It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

Brendan swallowed. A vein ticced in his temple. “One picture.”

“Fabulous.”

Piper pulled Brendan to his feet, tugging the reluctant giant outside, his boots crunching through the construction debris. A rapid shuffling of barrels told her Hannah and the crew were following them to the patio, eager to catch this rare, sparkling moment in time.

“Everyone is going to remember where they were when Brendan took his first picture for the gram,” Deke said with mock gravity.

“First and last,” corrected the captain.

“Who knows, you might form a habit,” Piper said, coming up beside Brendan where he stood behind the sawhorse. “Okay, so shirt on? Or off?”

Brendan looked at her like she was insane. “On.”

Piper wrinkled her nose at him. “Fine, but can I just . . .” She pinched the sleeve of his sweaty red T-shirt between her fingers and tugged it up, revealing the deep cut of his triceps. “Ooh. That’ll work.”

He grunted, seeming annoyed at himself for being flattered.

But he definitely flexed that tricep a little.

Piper hid her smile and moved to stand a short distance away, phone at the ready in portrait mode. “Okay, left hand on the sawhorse, pick up the drill in your right.”

“Big tools!” Hannah called. “Yay, symbolism.”

“This is ridiculous.” He looked around. “It’s obvious I’m not drilling anything.”

“Distract them with your smile,” Hannah said, in between long sips of her fountain soda. “Show them those pearly whites.”

“Who is them?” Brendan wanted to know. “Piper is the only one following me.”

Everyone ignored that.

“Post some content and I’ll consider it.” Sanders sniffed.

“Smile like we’re hauling in a hundred crabs per pot,” Fox suggested.

“We have done that. Do you remember me smiling then?”

“That’s a valid point,” said Deke. “Maybe Cap’s just got resting asshole face.”

Finally, Piper took pity on Brendan and approached the sawhorse. “I forgot to tell you something. It’s kind of a secret.” She crooked her finger at the man, gratified when he leaned down as if compelled. His sweaty warmth coasted over her, and she went up on her toes, eager to get closer. Maybe even requiring the added proximity. “I’ve been ordering your suggested dishes off the takeout menus, and you were right. They’re the best ones.”

She caught his smile up close with the tap of the screen.

“Look at that,” she whispered, turning the phone in his direction. “You’re a natural.”

The corner of his lips tugged, taking his beard along with it. “Are you going to tap the heart on it?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Oh, she was openly flirting with the captain now. Did that mean the third wall was back up? Or was she in some undiscovered flirting territory that lay on the other side of the rubble? “I’d tap it twice if I could.”

He made a sound in his throat, leaned in a little closer. “I know they don’t require a picture to keep your account active. This was about making you smile, not me.” His gaze fell to her mouth, taking its time finding her eyes again. “Well worth it.” With that, he set down the drill and pinned his crew with a look. “Back to work.”

All Piper could do was stare at the spot he’d just vacated.

Goose bumps. He’d given her goose bumps.

* * *

Throughout the course of the week, as Brendan constructed the pergola over the back patio, it was impossible for Piper not to feel a growing sense of . . . importance. There was a warmth in her middle working its way outward with every whirr of the saw, every swing of his hammer. She’d thought nothing could make her feel sexier than a pair of Louboutins, but this man building her something by hand not only turned her on, it made her feel coveted. Wanted. In a way that wasn’t superficial, but durable.

So. That was terrifying.

But it wasn’t just Brendan’s work making her feel positive, it was her own persistence. Piper and Hannah came down the stairs every morning and got started, hauling debris, hammering up the sagging crown molding, sanding the window frames and giving them fresh coats of paint, and organizing the storage spaces behind the bar. A warm glow of pride settled in and made itself at home with the completion of each new project.

On Thursday, in the late afternoon, the sounds of construction ceased on the back patio, the hammer and saw falling silent. Hannah had gone to spend the afternoon with Opal, so it was only Piper and Brendan in No Name. She was sanding down some shelves behind the bar when his boots scuffed over the threshold, the skin of her neck heating under his regard.

“It’s finished,” Brendan said in that low timbre. “You want to come look?”

Piper’s nerves jangled, but she set down her sandpaper and stood. He watched her approach, his height and breadth filling the doorway, his gaze only dipping to the neckline of her tank top briefly. But it was enough for his pupils to expand, his jaw to tighten.