Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I wait, hoping Mr. McGee doesn't walk out here and join me while I wait for her to pull off.
She seems upset, and I doubt she wants a witness to her misery.
Thankfully, she doesn't spend much time being upset before wiping her face with her hands and heading on her way.
I'm not exactly impressed with Mr. McGee's desire to cut corners on this old building. It deserves better than what he seems to want to do with it, even though money is tight for everyone. I believe in doing a job well and doing it right. As hard as it is to admit, my father cut more corners than he ever should've to keep his customers happy.
I love the guy. He was a hero in my eyes, but I don't fully understand why he did some of the things he did. I also try not to judge him too harshly, either, because I know he did his best to keep his business alive and take care of his family.
I clench my hands into fists, needing a breath of fresh air and a little distance from this old place. Who knows how much influence this place had on my dad when he worked that renovation job? Was he already sick then? Was this the place that opened that door for him?
I shake my head as I shove open the door to the old theater and walk toward my truck.
Maybe I shouldn't concern myself with a place like this, but as I drive to today's worksite, I just can't get it out of my mind. I want the notoriety that would come with the renovation. I know hundreds of people will know I put in the work and effort to restore it, and that means a lot to me. I have plenty to keep me busy, but I've always been one to take more joy in a long job, one where my real skill can be shown. Anyone worth their weight in the construction business can build what folks are calling modern-day farmhouses, which are all the rage right now. But it takes care and attention, as well as the ability to slow down and understand the materials you're working with, to do a restoration like the Old McGee Theater.
It chaps my ass in the worst way to know that some city asshole will come in and cut corners just to get it up to code. Old buildings like that deserve more respect, and I know some cookie-cutter company out of Austin isn't going to care about the legacy of the place.
"Where are the twins?" I ask Ethan when I pull up to the small concrete job we have scheduled today.
"Flu," the man says with a shrug of his shoulders, shoveling the concrete out onto the rebar grid we constructed yesterday.
If it were anyone else, I'd think they called in sick because they just didn't want to work, but as much as the Tate brothers like to party, they also have the best work ethic of anyone I've ever met. If they called and said they were sick, then they are. I have no reason not to believe them. Living together and doing everything together has its benefits, but this is one of the downfalls of the brothers being so damned close. When one gets sick, it's almost inevitable that the other one will too.
"Well shit," I say as I mentally switch gears for the day. "I have to make a few calls to rearrange my day, but give me half an hour, and I'll help finish this one out with you."
He dips his head as he continues to work. Nothing much bothers Ethan unless lunch is late, and then you see a different side of him. The man lives to eat.
Today felt like any other damn day, long, exhausting, and repetitive. It seems like months before the sun starts to lower in the sky, indicating the workday is done.
Staying home in the silence of my too-big house seems too depressing for me, so after my shower, I head to the bar. At least I can get lost in the laughter and music of others around me.
Chapter 3
Riley
There's something about my adrenaline running wild from that earlier interaction at Scarlett LeBlanc's house that left me antsy and unable to stay still. I felt like a caged animal in my own home, and that made me hate the woman just a little more than I did when I left her house covered in soup.
When I step outside of my car in front of The Hairy Frog, the local tavern, I swear the wind hits me just right, and I can still smell gazpacho despite having showered for over half an hour and washing my hair twice. What happened earlier today is something I'd expect to see on a staged reality television show. It's nothing I ever would've guessed would happen with such a high-brow woman. Don't they teach those people how to behave in front of others at their elite finishing schools?