Screw Driver (Blue Collar Alphas Book 2) Page 3

  He frowns and grabs a flashlight and a screwdriver from his tool belt. “I grew up with two brothers, remember. Trust me. I know what sweaty feet smell like, and it’s not this. So, that means you’re just being an ass.”

  “Pot? Meet kettle.” I stub my finger against his hard chest. “You can’t call me an ass without looking at yourself in the mirror.”

  He grabs my finger and pushes it down his chest, dragging my skin along the ridges of his abs. For a split second, a shock goes through me, almost as if I’ve been electrocuted. It’s impossible not to notice how muscular he is. I’ve never really thought of Noah Hall as a bodybuilding type of guy, but he clearly spends a lot of time in the gym. Or maybe the work he does helps keep him in shape. Whatever he does, it works.

  Because one thing is for sure. He’s ripped.

  He stops pushing when my hand hits the tool belt slung around his waist. A slow, suggestive smile spreads across his lips, and his tongue darts out between his teeth. Despite the alarm bells clanging in my head, I shiver. It’s that same smile that caught my attention back in high school. The one that made all the logic flee from my brain. It’s been a long-ass time since he’s smiled at me like this, and it brings a flood of memories and feelings I want nothing more than to forget.

  “Grab my extra screwdriver.” He winks. “You can help me look for termites.”

  My mouth is dry, but I’m not sure if it’s from the feel of Noah’s abs underneath my hand or from the idea that my B&B might be infested by wood-devouring creatures. “Termites?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His smile dims for a moment as a serious expression douses the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I just need to confirm that’s not the problem here.”

  “But you think it’s a possibility.” I wrap my hand around the screwdriver and pull it from his belt. And I swear he shudders in response, though it’s such a small movement that I’m not sure whether I imagined it or not.

  I probably imagined it. Because I’m so distracted by his abs.

  I should really get a grip. Noah Hall and I? Mortal enemies. Ever since I’ve known him, I’ve hated him. That includes his abs, regardless of how perfectly sculpted they are.

  Besides, this termite situation is pretty fucking serious, and I really need to focus on that instead of him.

  “Well, it would explain why the floor collapsed the way it did without any warning,” he says slowly before running his hand across his bearded jaw. “But it’s an old building, and there could have been a construction defect when it was first built.”

  None of this is very reassuring, and the big opening is looking more and more unlikely by the minute.

  “But what will I do if there are termites?” I ask with a shiver. The idea of those bugs crawling around all over the house, all over the guests, and all over me makes me want to do a little jig to shake them off.

  “Then I’ll fix it. Come on.”

  One additional complication of the refrigerator finding its way out of the attic is that now the entire bed and breakfast smells like dust and mildew. I’m quickly starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Grandma’s building has more hidden issues than I thought. But termites? Even though Noah didn’t point it out, I know a thing or two about those gross little bugs. And if they’ve done serious structural damage to the property, I have more than just the Grand Opening to worry about. The place could be closed for months.

  Not only can I not afford that, but I doubt anyone in the Tri-State area will be particularly interested in staying in the Bugzilla Bed & Breakfast even after the termites have been vaporized.

  The stairs creak as we make our way to the top floor, and every tiny sound that gave the place character before sounds like a death knell now. I feel like my foot is going to go through the stairs at any given moment. But Noah takes the lead, stepping carefully and knocking his screwdriver against the floor every few steps.

  When he reaches the hole, he crouches down, peers through it, and whistles lowly. I’m not sure what that means, but it can’t be good.

  “Is it termites?” I ask, tightening my grip on the screwdriver. Though I’m not sure what good that will do. It’s not like I can just knock the bugs senseless until they flee from my property.

  He hits the back of his screwdriver against the wood around the hole and flicks his flashlight across the dusty floor. I very rarely come up here. When I was little, my grandmother used to set up forts for me in the attic, hiding toys and treats under blankets and pillows. It was one of my favorite places in the world, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to come up here since she died. There are too many memories haunting this place.

  “Well, I have good news, and I have bad news,” he says as he stands, floorboards creaking underneath his weight. “It ain’t termites, Harper. But I’ve got to be honest. I haven’t a clue what is really is.”

  6

  Noah

  Harper looks like some kind of gladiator in the dim light of the attic, wielding my screwdriver as if it’s some kind of magical sword. I don’t know what she’s hoping it will protect her against. Termites. Bats. Burglars. Hell, probably me.

  “What do you mean you have no idea?” she asks, pointing to the hole in the floor. “Aren’t you some kind of construction genius?”

  I can’t help but smirk. “You think I’m a genius, eh?”

  “Well, not if you don’t know what the hell happened to the floorboards.”

  “Look.” I take her shoulders in my hands and lean down to give her a steady smile. “This is good news. If termites had gotten into the interior here, it would be bad news for the rest of the building. Maybe this part was just weak from years of neglect. I can patch it right up, and you can open on Friday without any problem.”

  “Really?” A hesitant smile lifts her lips. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” I nod. “We don’t even need to bring in some freelancers. I can get started on this right now and be done in just a couple of days.”

  “Hmm,” she says with a sniff, as if she can’t bear to believe me. I guess it’s hard for her to give in after all these years of constant confrontation. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get started. But if you start making that hole bigger, don’t think I won’t notice.”

  Harper appears back upstairs around lunchtime, balancing a tray full of sandwiches and hot cocoa. I try to hide my shock. And the warmth I feel in my gut. Because damn if it doesn’t make me wonder what she’d look like walking barefoot across my kitchen. With a smile, I wipe the sweat off my face and reach for the tray just as she stumbles across the jagged floorboards.

  With an oomph, I catch her in my arms. The tray, on the other hand, isn’t so lucky. Cocoa and sandwich meat fly through the air and scatter across the attic floor and walls. A piece of bread falls through the hole and onto the refrigerator below with a plop.

  The whole thing would be beyond ridiculous if it weren’t for the fact that Harper fucking Harrison is in my arms with her breasts smashed against my chest.

  “Whoops,” she says in a soft voice, her mouth pressed against my shirt.

  She feels so good in my arms, I don’t want to let go. Her body is soft and curvy and full in all the right places. Mainly her tits and her ass. God, what I would give to squeeze any or all of her perfect assets.

  I expect her to scramble away as if I’m some kind of leper, but she seems frozen in place. And I’m certainly not going to argue. I keep my arms tight around her and my face pressed against the top of her head. The scent of her apple shampoo drifts into my nose, and it’s all I can do not to dart out my tongue to lick her ear.

  Of course, her ear isn’t the only part of her I’m desperate to taste.

  “You okay?” I ask in a voice that’s several tones deeper than it usually is.

  “You caught me.” She sounds surprised, like she truly thinks I would ever let her get hurt. Just another reminder that Harper barely knows me, not who I really am inside. Hell, not even my brothers do, not anymore. �
�I could have broken a leg or something.”

  “Not going to let you break your leg,” I say gruffly. Why hasn’t she moved? Could the impossible be happening? Could Harper Harrison like being close to me as much as I like being close to her? Maybe I should try to ramp things up a notch. If her willingness to curl up against my chest is any indication of how things will go…well, then I might end up a very, very happy man.

  I slide one hand down her back and let my fingers graze against the top curve of her ass. It’s like an apple, oh so juicy and sweet. My fingers itch to go south, to dip underneath her skirt and slide up her soft, silky thighs…

  “What are you doing?” she whispers.

  Funny thing is, she doesn’t pull away.

  “Who me?” I answer into her ear, relishing in our closeness. “Just making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Like the gentleman I am.”

  She finally pulls back and lets out a laugh. One that sounds suspiciously breathless and high-pitched. All of my senses zero in on the way she moves, the way she breathes, the way her heartbeat thrums in her neck. For years I’ve been convinced of one thing and one thing only. Harper Harrison hates me with a fiery passion that cannot be rivalled, not even by the blazing sun in the sky. But the way she’s acting right now? This isn’t hatred.

  This is something else.

  Something I’m almost scared to think too much about.

  Because if I’m wrong, and I go for her the way I’ve always wanted, I could end up even more wrecked than I already am.

  “You? A gentleman? You can’t be serious.” She smiles up at me with a sparkle in her eyes, and this time, she’s lobbing an insult in a far different way than she usually does. Normally, Harper Harrison looks at me in disgust, her lips curled in what can only be described as a snarl. Total hatred seething from her pores.

  She has practically seared holes into my skin with her unwavering stares.

  This is different. It’s playful. It’s light. It’s…dare I believe it? Flirtatious.

  She taps on my chest. Once, twice, three times, as if she’s checking to make sure I’m as solid as I look. Her cheeks flush with color, and a light smile plays across her lips. Oh yeah, this is flirting all right.

  My motherfucking dreams are coming true.

  “I guess I should bring you another sandwich.” She blinks up at me through her thick eyelashes. “And a cocoa. It’s cold up here.”

  “Sure doesn’t feel cold to me.” In fact, my whole body feels as if it’s on fire with a heat flickering down in my gut. And that’s not the whole thing flickering. My cock stands to attention, and I’m afraid she’s going to glance down and see the bulge underneath my tool belt.

  “Really? The windows are coated in ice,” she says. “I guess that’s February weather for you.”

  Something dark and cold clenches in my gut. “February?”

  She cocks her head. “Yes. It’s February today. The first. Are you so caught up in your own little world that you missed the fact the months turned?”

  She’s teasing, but the words are as far from funny as they can get.

  I close my eyes and let out a deep and hollow breath. I can’t believe I forgot. That stings almost as much as the pain of what happened. Five years ago, I swore I’d never miss the day, that their memory would live on inside my heart and soul and mind even if their bodies were buried deep in the ground.

  But here I am, flirting with a girl on the anniversary of their deaths.

  What kind of son am I? What kind of man forgets the day his parents died? A death that was very much his fucking fault.

  “I’ve got to go.” I grab my tools from the floor and head toward the open door.

  Harper’s voice is ice when she speaks. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I know what this must look like to her. Hell, it feels shitty to me as well. But I have to go. It’s their anniversary, and I have somewhere to be. Besides, it won’t take long to patch up Harper’s floor tomorrow. Right now, I need to be alone and I need to remember them the only way I know how. And I can’t do that here, flirting with and pining for a woman I’ll never have.

  “Sorry, Harper,” I say, keeping my back turned to her so that she can’t see the tears in my eyes. I’m a fucking man, and I refuse to break down in front of anyone, least of all her. “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish the job.”

  “You’re late,” Luke says when I finally make it to the cemetery. He’s standing in front of their graves with flowers in his hand. It looks strange, my big, stoic older brother holding something as light and delicate as yellow daisies. Just a grim reminder that nothing will ever be normal again without our parents in our lives.

  “I got caught up on the job. Harper’s pretty antsy about making sure everything is ready for her big opening day.”

  The lie hangs heavy on my tongue, but I can’t bear to admit that I forgot.

  “So, it’s not termites, then,” he says quietly.

  “No, it’s not termites.” I clear my throat. “But we’re not here to talk about that.”

  “You’re right.” Luke kneels and drops the daisies onto the stone. “Let’s not talk about anything at all.”

  7

  Harper

  “And then he just left! For no reason!” I pace back and forth in the attic, waving my arms in the air as I fill Zoe in on Noah’s bizarre behavior from yesterday. One minute, we were chest to chest, his hand pressing me tight against him. The next minute, he was out the door without an explanation. I’ve been driving myself ten shades of crazy trying to figure out why he ran out the door.

  He must have thought I was flirting with him. And of course, flirting with his mortal enemy made him run in fear. Or he’d just been messing with me. Again.

  Either way, he ran. And it boils the blood in my veins.

  “So, what are you going to do about the hole in the attic?” Zoe asks. The million dollar question. There’s no one else in town I can call, unless I count Luke. But…the first time I called Luke led to Noah’s random arrival onto the scene. I obviously can’t do that again.

  “Does Jack know anyone?” I ask, my heart lifting a little in hope. Even though Jack is a Hall brother, I feel like I can trust him more than the other two. Of course, I thought that about Luke until he sent Noah my way.

  Zoe lets out a lighthearted giggle. “Jack’s waiting for me in the…mud room.”

  “The mud room?” I lift my eyebrows. “I don’t even want to know.”

  “How about this?” she says. “I’ll talk to Jack and see if he has any advice. He probably knows someone you can call since Noah flaked out. And when we get back to Redwater, he’ll kick Noah’s ass for you. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds fantastic,” I say, even though I’m not at all relieved by her words. Two days ago, I would want Jack to kick Noah’s ass, but I find that’s not really what I want anymore. I want an explanation. I want to rewind twenty-four hours and undo whatever I did to make him run in the opposite direction.

  Because, I have a secret.

  When Noah held me against his chest…I certainly didn’t hate it.

  In fact, I fucking loved it.

  After hanging up with Zoe, I head downstairs to work on the books for the opening. As much as I’ve prepped and prepared, there is still plenty of paperwork to complete. Bills to pay. Accounts to check. Maybe one day, if the opening goes well, I’ll be able to hire someone to help out with the more mundane tasks of running my own business. But for now, it’s just me, and I might as well proceed as if everything is going exactly according to plan.

  Sure, there’s a hole in one of the room’s ceilings, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now.

  A knock sounds on the front door just as my feet hit the lobby. Frowning, I bypass the hallway to my office to answer the call, though I’m not expecting anyone today. The opening is still a couple of days away, and I have a big “Closed” sign plastered out front.

  So, imagine my surprise when I swing open t
he door to find Noah Hall staring right back at me. I narrow my eyes and open my mouth to throw insult after insult into his face, but I can’t help but pause when I notice the dark purple bags underneath his eyes. He looks…well, he doesn’t look like shit exactly. Because Noah Hall could never look like shit. But he doesn’t look great with the hollow look in his eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He furrows his eyebrows. “I’m here to finish the job in your attic. You know, fix your broken floorboards.”

  “After the way you ran out yesterday, I didn’t think you’d be back.” I cross my arms over my chest and lift my chin. “Care to explain why you disappeared like that?”

  “Not really?” With a sigh, he pushes past me into the lobby and heads toward the stairs.

  My exasperation ramps up a notch, and I slam the door behind me to make a point. But Noah barely notices. What is with this guy?

  “Seriously Noah.” I follow him up the stairs, glaring at his back all the way. And the way his tool belt sits perfectly on his sculpted ass. “You ran out like I burned you or something, and now you show up like nothing happened? I demand an explanation. The truth. Is this some kind of twisted game? Are you just messing with my head all over again?”

  His entire body sags when he sighs and turns to face me. “When I promised to do you right on this project, I meant it, Harper. I wish you’d stop expecting the worst in me.”

  “Can you really blame me?” I move up another stair so that my eyeballs are level with his chest instead of his crotch. “You tricked me into thinking you were into me in high school. A bet. A dare. A joke. Ever since then, you’ve been playing these games for a laugh. So, when you promise to help and then run out for no reason, what do you expect me to think?”

  “I don’t expect anything from you, Harper.” He shakes his head. “Yesterday had nothing to do with you. Now, can I go upstairs and fix your damn attic floor?”