“What?” Ben called from the computer. “What’s going on?”
“I gotta go,” I called as I darted for the door, ignoring him completely.
I went around the side of the house. The gate flapped open in the wind, and when I tried to shut it, it barely latched. With a huff, I gave up and headed in the direction of the sound. As I neared, the noise seemed even louder if that was possible. The intruder from last night—Ethan—was standing with a jackhammer, pounding the concrete slab where the old garage had once stood.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted, but he continued on, completely ignoring me.
“Hey! Ethan!” I went to stand before him, waving my arms to get his attention. “Hey! Stop!”
He finally stopped, his jaw tight, every muscle pulled taut. And what a jaw it was—chiseled and lined with scruff. Even with safety goggles and bright-orange earmuffs, he looked hot—infuriatingly so. But he wassonot my type. I usually went for men in suits—polished, refined, well-educated. Not…rugged men who were assholes.
Chapter Four
She stood there practically foaming at the mouth, foot tapping, chin lifted, exuding arrogance. Fuck, she was glorious. I shook away the thought. She was a pain in the ass, that’s what she was. A spoiled, entitled, pain in the ass. She’d pepper sprayed me, for chrissake!
I took my time, turning off the jackhammer then removing my ear protectors before wiping the sweat from my brow. The air outside might be cold, but I was boiling.
“Did you say something?” I feigned ignorance, enjoying the sight of her riled up.
“What are you doing?”
“Removing the garage slab from the eighties.”
“I can see that, but why? And who gave you the authority to do so?” If she weren’t so imperious, she’d be beautiful.
“Why? Because I finish what I start. And because your father—”
“My father,” she cut me off, “is dead. I don’t know what kind of arrangement you had with him, but it’s over.”
Her words stung, and I hoped wherever Scott was, he wasn’t watching or listening. Was she really that callous?
“I was helping him update the house in exchange for legal services and some land for my place.”
“You mean your trailer.” It was said with such disdain.
I set the jackhammer down and crossed my arms. “We prefer the term tiny house.”
“We?” She cocked her head to the side.
“Those of us in the tiny house community.”
“Right. Excuse me. Well, you need to get your tiny house off my land.”
I leaned forward, enjoying the way her eyes flared. “Your father and I had an agreement.”
“Was it in writing?”
“He gave me his word.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Of course. I should’ve known.”
“Is there something wrong with giving someone your word?”
She glanced toward the sky—a cloudy, gray day. “I don’t even know where to start with that. Other than to say that people break promises.”
“So…having it in writing is better because you can’t breach a contract?”
I’d had enough conversations with Scott to understand more than she probably gave me credit for.
