Page 8 of One Touch

I let my eyes wander over the fuming Kate. I’d never seen her with a flush of anger in her cheeks. Pure, unfiltered annoyance danced in her eyes. It suited her. My mother would hate it, of course. She always spoke of how she adored how accommodating and pleasant sweet little Katie was.

I scoffed at the irony.

Amid the commotion, Wyatt and his little girl walked into the house. “I can see your boobs.”

“Pickle,” Wyatt said, issuing a soft warning, and his daughter only shrugged.

Kate pulled the towel tighter around her shoulders, and color flooded her cheeks.

Shaking off the image of Kate and the way she looked with the wet fabric of her shirt plastered to her chest, I turned to Duke. “Let’s take a look around. I’ve already made calls for a local crew, but I need a plan of attack before we get underway.”

“I have to get back to the farm. Wyatt can walk you around.”

“No can do.” Wyatt shook his head. “Penny’s got a playdate, and I have a meeting. I was just dropping her off with Tootie.”

Duke turned toward his sister. “Can you take care of it?Withoutthe side of attitude?”

Clearly annoyed, Kate offered her brother a tight smile, but stayed quiet.

I shook Duke’s hand as he said his goodbyes, then made a sweeping gesture toward Kate. “After you, Princess.”

THREE

KATE

If Beckett Millerwanted to stick his nose in our business and take on this renovation, then I was determined to make his life a living hell.

Yes, I knew he was a talented hotshot builder in Chicago. I’d heard Duke moon over him plenty of times, and the Millers never forgot to mention whenever he won some prestigious award. His parentslovedthe accolades and attention their sons brought the family name.

But I knew the truth.

Declan had told me all about howhehad been the favorite son. Star athlete, top of his class, following in his father’s footsteps since birth. The brothers weren’t close, and Declan didn’t talk about him often, but when he did, it wasn’t very kind. Over the years I’d had only a handful of interactions with Beckett, but despite my efforts to be kind, he was always surly and dismissive.

Dealing with him face-to-face for god knows how long was going to test the limits of my resolve. But I was determined to prove to my family that I was different. Strong and capable. I wasn’t little Katie who needed saving. My best friend in Montana was the strongest woman I knew, and I was digging deep to channel my inner Gemma.

I took a breath and walked down the small hallway and tried not to notice how good Beckett smelled—like he’d freshly showered and used some kind of macho tobacco-and-leather-scented aftershave that should not have smelled so good on someone so frustrating.

Beckett looked at me with equal parts annoyance and indifference. I knew he wanted to help his best friend, but the smug smile that pulled at his lips was infuriating.

Of all the builders in the state of Michigan, why him?

Because I am living in hell, that’s why.

I walked toward the front living room, relieved when Beckett followed me.

“The floors in this hallway are original. I’d love to keep those as long as you and your crew don’t destroy them.”

Beckett stopped and tested the boards with his weight, bouncing a few times. “Seems solid. That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“The kitchen is the heart of this place. Tootie loves to cook and have people over. I want to give her a space where she can do that. A space she can be proud of.”

Beckett took in my words and only nodded.

“You should probably write that down.”

The look he gave me was pure disdain.

Prick.

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