Dalton nodded. “That’s how I felt when I fled to California. I needed that break.”
“Sydney didn’t want to go. I asked her, but her grandmother was in the hospital, and she wanted to stay. The thing is, I realized besides the constant fighting and age difference, she was happy in Harrington. She liked her job and her life. I was the one who craved a new start. Eventually things got so crappy, I left without her.”
“Makes sense,” Cal said. “I wonder if that’s why she got married so fast after you two broke up.”
The scar still throbbed, but Tristan understood so much more now. “I actually came back to town right before her wedding,” he admitted. “I tried to stop her. Asked her to come to New York with me again.”
“What happened?” Dalton asked.
“She said no. Said I’d never told her I loved her or offered her anything to fight for. She was right, even though I didn’t want to believe that for a long time. We both screwed up, but I want a second chance. We’ve changed. Looking back, I doubt it would’ve worked between us during that time. She’s still the woman I want, and I’m tired of fighting it. I just have to convince her to trust me and take the leap.”
Dalton grinned and motioned to his ripped shirt. “Seems like you got a great head start.”
“Coming from the man whore of the century,” Tristan said, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, not anymore. Raven has made me a changed man, but it was a long road. I had to learn to forgive both of us for the past, and sometimes that screws you up. But I always felt like you and Sydney belonged to each other.”
Cal nodded. “Agreed. You both going to be able to work together so closely while building a personal relationship? Want me or Dalton or Morgan to step in and help?”
“No, I think it will be a good thing for us. Force her to deal with me on a daily basis without running.”
“You really are serious about her,” Cal said thoughtfully. “Just a few weeks ago, you were against promoting her to CFO. Now you want to embark on a relationship. What happened to make you change?”
Tristan tried to express his emotions without getting too touchy-feely and embarrassing all of them. “I kept her at a distance because I was afraid. She made me feel things I wasn’t comfortable with. I hated thinking about how things ended with us, but in the past weeks, I’ve felt different when I’m around her. It’s hard to explain. When I watched her negotiate with Cushman, and the way she’d been handling her CFO position, I respected the hell out of her. And seeing her take care of Becca reminds me so much of Mom. She’s grown into herself, and I fall deeper every day. It’s almost as if all roads in my life were leading to her.” He buried his face in his coffee, ready for them to tear him apart for his poetry.
Instead, they both shared a sigh. “Yep, you got it bad,” Dalton declared. “Raven drove me to highs and lows I’d never experienced. But I can’t imagine a day without her. She makes me whole.”
“Morgan was such a pain in the ass,” Cal said fondly. “She wrecked me. But it was fucking awesome, and I never want to be my old self again.”
Tristan swallowed a lump of emotion, then cleared his throat. “Thanks, guys. I needed to hear that.”
“We’ll back you up, bro,” Dalton said. “Just don’t get impatient. Sometimes women need lots of time to settle things in their minds before their hearts catch up.”
Tristan stared at his brother. He’d always been the closet poet in the group. “That was really sweet.”
“Thanks. Now give me my fucking coffee. I have to get a refill now, and I’ll be forced to answer some wedding questions that scare the hell out of me.”
Tristan and Cal laughed as Dalton snatched his mug back and the door clattered behind him.
His brothers were right. He’d court her slow and steady, in the old-fashioned way. But he wasn’t backing off with the sex. It was the best way to remind her they were meant to be together, so he’d grab every opportunity to bond her to him, until she stopped being spooked and realized the same truth he did.
They were meant to have a second chance.
Chapter Twelve
Sydney picked her way across the job site, her work boots crunching over wood fragments, twisted metal, and various items of junk. Sawdust flew madly in the air, and the sound of power saws, drills, and hammers rose to her ears.
“Syd! I need to know if we’re keeping this wall or if you changed the plans?”
“Hey, there’s a back order on those tiles for the kitchen—did you talk to Tony?”
“Got another dumpster coming in—this all has to be moved.”
“Sydney, we found some mold problems in the basement—you need to come take a look.”
Holy shit. She was never going to be able to pull this off.
It was total chaos. She’d been at job sites before but never with eight houses and never being the main lead. Swallowing back pure panic, she schooled her features into a confident expression¸ gripped her clipboard like a lifeline, and tried to figure out who to answer first.
Tristan was deep in a conversation regarding a plumbing problem with the bathroom renovation, so she gave him a short nod of acknowledgment and headed to the basement to tackle the mold. The next few hours flew by in a mad rush as three houses were prepped and pulled apart and various crises were put to rest.
Temporarily.
The majority of workers finally trudged off-site in clumps, and she headed to the back bedroom to grab a moment of quiet.
What if she couldn’t do this?
What if she failed?
She’d always been a perfectionist, and running the office was her safe haven. She was the queen and always felt completely in control. This project was hitting all her buttons, and the voices slithered in her head, questioning whether she had the talent to deliver Adam all these houses, completely renovated, on time and on budget.
Heart racing, palms sweating, she felt the clipboard slide from her hands, and she bent over to suck in a deep breath. Just one minute to freak out and she’d pull herself together. No one would see.
A strong, warm hand pressed into her lower back. “Breathe,” he commanded in a silky, sexy masculine voice that caused goose bumps to break out over her skin.
“I’m fine, I just—”
“Don’t talk. Just breathe.”
His hand stroked her back firmly, soothing her as much as his confident tone that promised her everything would work out. She gulped in another breath, and slowly her muscles began to loosen again. Her lungs refilled in grateful bursts.
Finally she straightened up, avoiding his gaze. Ugh. He was probably kicking himself for letting her lead this project. Tristan never lost his calm. Why did she have to be so weak?
“Stop it, now.” His voice flicked like a whiplash. Startled, she swung her gaze to his, swallowed whole by the stinging cognac of his eyes, burning with heat. “Don’t ever psych yourself out again. Yes, it’s a lot of work. Yes, it’s going to be bad. Yes, we’ll get it done. Together.”
And just like that, Sydney ached to topple him to the ground, crawl over that gorgeous, muscled body, and do bad, bad things to him.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I freaked for a moment. I’m good.”
His features softened. “The first time I got a house to flip, I couldn’t eat for two days straight. I was sick to my stomach.”
She smiled. Lord, he was kind. It was even more devastating under his cool, professional surface because it was safely tucked away where most couldn’t see. But he’d always showered her with care, even in his frustrating, commanding manner. “Thanks.” She retrieved her clipboard, already feeling more in control.
“Good. It wasn’t bad for the first day. How serious is the mold problem? We going to need a French drainage system?”
“No, it wasn’t as bad as we expected. No regular leaks, so it looks like an isolated incident. We’ll begin the cleanup and install the new floor.”
“Good. Plumbing is solid, too. We can begin moving forward on the kitchen by end of week unless we uncover more issues.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, please tell me there won’t be any issues.”