Page 10 of Love Restored

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Graham knew things would go to hell soon, it was only a matter of time. Of course, the why of it would forever elude him, he was sure. He’d been a bastard not once, but twice in as many days, and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if this Blake Brennen had ever done anything to him, and yet he couldn’t help acting like a grunting asshole whenever she came around.

His brother had laid into him once they’d driven back to Murphy’s place, and Graham hadn’t said a thing to defend himself. He had been a jerk to her and didn’t have an excuse. Yet he wasn’t sure he’d have done anything differently if given the chance.

The first time, she’d surprised him on the jobsite, and the second, he had been the one to surprise her at her place of work. And yet, for some reason, she rubbed him the wrong way. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew he was going to have to figure it out if he had any hope of looking at himself in the mirror anytime soon.

Once he’d gotten Murphy set up at home to heal, he’d gone back to his place to relieve some stress. While he’d thought about beating one off, he figured punching something would work a little better, considering he was trying to keep his mind off the woman in very tight jeans.

He’d gone down to his basement to work out some of the tension radiating through his body with his punching bag, and when that hadn’t worked, he’d hit the treadmill. He might be pushing forty, but he tried to keep in shape.

He’d gone to bed exhausted and still imagining Blake in that tank that told him to kiss her ink. The hell of it was, he wanted to kiss all of her ink.

Even if she confused him all to hell.

She’d come from money—that was clear from the estate itself—but now worked as a piercer at Montgomery Ink and wore clothes to fit each persona. He didn’t like not knowing which was the real Blake, and because of that, he’d come off surly.

The fact that she wouldn’t leave his mind just made things worse.

Now it was the next day, and while he should have had a day off, he’d spent the morning going over the blueprints Murphy had sent over while trying to get his head in the game for their new project. Maybe if he spent his time getting to know the estate and the secrets within its walls and foundation, he wouldn’t have so much animosity when it came to the former tenant. The old mansion had good bones, he remembered, but not much more considering the years of neglect. According to Owen, Blake’s family had owned the place for a few generations but hadn’t actually lived there for at least twenty years. They’d bought a newer, more elite place that had been a new build and required less maintenance. And because, apparently, the family hadn’t cared about the history they’d had in their grasp, they’d let the place go to ruin.

Graham ran a hand through his hair and cursed as someone knocked on the front door. Hell, it seemed no matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to completely focus. Before he could open the door, Owen strolled in, keys in hand.

“Just let yourself in, why don’t you,” Graham said dryly. “I thought those keys were for emergencies.” He rolled his shoulders and stood up from his table, his legs annoyingly stiff since he’d been hunched over.

Owen rolled his eyes and handed over an iced coffee with Graham’s name on it. It had to be said, no matter the time of day, if Owen showed up, he came with some form of caffeine in his hand. The man sure knew how to pave the way, though Graham wasn’t sure why his younger brother was here at all.

“You use your key to walk into my place all the time,” Owen said dryly after taking a sip of his own iced latte. Too much sugar for Graham, but Owen seemed wired for it, and if their construction manager needed the extra perk to do all the paperwork so Graham didn’t have to, all the better. “Waiting for someone to actually answer a knock or a doorbell takes too much time.” Owen grinned, and Graham rolled his eyes.

After he’d taken a sip of his own iced coffee—perfection—he narrowed his eyes at his brother. “What do you need? I thought we weren’t going to the jobsite today because we like these things called ‘days off.’ A radical concept, I know.”

Owen pushed past Graham, walked toward the dining room table, and gave his brother a look. “Oh, really? You’re taking it easy over blueprints and order forms? Who the hell are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Graham grunted. “I do paperwork, asshole.”

“Yeah, but you don’t usually double check the paperwork I already did. What the hell, Graham? What’s up with you?”

He sighed and walked back to his chair, pushing a few things out of the way so he could set his cup down without the condensation from the outside of the plastic getting on anything. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

Owen just stared.

“Seriously.”

“Oh, really? Nothing at all is wrong with you? Then why did I have to hear from Murphy that you were an asshole to Blake again?”

Graham cursed under his breath. “Murph gossips more than an old lady.”

“Murph is a little sore after getting his dick pierced, which you well know since you went through that already. And the fact that I’m talking about my brothers’ dicks tells me you think you’re pretty good at changing the subject.”

“You got yours pierced, too,” Graham grumbled.

“Actually, I got it pierced twice, but whatever.” Owen lifted a lip in a snarl before scratching around the piercing in his brow. His family really liked metal in their bodies, and since they weren’t at the jobsite where things could get hooked and where they weren’t meeting someone in a suit, Owen wore his hoop rather than a clear spacer. “Why were you an asshole?”

“I don’t know, okay? And I’m usually an asshole, so that isn’t anything too new.”

Owen sighed. “You just said you didn’t know, so therefore, you acting this way isn’t as normal as you’re trying to make me believe. You need to stop it, bro. I don’t know what’s wrong with you or why you feel the need to act the way you do around Blake, but it’s not only wrong, it’s also unprofessional as hell.”

“She’s not coming back to the site anyway.”

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