Everywhere and Every Way(5)

"Still drinking that bourbon shit, brother?"

He jerked his head around. Dalton smirked and dropped into the rocker to  the right. His fingers clasped loosely around the neck of an IPA. Cal  took in his tired face, ripped tank, and denim shorts with the ragged  hem. Dalton propped his feet up on the railing, which were now clad in  frayed flip-flops.

Cal tipped his head in greeting. "Still drinking the drink of the  commoner, Dalton? Or is that all you can afford lately?" That comment  got him a snarl, but Cal gave a laugh. "Sorry, I'm only screwing with  you. Been a long time since I got to needle you."

Dalton let out a disgusted breath. "Dude, at least I'm not the one still  living with my parents. A thirty-two-year-old single man shacked up  with his dad? Cree-eepy."

"He's got you there."

Another voice joined them, and Tristan stepped onto the porch, leaning  one hip against the pillar. His drink of choice was a dark ruby-red wine  that probably cost way too much to actually drink. His reddish-brown  hair was perfectly tousled in that way females loved. He was dressed in  khaki shorts, a clean white T-shirt, and some designer-type sneakers.  Tristan had always had a thing for expensive food, wine, and women.  Except when he dated Sydney, of course.         

     



 

Cal rubbed his forehead and groaned. "Fuck, you're right. I lived with Dad. That's kind of embarrassing."

"Humiliating," Tristan added. "Pathetic."

"Loserville," Dalton said.

"All right, I get it. I don't know, we stayed out of each other's way, and I never had the time to look for another place."

"You don't get laid much, do you, man?" Dalton asked.

Cal refused to let his face get red. Refused. "Keeps the relationship  chicks away," he retorted. "For God's sake, it's a mansion. You could  get lost for a week without seeing someone in there."

Tristan grinned and took a sip of his girly wine. "Sure. We understand."

Cal gave them the middle finger.

They stared at the woods and drank in silence. The presence of his  brothers was a blessing and a curse. He missed them and the relationship  they used to have. Being with them now in their childhood home and  knowing the distance was thick like fog made emotion claw up from his  gut.

Tristan finally spoke. "We have to talk. Make our decision." He paused. "Go over why I don't think it will ever work."

Cal took a deep breath. It was time to open up some raw wounds if he was  going to have a shot. "Maybe it's time to finally discuss why you  really left."

He risked a glance at Tristan. Then was sorry he did. The tiger ripped open its cage doors and let loose with a roar.

"Was I the only one in that room who remembered when I gave Dad an  ultimatum and he threw me out? Was I by myself when he called me a  failure?" Tristan stabbed his finger through the air. "I needed you, and  you said nothing! I got tired of begging to do things differently from  the sidelines of my own fucking company. And Pierce Brothers is just as  much mine as it is yours, brother!"

Cal jumped up from the wicker chair and met him head-on. "I know. You  think that I don't go over that scene endlessly, wondering if I made the  biggest mistake of my life? Tristan, you know how Dad was. He fought  change and focused on the construction. You always saw the bigger  picture-you were more a businessperson than Dad ever was. You saw  property and renovation and how we could expand, but Dad would have  never let you do it! Don't you get it? I backed him up so you would get  the hell out of Dodge and come into your own. Because if you stayed  here, Dad would've eaten you up alive."

Tristan gazed at him in shock. "You trying to tell me your cowardice was a sacrifice for me? Don't go there, Cal. Just don't."

Cal winced. "I'm not trying to be a martyr; I'm trying to explain why I  didn't fight for you. Every day I watched you die a bit more, not being  able to do what you wanted."

Tristan shook his head. "It was always you. By Dad's side, building  house by house. God, I worked there just as much as you. All of us did.  Through high school and summers and after college. I never felt valued.  Well, I finally found my place, and I'm not about to leave it. You made  your choice once. Now I'm making mine."

Cal fisted his hands and tried not to howl with frustration. "This is  Mom's company, and you're telling me you'll walk away without a glance  back? Don't give me that shit. Let's get real honest here. You always  wanted this company, and this is your chance. The only rule we have is  to make enough money in three hundred sixty-five days. I need you. I  can't do this alone. And I swear, if you walk away, you'll regret it,  Tristan. That's not some threat from me. It's just the truth, because I  regret letting you walk away that day every fucking second."

Emotion pulsed and crackled between them like a summer storm. His words  seemed to hit Tristan straight between the eyes. His brother jerked  back, looking at him with new eyes. Cal was done with half-truths and  pride. He needed his family to pull this off, and the only way to gain  back trust was to get messy.

He fucking hated it. But he'd do it.

Tristan let out a string of curses and turned away.

Dalton cleared his throat. "Well. That could've been on an episode of  Dr. Phil. I'm surprised Dad didn't rise from the grave in pissed-off  fury for that type of sharing."

Cal shook his head. Leave it to his youngest brother to use humor to  deflect too many feelings. "What about you, Dalton? What's your reason  for leaving?"

Dalton drained his beer, rested his elbows on the arms of the rocker,  and snorted. "Actually, I think I'll stay and help you out."

Tristan whirled around. Cal's mouth fell open.

Dalton shrugged. "Why not? Sure, I got a great woodworking business  going on in California, but been having a bit of trouble keeping good  workers. They're sloppy."         

     



 

Oh, yeah. Cal knew right then and there his brother was dead broke. He  was such a perfectionist, and his jobs usually took double the time due  to his high standards. Cal bet he just couldn't take on enough clients  to make a profit. But he kept his mouth shut. "Huh. Too bad."

"Yeah, and then I got a little female trouble going on. May be a good idea to leave town for a bit. Let things cool off."

Cal raised a brow. "She's not married, is she?"

Tristan snickered.

Dalton narrowed his gaze, eyes flaring with temper. "Hell no! I don't do  that, okay? Things got intense. I think she used the L word, and when I  pulled back a little, she got crazy. Started stalking me. An address  change may be good for both of us. But I want my share of the profits,  and the business, if I decide to help you out. Got it?"

Thank God. He'd give Dalton anything he wanted. Besides, his brother  took after his grandfather and was famous for his furniture. He'd be a  huge asset. "Got it. Thanks."

Cal turned to Tristan. His voice softened. "Are you in?"

Their gazes met. In those familiar amber eyes, he caught a mixture of anger, resentment, and something else.

Want.

Tristan wanted to put his own stamp on Pierce Brothers, and it was  finally his opportunity. Cal held his breath and hoped it won out over  pride and a desire for revenge.

"Fine. I'm in. But it's not going to be easy. We're not used to working  together, let alone living together. Let's hope we don't tear each other  apart after the first week."

"Agreed." Cal raised his glass. "To Pierce Brothers."

Tristan hesitated, then finally raised his wine. "Pierce Brothers."

Dalton slowly got up from the rocker and lifted his empty beer bottle.  He didn't say anything but clinked his container with theirs.

It was a start.





chapter three







Morgan Raines tightened her fingers around the steering wheel and stared  up at the gorgeous sprawling house that could put a Southern mansion to  shame. She was used to impressive houses, but this one had a unique  blend of old-fashioned charm and classic breeding that made her want to  sigh.

Of course, she'd be quite worried if the house wasn't up to par. If  Pierce Brothers boasted to be one of the top customized builders in the  Northeast, first impressions were important. Her gaze took in the stone  Georgian with the perfectly placed fat columns and the sweeping circular  upper deck. The mix of colored stone, terra-cotta, and blinding white  gave an onlooker pause and a desire to stare longer. From the  larger-than-normal arched windows and massive carved wood door to the  wraparound porch and definitive bursts of rich green foliage against the  backdrop of a sparkling turquoise pool that rivaled a lake, the effect  was dazzling.

Good. She'd made the right choice.

Now she just had to convince Caleb Pierce to take the job.

She'd gone to the Pierce Brothers official office first, located just  down the road, but when Caleb's assistant told her he was at the house,  Morgan decided it was best to track him down here. She'd learned early  to try to maneuver around the layer of protection in the form of savvy  executive assistants and go direct to the source. This way, he couldn't  force her to stay in the waiting room for hours or sneak out to lunch  through the back door.