Page 2 of Grant’s Heat

Once in the back seat of the town car, I pulled out my phone to catch up on all the incoming messages I’d missed during the property tour with Charlene.

But the moment the device came to life, a different message caught my eye instead. Like a magnet to metal, my gaze was drawn right to the text from one feisty, smart-mouthed, ill-mannered, and quick-witted little package named Rio Gibson. On my screen, however, she simply showed up under one name. Blaze.

The nickname had settled in while she and I worked together at Abstract Catering’s prep kitchen in Inglewood. The little catering company, co-owned by her and Sebastian’s fiancée, Abbigail, wouldn’t be little for too much longer. Abstract was on a major upward trajectory in the catering scene in Los Angeles and the surrounding area. They had paid their dues for the success in spades, especially during that grueling month last summer when Bas had been forced to hide Abbi away at an estate in Twentynine Palms. There were some mean, still unidentified enemies, messing with him, and he’d been terrified about his woman being next on their hit list.

Subsequently, Sebastian hadn’t taken any chances with the people closest to her either, so I was the one assigned to Rio’s personal protection detail. Which, in turn, meant a lot of grueling hours on my feet in a sweltering industrial kitchen, where we prepared lunches for businessmen and women who’d scarf the food down behind their desktop computers while taking meetings or attending webinars. I knew from firsthand experience there were days the food we toiled over making all morning was barely tasted. The next day, we’d turn around and do it all over again.

I opened the text thread with Blaze.

Want to meet for lunch after deliveries?

Meeting with Shark at the Edge’s site.

Someplace near there? You okay?

Of course I’m okay. Just figured

you’re missing me.

How about the Bunker Hill Steps?

Text when you’re on your way?

Will do.

I tried to play it cool, but I could feel a grin tugging at my lips. Yeah, I guess I had missed her. We’d spent so much time together in that hellfire kitchen, and then, as quickly as the assignment started…it stopped.

Rio Gibson was the kind of woman who got under your skin. She was abrasive as hell when you first met her, but after a few days, we’d found an easy rhythm around one another, and I actually looked forward to seeing her each morning. She was considerate, funny, and smart as hell. All wrapped up in a sexy, spitfire package.

“And here we are, Mr. Twombley,” Joel called over his shoulder while he pulled toward the curb. “That was the lightest midday traffic I’ve seen in years.”

Of course it had been. While I was happy to have set up an impromptu meeting with Rio, I could kick myself for not getting anything work-related accomplished on the drive.

“Thanks for the lift, man,” I said to Joel, sliding across the seat to exit at the curb in front of the bustling construction lot.

“My pleasure. Just text when you’re done. I’m assuming you and Mr. Shark will be heading back to the office from here?” Joel asked.

“Not sure what Bas has going on, but I won’t need a ride from here. I’ll tell him to let you know, though.”

I shut the car’s door and went in search of my best friend. We were scheduled to meet with the superintendent and two foremen at the Shark’s Edge job site.

It had been nearly four months since Terryn Ramsey, Sebastian’s former administrative assistant, had committed suicide here. There’d been a lot of scuttlebutt about some foremen walking off the job, but we were too far into the project to lose key players. If even one of these men quit now, we would be set back weeks while we selected replacements, and the project timeline—as well as the budget—would take a major hit.

I met Bas in the security team’s trailer, where we donned hardhats and safety vests, and then we were escorted to the superintendent’s trailer across the massive property.

The building’s foundation had already been poured, and tons of steel beams had arrived on-site earlier in the week. Pride radiated off my friend, his usual intensity giving way to a subtle smile, as we crossed the uneven ground in the all-terrain vehicle the workers used to navigate around the job site.

“Mr. Shark! Mr. Twombley!” The rotund superintendent shook our hands in turn when greeting us at the narrow door of his makeshift office. “Great to see you, gentlemen. You boys need to start leaving your fancy shoes in the car when you come down here, though. I keep telling you every time I see you.”

“You do, Jerry, you do,” Bas teased back, slapping the man on the back as he ushered us inside.

“Things are looking great, Mr. Nash.” I motioned over my shoulder toward the early stages of the structure. Even in its skeletal state, the Edge was captivating to look at. “This building is going to be amazing.”

Jerry harrumphed with a good-natured grin. “Got my eye on that bonus. The wife wants to take a Caribbean vacation. Her sister goes on a cruise every year, and that’s all we hear about for two months after she gets back.” His smirk fell as he rolled his eyes dramatically.

Bas and I feigned answering laughs together. “Well, keep up the good work, and you and Mrs. Nash will be hosting your vacation picture slideshow before you know it,” Bas encouraged.

“And how’s your beautiful lady?” Jerry returned. “When is the baby due again?”