Any Time, Any Place (Billionaire Builders #2)(23)
“For you, maybe. For me, not so much. I can’t wait to start buying bridal magazines and talking about dresses and favors and cakes.”
He actually blanched, causing her to almost break the farce and giggle. She wasn’t wedding crazy, but it was the perfect weapon to use on him. “You sound like my future sister-in-law,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Even my brother is caught up in wedding chaos. Building a house and planning a wedding in the same year isn’t a smart move, but hell, no one listened to me.”
“Morgan, right? She designed the Rosenthals’ estate. Can’t believe a pair of Hollywood celebrities live right in our midst.” The Academy Award–nominated super couple had bought property in Harrington while shooting a film, then decided to stay. Morgan had been all over the news regarding her talent in building the perfect house for celebrity clients, and was now highly sought after by Tinseltown. Raven considered her a casual friend, since she frequented the bar regularly, though her relationship with Cal made Raven keep up her defenses.
“That’s her. The house Morgan and Cal are building to live in will be better. She’s finally able to see her own personal vision come to life instead of designing around everyone else’s tastes.” He paused, regarding her intently. “Maybe you need the same freedom.”
“How so?”
“Society tells us marriage is the only way to prove a relationship is real. Don’t you think you may be bowing down to these constrictions in order to fit in?” His eyes suddenly blazed like a brilliant blue sky. “Wouldn’t you rather have something real and good for a little while, rather than fake for eternity?”
Again, that connection between them rose up and practically strangled her with intensity. Oh, this man was a true master. He had every line memorized, and knew exactly how to charm a woman out of her panties. She turned her back on him, reaching for a mug and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I don’t intend to choose, Slick.” She slid it across the stripped bar with a flick of her wrist, not spilling a drop. “But maybe one day, you’ll have to.”
His slow grin gained her respect. He took her jabs with a sense of play, proving he’d be an interesting companion. Accepting the challenge, he took a healthy swallow of the bitter brew, shuddered, and put the mug down like he’d tossed back a one-hundred-proof whiskey shot. “This coffee doesn’t get any better with time, does it?”
She laughed as he made his way back outside to bring in the rest of his supplies. He organized the setup with a ruthless precision that surprised her. For some reason, she’d pictured him as a sloppy worker, but he examined every piece of his equipment, from brushes to sander, and created a kind of assembly line. She scooped up her coffee and headed toward her table.
“Gonna hang out with me today?” he asked.
“If that’s not a problem, yes. I have a ton of work to do and won’t get in your way.”
“I’d love company. Just one problem.”
She prepped for a flirty, meaning-laden comment. “What’s that?”
“I need music.”
“Oh. Well, that’s okay, I can put on the jukebox or Pandora radio.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Why was his face turning a light shade of pink? “I have particular music I like listening to while I work, and not everyone appreciates it.”
She tilted her head in consideration. “Is it, like, blackmail material?”
“My brother Cal would say so, but he’s always lacked true taste.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Do your worst. I won’t say a word.”
“You swear?”
“Yes, I swear.”
He considered her words, then nodded. “You’re now in the circle of trust. Once you’re in, you can never be released.”
“Kind of like marriage?”
“Smart-ass.”
She laughed again and sat down. He took his phone out, swiped at the screen, and the strains of NSync belted out in high-energy, poppy form. Her eyes widened in surprise, but Raven didn’t say a word. He cut her one warning glance, then focused on his work.
Raven decided to do the same.
Problem was, she couldn’t.
A strange thing happened during the Backstreet Boys’ greatest hits—had they really actually had enough songs to do a greatest hits album? Her attention kept getting tugged away from inventory and upcoming work shifts and toward Dalton Pierce’s ass.
He leaned over the bar, denim stretched tight, powerful hands stroking the wood like a lover. Fascinated, she watched him walk slowly down the length of the massive mahogany front, palms coasting, lips moving in a whisper of sound she couldn’t hear, as if he was speaking to the wood. Face set in concentration, he seemed in another world, a look of blissful peace radiating from his eyes. At one point, she let herself stare, wondering why he seemed like more of a puzzle than she’d originally thought. Each movement was coordinated with grace and an odd sort of poetry, whether he was sanding down the surface, scraping and chiseling out the bumps, or soothing the wood with soft strokes.
The scents of sawdust and varnish and oils filled the air. She didn’t even realize it was past lunchtime until she forced herself out of her voyeuristic daze and looked at the clock.
He’d never even taken a break.