To the Studs

by Roxanne Smith

  Most of them jolted into movement. Some hesitated and gave her resentful stares.

  She stared back. “Get to work or get the hell off my job site. You can explain to Vince later why you abandoned his contractual obligations.”

  One by one, they relented.

  She shook her head. Stubborn idiots. Stubborn but loyal. Well, she understood how much that counted for. She turned to Kay. “I’m leaving you in charge again. Keep them busy, or they’ll be worrisome and jittery. Don’t take any shit. If they have a problem, they can leave. For good. If I’m not back by nightfall, make sure Darcy the Pit isn’t left outside.”

  The young woman squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and nodded. A tough little thing. “You’ve got it, Ms. Harper. I mean Neve. Count on me.”

  Neve was already headed for the truck Duke had left running. It had the distinction of being one of the only vehicles not entirely blocked in. “I kind of have to.”

  “Right, of course. I only meant—”

  “Go!” She didn’t look back to see if Kay followed orders. She heard the scramble of her feet on the rough gravel. Carefully, Neve reversed, mindful of the unhitched storage trailer a yard or so away. It made for tight quarters, but she navigated the space and finally pointed the truck in the direction of Lady Killer Ranch.

  Branches scraped and scratched against the truck sides as she tried to maintain speed while not driving like a maniac at the same time. Not the easiest feat.

  A sudden familiar bleeping distracted her. She glanced between the seats at Duke’s phone and rolled her eyes. She ought to suggest a belt holster. Then again, cell phones were pointless contraptions at the cabin. Most of the workmen, Duke and herself included, began leaving their phones in their trailers where they actually sent and received calls and texts, if spottily.

  She ignored the call and put her concentration into not bypassing the entrance to the ranch, veiled behind swells of foliage.

  The phone rang a second time.

  Neve snatched it up. Same 912 number as before. She shook her head and answered. “Call back and leave a damn message, would you?” Anxiety and adrenaline gave her natural impatience the run of her mouth.

  The woman was unfazed by Neve’s rudeness. “I’ve had enough of whoever the hell you are, okay? Give me Duke, now.”

  Neve’s mouth quirked up. A worthy adversary, this one. “It’s a damn shame, but he isn’t available. However, there’s this nifty new invention that might be the answer to your woes. It’s called voice mail. Very edgy technology. See, when the robot voice tells you to leave a message, you talk to it, say whatever dire thing you have to say, and then hang up. After that, the real magic happens. Duke will eventually hear the message you gave the robot, and he’ll do this thing they call returning a phone call. It’s all much simpler than it sounds, I promise.”

  She didn’t get the desired effect. Cut from the same cloth as Neve, apparently, the lady hardly reacted. Instead, her voice turned sympathetic. “Oh, honey. You must be another confused little girlfriend.”

  Neve started, slowing the truck to round a curve in the road. The words Duke and girlfriend together in a sentence rang wrong on so many levels, Neve didn’t know where to start. “Girlfriend, huh?”

  “Oh, sweetie. I understand. He’s sweet, if a tad boring, and good-looking. But there’s one tiny thing he might’ve failed to mention.”

  “Um, yeah, like he’s gay.” Neve pulled to the side of the road for fear she’d drive right past the entrance in her distraction. The mystery lady had some dish on Duke, and Neve was determined to discover it.

  Laughter came over the line. Not the mocking type, either. This lady’s deep belly laughs were the genuine article. “Really? And he’ll pretend you turned him straight or something? Wow. I guess I have to give him points for creativity.”

  Something tweaked in Neve’s chest. Surely not…She needed sure footing, not a game of wits. “I’m a colleague of Duke’s, not a girlfriend.”

  A beat of silence. “Why are you taking calls for him?”

  “Circumstantial.” Neve’s short answer gave away her impatience. “Look, we’ve had an on-site emergency. Duke left his phone in the truck I’m driving. Now, let’s make a deal. Tell me your message, and I’ll make sure Duke gets it. I delight in tormenting him, so don’t hold back.”

  “He’s working again.” A note of something like envy tainted the woman’s response.

  Neve wondered if she’d chosen sides wisely. “Against his will. It’s my project. He’s consulting.”

  “Hm.” A thoughtful pause. “Okay, fine. I’m Candice Kennicot. I’m Duke’s wife, and I’m not signing a damn thing until he returns my call.”

  Neve’s tongue shriveled up and stuck to the roof of her mouth. She worked her jaw until words formed. “Duke, he’s…I mean, you’re certain he’s not gay? You’re sure?”

  “Did you miss the word wife in my introduction? We were together for years. I’d have noticed if he wasn’t attracted to me, don’t you think?”

  Made sense. Still…“Any idea why he’d lie about it?”

  Candice sighed in a bored way. “Hell, I don’t know. To avoid relationships? I’m not sure how well you know him, but I kind of did a number on the guy. We’re not on great terms. But he opened a can of worms by sending me these papers, and I’m not signing anything.”

  Neve’s head swam.

  Not gay.

  Not gay and married. That filthy, rotten, dirty straight bastard. Hairy, lying prick. Stupid dirty cretin. The insults tumbled through her head, repeating themselves and growing in fervor.

  Every time she’d felt a physical attraction to him and wondered what was wrong with her—her face blazed with heat. He’ll suffer for this. My God, how he’ll suffer for this.

  She already knew the perfect punishment. “You want to get your hands on Duke, a phone call won’t cut it. Hell, we’re almost always down at the renovation site anyway, a hike down the far side of a mountain where there’s no cell service.”

  “What are you saying, hon?”

  “Hon is great, but you can call me Neve.”

  “Fine, Neve. You’re suggesting something. What is it?”

  Neve smiled. The sweetest revenge her crooked mind could concoct only worked if she got Duke’s little wife on board. She had a feeling Candice would be game. “Why, I think you should get some fresh mountain air, don’t you? After all, it’s hard for a man to ignore what’s right in front of his face.”

  A moment passed. “I’m in Georgia, and that’s quite a trip.” A pause and a deep breath. “But I hear the Ozarks are beautiful this time of year.”

  Chapter 8

  Duke paced the creaky porch of the ranch house and nervously rubbed his hands together. He’d let the tag-along crew member go in with Vince while Owen and Laurel dug out their veterinarian tools and went to work on Vince’s ankle. How much did they really know? Should they have pushed for the doctor in town? Duke might’ve stopped the bleeding by then. Then again, maybe not. The only options seemed equally risky, but the ranch had been closer.

  He recognized Vince’s truck crawling down the lane toward the house. He guessed the driver was Neve before she parked and stepped out of the cab.

  And he fell into the glacial crevice that was her gaze.

  Ice-cold gold-flecked eyes bore into him with a hostility he hadn’t seen since…

  Since never.

  She’d never looked at him the way she was looking now. He swore his nuts shriveled as she stalked past him and tried the front door.

  “We’re locked out.” Hey, ho, Captain Obvious. “I let Vince’s guy go in with him. He eventually passed out from the pain.” He grimaced, only able to imagine. He couldn’t claim to have the experience of a pain so intense it robbed him of consciousness.

  Neve stayed in front of the door, her nose nearly pressed against it, her head down. With choppy, robotic motions, she went to a rocker, sat, and star
ed straight ahead.

  Frustration built up in Duke’s chest. Somehow, over the last four weeks, they’d discovered common ground. They were on solid terms. He’d almost call them friends, except Neve didn’t have any those. He took two steps toward her. The memory of her cold glare kept him from getting any closer. “Are you okay?”

  “Perfectly fucking fine,” she ground out.

  “Perfectly fine, huh? That’s what you call this Ice Queen routine? Is this because of Gavin?” Shut up, Duke. Don’t poke the bear. He didn’t heed his own advice. “Because if so, your timing is shitty. We could at least survive this crisis before you start taking it out on me that Gavin won’t talk to you. I try, Neve, every time. I haven’t given up.”

  With inexplicable ferocity, she snapped at him. “It has nothing to do with Gavin, you idiot.” She took in a breath through her nostrils. “And everything to do with Candice Kennicot. Ring a bell? A wedding bell, maybe?”

  Slowly, her hard gaze met his, watching him like a viper eying a trembling mouse.

  Dread roiled in his gut. Candice’s name coming from Neve’s mouth made everything inside him shrivel up and disintegrate into ash until he was a hollowed out bag of flesh. Stupidly, he gaped at her and said the dumbest thing imaginable. “I can explain.”

  Neve nodded slowly and turned her face away from him, but not before he caught the pinched edges of her mouth and the half-lidded expression of pained disappointment.

  He recalled their talk back at his loft before they ever came out to the cabin. She’d said then he’d never let her down before. And now he had. Regret washed over him like an unforgiving wave. He could fix this, though. He could explain. “Neve, please. It’s not—”

  Her palm shot out to silence him. “If you say it isn’t what it looks like, I’ll remove your testicles. Slowly and methodically, I will remove them with the rustiest tool I can find and a smile on my face.”

  He blinked and licked his lips. He’d been about to say those very words. And they’d have been a lie, too. The circumstances were irrelevant. “Fine. It’s exactly what it looks like. I’m not gay.”

  Another slow nod. Deceptively at ease in the rocker, arms on the armrests, hands lax, she kept her face turned away from him. “And married.”

  “Divorced, actually.” He took the rocker beside Neve’s. “We divorced a long time ago. After I did Vale House.” His next words were cut off by the front screen door clattering open.

  Owen and Vince’s guy—Duke seriously needed to get the guy’s name—shuffled out looking tired and worried. Neve and Duke scrambled from their rockers to ogle them expectantly.

  Laurel came through the door behind them and was the one to speak. Duke’s stomach pitched in fear at the blood on her hands.

  “Vince’s ankle is a mess. It’s not life threatening, but the injury isn’t small, either. We got the bleeding to stop and cleaned it, but I have to stitch the larger wounds.”

  Neve took a step toward her. “What do you mean wounds? What the hell happened to him?”

  Laurel continued like Neve hadn’t spoken. “He’s in there drinking whiskey right now, said to do whatever I had to do, and adamantly refused to be taken to a hospital. I’m keeping him a few nights, until the risk of infection has passed. We have a wheelchair around here somewhere, from when Tim’s daddy was still alive, and a pair of crutches from when Miles broke his leg three summers ago. Vince will need both for a time.”

  Neve’s mouth formed a flat, dangerous line. “Tell me what caused the injury.”

  Owen offered her a troubled frown. “Steel trap.”

  Laurel’s worried glance at her husband made Duke’s skin prickle. They knew something. Guilt framed the edges of her explanation. “It appears your friend stepped on an old trap out by the pump house. He says the men he was with pried it off his ankle with whatever tools they had on hand. That’s when the bleeding would’ve began in earnest.”

  “Old, huh?” Vince’s crewman spoke up for the first time.

  They all looked to him.

  His arms crossed, openly hostile. “Didn’t look old to me. Not a speck of rust on the thing. Gleaming hinges. No, ma’am, not a damn thing old about that trap.”

  Owen pretended to find something interesting on his shirtfront. Laurel swallowed.

  In a phenomenon of epic proportions, Neve didn’t erupt in a fiery gush of rage and destruction like Duke expected. But she did take another step forward. Not toward Laurel, the woman, the easy target. Nope, not Neve. She stepped up to Owen, the man who outweighed her by a hundred pounds, and narrowed her eyes. “That’s private land. No one has permission to hunt or trap on Gavin’s property. Mind telling me how a shiny new trap found its way to our pump house?”

  None of them had to guess. The guilt sang from Owen’s face, and Laurel’s, too.

  Neve jabbed Owen in the chest with an angry finger and practically growled. “Where is Hux? He’s going to answer for what happened to Vince tonight.”

  Owen looked away, but Laurel shook her head and answered. “He ain’t here. He’s gone to auction with some of the cattle, but he’ll be back next week. I’ll tell him to come see you as soon as he gets back. I swear it.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she snapped, glaring from husband to wife. “He and I have a date.”

  * * * *

  Duke had never considered himself a coward. One day, he’d have to remember to thank Neve for opening his eyes to this overlooked flaw. Though, to be fair, he’d volunteered for the position of Vince’s caretaker. For the last week, he’d been Vince’s eyes and ears, as well as hands, feet, and mouthpiece. The task had given him little time for a conversation with Neve about his grievous lie, let alone any sort of explanation for it. He hadn’t even told her about the French doors he’d found at Thrift House.

  He’d get his chance eventually, though. He expected her to track him down any day now, because she didn’t avoid confrontation like normal people.

  No, siree. She came at it with claws and a sledgehammer, a shotgun strapped across her back and a knife holstered at her ankle, in case the first two didn’t sufficiently obliterate her opponent.

  Okay, okay. She isn’t that bad. Her most powerful weapon was a sharp tongue and her skill in wielding it. But she cut deep when she wanted to. And he had a feeling she’d want to when they finally spoke.

  He’d love to see Neve’s keen mouth up against someone like Candice, who had alligator skin. His ex-wife didn’t care enough about others’ opinions for them to hit their mark. She chocked it up to poor judgment and moved on.

  Neve hadn’t let Vince’s injury slow production. She kept his team busy with the icynene spray foam insulation, which they’d applied only yesterday. The very second, in fact, that Jake finished wiring the cabin for the propane generator and solar panels, and Andrew completed the plumbing connections.

  Vince’s crew had also begun sanding the exterior walls of the cabin in preparation for the stain and weather-resistant coating they’d apply two weeks from now—granted they stayed on schedule—and measuring and cutting the slats for the secondary wall Duke would begin constructing tomorrow, day one of week five.

  The newly insulated walls waited for Duke, dry and exposed, to build the log profile boarding. Then they’d move on to sanding the inside as well. Already, Finn’s cabinets were near completion. He and Kay had begun the sanding yesterday. The custom pieces would be varnished and ready to install as soon as the cabin was ready for them.

  After five days of playing nursemaid and getting all his updates secondhand from Neve, Duke looked forward to getting his hands dirty on a real project.

  He tugged his work boots on and shook his head at his determined ward. “I’m telling you, Vince. You need to stay off that ankle another week. Your team is working fine without you. Hell, today’s the last day of the week, anyway. Might as well take it easy. I’m only making the trek to get a second glance at the measurements. I’m sure they’
re fine, but never hurts to double-check.”

  Vince grunted. “Exactly.”

  Duke pursed his lips. He’d practically made the man’s point for him. “Fair enough.”

  Vince didn’t wait for approval. He grabbed the crutches resting against the wall of his trailer, where they’d spent most their time since the injury.

  Duke realized the old man already had on his boots and cap. He’d be going down to the cabin today, whether Duke agreed or not. They stood together, and Duke clapped him on the back. “You’re sure you feel okay?”

  “Hell, Duke, today’s the first day I feel normal. That lady kept me high as shit those first few days. I think they gave me horse tranquilizers or something.” With the crutch gripped tightly beneath his arm, he ducked his head enough to adjust the dirty ball cap he hardly ever took off. “Besides, my mouth works just fine. I can bark orders good as anyone, crutches or not.”

  Duke nodded as he moved to help Vince navigate the three steps down from the trailer. Horse tranquilizers. I knew it. “Listen, I’ve got to get the blueprints for the secondary wall from my trailer. Think you can navigate the path down to the cabin?”

  Vince’s frustrated glare met Duke’s gaze. “Crutches. Not a damn wheelchair.” He shook his head at what he’d taken as some kind of insult.

  Duke grinned. “Okay, then. I’ll meet you down there.” He watched Vince go then turned toward his trailer. Neve plagued his mind, as usual, since their encounter. He’d really screwed up. At the time, the reasons for his dishonesty seemed legit, despite her dire warning about lying to her. Unfortunately, his explanation would only make things worse.