“I can’t believe you got skunked,” Dalton said. “Is it wrong to tell you I’m glad I went to bed before that incident? Washing those mutts is a nightmare.”
“It wasn’t a highlight of my life,” she said. “And I don’t think I’ll ever look at tomato juice the same.”
Tristan shuddered. “You’re a trooper, Morgan. Thanks for driving us home last night, too.”
“I’m glad I can help. I’ll take you both over so you can pick up your cars this morning.”
Dalton lit up. “Nice. Maybe the bartender will be there.”
“Her name is Raven. She’s the owner. Sydney and I met her a few weeks ago. She also makes a mean cocktail.”
“Just my type of woman.”
Tristan shook his head. “As long as she’s not involved in building any houses or selling real estate, go for it.”
Morgan wondered if she should tell them about her strange reaction once she heard their name, but Cal entered the kitchen and wiped out any other thought in her brain. Struck mute, she took in his rock-hard abs and his low-slung sweats that only emphasized every delicious muscle on his body. He caught her looking and gave her a slow, smug smile. Morgan turned back to her skillet, ignoring his knowing laugh. “Morning.” He grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee. “How you ladies feeling today?”
“We’ll live,” Dalton muttered. “Let’s just say I won’t be friends with Jack for a while.”
Tristan laughed, then winced. “Morgan’s taken pity on us. She’s cooking some breakfast.”
“Thank God. You two bozos need to learn to cook.”
Dalton rolled his eyes. “I can grill and put cold cuts on bread. I’m good.”
“Hey, I cook,” Tristan said. “I happened to take a course at the culinary arts school last year on French food. But I need to feel inspired.”
Cal muttered something into his mug. “French food to go with fancy French wine, bro? Next thing you’ll be crooking your pinkie finger while you drink your tea.”
“Fuck you,” Tristan said mildly.
Morgan fought a giggle and began sliding pancakes onto a plate. “First stack’s ready. Bacon’s almost done. And if you don’t leave one last mug of coffee for me, you’ll never get this again.”
The guys began munching, and Morgan enjoyed the scene before her, warmth buzzing through her veins. God, it felt good to be with these men. She cared about them, on and off the job site, and wanted them to be close again. She’d never had this before. After she left her parents, she’d been a bit of a nomad, chasing the next job and next location. Being in their kitchen, cooking breakfast, laughing at their banter—all of it struck her with a sense of rightness.
What was happening to her?
She poured the batter onto the hot pan and studied the bubbles popping up. Things had shifted between them. It wasn’t just the sex. It was almost as if by admitting she’d been afraid of him pulling back, she strengthened the bond between them. Emotion was now involved, and she was caught up in the intricate web of pure want and need for Caleb Pierce. Her heart had galloped ahead and caught up with her body. She was falling hard, and she had to make a decision.
To tell him the truth.
Time was ticking, and they had only three months to complete and deliver the Rosenthals’ house.
He deserved to know she couldn’t have children. He needed to know how important her job was, and the demands of constant travel. He was owed the right to choose the life he wanted, and it might not include her.
The word love had not passed between them, but it was there. It seethed beneath the surface, waiting for the time to spill from their lips.
She shook off her thoughts at the smell of burning batter and slid the last stack of pancakes onto a plate along with the bacon. They were talking business. “Paint is scheduled to be here tomorrow,” Tristan noted, cutting his pancakes into perfect bite-size pieces. “Sod is ordered for the landscaping, and I’ve got Brian coming in with the trees and bushes. The rock wall should be done by then, too, and then we just need to finish the covered deck.”
Cal shoved a few pieces in his mouth at once. “Thank God we don’t have to deal with the pool problem. The sauna and hot tub will keep them happy, and if they’re still here in the spring, we can do a quick install.”
“Smart,” Dalton commented. He ate with more casualness, stopping often to nibble on bacon or take a swig of coffee. “Did you put that in the contract, Morgan?”
“Damn right I did. Pierce owes us a pool if we decide on it. No reason to take that on now, and the Rosenthals agreed.”
“Appliances should be installed by end of the week. When are the movie screen and chairs coming?” Tristan asked.
“I’m putting in the call to check today,” Morgan noted, finally sliding her own pancake onto a plate. “But I need those red velvet cushions and tapestries here. Tell me they’re not back-ordered. Please.”
Tristan waved his hand in the air. “I took care of it.”
“I love you.”
“Hey!” Cal swung his gaze and gave a mock glare at his brother. “Don’t mess with my woman.”
Morgan couldn’t help the silly grin that curved her lips. “Neanderthal,” she whispered teasingly.
He winked.
She finished eating and scooped up her cell phone. “I have to make some calls, y’all. Oh, Dalton, I need you to look at that grandfather clock I bought from your shed. I want to restore it and carve in the Rosenthals’ initials for the numbers.”