Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
It took Liam a few seconds to find his voice. “No,” he said after clearing his throat. “If it gets the job done faster, he can stay. Just…”
Tate nodded. “You have my word.”
Daryl wouldn’t be allowed to harass him again.
“Okay.” He tried for a smile, but it felt flat. “Then get back to work, mister,” he said with false authority in his tone. “Those tiles aren’t gonna lay themselves.” Their eyes locked. There were so many things Liam wanted to say, but who was he to Tate?
No one.
Just a guy he’d hooked up with a few times and could be—fingers crossed—planning another.
The problem was, aside from loving the orgasms Tate provided, Liam liked the man.
Genuinely liked him. They didn’t have much in common, but something drew him to Tate and seemed to attract Tate to him as well. And he had dreams of starting his own company? The guy had layers. Liam could see there were many, and they went deep. How amazing would it be to peel them back individually and discover the man at the center?
“Sure. Sorry for all the noise. We’ll break around noon for lunch.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Tate nodded, then turned for the locker room.
“Tate?”
He spun around.
“He’s wrong. Daryl, that is. You handled that well… like a boss. For what it’s worth, I think you’d be the perfect person to break out on your own. If that’s what you wanted.”
FOR WHAT IT was worth?
Liam had no idea, not a single clue, just how much his words were worth. A couple of months ago, after a few too many beers while they’d been chilling after work, Tate let it slip to Randy that he’d considered starting his own tile company. He loved big, complex jobs where he could use his creativity and innovative techniques. Their boss was stuck in the dark ages. He didn’t care about design trends, and it showed in the jobs he accepted. Tate was good with the clients too. Worlds better than Randy or even their boss.
His brother had laughed so hard that beer foamed out of his nose. Then he’d slapped Tate on the shoulder and said, “Keep dreaming, asshole. But thanks for the laugh.” Then he’d stumbled off and fucked Whitney in the damn bushes behind his trailer.
What a lucky lady.
Liam hadn’t laughed.
When was the last time someone had believed in him?
His parents sure as hell never did. Hell, he hadn’t seen his father in three years. Or was it four? The last time he’d blown through town, he’d stolen a hundred bucks from Tate’s wallet, grabbed Whitney’s tit and tried to sleep with her, and smacked his ex-wife across the face. His Father of the Year award must have gotten lost in the mail.
His mother barely recognized up from down and sure as hell had no idea what Tate got up to these days. He could be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, and she’d never know it. He couldn’t forget Randy and their group of hick friends. People who didn’t know the real Tate would shun him if they did and certainly didn’t care about his goals and dreams.
Then there was this compassionate, sexy, accepting man who’d given Tate more in a few encounters than the people who’d been in his life for two and a half decades.
He couldn’t think of something worthwhile to say, so he merely said, “Thank you,” and turned his back on Liam before the man saw more than he wanted to reveal.
When he entered the locker room, he found Daryl taking his anger out on the tiles. He smashed them like a gas-powered machine, muttering and curing as he worked.
“Well,” Randy said as he strode over with a shit-eating grin. A fine layer of powder covered his face and lightened his hair. His dust mask rested on his forehead over his safety glasses. “At this rate, we’ll be done with the demo by the end of the day. You pissed him off good.”
Tate grunted.
“What the fuck happened out there?”
“He ran his stupid, disrespectful mouth to the client. Practically had him fucking cornered.”
“Hmm.”
“What?” Tate rounded on his brother, who held his hands up in surrender.
“Nothing.” Randy took a step back, shaking his head.
“No, you got something to say, so fucking say it.” He curled his hands in a give-it-to-me motion. He couldn’t hit Daryl in front of Liam, but back here, without those pretty eyes watching, he’d be happy to clock Randy in his stupid mouth.
“It ain't right, T, you coming at Daryl so strong like that.”
“Excuse me?” His ears burned. “That shit makes us, meaning the company we work for, look unprofessional and backward. He got off easy. I should have kicked his ass for how he talked to our client.”
“See, there you go again.”
Tate threw his hands in the air. His blood boiled. He was walking a fine line, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d show his hand.