by Piper King
“Well, I guess no one’s knocking down the door, huh?” she asks in a small voice.
“You’re fully booked all weekend. They’ll be here. Just give it time.”
And I turn out to be very, very right. As always.
Guests arrive throughout the course of the day, and Harper welcomes them into her newly-renovated (and newly-free-of-squirrel) bed and breakfast. There’s some champagne to celebrate the opening weekend as well as a live band. Glasses clink, cheers are uttered, and smiles beam throughout the room, but none more so than Harper’s.
I stay here with her as moral support because she asked. But she doesn’t need me. She’s better at this than she knows. So, I lean against the wall in the corner and watch my woman at her best. And I hope to hell I can watch her like this for many more days to come.
Hell, let’s be honest here. I don’t mean days. I want her in my life for the rest of my years.
Epilogue
A Few Months Later…
Noah grabs my hand and pulls me up the stairs toward the attic. All of tonight’s guests have retired to their rooms. Ever since I opened back up three months ago, I’ve been packed most weekends. Even weekday nights are becoming more popular. Word has started to spread about the new and updated version of my bed and breakfast.
And with Noah Hall in my life, I’ve never been happier.
“Just one question,” I ask as he pulls me up the last flight of stairs. “Why exactly are we going to the attic? Please tell me we don’t have squirrels again.”
The squirrel incident—now that it’s a distant memory—seems more on the humorous side of things rather than the traumatic (which is how I saw it then). That is, of course, unless there are squirrels all over again. I don’t think I’d find it particularly humorous anymore, especially since I’d have to empty the bed and breakfast and tell everyone exactly why we had to kick them out.
I have a feeling that would taint my growing business in a way that would take a long time to undo.
“No squirrels,” he says with a mysterious smile. “Not this time, at least. But it might make you scream just as much, if not more so.”
“That sounds ominous, Noah. Or sexy.” I cock my head and laugh.
“Dun, dun, dun!” He hovers at the edge of the top step, blocking my view of the attic behind him. “Guess you’ll have to find out. Close your eyes and stick out your hand. No, wait. Your tongue. That’s better.”
“You’re one strange man. Has anyone ever told you that?” But despite my intense confusion, I follow his commands. He has something up his sleeve. He’s still the same jokester he always was. And while I might have run in the opposite direction a few months ago, I never would now. Because while he still loves his games and his jokes, he’s different. He’s more lighthearted now, and his jokes are more fun for everyone else involved. There’s no flash of pain in his eyes anymore, and I like to thing it’s because of me.
I put a smile in his heart and on his face. And he’s done the same for me.
So, I close my eyes and stick out my tongue, regardless of how ridiculous it makes me feel.
He drops something on my tongue. It’s soft and gooey, and smells of chocolate sliced through with cinnamon. My tastebuds explode into happiness, and I can’t help but moan. I’m a sucker for cinnamon. Always have been.
As I start to open my eyes to thank Noah for this random, delicious surprise, he stops me short.
“Not yet. There’s another surprise.”
“More than the chocolate?” I smile. “You’re spoiling me, Noah.”
“Oh, just you wait.”
There’s some shuffling. A throat clearing. Some more shuffling and a clunk on the floor.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now, sweetheart.”
My heart flutters before my eyelids do. There’s something soft and serious about the tone of his voice, and it sends a flood of warmth through my veins. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but suddenly I know. This surprise is about much more than chocolate.
It’s about us.
I open my eyes and let out a cry when I spot Noah down on his knee. He holds up a ring that sparkles even in the dim lighting. It’s a very classic sort of ring. One you don’t see in stores these days, and it’s in a small, beat-up old box, like it’s been time traveled here into the twenty-first century.
It’s perfect. For me. For us.
Noah smiles, and I swear I see tears in his eyes. “My mother gave me this ring before she died. She gave all of us brothers rings, in fact. They’ve been handed down through my family for years. She told me it was reserved for a special sort of girl. And I think if she met you now she’d agree that you not only fit the bill, but you exceed it in ways I can’t even comprehend. You’re one of a kind, Harper Harrison. There’s never been any other girl for me, and I know there never will be. You are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will you marry me?”
“Oh my god, Noah.” I press my hand to my heart. I never imagined in a million years a proposal could ever be so perfect. And the ring…it touches me in a way I can’t comprehend. To know that he wants to give me a piece of his mother, the woman he mourns with each and every day he lives, makes me want to break down in tears.
But he misunderstands it when I start to cry.
“Is something wrong?” He looks panicked and starts to stand. “Is it the attic? I shouldn’t have done the attic. I just thought it would be corny and sweet if I proposed where we finally realized what we are to each other.”
“No, it’s perfect, Noah.” Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. But it doesn’t matter, because I can feel him all around me, filling up my heart. “I love you so much. Of course I’ll marry you.”
And with that, he sweeps me up into his arms. We walked down a wedding aisle together once, as enemies, and now we’ll walk down it together again. But this time, there will be no hatred or irritation in my heart. No heated exchanges. No desire to smack him in the face.
There will only be love.
Hope you enjoyed Harper & Noah’s story! If you’re interested in more blue collar alphas, you can check out JACK HAMMER, now available on Amazon, and POWER DRILLER, coming later this month. And don’t forget to join the exclusive Piper King Newsletter to get notified on release day!
What To Read Next
DIESEL
I’m a long haul trucker with a full load.
I f*ck who I want. When I want. And I always leave them begging for more. I roll into town, take the best piece of ass I can find, and then move on before the sun rolls into the morning clouds.
But not Lucy, the sunshine of a girl who works at the truck stop diner off Exit 276. She’s too sweet and too fragile for a bad boy like me to screw over. My past is mine to bear alone.
Except one look at those gorgeous green eyes, and I’m toast. Hell, I’m only a f*cking man. And a man can’t resist what he wants no matter how hard he tries.
LUCY
I had big dreams for my life, but they flew right out the window when I used all my college savings to bail my brother out of an awful mess.
So, now I work in the grimy truck stop diner every night, serving up greasy food to leering men. It’s the only way to get by.
There’s one trucker I don’t mind so much though. Mysterious, rugged, dangerous. He’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and he looks like he likes to f*ck hard.
Turns out he does.
Now I’ve had his baby. Too bad he’s disappeared without a trace. Even though I try to hate him, I can’t get him off my mind. I want him to come back and be a father to our child. But that’s not the only thing I want.
I want to give him my heart.
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Excerpt of Jack Hammer
ZOE
Apparently, there are still towns in this country with only one stoplight. White picket fences, gazebos, and tire swings hanging from towering oak trees. No that I’ve ever seen that kind of place until today.
The city is my world, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Want a pizza at four in the morning? No problem! In dire need of coffee? Well, there’s a Starbucks on every corner.
If a city doesn’t have at least seven skyscrapers, I’m not interested. I like to be where the people are, where you can find something happening at all hours of the night. In places like Nowheresville, the only thing you can find are cows ambling across dirt roads.
Okay, so the town I’ve just driven to isn’t called Nowheresville, but it might as well be.
Because somehow, despite my shiny new job in downtown Manhattan, I’ve found myself plopped into Redwater, Connecticut for a business trip. And not just a day trip, unfortunately. I’m stuck here for a week.
I figure I’ll die of boredom within the first twenty-four hours.
The twenty-something woman behind the counter of the quaint bed and breakfast smiles and hands me a key. “Your room is on the second floor to the right. Breakfast is served every morning at seven. You have any questions at all, just let me know.”
“Thank you,” I say, glancing around the place. There’s a pink flower pattern on absolutely everything. The wallpaper, the tablecloths, even the paintings. If I look at it too long, I’m convinced I’ll pass out from dizziness. “Just out of curiosity, is there anything to do around here? I have some time to kill.”
I could sit in my room and read a book, but that’s never really been my cup of tea. In fact, tea itself never has been either. I’m a wine bar kind of gal, preferably with a piano, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I won’t be finding anything like that within fifty miles of Redwater.
“Well.” The woman frowns and crunches her eyebrows together. “There’s some nice trails through the countryside if you brought your hiking boots along with you. Those sky high heels of yours are hot, but you won’t make it very far.”
With a slight smile, I shake my head, shifting in my designer heels. I don’t even own a pair of hiking boots.
“There’s a nice orchard nearby where they let you pick your own berries. That could be fun, though it closes at sundown.”
“As nice as that sounds, I was thinking of something more indoorsy than outdoorsy.” I lift an eyebrow. “A museum. Art gallery. Maybe a theatre?”
“No, we don’t have that kind of thing in Redwater. You’d have to head to Hartford for that.” She gives a light laugh, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s laughing at her lame town or at me. “We’ve got Bar Wilde next door. That’s probably the closest thing to what you’re looking for.”
Bar Wilde? It sounds like the kind of place where college girls dance on tables while old rock ballads blast from a junky old jukebox.
But, it’s better than sitting in an explosion of pink flowers for the rest of the evening.
And that’s how I end up in a place called Bar Wilde.
I have to admit that I might have been a teensy bit snobby. I assumed the place would be a dump, especially when I saw it was a big red renovated barn on the short walk over. I find I like it though as I ease onto the sleek barstool. The lofted ceilings are criss-crossed with dark wooden beams that are highlighted by low-hanging lanterns. Combined with the flickering candles on each of the small tables that dot the large room, there’s a nice warm ambience that makes me feel right at home. And instead of college kids dancing on tabletops, the crowd is much more mellow.
Sure, there’s a jukebox like I expected. And there’s some twenty-somethings in the back corner playing pool. But there’s also a scattering of older folks, as well as a group of men in faded dusty jeans breaking out into raucous laughter. They catch my eye, mostly because the tallest one has the most impressive biceps I’ve ever seen in my life.
Oh stop that, I think to myself. He’s the total opposite of the kind of guy I usually go for. I like suits and ties and expensive cologne. Someone suave and sophisticated. The kind of guy who knows the difference between Malbec and Merlot. That guy in the low-slung jeans looks as if he smells like dirt and steel. Not to mention he’s sporting a cocky grin, and I absolutely abhor arrogant guys. They’re the worst. Mostly because they think they’re the best.
“What’ll you have?” The bartender slides over to me. He’s tall and muscular with a thick beard hiding his jaw, and he wears a name tag that pins him as the owner: Roman Wilde. Behind him, the wall is covered from floor to ceiling by an impressive array of bottles, and he flips a coaster before me with an ease that says he’s done that move a thousand times before.
“You have a specialty?” I ask, settling my hands on the smooth wood counter. I’ve never seen anything like it. The color is dark and rich and soft to the touch. Whoever put this place together has some serious skills. Perhaps the kind of skills my boss would appreciate as well.
“Whiskey,” he says with a wink. “Always whiskey. You want to try one made here in Redwater, Miss…?”
“Zoe. My name is Zoe Austin. And you know what? I’ve love to,” I say, somewhat surprising myself. I never would have pegged Nowheresville as the kind of place to get good whiskey, but this guy looks as if he knows his spirits. “You have a really nice place here. Did you renovate it yourself?”
“Why thank you.” He smiles, and a dimple dots his left cheek. “That’ll be the handiwork of the Hall Brothers. You looking for some builders? I can introduce you if you like.”
“No, thank you,” I say quickly. Maybe just a tad too quickly. And I swear my face feels a little warm. Problem is, I really don’t want to meet the Hall Brothers. I’m not sure I can look them in the eyes when I know what’s about to come.
Because I’m here in this town to take business away from them. On my boss’s orders, of course. There’s a new housing development being built on the outskirts of Redwater, and rumor has it the brothers are numero uno on the list of contractors.
It’s the kind of development that has one hell of a price tag attached.
And I’ve been sent here to convince the developer to go with someone other than the Hall Brothers. A serious operation instead of some hobbyists. A nationwide corporation with better equipment, wider contacts, and an endless supply of resources. The Wilson Group is a well-oiled machine. Not a homegrown family business better suited for local kitchen renovations or bedroom closet installations.
“You sure? ‘Cause the man you’re looking for is just—”
“I’m sure,” I say again.
“Can I buy you a drink, gorgeous?” comes a voice from behind me.
I pivot on the stool and find myself staring into the deep blue eyes of the hunk I spotted earlier. He looks even better up close, though he also looks even cockier. He shoots me a wink, and something hot and bright grows in my gut.
He’s so totally not my type. Really. Not at all. Just because he’s making me sweat doesn’t mean I like what I see.
The last guy I dated was a CEO of one of Manhattan’s most up-and-coming firms. He wined and dined me and bought me a glittery necklace from Tiffany’s. Of course, Marcus ended up cheating on me. In our own bed. I’d sworn off men ever since.
I should say no to the drink. Because even if this Connecticut Cowboy was my type in some alternate reality, I’m totally not ready to meet someone new. Not after walking in on the guy of my dreams balls deep in a blonde bombshell strapped to the wall.
But I find myself nodding and returning his smile, and he flicks his fingers at the bartender to pour me another drink.
And I have an inkling it’s only the first of many to come.
JACK
Her smile lights up the whole damn bar. I hadn’t expected that. The suit skirt I thought looked stiff and formal from afar looks downright slinky up close. I hadn’t expected that either. But the biggest surprise is the warmth in her eyes. City girls like her usually come across cool and distant, but there’s something genuine about her, causing it to seem as if she’s wearing a pristine disguise to hide the easygoing girl-next-door underneath.
Doesn’t matter, I think to myself. This is just a
silly bet from my younger (and lamer) brother who is too bored by his own lackluster love life to know what to do with himself. So, he has to try and complicate mine. ‘Course, all I have to do is make nice for half an hour with Miss Fancy Pants over here, and I win. There’s no prize, of course, unless you count the justification for total smugness toward my little brother.
And I always revel in being smug, especially when it comes to Luke and Noah. They may be family, but they can also be major pains in my ass.
“Sure, I’d love that.” She runs her hands along the top of the bar as she appreciates its curves. A flicker of pride passes through me. I built this place, along with Luke and Noah. It was one of our first big jobs, and it put our business on the map. A part of me wants to show off to this girl who looks polished to perfection, despite the fact I’m not too fond of people like her.
My type is more along the lines of messy bedhead, bare feet, and freckles from the lazy afternoon sun. This girl wears a black suit skirt, a white no-nonsense blouse, and her dark hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, highlighting a set of gorgeous cheekbones and her slender, delicious neck…
I mean, they’re not gorgeous, and her neck isn’t delicious.
But if I were the kind of guy to go for this kind of girl, I’d probably think all that.
But I don’t. Because I’m not.
“Zoe,” Roman pipes in from the bar, gesturing to me as if he’s going to make the introduction. Not so fast, bud. “This here is Ja—”
“Jamie,” I cut in, reaching out to take her slender hand in mine. It’s much softer and warmer than I expected. “Name’s Jamie.”
Roman shoots me a quizzical expression but doesn’t correct me. He’s seen this happen before, and he’ll see it happen again. I can tell he doesn’t approve, and I don’t blame him really. This stupid game is not something I’m proud of, now that I mention it, but I can never back down from a dare.