Why?
No matter what he said about himself, she’d pegged him as a nice guy. Not only had he stuck up for her, with the elbow jab at the work-site, but he’d been kind to the foreman’s assistant, even if he’d been subtle about it. First, when his biker buddy slammed Robby’s skill at playing pool, then when the guy forgot to bring cups for the beer. A lot of the guys she knew would have made fun of his mistakes. Ryan would have.
Were those small tells enough to judge Brick better than he judged himself? She trusted her own judgment about men as far as she could throw one. She’d thought Ryan had loved her, and wasn’t he a colossal miscalculation?
Her brother stepped into her line of sight. His blue eyes flashed. “Why were you talking to Brick?”
Great. Will had kicked into Protector Mode. “Hello to you too, big brother. Yes, I am having a nice time at this birthday party I threw for you.” Her voice climbed. “Oh, no need to thank me for this. It’s what any sister would do.”
“I’m serious, Liv.” He looked at the ceiling, then modulated his voice. “You need to stay away from him. He’s no good for you. Besides, you should be focusing on yourself. Taking it easy.” He pulled on her ponytail like he had when she was fifteen.
Annoyance prickled beneath her skin. Will had been gone for years, and it was far too late for him to try to resume his role as her older-sibling savior. Besides, she finished her chemo months ago. She was in complete remission, and Will knew it. It grated for him to bring it up now, especially when she was still reeling a little from Brick’s bizarre brush-off. “I’ve had about enough of men telling me what’s good for me tonight,” she warned. “I know you were gone for a while, but I am twenty-six years old, Will. A grown-ass woman. Don’t treat me like a child.”
“Then don’t act like a child.” He sounded reasonable, which grated more.
She narrowed her eyes, and he scowled in response.
“You don’t know the first thing about Brick Barlow, and you’re making eyes at him like a lovesick schoolgirl.”
Her irritation went up another notch. She growled as she got to her feet. “I haven’t had a daddy in almost seventeen years. I don’t need you to come back in my life and try to act like one now. Brick and I only talked at the bar for a few minutes, which you clearly saw. But if I wanted to fuck a rodeo clown and post it to PornHub, it would still be none of your business.”
“All grown up, huh? Too many drinks could be clouding your judgment.” He swiped her driver’s license from the bar and held it in the air with a smirk. “I’m officially cutting you off.”
She resisted the urge to fight him for it, like she did when he’d swipe one of her toys as a kid. Back then, he’d laugh, holding the prize over her head, while she jumped and tried to reach. He wanted her to do it now, be the same kid he remembered. She would not give him the satisfaction.
She didn’t drive tonight, anyway.
Instead, she clipped his shoulder with hers as she headed toward the door. “Happy birthday. Dick.”
It wasn’t until her Lyft driver dropped her home, she allowed herself to think more about what happened. As she searched her memories, she grew surer and surer Brick had a thing for her. Still, she couldn’t ignore the puffy, purple black eye he had tonight and the scabbed-over knuckles on his hand.
He was obviously into some rough stuff but trying to keep her away from it. Perhaps she should listen to him and keep her distance.
The way he’d looked at her, though…no one had ever looked at her that way. Sure, she’d had boyfriends over the years and a fair amount of sex, so she’d seen desire. But never anything this intense.
Brick’s eyes consumed her. It was a stark, naked, needful thing, and it burned her from the inside out.
He made her feel alive. Wasn’t that what she was looking for?
When he’d grasped her fingers, his touch echoed in every part of her body. She could still feel the thick callouses on his skin, the roughness completely at odds with the careful way he touched her hand.
She dreamed of those calloused hands as she slept, wrapped in the sheets of her bed. The way they scratched against the tender skin of her nipples. How they ghosted down her body, attending her between her legs.
His features were hazy, but Brick’s eyes were unmistakable; his fierce stare locked on her face as he gave her pleasure.
It had never been like this with Ryan.
She woke up as she came, her own fingers moving beneath her panties. Sweat drenched her body, but her limbs felt languid. Loose. Satisfied. Groaning, she pulled the pillow over her head.
If she was going to forget Brick Barlow, she had her work cut out for her.
***
“This may be a little harder than I thought,” Liv mumbled as she curled up into a ball on the mat.
When she’d taken the plunge and accepted her sister’s invitation to try a Krav Maga class, she’d expected to feel strong and empowered, not like roadkill.
She and Izzy were the last two people remaining in the mid-sized room. Designed for basic workouts and sparring, it was bare, except for the padding on the floor. Nowhere to hide. A large window took up one wall, filling the open space with sunlight.
Izzy held out her hand and laughed as Liv slowly pulled herself up. “Don’t be such a baby. You should’ve signed up for one of these classes years ago.”
“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “You work out in your sleep.”
Iz wasn’t taking the class with her. She was teaching it, and her big sister showed no mercy.
“Hey, you said you wanted to do this. It’s not enough to talk the talk, Nugget, you’ve got to walk the walk.” Ignoring her grimace at the family nickname, Iz continued, “You don’t work in the best part of town. You live alone. You need to be able to protect yourself. It won’t do you any good if I go easy on you.” Her sister cracked open a bottle of water and handed it over.
At least Iz didn’t doubt her ability to put herself through the physical challenge, though this would be tougher than she expected. Her arm shook as she lifted the water bottle to her lips. “I know.” She trudged toward the door. “I don’t want you to take it easy on me. I can do this.”
Izzy’s hearty laugh boomed behind her. “I might believe it if you weren’t hobbling around like an old lady. C’mon. Get showered. We’re going to be late for lunch with Carol.”
The hot water soothed her quivering muscles. Izzy had worked her like a dog. Running. Cardio. Punching. Kicking. She had no illusions of becoming the same kind of badass as her sister. For one thing, Izzy’s life revolved around the gym. Nothing about Liv was hard. She was a nurturer. She fought for people, not against them.
Still, this class provided a chance to prove something to herself—and to her brother and everyone else who considered her a fragile flower.
Pride swelled in her chest. No fragile flowers here.
And check me out, stepping out of my safety zone.
Now that she was healthy—and single—she needed to try new things, expand her world. Skydiving was only the tip of the iceberg.
Looking back on her time with Ryan, she’d been a cardboard cut-out of the woman she wanted to be. She did her work, but she hadn’t been connecting with the kids. Thanks to students like Devon, teaching had become more than simply a job.
She had pleasant acquaintances, but no real friends other than Carol. Ryan’s world had been her world before she got sick, and it all went away when their relationship ended. It really hadn’t been much of a loss, but realizing that took time.
It would be easy to blame her ex for washing the vibrancy from her life. But had it ever really been there? Probably not. Celebrating her new lease on life meant living it differently.
She smiled as she toweled off. Jumping out of the plane rocked as a follow-up to the cliff diving trip at Lake Hartwell. She still couldn’t believe she’d done it. Carol had written several other items they still needed to mark off on their Dare to Dream list. Scub
a diving. Racecar driving.
Her cheeks warmed. Maybe she needed to add a forbidden romance to the list or at least add it to the unwritten pile of crazy shit she’d been trying. Like karaoke. The old Liv—the one who played it safe—she would have never dragged Carol to Kings of Karaoke to face her fear of singing in public with a rousing rendition of “Moves Like Jagger.” The old Liv would have never gone to Mardi Gras and flashed her boobs on Bourbon Street. And she never would have ridden the mechanical bull at PBR Atlanta.
Every one of those things scared the crap out of her, but she didn’t regret any of them. She liked being the kind of woman who pushed the envelope. It was liberating to turn her back on being afraid.
Izzy drove her to the sushi bar down the street. Liv would have preferred Chipotle, but her sister offered to pay, and she had a weird thing about what she would eat.
Carol stood right inside the front door and greeted her with a warm hug. She had laughter in her eyes as she pulled away. “You look rode hard and put up wet, girlfriend.”
“Fuck you.” She meant it, but only a little, and Carol took it in stride, linking their arms together as they followed the hostess to the table.
Iz ordered a plate of raw stuff, while Liv opted for a shrimp tempura roll in a Bento Box. She’d earned her carbs, dammit.
Carol ordered lo mein.
The restaurant had a trendy and an upscale look with fancy light fixtures and a huge water feature at the center of the dining room. White linen cloths covered the tables, while chrome and black lacquered accents popped throughout the room.
As she sipped her Miso soup, she eyed her sister. Izzy sat straight in her chair, her face watchful and alert. They shared the same blonde hair and blue eyes, but beyond their genetics, they couldn’t be more different. Iz was all hard lines and sharp edges. She wore her hair pulled into a tight French braid. Even her clothes were crisp and defined, with an ironed Oxford shirt and dark jeans. At least she rolled up her sleeves in deference to the heat.
Liv liked soft fabrics and flowing material—dresses mostly, like the one she wore today—but even her jeans were supple and worn. The only rough thing she’d ever wanted against her skin had turned her away in the bar last night. And wow, look how well she was doing in her efforts not to think of him.
She forced the image of his face out of her head. “I wish you could have made it to Moe’s last night. It would’ve been great to have you there for Will’s birthday.”
Izzy poked the lettuce in her salad around with her chopsticks. “I’m sorry. You know I’m not big on a crowded bar scene.”
She did but had no idea why. As much as she knew her sister loved her, she suspected Iz kept a lot of things to herself.
“Besides,” Iz continued briskly, “we’re having dinner together tonight. You’re welcome to come if you want.”
Normally, she would jump at the chance for a night with her entire family, but the idea of seeing Will right now made her blood boil. Even if she did need to retrieve her license, she hadn’t quite forgiven him for the way he’d behaved the night before.
“Nah.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “We’ll all get together for the Sunday dinner I’ve got planned next weekend. You guys can go ahead and have some quality time together now. I’ve got a ton of papers to grade, but make him give you my driver’s license. I need it to drive to work Monday.”
Izzy’s eyebrows flew up, and it appeared she planned to press for more, but the waitress returned with their next course before she could speak. Iz could always see right through her bullshit. Ever since their parents had died more than a decade ago, they’d been more than sisters—more than friends. Especially while Will had been in prison, they were the only family each other had.
Still, she did not want to retread what happened last night.
Carol snickered. “Sounds like the same excuse you gave me when I tried to get you to have dinner with Rosita and me last Saturday night.”
A crinkle formed between Izzy’s brow as she frowned at Liv. “I thought you liked Rosita.”
True. Carol’s girlfriend was awesome. She’d been a total rock throughout the chemo treatments, everything Carol’s now ex-husband hadn’t been the first time she got sick. A loud and boisterous spitfire, Rosita clearly loved Carol with her whole heart. And she would have ripped Liv a new one without a moment’s hesitation for jumping out—
Oh, shit.
Carol swallowed a spoonful of broth. “She didn’t want to face the music…”
Liv shook her head frantically.
“…for our skydiving trip.”
Thunderclouds passed over Izzy’s eyes. “Your. What?”
A grin teased the corner of Carol’s lips. Wily bitch. She’d done it on purpose.
“Skydiving,” Liv murmured. “It was on the list.”
Jaw locked, Iz pushed away the plate, half her food untouched. “You know how I feel about your damn list.” Her sister glared at her, then Carol, and back again, as if she couldn’t decide where to lay the blame. “There’s got to be a better way to celebrate your survival.”
“You don’t understand.”
Izzy stood abruptly, her napkin falling off her lap onto the floor. “No. You don’t understand. I just got my family back together.”
“And I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to see me more than ever now since I’m coming to your gym.” She placed her hand on Izzy’s arm. “Don’t be mad.”
Iz stood still for a moment before nodding once and dropping four twenties on the table. “I’ll text you the class schedule.” She left without saying goodbye.
Liv glared at Carol, who casually moved the noodles around in her bowl. “Why did you do that?”
“She needs to stop babying you. And you need to stop tiptoeing around her. She’s your blood. You need someone you can share your secrets with.”
“I’ve got you, don’t I?” She shook off her irritation and stuffed a piece of her shrimp tempura roll into her mouth.
Carol’s face took on a look she couldn’t read. Her friend opened her mouth, then closed it with a small shake of her head. She probably planned to give her another lecture on the importance of family, but thankfully, changed her mind.
“You know she flipped out when I showed her the pictures from cliff diving.” Izzy gave her a verbal beat down and epic shaming, all rolled into one. A lecture about how Iz thought remission meant she could finally stop worrying about planning her own sister’s funeral. Lots of yelling. Tears.
“Some secrets are better kept undercover, but I’ve got one begging to be shared.” She leaned closer to Carol. “I met a guy.”
“Forgive me if I withhold my enthusiasm. Your taste in men leans a bit toward the stuffy asshat end of the spectrum.” Carol had never met Ryan, but Liv had showed her some pictures, and more importantly, told her a few stories. “Let me guess. A pasty-white investment banker who wears a custom suit to work every day. No. A politician. Phony and full of himself.”
“Hey, not fair.” At least not entirely. “He works with my brother. In construction, thank you.”
Carol sat up straighter. “A man who works with his hands. I like it. Go on.”
“Will hates him. Or at least he hates the idea of me anywhere near him.” She sipped her iced tea, watching Carol practically vibrating in her chair. “He’s not even remotely pasty. Plus, he’s big as a fucking house, and he thinks I’m beautiful.”
“Damn straight. You are.”
Now she took a turn playing with her food. “The only problem is he thinks he’d be trouble for me.” She deflated at the memory. “He said I’d be better off staying away.”
Carol eyed her speculatively. “But what do you think?”
She wrinkled her nose. She had zero faith in her decision-making ability at this point. Rarely had she ever put herself out there, and when she did, she ended up with douchebags like Ryan in her life. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.
“We’ve talked about this,”
Carol soothed. “You need to figure out who you want to be and live your life to support your choice. All those times we sat together in the treatment room, you told me you wanted to take your life in a different direction. Do you want to be the old Liv or the new one?” Leaning over, her friend tugged on her extensions. “Stop waffling about this guy and tell me. What. Do. You. Think?”
Her heart sped up, and the tingling in her chest came back with a vengeance. “I think,” she drawled as she opened her eyes, “I need a little more trouble in my life.”
“You’re damn right, you do.”
Chapter 5
Liv
A cop was going to pull her over.
Liv eased her foot off the accelerator, slowing the car down. Surely ten miles an hour under the speed limit was better than five. She hit her blinker half a block before her turn, gritting her teeth as some dickhead honked and passed on the left.
It didn’t matter if there were no police in sight. Driving without a license could get her a ticket she couldn’t afford, and for what felt like the hundredth time since Friday night, she cursed her brother under her breath.
Izzy had done her part and had asked Will to hand over her ID at dinner the night before, but he’d conveniently left it at home.
A terse text exchange later and he promised to drop it off this morning. But then he didn’t show up, and she’d had to go to work without it. Now she was back at his construction site to get the damn thing herself.
She jumped out of her car and stalked toward the trailer set up on the side of the property. Robby stood right outside the door, scribbling on his clipboard.
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