One
Laura’s eyes tracked up the ladder and came to rest full stop on one of the tightest posteriors she’d ever seen. Her mind blanked. She’d been so outraged. She’d mustered up an angry speech, repeating it with increasing gusto on the car drive over. But apparently all it took was this lone example of magnificent male tushery to make her go dumb.
The ladder squeaked as the man shifted and looked down, and Laura caught sight of just whose ruggedly handsome face was attached to said magnificence.
She felt every muscle in her body stiffen. It was a Jessup. She was allergic to Jessups. Eddie Jessup, to be precise. The worst and most allergenic of them all.
He smiled broadly. “Can I help you?”
Her morning hadn’t started bad like this. It’d started pretty great, actually, helping out with a bustling breakfast crowd. Her family’s business was booming—visitors to the Big Bear Lodge were up, which meant diners aplenty at the tavern, and she was riding high as the new manager overseeing it all.
Over the past several months, she’d thrown herself into her work. When her sister discovered a cache of letters dating from the gold rush era, Laura had used her expertise and Bay Area contacts to capitalize on the find. They’d begun to get a little press, not to mention visits by some tweedy historical types. Which meant even more visitors and more success for their family lodge.
But not if Eddie Jessup and his cursed Jessup Brothers Construction were doing what she’d heard they were doing.
It was a clear June day, and she shielded her eyes against the glare, watching as he climbed down the ladder. She was definitely not noticing the way his white T-shirt clung in places under the hot sun.
“You got something to say, or did you just come to ogle?”
That broke her silence. “I’ve got better things to do than ogle you, Eddie Jessup.”
He laughed, and the easy confidence of it made her cheeks burn. She shot her eyes down, making like she needed to check a text on her cell phone.
He jumped from the last few rungs, dusted off his hands, and faced her with a smile. “Well, darlin’? To what do I owe the honor?”
This particular Jessup had been getting under her skin since high school, but she was past that now. Back then, she’d looked only ahead, longing for the day she could hightail it out of Sierra Falls. Somehow Eddie had sensed it, and he’d upped his torment, always coaxing, teasing, and challenging her. It was a habit he’d never gotten over.
But she was over it. Big-time.
In fact, she liked to consider herself Jessup-proof. She was a college-educated, formerly incredibly successful Silicon Valley marketing professional who’d moved back home as a full-grown woman simply to get some perspective. She wanted only a change of scenery. No men—Jessup or otherwise.
She’d sworn off dating, just as she’d sworn off her old life in the city. She had an ex-fiancé she didn’t miss and an old job she’d pushed from her mind, and yet she’d once spent so much time chasing both. But why and for what?
She’d come home to figure out the answers. To determine what it was she wanted from life, what made her happy. Because she’d learned the hard way that a man and a successful career didn’t always go together in harmony.
She reminded herself that she was self-assured. Self-reliant. Self-made. She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not your darlin’.”
He gave her an assessing look. “More’s the pity.”
She resisted the urge to adjust her clothes under the intensity of that stare. “So don’t call me that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d said it with mock gravity, touching a finger to an imaginary hat. Before she could demand that he not ma’am her, either, he continued, “So what would bring a fine, not-your-darlin’ city girl like you to a construction site? Because I can see on that pretty face of yours—you’ve got something to say.”
Fine…pretty. She refused to register the comments. Eddie probably spoke like that to every female within a ten-mile radius. And what had she come to say? It was in her brain somewhere.
It took a moment for the arguments she’d rehearsed in the car to shoot to the forefront of her mind, but then she demanded, “What are you doing here?”
He got an innocent look on his face. “I’m fixing a storm drain.”
“I can see that. I mean, what are you doing?” She swept her arm, taking in the abandoned house and surrounding ranch property. “Here.”
“Ah.” He met her eyes, and for once he looked serious. “You heard the news.”
“Yeah, I heard about your Golden Slumbers Ranchlandia.”
He laughed. “It’s Sleepy Hills Resort and Spa.”
“Whatever.” She waved an impatient hand. “Sounds like a cemetery to me. Fitting, seeing as you’re about to bury the Bailey family business.”
“We have no intention of burying your business,” he said, his tone annoyingly kind. “It’ll be good for the whole town. Fairview Properties contracted the Jessups. We buy our supplies from Tom’s hardware store. Soon we’ll hire local workers. Workers who’ll then go eat at your tavern. An influx of money all around.”