Chapter One
Morgan
Today could be the first day of the rest of my life.
So it goes without saying it is going awful. My truck wouldn’t start this morning. Shooter, my new collie took off during our morning routine potty break. My entire neighborhood is keeping an eye out for him. My brother Ethan is having trouble on our newest job site, and my other brother Tanner is just...slacking on his job site. It’s been one hell of a day and it’s not even noon.
"Morning Morgan," Josie Pierce, a contractor and the only woman with a hammer in town calls as I pass her. "That good of a day, huh?"
Wincing, I nod at her because if she can see how wound up, I am, I need to take a moment to unwind. "Yeah, one of those days. How’s things going at The Halo?" I mention the new swanky lofts downtown that she has taken over maintenance on.
"Going well, I suppose. Since it is all brand-new you would think I had nothing to do there. You would be wrong. Good luck in there today, Dexter mentioned you guys have something up your sleeve."
Nodding at the bank behind her, she smiles at me then heads out. I shake my shoulders out. My brothers and I do have something up our sleeves. It’s the same thing we tucked into our back pockets years ago. We want to make our dream of Brant Brothers Construction a reality.
We’ve taken jobs on the side since high school, did summer apprenticeships in all manners of building trade, and both Ethan and Dexter went to college for their trade. I went for business at my father’s suggestion. Even though we talked aboutmaking something out of the nothing we had growing up, I was never sure how to get it started.
It was Dexter who suggested we make those side gigs fixing doors for friends or working together on a bathroom remodel into a real business. I was never sure we could work together because we’re all such different personalities, but it’s been good for all of us. Only thing is, all the side jobs turned into full time jobs and bigger, better contracts.
It is up to me to convince the bank that we’re a viable investment.
"Here goes nothing, boys," I let out a unsteady breath, fix my suit jacket, and head inside the bank.
I cancelled two meetings on my schedule to be here today. I am the oldest Brant brother, the one everyone assumes is the most put together. I suppose that has a little to do with my day job. I tell people I play with other people’s money all day, and it’s basically the truth. I am good at investments, at betting that certain companies will fail while others succeed—to try and beat the average market returns to make my clients a profit.
I am good at what I do because I take educated guesses, I research the market to stay on top of returns and losses. I donotlove what I do. At least not when I am stuffed in a suit, sitting in a stuffed-up office, playing with numbers that blend together until I swear I am reading a Matrix code.
What I do love doing is hanging drywall, framing out a window, and building something real with my hands. It was something our father taught us all to do. He said we should know how to fix our home and our cars. I am happiest getting my hands dirty—whether that is under the hood of a car or with paint or sawdust to create a home.
We just need someone to buy into how much we love what we do.
"Morning Mr. Brant," the front desk clerk greets with a big smile. "Ms. Carter will be with you in a moment," she tells me.
I panic. Who is Ms. Carter? My appointment to talk about this business loan was with Mr. Tomford, the bank manager, and a friend of my father's. I was sure he would believe in us enough to give us what we need to build this dream of ours. We want Brant Brother’s Construction to be more than odd jobs and small builds. We want to be the go-to here in True Ridge, and I believe we’re good enough, passionate enough that we can do it.
All of my prep for this meeting was to present our loan proposal to Mr. Tomford. Not a woman I have never heard of. Wait, yeah, who the hell is Ms. Carter? I might not know every single person in True Ridge, but with a population of exactly two thousand, I know a lot of them. This is a town where you grow up here, find your partner here, do your work here, and retire here. Even if you go off to see the world or try somewhere else, you always come back here because this place is just...home.
"Who the hell isMs. Carter?" I whisper to myself as I take a seat to wait for her.
Checking my watch, I flip through any new information in my head that may answer that for me. There is a new lumber crew working in the area I know. Part of Mack Felle’s crew over in Driftwood. There’s a new garage in town, Dexter told me last week. All ladies turning wrenches. I am all for equality—we were thrilled to hear we had a woman handyman—would it be handy woman—when Josie came to town.
Thinking about the women in town Idoknow, I can’t help but feel a little glum. I have never figured a relationship out, though I gave it a few good tries. Pop said love happens exactly when it is meant to. Of course, he said that—he met our mother and married her within a month. My work, my brothers and my family, come first for me. I guess that would change if I found the right woman.
"Mr. Brant, I apologize for keeping you waiting," a sweet voice calls, startling me from my thoughts.
Glancing up, I blink. Who. Is.That?Is...is she supposed to be talking to me? I even glance behind me to see who else she might be apologizing to. Blinking again, I try to force out words. Only no words come as I sit staring up at her. Because there is no waythiswoman is looking to talk tome.
Waves of crimson hair spill down past her shoulders, her fair skin looking almost dewy in the morning light. Freckles dust her nose and cheeks, and I find myself flushing as I start trying to count them. With big, bright blue eyes the color of the sea and soft pink lips that quirk up at the corner as I sit there soundless, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
I swallow hard, trying to get some words out. A greeting. A response to her apologies, because she should never have to apologize for anything. I even stand up. I tower over her, my gaze eating up the way her silk blouse nips in at her waist, how her skirt is just short enough to be demure but also somehow make me want to shove it out of my damn way.
What the actual hell is going on with me?
"Mr. Brant? Were you ready for our meeting?"
Ms. Carter. This beautiful vision is the woman I am about to beg for a loan from? Well, fuck. "Y-ye-yes. I am... Iamprepared. I thought I would be meeting with Mr. Tomford, I hope this is not a... not a..."
"I have taken over that portion of his duties," she informs me, her voice clipped, her shoulders going back in defiance. Those blue eyes flare up at me, and I flush again. Somehow, with one sentence I’ve offended her.
