Oh yeah, she definitely remembered him.
Gigi continued on as though no ounce of tension had permeated the air of the shop. But he could feel another set of eyes on him, and he knew for a fact Adrienne was watching their exchange with keen interest.
“Juliette, I want you to go with him to choose new flooring, cabinets, and countertops for the kitchen remodel. And Brockton, if you have any other design questions, then Juliette will be the one to decide. Yes?”
He nodded quickly. “Sure. Of course.”
“After all, I am a very busy woman, which I am sure you understand.”
“Absolutely.”
“And Juliette’s design aesthetic is perfectly adequate.”
He swallowed. Hard. Adequate was hardly the word he would use to describe Juliette in any sense. Wonderful? Absolutely. Gorgeous? Beyond words. Adequate? Not a chance in hell.
Juliette stood frozen on the stairs. She grabbed the railing to balance herself, her knuckles whitening.
“Mama.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice. “You can’t be serious.”
“He’s the best in town, and your history together has nothing to do with this project. Besides, you’re both adults now. I am certain you can figure out how to work together without acting like teenagers, yes?” Another dismissive wave. “Now, take him upstairs so he can get started. I have a bride coming in for an appointment.”
Her mouth fell open in protest. “But, Mama.”
With her black-rimmed glasses perched on the tip of her nose, Gigi cut her daughter down with one severe look.
“Of course, Mama,” Juliette said through an expertly clenched jaw. Then she offered him a saccharine smile. “Follow me please,Monsieur Gallagher.”
Brock muttered a swear.
Here we go.
He followed her up the stairs, doing everything within his power not to stare at the way those black leggings hugged the curve of her ass. In a sense, he was glad to see at leastsomethings never changed. However, this was going to be the longest renovation of his life if they weren’t able to come to an agreement of sorts. They weren’t exactly on good terms, and it was only a matter of time before the past and all of its unwanted heartache caught up to them.
Brock cleared his throat, forcing his gaze to the swath of lightly tanned skin of her shoulder peeking out above her red sweatshirt. “Look, Jules?—”
She whirled on him so quickly, he almost careened backwards down the staircase. The frosty blue of her eyes flashed with anger, and she kept her voice deathly low. She leaned close so he caught a whiff of her scent—she smelled like florals, the salt of the sea, and unchecked boundaries.
“No. You don’t get to call me Jules.” Her glare sharpened, but it was tainted with sorrow. “You lost that privilege thirteen years ago, after you…”
Her chest heaved and she lifted her chin, jaw clenched. “After you…”
After he left her. After he joined the Marine Corps and never came back.
“I will do whatever my mother asks of me because she’s putting me up for the time being.” She lifted one finger, her gaze narrowing. “But don’t think for one minute that just because we’re working together means we’re friends. Because it doesn’t. Not now. Not ever.”
He nodded sharply, hating the way her words stabbed him like a knife. “Understood.”
She stormed up the rest of the stairs to the loft, and he followed behind her at a much safer distance.
Brock had no idea why Juliette was back in town or how long she was staying, but he couldn’t ignore the tiny flicker of unwanted emotion that sparked to life inside his cold chest. Her arrival was unexpected, and even though she was being forced to work alongside him, he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Juliette was the first—and quite possibly the only—girl Brock ever loved, and seeing her again today sent a rush of angsty teenage memories slamming into him. Her laughter, her smile, her scent, hertastewere ingrained in his mind. So no, he wouldn’t mind spending the next few weeks with her. It might be pure torture, but he’d gladly endure it.
Unfortunately, Juliette still hated him, and Brock wasn’t sure if an apology would be enough to heal the wounds he left behind on her heart.
CHAPTER 3
Of course it was Brockton Gallagher.
Because her mother couldn’t possibly hire anyone else to do the work instead. Gigi had to choose the guy who had broken Juliette’s heart.
