Page 11 of One Touch

FOUR

BECKETT

Kate was stubborn,I’d give her that.

I watched in amusement and mild horror as she grunted and ripped up old carpeting with my crew. She didn’t hesitate but jumped right in. When I dropped a pair of work gloves at her feet and strode away, I could feel the daggers she threw at my back. It didn’t matter that I had the smug satisfaction of seeing her wearing them the rest of the afternoon.

In an effort to smooth things over with his sister, Duke had invited me to dinner with the Sullivans at the farmhouse. His brother Wyatt brought his woman, Lark, who was back from an acting job in LA. Wyatt’s daughter, Penny, was a cute distraction from the daggers Kate shot at me and from the not-so-under-her-breath grumblings, but more than one awkward silence filled the air. After the main course, I’d excused myself, and it felt as though the entirety of the Sullivans breathed a sigh of relief.

After the long day, I lowered myself into the tub of the primary bathroom and exhaled a deep sigh.

I still wasn’t sure why I’d agreed to the job in the first place. Sure, I was loyal to Duke, and we’d always had a no-questions-asked type of friendship, but the truth was, I really didn’t have time for such an extensive renovation. While the bones of the old farmhouse were strong, everything else was turning out to be a nightmare.

Especially that fucking devil rooster.

My phone dinged on the floor beside me. I shifted to turn it over. Seventy-two emails. Instead of cracking it open and tackling them, I turned the phone on silent and lowered myself deeper into the hot water.

The enormous pedestal-style freestanding tub was one of the only redeeming features of the cold and empty house, and after a long day hauling furniture and the first stage of demo, my muscles ached. I raised a glass of bourbon to my lips and let the warm burn spread through my chest as I looked out of the wall of windows that faced Lake Michigan.

What a waste of a house in such a perfect location.

Had it been up to me, I would have made sure the house that sat on this bluff worked with the natural landscape around it. It wouldn’t be an eyesore, but rather a tribute to the trees and sand and water surrounding it.

I hated the house and everything it stood for, but if I was in Outtatowner until the Sullivan house was completed, then it would be impractical to leave it empty.

My phone buzzed from the marble floor. Two rapid-fire texts:

Mother

My son was on the cover of American Builders Quarterly!

Duke

Headed to the Grudge. You in?

Ignoring my mother—her praise came only on the heels of public recognition, and I’d learned a long time ago that waiting for any kind of meaningful validation was too little too late—I typed up a reply to Duke that I’d meet him out. Then I downed the last of the bourbon and dipped my head below the hot water to drown out the world.

* * *

“This round’s on me.”Duke clinked his bottle to mine before I swiped it from the bar. “You deserve it after the hell Katie put you through tonight.”

I nodded in salute and took a deep pull.

For a weeknight, the Grudge Holder was crowded, but that wasn’t uncommon in the tourist town. Often it seemed like every night was an opportunity for visitors to grab dinner and a few drinks before heading down for a late-night walk or a bonfire on the beach.

What tourists didn’t realize was that, for townies, the Grudge was distinctly separated. The Sullivans and those aligned with them, like myself, on one side. The Kings and theirs on the other. Ever since that first summer when Duke and I became unlikely friends, I’d never strayed to the east side of the bar.

A few of Duke’s cousins were in a band and just starting their set. We sat in comfortable silence, listening to the live band play classic rock covers and watching the tourists slowly getting drunk and filling the dance floor. Duke’s eyes scanned the bar and stopped suddenly on the Kings’ side. I stiffened, ready for trouble.

When I tracked his gaze, I was surprised to see whom it had snagged on.

“That’s a King girl, right?”

Duke’s eyes darted to mine, and a scowl passed over his face. “Hell if I know.”

I scoffed. “She’s the one who works at the Sugar Bowl. What’s her name?” He knew every person in this town better than anyone.

He shrugged. “They all run together.”

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