Cooper Construction Series Box Set

by Jen Davis

  Kane wandered over as soon as Brick climbed out of his truck. “Crew’s split today. The company won a last-minute bid on a big place in Decatur.”

  “So why didn’t they put another team on it? Xander’s not the only foreman they’ve got.”

  Kane gave a short nod. “True. But he’s the best.” He lifted one shoulder. “And since we’re his crew, we’re the best, brother. So, they want us.”

  Hard to argue there. Splitting everyone up would slow down both jobs, but at least everyone had stable work for a while.

  They planned to finish up the subflooring so they could get started on the walls. It was his favorite part of any build. It warmed him seeing the bones of the house taking shape.

  Matt nodded as they joined him on the slab. They all worked in easy silence until about eleven-thirty when Kane called for a lunch break. “Guess we’ve got no pizza today. Tell me what you want, and I’ll run over to the deli around the corner.”

  “I’ll go,” Matt said mildly, the first words Brick had heard from him in months of working together.

  Matt took their orders and stuck the cash in his back pocket as he walked to his car.

  Kane stroked his beard. “I saw you talking to Will’s sister the other night.”

  Fuck. He carefully blanked his face. “Sure. She seems like a nice girl.”

  Kane laughed…a rich, full-belly laugh. The man never did anything halfway. “You want to play it low-key? She’s a nice girl? So you wouldn’t mind if I hit that? ‘Cause you see, I think a pretty little thing like her would taste like honey between her legs and—” He stopped talking and grinned when Brick started growling.

  Fucker. He pushed the noise down in his throat and ground his teeth together.

  “I thought it would take a little more work to get you going.”

  He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like being played. “She’s not for me.” He held up his hand before Kane could start talking again. “She’s not for you, either, man. Olivia deserves someone better than the likes of us. Someone whose hands are clean.” His were black as tar.

  Kane’s mirth disappeared like it had never been there. “I hear you, but the girl couldn’t keep her eyes off you, brother. And you can be sure Will noticed.”

  “So? He’ll get over it. There’s nothing happening.”

  “Brick, you need to pay closer attention to the folks around you. I thought you were supposed to be this badass ballbreaker. How do you survive if you don’t bother to read the room?”

  So much for their silent understanding to pretend their outside lives didn’t exist. He poked at a small hole in his jeans. “I didn’t think I had to worry about that kind of shit out here. This is my escape, man.” He didn’t realize the truth until the words came out of his mouth. He wished he could stuff them back in.

  But Kane proved far too perceptive. “Yeah. I get it. I’m just saying be careful with Will. Dude’s on parole after a ten-year run in Reidsville.”

  He did a double take. “For what?”

  “Don’t know, but I doubt it was for jaywalking. I saw him having it out with your girl after you walked away from the bar. Watch out. Whatever is going on with you and his sister, he doesn’t like it.”

  A bead of cold sweat tingled down his spine. He didn’t worry about his own safety, but could Olivia be in danger from her brother? Nah, he couldn’t miss their easy affection when she brought the cookie cake last week. He shook it off. She’d be fine. She didn’t need him sticking his nose into her life and fucking it up.

  She did need him to keep his distance. “Message received. Will’s got nothing to worry about because nothing’s going to happen with me and his sister.”

  Kane nodded sympathetically. “No matter how much you want it to.”

  No matter how much he wanted it to.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Liv

  Liv’s muscles screamed with every step down the school hallway. A few of the kids noticed how she hobbled around and got a good laugh out of it.

  Her arms had felt like Jell-O the night before as she’d forced them through another round of mock punches. Her third Krav Maga class had been no easier than the first. If anything, she’d struggled even more because every muscle in her body burned from the last workout.

  But she had something to prove, didn’t she? Her body couldn’t hold her back anymore.

  Bright and observant as he was, Devon didn’t miss her pitiful movements. He shook his head with a quiet laugh as she shuffled to the smartboard.

  She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him one-on-one since his unsettling analysis in class last Wednesday. This week, though, he acted more like himself again. He could have been having a bad day. Everyone gets melancholy from time to time. Now he was back to sporting his killer smile, flirting with the girls, and more than ready to discuss the reading of 1984.

  She still had things to talk to him about. He probably didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life—he was only a junior—but if he played his cards right, he could get a full scholarship to any school in the state. He was smart, worldly, and quick on his feet. Her mission before the end of next year would be to help him channel his gifts into a stellar ACT score and an unforgettable college application essay. If she could convince him to go to college in the first place.

  She stopped him after class before he could make it out the door. “Hey. You got a second?”

  He nodded to his friend, Justin, before turning back to her. “What’s going on, Miss Turner? Everything okay with my essay?”

  She gestured for him to sit down and cocked her hip against her desk right in front of him. “Have you given any thought to the summer ACT prep class I told you about?”

  He shrugged lazily. “Nah. Those tests aren’t for me.” He slouched in the chair, affecting an air of nonchalance she didn’t believe for a minute. “You should be talking to Terese about this stuff.” The girl who always took a front row seat in class was his only equal in smarts.

  “Terese has already taken her ACTs, and she’s working on applying for early admission to Mercer University. This isn’t about her. We’re talking about you.” She pursed her lips. “Devon, you’re one of the brightest students I’ve ever had. You can do anything with your life. If you do well on your ACTs, you can go to college on a scholarship. You can study whatever you want. Be whatever you want.”

  His shoulders tensed, and he sat up in his chair. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but my family needs me here. College isn’t in the cards.”

  “There are schools right here in Atlanta—Georgia Tech, Morehouse. I don’t know your family situation—”

  “It’s complicated.” He rubbed his forehead.

  “Family can definitely be.” She knew firsthand, but at least Will and Iz had always put her future first. “They can be infuriating and frustrating, and they can also surprise you sometimes. Have you talked to them about this?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then you don’t really know for sure how they’ll react. Maybe there’s a way to give everyone what they need. I’d be happy to talk to—”

  “No.” He smacked his hand on the desk, knocking a pencil to the floor.

  She took a step back, and Devon shook his head ruefully.

  “Look,” he softened his voice. “I know you mean well.” He rose to his feet and walked to the door. He stopped without turning to face her. “But give me some space, okay?” He didn’t wait for her answer before disappearing into the hallway with his friend.

  Damn.

  She packed up her things at half-speed, replaying her conversation with Devon. She knew nothing about his family situation, but she would find out. Tomorrow, she’d meet with his guidance counselor, see what he knew. The end of the school year was right around the corner.

  In the meantime, she wanted a drink.

  The minute she stepped into her apartment, she dropped her bag and went straight for the good wine she usually reserved for weekends. Parking her ass in
one of the kitchen chairs, she took a generous sip. Any second now, it would do the trick.

  She glanced at the empty chair beside her. Took in the silence of the room. Drinking alone—so fucking cliché.

  Dumping the rest of the glass in the sink, she ordered a Lyft and waited out front for the driver to arrive. She had her license back—Will had left in the mailbox as she’d demanded—but if she drank, she didn’t drive. Within five minutes, she walked through the door at Moe’s.

  Maybe some part of her hoped she’d see Brick there again, even if it wasn’t logical. She’d never seen him there before the night they met. He’d probably only come for the party. Still, she scanned the room for his face.

  A fickle emotion like hope rarely made sense. Old Liv only did things if they made sense.

  Of course, Brick wasn’t there. She took a seat on one of the black leather bar stools and ordered a Jack and Coke. She downed it in five minutes. She ordered another and stared at the highball glass when the bartender—Brent, according to his nametag—set it in front of her with a crooked smile.

  Was he flirting or did he feel sorry for her?

  A single woman, drinking away her disappointment at the bar. Another fucking cliché.

  This was a mistake.

  Her legs ached too much to stand, though. She dragged the glass closer and took a gulp before the ice could melt. Her eyes squeezed shut. The second drink definitely tasted stronger than the first.

  “It’s not safe for you to drink by yourself.”

  She froze, her hand still wrapped around the glass. She recognized the deep rasp of his voice instantly. Goosebumps broke out on her arms as her body processed his proximity. “Brick,” she breathed, opening her eyes to see the man who refused to leave her thoughts.

  His black eye had healed, but his hands were still busted up. A dark T-shirt hugged his barrel chest, and the shadow of a beard crept over his jaw.

  She ran her fingers over her lips as she wondered how the bristles would scratch her skin if she kissed him.

  He sighed deeply as he sat down on the stool to her left. “What are you doing here, Olivia?”

  Thinking of you. “Same thing as you, I’d imagine.” She pushed her drink toward him and lifted her brow.

  He answered her unspoken challenge, fitting his lips over the glass where hers had been seconds earlier. He drained the rest of her whiskey in an instant. Nodding to the bartender, he procured a replacement in seconds, but Brent left off the smile with the delivery. Brick didn’t spare him a glance.

  He stared at the amber liquid, then swirled the ice around with his finger.

  The dozen or so people at the bar had doubled in the past few minutes, but everyone else disappeared into the background. Her focus lasered only on Brick. Inches away from her. Taking up all the air in the room. The sass and confidence she had fueling her at the construction site abandoned her.

  When he spoke again, he did it so quietly, the music drifting from the overhead speakers almost drowned it out. “Did you come here to see me?”

  Say no. Say no.

  “Yes.” Her mouth had broken free from her brain.

  “Why?” he asked hoarsely, flexing his fingers on the bar.

  She turned to him fully and picked up the hand closest to her; he flinched at the contact. “Your hands are hurt.”

  Finally, he pulled his gaze from the whiskey and stared at his big hand in hers.

  What a contrast they made. The pads of his thick fingers were darkened by work, his fingernails jagged and worn. Her nails were short and clean, and a gold ring glinted on her pale thumb.

  He tried to pull away. “You don’t want to touch them. Trust me. You don’t know where they’ve been.” His voice sounded hollow.

  She held on tight. “Brick—”

  His dark eyes flashed heat as they locked with hers. “What do you want from me?” he growled. “Are you trying to take a walk on the wild side? You looking for a hard fuck? Because that’s all I’m good for. And you’re better than some cheap quickie. Too good to roll around in the dirt with me.”

  “You don’t even know me.” Her temper flared. She was not some kind of porcelain figurine.

  He finally succeeded in pulling his hand away, and she felt the loss of his touch in an instant.

  “No. You don’t know me. It’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  “Maybe I want to know you. Is the possibility so hard to believe?”

  He reared back at the words, and she wished she could stuff them back in her mouth.

  She had to quit making a fool of herself. The man couldn’t have made himself any clearer. She shook her head at her own stupidity and laughed ruefully. When would she learn she couldn’t trust her own instincts when it came to a guy?

  “I’m sorry. I don’t usually throw myself at men. Especially men who aren’t interested.” She dug into her purse and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the bar before striding out.

  ***

  Brick

  Brick remained on his stool, staring dumbfounded as Olivia stormed out of the bar.

  “Maybe I want to know you.” That’s what she’d said.

  And what did he do? He fucking chased her out of the place.

  Why did she want anything to do him? Did she imagine him in her bed? He’d practically offered to fuck her, and she never blinked an eye. Instead, she’d held his hand.

  The same hand he’d used to dump Pete’s body. The one that put his last boxing opponent in the emergency room. The one that punched the heavy bag until he bled, trying to beat away his ridiculous fantasies…of her.

  Their entire exchange only lasted five minutes. Their others hadn’t lasted much longer. In all, he’d spent fifteen minutes with her. Twenty, at most. How could he be so obsessed with a woman he’d barely spoken to? How could she feel the same way?

  It’s simple. She can’t.

  This whole thing was stupid. He was stupid.

  He knew shit about this girl except her taste in music and choice of whiskey. And Asti. She loved the bubbles.

  All this mooning over her was ridiculous. He finished the drink in front of him and set the glass down on the polished wood. This place was way too nice for the likes of him. Even in his nicest jeans, he stood out like a sore thumb. It had been stupid to come here in the first place.

  Time to move on, starting at the gym, his salvation whenever he needed escape from his fucked-up life. He made it in fifteen minutes in his truck. Then the familiar, dank smell welcomed him back into the pit.

  Binding his hands tightly with tape, he stubbornly pushed aside thoughts of blue eyes and freckles, warm skin, and gentle touches. His eyes narrowed on the heavy bag as he rammed his fists into the leather. Each hit slammed harder than the last, and the force shook his target from the chain where it hung.

  For ten minutes—twenty—thirty—he pummeled the damn thing, until a crowd formed around him to watch his punishment. And it was punishment. For seeking her out. For allowing himself to know her touch. For letting her leave with a wounded expression on her face.

  “Fuck,” he roared as he delivered one more punishing blow. Suddenly, he had no fire left. Exhausted, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, ignoring the spectators on his way out the door.

  At least he was too tired to dream of her now.

  ***

  He did dream about her, obviously, the kind of dream a lesser man might blush about. But Brick promised himself on the way to his work site he would spend his waking moments focused on the job. He did his damnedest, but the sunshine was the same color as her fucking hair, and twice he had to walk past the spot where she’d flirted with him days ago.

  He kicked a chunk of wood-scrap in the yard, sending it flying to the curb. A man should be able to control his own thoughts, and he was…failing.

  Despite the constant specter of Olivia hovering over him, late in the afternoon, he stopped mooning over her long enough to pick up on something strange going on with
Robby. The guy kept circling around him like a shark in blood-infested water.

  Brick snorted.

  Robby was as far from a shark as any human being could be. Maybe a dolphin or a baby otter, but not a shark.

  What do baby otters circle?

  Robby gave him the side eye, and Brick schooled his features. He had no desire to invite a conversation. He came here to work, not to socialize.

  His knees ached as he hunched over the partially constructed wall lying on the slab.

  “Can I help?” Robby’s voice pulled his attention back.

  He glanced up, lifting his eyebrow in a way Robby never seemed to find as badass as other people did. “You know how to inlet hurricane bracing into the studs?”

  “I don’t mean if I can help you with the house.” Robby waved the question away as if the answer were obvious. His job involved scheduling the crew, ordering supplies, and reporting back to Xander. “I’m asking if I can help with what’s bothering you.”

  He stopped working, leaned back on his heels, and took in the guy’s earnest expression. “What makes you think something is bothering me, kid?”

  “Because I have eyes.” Robby wrinkled his nose. “And why do you always call me kid? I’m twenty-three years old, Brick.”

  Maybe, but he looked closer to twenty, and a naive twenty at that. Had he ever been so innocent? Lifting his hands in surrender, he shook his head. “I didn’t know it bothered you.”

  “It doesn’t really,” Robby sighed, settling on the floor beside him. “Not from you, anyway. Sometimes, though, there are people I wish would see me as more.” He lowered his voice, almost speaking more to himself than Brick. “As if wishing would make a difference.”

  Aw hell. It bugged the hell out him for Robby to sound so small.

  He made himself comfortable next to the kid—man, whatever—and uncapped his water bottle. “You talking about someone special?”

  “I’m talking about a guy. A completely unattainable, completely straight, completely perfect…guy.” Robby let his pronouncement hang in the air defiantly, then he deflated a little. “Does it bother you?”