Any Time, Any Place (Billionaire Builders #2)(65)

She jerked her head toward the deck. “That.”

Dalton frowned. “Build decks?”

“Rehab. I’m an addict. Not the drugs, just construction. Kind of like that show on HGTV, actually. I like to tear down houses, or parts of houses, and rebuild them on a strict budget. I’m a bit of a miser, so I like to save lots of money. Another characteristic that’s not too much fun. Umm, there I go again, telling my life story to a stranger ’cause I’m desperate for company.”

“No, that’s amazing. So how come you’re not doing this deck?”

She motioned to her uncle on the mower. “I don’t mix family with work. They’ve been supportive, but Uncle Art still can’t wrap his head around the fact his only niece used to reject Barbies for a hammer and nails. It’s better this way. I need to work on my résumé.”

“Have you found a job yet?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. Thinking of taking on some projects myself and trying to build a name.”

He scratched his head, his thoughts whirling. “I work for Pierce Brothers. Why don’t you stop by the office and fill out an application? Tell Sydney I sent you. We’d probably only offer part-time to start.”

Her face brightened, and he was struck again by the blast of animation from her figure. Almost like she was filled with light, and it poured out of her. Now where had that analogy come from? “Okay, I’m going to try real hard not to freak out with excitement or you will think I’m in high school. I appreciate it. I’ll bring over my portfolio.”

“If you have one of those, you’re already ahead of the game.”

“Thanks. Umm, can I ask you one more thing?”

“Sure.”

“Would you like to grab a meal together sometime? Lunch, or dinner, or even coffee?” A touch of pink hit her cheeks, and she shifted from foot to foot as the words flew out of her mouth. “God, don’t think I’m trying to ask you out on a date or something, it’s just I don’t know too many people and I’d love to learn more about your company and just the layout of Harrington. Are you scared of me yet?”

He chuckled. “You’ll have to work a lot harder to scare me. Sure.” He took a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Here. Call me next week.”

“Thanks! I’m going to get out of your way now.”

She bounded down the stone path, waving madly to her uncle, and disappeared.

Oh, yeah. Morgan was probably going to like her.





chapter twenty




Hey, Raven. I’ve been a bad boy. Come give me an ass whoopin’!”

The guy turned around, flashed his naked ass, and fell into hysterical hoots of laughter with his college friends.

Here we go again . . .

Without pause, she flashed her best come-hither smile, leaned over the bar, and crooked her finger. “Come over here, gorgeous,” she purred.

Awestruck that he could score, he covered his ass back up and stuck his face over the bar. She thought about throwing him out for the nudity, but he was harmless and friends with the regular crew who haunted her bar. She’d take care of it her way.

“I’m here. Whatcha got for me?”

He practically licked his lips in anticipation.

So did Raven.

“How about an ass coolin’ instead, baby?”

She dumped half a glass of ice water over his head.

The bar erupted in supportive shouts and laughter. The guy spluttered and stared in shock, caught between male temper and embarrassment. In her usual move, she took the sting away by pushing a shot glass of her full-powered whiskey at him.

“Show your ass again in here and you won’t be back.” She flashed another smile. “Here, this one’s on the house.”

His friends clapped him on the shoulders as if welcoming him into the rejection club, and his shoulders relaxed. They knew the drill and easily filled him in, and in seconds he flicked back the whiskey and gave her a thumbs-up, his wet hair still dripping in his face.

Just a typical Wednesday night.

Raven worked her way down the bar. The crowd had easily doubled since everyone heard about her tussle with the gunman. It might be a bit awkward to be hailed as a heroine from that scary night, but she was raking in the money. A few more nights at this rate, and she’d easily be able to afford the high-tech alarm system that was being installed tomorrow.

Not a bad bargain.

She headed into the kitchen, checking in quickly with the servers, and called out to Al.

He didn’t answer. Back stiff, he kept flipping burgers and working his station with a half-mad fury. Something had changed between them. When she’d called him about closing Tuesday and told him about the gunman, he’d freaked out but seemed supportive. Now there was a brewing distance she couldn’t seem to breach. After briefly looking her over as if to confirm she wasn’t hurt, he’d refused to talk or meet her gaze. It was almost like he was mad at her, but she knew that was impossible.

“Al!”

“Yeah?”

“Dude, why aren’t you listening to me? I want to check if you need anything from supply.”

“Don’t need nothing.”

“Al, are you mad at me for something?”

“Nope.”