Page 10 of Take The Risk

​“No!” Her head snapped up. “No. This is strictly professional. Jerome went out last week and she’s been hit with a dozen violations. Louise thought it wouldn’t hurt for you to just take a look. But if it’s a no, it’s a no. I honestly wasn’t even going to mention this to you, but she mentioned Rowdy may be able to do it, and you know how he is.”

​Rowdy.

​My teeth clenched until my jaw hurt. Rowdy-fucking-Denton. The little weasel.

​Rowdy Denton had been a pain in my ass since we were kids. Because he was three years younger than me and Wade, we thought he was an okay kid when he came to school. Sure, he followed us around, constantly tried to play with us, and was a general nuisance. But he seemed like a sweet kid, even if we thought we were cooler because we were older. Hell, if he was still that kid, we’d probably still be friends with him.

​Only he wasn’t.

​By the time we were in high school, Rowdy was making shit up left, right, and center. Then there was competing with me for everything.

When I restored an old 1957 Camaro to enter into a classic car restoration show, so did he. I went into construction with my dad, so Rowdy opened his own construction company. If I did it, Rowdy either did the same or came as close as he could.

Personally, I didn’t give a shit what he did. He could do what he wanted. No, my issue came when I found out he and his mother were lying to the judges of that car show; they were lying to potential clients, and they tried to have me disqualified as a restoration specialist, claiming Dad did the work and I didn’t…yeah, that was when I started giving a shit about this little competition.

​I should have been happy, though. He was shit at his job. More often than not, Dad and I picked up work after he mangled someone’s house. But that bugged the hell out of me, too. I hated that I had to charge people who already were charged a whack to fix what should have been done right in the first place. Rowdy lived the cliché of the charlatan contractor.

​Ah, fuck.

​“Fine. I’ll go check out her place.” I gave in, knowing if she was one of Mom’s friends, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if Rowdy screwed her over. “But I’m not promising anything.” Yeah, right. This was going to suck.

​Mom gave me a smile, zipping up the last backpack. “Thanks, Ty. And really, just take a look. I didn’t promise anything, so take a look and walk away. No big deal.”

​“What’s the address?”

​“Delilah! Scarlette! You’re going to be late!” Mom went to the doorway, yelling up at my sisters. She tossed “It’s Winterbourne Manor” over her shoulder when the girls didn’t answer.

​Winterbourne Manor.

​As in the house where the brunette I couldn’t get out of my head lived? The woman who had haunted my dreams ever since I saw her in her black leggings, an oversized T-shirt, sock feet—which I found adorable for some strange reason—lived? She was Mom’s friend?

​Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I was upset about a delayed start to my vacation.

​***

​“Who are you?” The little boy with short brown curls gave me a once-over after answering the door. Okaaayyy…I thought he was supposed to be in school?

​ “Uh…I’m here to see your mom.”

​“State your business.” The boy stood his ground, face set in a suspicious scowl.

​My lips twitched at the way he guarded the door like he wasn’t half my size. “I’m—”

​“LACHLAN AARON LEBONAIRE! How many times do I have to tell you not to open the door without my permission?!”

​Fuck. The sound of her soft Southern drawl, even as she yelled at her son, hit me like a baseball bat to the head. It was just as potent as it had been the first night I’d seen her. My cock twitched in interest.

​Then she appeared.

​God damn, she was gorgeous.

​Everything I’d told myself on the drive over here fled my mind as I stared at her.

​While she gave her son hell reminding him about safety and that he couldn’t just open the door, I studied her. With her hair in a ponytail, her face devoid of makeup except for maybe some mascara, I could see the smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle despite the low lighting of the doorway. The loose shirt she wore said “LIVE. LAUGH. TOASTER BATH.” with a cartoon bathtub filled with bubbles and a toaster on the edge but wasn’t loose enough to hide the fullness of her tits. Her thick but toned legs were revealed in a pair of jean cutoff shorts, and I swallowed hard. She was the physical manifestation of every single wet dream I’d ever had. And just like that, my erection was testing the strength of my jean zipper.

​“I looked out the window!” Lachlan argued.

​“We’ll discuss this later,” she warned him. Then, giving me her attention, she froze. “Uh—Hi.”