exactly how heartbreaking it was.
“Oh my God, Sam. I don’t know how you put up with it for so long. I’m so tired of working so hard and waiting for Dad to notice.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. I’d tried to encourage her to work outside of the family business, but there must be a thing about daughters wanting to make their fathers proud. And we’d both tried. And failed.
“He never will, will he, Sam?” She sounded…fragile. And heartbroken like you do when someone crushes your dreams, and the man you’ve put on a pedestal comes crashing down into reality.
“I don’t think so, baby, but that doesn’t stop us from trying.” I was in my car and headed to the highway. I’d set the phone in its holder and switched to hands free. “Why are you locked in Todd’s office?”
She sputtered a half-laugh, half-sob. “Because about halfway through the presentation—when I’d gotten over the shock of what they were doing—I managed to get hold of the clicker and mess up the slides. Once the slides were off and they couldn’t use the script, they looked like complete asses because they had no idea what they were talking about. They’re kinda pissed about it.”
“Good for you.” My stepbrothers were as emotionally bereft as my father. It was like being a decent human wasn’t even in their DNA. “Hang tight. I’m already on the road. I’ll be there in just over an hour.”
“I knew I could count on you, Sam.” Jane sniffed and hiccupped into the phone. “I’m going to distract myself from crying while I wait for you by deleting appointments in Todd’s calendar and adding in fake ones, so he can have the fun of showing up at random businesses looking like the clueless ass he is.”
I shouldn’t have, but I laughed. I knew how much it stung. I’d been out of there a few years and I still had scars. To feel like the outsider in your own family. To feel like an afterthought and never a priority. To feel you’d never earn the love you thought would have been unconditional.
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
“I’m still mad at them and messing with Todd’s schedule will help—but it hurts so badly, and I just want to cry. Can I come stay with you for a few days and do that? Please?” Her voice was whisper soft. Defeated.
“Sure you can.”
I did a lot of thinking on the one hour drive to Greenville. And even more on the way back with my stepsister softly crying in the seat next to me as she retold the whole story from the beginning. Adding many other details she’d been dealing with at the uncaring hands of the males in our family.
My sister’s pain brought back my pain, and I realized it was a timely reminder of the frustration and futility of expecting love from emotionally distant men. The sad thing was you rarely could decide who you loved. You couldn’t grow up loving your dad through a little girl’s eyes and then suddenly turn it off when you realize he doesn’t love you back.
And I thought about me and Beck. His whispered reminders, It’s only sex. At first I’d agreed. And then I told myself it didn’t matter. And as the months passed and we spent more time together, I’d decided he was trying to convince himself. But that thinking was sticking my head in the sand. It was ignoring all that life had already taught me. The same lesson my little sister was learning right now. So it was time to face the truth and know I couldn’t go through that again. I wouldn’t go through that again. I deserved better than that.
There was a reason I’d designated Beck off-limits to begin with. There was nothing but heartache down the road. What a wake-up call. It was time to put the brakes on whatever it was Beck and I had together. I needed to focus on boosting my sister’s self-esteem and wrap up the King house.
I refused to love another man who couldn’t—wouldn’t love me back. We’d always agreed as soon as the job was finished, we’d both go our separate ways. I was just ending it a few days early. I’d need to call Beck to officially end the “with benefits” part of our working relationship. My head was telling me it was the smart thing to do. My heart said it was too late.
Because it was entirely possible I’d already fallen in love with Beckett Thorne.
Chapter 24
Beckett
“Beck! Open the damn door! My hands are full with the damn mashed potatoes you told me to bring.” I pulled open my front door before Ash kicked it in. “When you demand your guests bring food, you should expect their hands will be full.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too,” I said. “I didn’t demand you bring potatoes. I asked you to bring your favorite dish. And you’re not a guest. You’re my brother.”
“Whatever.” He shoved a stainless-steel bowl covered in tinfoil into my hands as he walked by, and holy shit it was hot.
“Did you just make these?” I juggled it in my hands trying to avoid getting burned until I could drop the bowl on the island. My house was old and not as nice as Ash’s, but it was the most centrally located for everyone so that’s why I’d decided it was best for our first real holiday meal.
You heard me right—our first real holiday meal. Once I’d opened my mouth and invited Sam, I’d had to scramble. Because I sort of lied when I said the Thorne brothers didn’t have any holiday traditions. We did. Our tradition was to head out for pizza or burgers at Louie’s, one of the only places open on Thanksgiving and Christmas around here.
He shot me a wild-eyed look like I was crazy. “Fuck no. I don’t know how to make potatoes. When I complained to my neighbor, she said she was making them anyway so she doubled her recipe. And now you have the potatoes you needed so damn badly.”
“I don’t need the damn potatoes. You were supposed to bring what you like to eat.” And then I realized what was wrong. Damn, we’d hit the final sprint to the end in Lila’s job but that didn’t mean I couldn’t take the time for my brothers. “Roughnecks lost last night?”
“Only spectacularly.” Ash grabbed a beer from the fridge, palmed off the top, and took a drink. “So making your damn potatoes was not something I wanted to do today.”
I didn’t bother to point out that he didn’t make them,
and they weren’t my potatoes. Ash hated to lose. Hopefully he’d mellow out from the loss in a few hours.
Gray and Wyatt arrived at the same time, entering the house arguing over something. They each held an oven-safe tinfoil pan from Louie’s in their hands.
“You know, Beck, if we’d known you were going to transform into Martha Stewart, we never would have agreed to Thanksgiving at your place.” Gray tipped his head toward Wyatt. “Wyatt thinks this is on account of Sam. Which makes no sense. You don’t throw some fancy meal just because you’re having sex with someone. Maybe you do that trying to get her into bed, but if she’s already there—”
“Gray…” Wyatt said.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
The doorbell rang, and I tensed up for a second, but then I realized it was probably Eli because I’d told Sam a later time in hopes my brothers would have finished giving me shit by the time she got here.
I swung the door open and Eli stood grinning at me. His beard tamed, his wild hair trimmed, and wearing a solid blue button up shirt instead of his normal T-shirt.
“Why are you so happy?” I didn’t trust it, since all the others had done was bitch and moan their way in. Like asking them to make one dish one day a year was a fucking imposition.
“What’s not to be happy about?” Eli came in, holding a bakery box. “It’s called Happy Thanksgiving for a reason, right? Plus, I brought cupcakes.”
“You don’t eat cupcakes for Thanksgiving, Eli,” Ash grumbled from the couch. “You should have brought pie.”
“Fuck you, Ash. Beck said bring my favorite dish—I brought fucking cupcakes. Deal with it.” Eli emphasized his point by taking one of the cupcakes from the box and biting the top off it as he walked on to the kitchen.
“Shit, Beck, you made all this?” Eli’s gaze took in the counter full of food. Turkey, stuffing, three bean casserole, corn on the cob, and yeast rolls.