“You can do that at my place. I’ll shoot a message to my brothers. Get them to tell Livi and Lexi you’re safe and wherethey can find you in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever you feel up to seeing them.”
“Really? You don’t mind?”
“Yes, really, and no, I don’t mind at all. As soon as the night staff arrives, we can leave and get you somewhere you can break down or break things or whatever.”
I gasp. “I’m not going to break things in your house!”
“I’ve got plenty of things you can break. That I plan to break myself.”
“What?”
“I’m renovating my house. It’s what I do besides work here. Flip houses.”
“You flip houses?”
“Yep.” He grins. “Nothing better than taking a sledgehammer to a wall and bringing it down. The place I’m working on now is the biggest I’ve taken on. It’s an eight bedroom, nine bathroom, one acre mess.”
My gaze moves to his hands. Hands that are large with scars and nicks on the knuckles. “I had no idea you were a builder.”
“It’s what my trade is. Left high school and worked for a construction company building new houses.”
My gaze moves around the bar. “How’d you go from there to here?”
“This was Carter’s idea. He worked in hotels and bars after our mom died and took me and Garrett on.”
“Carter raised you?”
“Only a few years.” He waves that off like it’s nothing. “Anyway, he had the idea for this place and we all saved until we could buy the building. I used my skills to build the place and my brothers as cheap labor.”
“You built this place from scratch.” Why does the thought hurt?
Olivia and Alexandria did the same with Exclusively Yours. I could have been in on that. Could have been in the trenches helping bring a vision to life. Instead I was toeing the line. Getting the degree Grandfather told me to get. And going to work for a man who holds my future over my head like a carrot.
My father is right.
Grandfather is a manipulative, toxic narcissist. And I’ve let him dictate my life long enough. Time to take control and do whatIwant.
4
DEVON
The closer we get to my house, the more nervous I am.
I’m not ashamed I live in what amounts to a construction zone. And I’m proud of the improvements I’ve made so far. But I am aware of how it looks. The house and yard need a lot of work.
“I hope you have an open mind,” I say as I make the turn onto my street.
“About?”
“The mess you’re about to walk into.” I shoot her a smile as I slow down. “I’ve barely started. The kitchen and family room are finished. One bathroom and two bedrooms are useable but the rest…yeah, the rest is a mess.” I don’t mention one of the bedrooms needs a second coat of paint and only has a blowup mattress in it.
“I’m not here to judge you. How could I when I just ran away from my own wedding? Talk about a mess.” She laughs, but there is little humor in it.
“True. Although your reasons for running are valid.”
“As are yours.”
I can’t argue. With working at Boyd’s and doing the renovations myself—except when I can convince my brothers to pitch in—this place is taking longer than any other I’ve turned over. Especially seeing how both my brothers have had their spare time taken up in recent months.
