So Wright (The Wrights 1)

Jack was distracted by the other men as they talked about the site, the building, the progress, their protocols, budgets, and deadlines. Miranda took the opportunity to get back to work and focused on a top weld. She did her damnedest to pretend they weren’t even there. If she didn’t see them, they didn’t see her, right?

She was concealed head to toe in coveralls, boots, gloves, and a welding helmet that hid her entire head, complete with a breathing apparatus that kept the air she breathed clean and cool. The only way he could guess she was female was by her size, but there were other small guys on the crew. A couple who were even shorter than she was.

The group neared, and a sick feeling sank in the pit of her stomach.

“Randy,” Alex called again.

She released the torch’s handle, shutting off the flame. Clenching her teeth, she straightened and turned her attention on the group, but didn’t raise her helmet.

“Randy,” Alex said, “this is Jack Taylor, the son of Pinnacle’s owner. Jack, this is our welding foreman, Randy.”

Miranda was so blessedly thankful for Alex’s political incorrectness in this situation. If he’d said forewoman, she was sure Jack would have taken more of an interest. She was a unicorn in this industry after all.

But Jack’s expression remained rigid and fierce. Normally, she would have taken off her gear and swung down to the floor to shake hands and greet an executive with a proper amount of respect. Now, she just gave him a two-fingered salute. He lifted his chin, part response, part brush-off. Like she wasn’t important enough to acknowledge.

Alex’s description flooded back. “A grade-A asshole… An arrogant, entitled li

ttle shit.”

Miranda felt her brain tip a little, as if she was seeing things from a whole different perspective. Which was the real Jack? The one she’d had in bed? Or the one Alex had described?

“Randy’s the best in the business.” This came from the project’s foreman and Miranda’s big boss, Ted Gillespie. “Has worked on just about every building in this skyline, isn’t that right, Randy?”

She gave a nod, hoping no one expected her to open up a dialogue. Thankfully, Jack didn’t seem to care about her reputation or whether she gave him the signs of respect she would have if she hadn’t let him do unspeakably erotic things to her just hours ago.

As if to mock her, sweat slid down the indentation of her spine, duplicating the sensation Jack’s tongue had created such a short time ago.

Then someone drew his attention, the group focused elsewhere, and Jack eventually followed the others back toward the stairs. Miranda’s shoulders sagged with relief. She twisted so her back was toward the stairs just in case they returned, flipped her visor up, and took deep inhales of the fresh Nashville air. She looked over the city, completely wigged out by this revelation. “Oh my God.”

Behind her, fierce lowered voices raised gooseflesh along her arms. Voices she recognized. Jack and Alex, arguing.

“You’d better not know where your father is,” Jack said, his voice serious and threatening. A tone Miranda had never heard, but one that raised the hair on the back of her neck. “Because if I find out you knew what he was doing and hid it, getting fired will be the least of your worries.”

“Don’t come onto my jobsite and throw empty threats around. You have no proof of anything, and if you come after me, you’d better be armed to the teeth, because I will fight back,” Alex responded with none of the reverence the boss’s son deserved. “You’re still the same self-absorbed prick you’ve always been. I’m not telling you again—back the fuck off.”

Miranda’s heart pounded. Her head went light. Acid churned in the pit of her stomach. This was getting messy. Really messy. The kind of messy she wanted to back away from the same way she would a hungry mountain lion, slowly and quietly.

“I’m comin’ for you, fucker,” Jack said, menace rumbling through his voice. “I’m comin’ for you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re not skating while I’m around.”

This wasn’t the Jack she knew. She’d never seen even a hint of this angry, threatening side, and she couldn’t ignore the cloud of doubt building around her heart. How could she know which side of him was real? Had he been pretending he was a good guy when he was with her? Did he use that as a ruse to get women? It sounded as if he never stayed in one place long. Maybe playing the unpretentious, sexy architect snagged him a woman at every jobsite.

Hell, when she got right down to it, what did she really know about Jack? Alex, on the other hand, had been a steady, trusted friend for years. He’d always had her back. But she couldn’t deny his father had put Pinnacle at risk. Jack had a right to be angry.

Jesus, this was all too much to take in. She couldn’t control whatever was between Jack and Alex. She could only control what was between herself and Jack. And, man, once he knew she worked for Pinnacle, after telling her all that confidential information, he’d probably be livid. It wasn’t her fault, but Bruce’s indiscretions weren’t Alex’s fault either, and it was obvious Jack still blamed him.

After she told him who she was and what she did, he would probably feel exactly the same way about her.

But there was no way around it. She had to tell him.

17

Mondays always seemed to be nonstop days for Jack’s architectural firm, and after visiting Pinnacle’s construction site this morning, Jack had been behind from the start.

He’d moved his dad’s large computer screen into the family room and connected them to his laptop so he could hang with his dad while he got some work done.

His dad was in his favorite recliner reading the paper when Jack heard the front door open and the kids rattle in. The older two skipped through the house and settled in the living room with their toys.

“Sounds like our boys are home.” His father’s comment was so normal, it reminded him of what a difference a few weeks on medication had made. He was still marveling over Jon’s lucid comment when Jen wandered in, carrying Joshua.