Harlequin American Romance November 2014 Box Set: The SEAL's Holiday Babies\The Texan's Christmas\Cowboy for Hire\The Cowboy's Christmas Gift (48 page)

She didn't want to admit that what was actually keeping her spirits up was the fact that he was at her side from morning to night—and thereafter.

Work-wise, there had been a problem with the design when it came to the plumbing on the ground floor, but she had managed to resolve it with a few key strokes of her pen on the blueprints, then conveyed what needed to be done by way of integral changes to the men installing the pipes.

All of which had left Finn in complete awe of her—and also drove home the stark realization—again—that she didn't belong here. It was further proof to him that once this hotel, which was so very important to her, was finally finished, Connie would go back to her upscale world and be permanently gone from his life.

Which, had this been any one of a number of other times in his life—involving other women—would have been fine with him.

But it wasn't fine this time.

Because this wasn't like any of those other times. This time, he admitted to himself, was different because
she
was different.

And he was different because of that.

Different because he was in love with her.

It had hit him one night as they were making love in her bed. Hit him with all the subtlety of a rampaging mustang trying to divest itself of a newly cinched saddle. He felt a tenderness toward her, a sensation he hadn't experienced before, a desire to protect her not just for a little while, but for all the years to come.

That part had become clear to him when he discovered his desire to shield Connie from her father's harsh behavior. Something had been bothering her for the past few hours. He was aware of it even as they were making love.

“What's wrong?” he asked her as they lay there together, the sounds of heavy breathing mingling and fading.

“Nothing.”

“I know you. That's not
nothing.
Now out with it—or do I have to torture you to get it out of you?” As if to make good on his threat, he wiggled his fingers before her as if he was about to tickle her. The second he brushed his fingers against her, Connie quickly surrendered.

“It's nothing, really. I sent my father a text update, complete with photos and the fact that we were way ahead of schedule.”

“Did he respond?”

“Oh, he responded all right. He texted back ‘Stop bragging. It's not finished yet. You could still fail.'” Connie shrugged. “I suppose it's just the way he is, and I shouldn't have expected any other response from him. It's just that every once in a while, I keep hoping he'd change. That this one time, he'd tell me he was satisfied.”

“And that he was proud of you?” Finn guessed.

“Yeah, there's that, too,” Connie admitted with a shrug.

Finn could feel anger building up. Anger aimed at a man who had no idea how lucky he was to have a daughter like Connie. “Leopards don't change their spots,” he told her gently.

A smile played on her lips. She knew he was trying his best to cheer her up, to make her focus on what she had and not feel inadequate because of what she'd failed to achieve.

“Very profound.”

“Also very true,” he pointed out.

She sighed and nodded. Finn was doing his best, and she was grateful to him for it. “My father doesn't matter.”

“Damn straight he doesn't matter,” he'd told her, surprising her with the fierceness in his voice because up until now, Finn hadn't really commented on her father at all. “He's never going to be satisfied and even if he thinks you've done better than fantastic, he's not about to tell you because somehow, he feels that would be cutting down
his
image.” His eyes held hers as he tried to make her understand what seemed so obvious to him. “Connie, you could do the best damn job in the whole world, and that man isn't going to tell you. He's just going to look for something,
anything,
to point to and find it lacking.” He raised her chin with the crook of his finger when she tried to look away. “But you and I know the truth.”

“And what's the truth?” she asked with a glimmer of a smile forming on her lips.

“That no one holds a candle to you. That you've got a crew that'll follow any order you give them not because it's an order but because you were the one who gave it. They're not just a crew, Connie, they're
your
crew. I know these guys. Trust me when I tell you that really has to count for something,” he told her.

The smile that rose to her lips told him that, at least for tonight, he'd gotten his point across.

Chapter Fifteen

When her cell phone rang the following morning, Connie was busy finalizing the next week's schedule, which was, happily, far ahead of her original schedule. Things were moving right along, and she was exceedingly pleased with herself and with life in general.

She couldn't remember a time when she was happier—or even just as happy—than she was right now.

Pulling the phone out of her pocket, she pressed Accept without looking at the caller ID. Emerson called her almost daily to find out how things were going, and it was his voice she expected to hear on the other end when she said, “Hello.”

But it wasn't Emerson.

It was her father.

Carmichael began without exchanging any pleasantries or even offering a perfunctory greeting. As always, he was all business. “I went over your latest report last night.”

When he paused, she knew better than to press him for his opinion. It would come soon enough.

She was right. “I must say, you didn't mess up as badly as I expected you to.”

Could she have expected anything more? Connie asked herself wearily. “Heady praise, Dad.”

“I'm not in the business of heady praise,” he told her curtly. “In case you've forgotten, I'm in the construction business. Which leads me to my next point. I've got a new project for you to supervise—it's a museum. Right up your alley. It's on the east coast so I'm pulling you off the hotel.”

She felt as if she'd just walked across a land mine and it had gone off. “But the hotel's not finished,” she protested.

“I'm not blind. I can see that,” he snapped. “I'll be sending Tyler Anderson to oversee its completion. It's not your concern anymore, Constance. Pack. I want you here by morning.”

“But—” She heard a strange noise on the other end of the line and found herself talking to dead air. Her father had terminated the call.

Frustration flared through her. “Damn,” Connie muttered to herself as she continued to stare at the now silent phone in her hand.

There was a quick knock on her trailer door and the next moment, Finn stuck his head in. “Hey, we're sending out lunch orders to Miss Joan's, and I just wanted to ask what you wanted to eat today.”

That was when he saw the shell-shocked expression on Connie's face. Lunch was forgotten. Finn came all the way into the trailer and crossed to her.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

And then he noticed the cell phone in her hand. His mind scrambled to put the pieces together. Had she just gotten bad news? Was that what was responsible for that completely devastated look on her face?

“What happened?” he prodded again. “Did your father just call?” She raised her eyes to his but still wasn't saying anything. “Talk to me, Connie. I can't help if you don't talk to me.”

“You can't help even if I do,” she answered quietly, staring unseeingly straight ahead of her. She felt as if everything was crumbling within her.

Taking hold of Connie's shoulders, he gently guided her to a chair and forced her to sit down.

“It was your father, wasn't it?” It was no longer a guess. Only her father could make her look like that. After a moment, Connie nodded. “What did he say? Because no matter what that man said, you know you're doing a damn good job here and—”

Her quiet voice cut through his loud one. “He wants me to come home.”

Finn tried to make sense out of what she had just said. “When you finish?”

Connie slowly moved her head from side to side. “No, now.”

That didn't make
any
sense. From what she'd told him, her father was obsessive about projects being completed on time, under budget and to reflect everyone's best work to date.

“But the hotel's not finished. You still—”

Connie turned to look at him, focusing on his face for the first time. She was struggling very hard not to cry.

“He's sending someone else to finish overseeing the job. He says he has another project for me. Seems there's a museum going up on the east coast he wants me to be involved in.”

“The east coast?” Finn echoed. That was half a continent away.
She'd
be half a continent away, he thought, something twisting in his gut.

“The east coast,” she repeated numbly.

“Are you going?” he asked, doing his best to suppress his anger at this unexpected, sudden blow.

Connie released a huge sigh that felt to her as if it went on forever. “He's my boss. I have to.”

Finn wanted to argue that, but he knew he had no right. All he could do was ask questions. “Did he say why he wanted you off this project?”

Connie shook her head. “He's the boss. He doesn't have to explain anything. He never has before.”

Finn told himself that his feelings about this unexpected turn of events, his feelings about her, didn't matter. That he'd known all along that this day was coming. It had just arrived a little sooner than he'd anticipated.

The important thing here was Connie. This was what she'd wanted all along, to have her father recognize her ability to helm projects. The man clearly wouldn't be sending her to begin another one if he didn't feel that she was good when it came to setting things up and getting them rolling.

“How soon?” he asked her, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

Her eyes shifted to his. “Soon” was all she said in reply. She couldn't bring herself to say “immediately” just yet. She knew that she would break down if she did.

“Well,” Finn began, doing his best to sound philosophical and supportive instead of angry and exasperated, “this is what you've been hoping for all along, right?”

“Right,” she answered without even attempting to sound enthusiastic.

She slanted a glance at Finn. Why wasn't he as upset about this as she was? Did he actually
want
her to go? Didn't he care that she wasn't staying?

Finn was doing his best to find his way through this emotional maze he suddenly found himself in. “In his own way, I guess your father's telling you that he thinks you're capable of representing him, of helming an important project. He's not asking you to accompany him but to go to the location without him. This means that he's admitting that you
can
fly solo,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could summon—all for her sake. But then he looked at her closely. “You're not smiling.”

“Sure I am,” she responded evasively. “On the inside.”

“Oh. Sorry, I left my x-ray-vision glasses in my other jeans,” he told her sarcastically. The next moment, he told himself that wasn't going to get him anywhere. He ditched the attitude. “So how much time
do
you have?” he asked, acutely aware of the minutes that were slipping away, out of his grasp. Quite possibly his last minutes with her.

“He wants me to be in Houston in the morning. That means I have to leave by tonight at the latest.”

She was saying the words, but they still hadn't sunk in yet. She was leaving. Leaving Forever. Leaving crews who weren't just crews anymore; they had become her friends. Leaving a man who had her heart in his pocket.

“Tonight?” Finn questioned, his voice echoing in his own head. “He really does want you back immediately, doesn't he?”

Don't cry. Don't cry,
she kept telling herself over and over again. “Looks that way.”

“And he didn't give you a reason for all this hurry?” Finn pressed. He really
hated
things that didn't make any sense.

“I already told you,” she said, bone-weary, “he's the boss. He doesn't have to explain himself or give reasons. He just gives orders.”

Connie kept looking at him, silently begging Finn to tell her not to go. To come up with some lame excuse why she just couldn't pick up and leave right now.
Any
excuse.

But there was only silence in the trailer.

“The men aren't going to be happy,” Finn finally said, speaking up.

“They need the money,” she reminded him. That was what he'd told her at the outset of the job, that most of the people being hired were taking this on as an extra job. “They'll adjust.”

Finn snorted. “Not readily.”

“But eventually,” Connie countered sadly.

She knew she was right. Within a few months, nobody would even remember that she had been here, Connie thought sadly. She felt as if someone had dropped an anvil on her chest. The upshot was that she was having trouble catching her breath as well as organizing her thoughts into a coherent whole.

Most of all, she was trying to deal with the realization that Finn seemed to be all right with the thought of her leaving. He hadn't said a word of protest, just asked her a few questions about the situation, that's all.

Well, what did you expect? That he'd fall down on one knee and beg you to stay? That he'd ask you to marry him because he just couldn't live a day without you? Get real, Con. This was a nice little interlude as far as he's concerned, but now it's over and it's time for him to move on. You move on, too. Move on, or become a laughingstock.

Connie raised her head and glanced in his direction. “If you don't mind, I've got a lot of things to do before I can leave, and I can do it faster if I'm by myself.”

“Sure,” he told her. “I'll get out of your hair” were his parting words as he left.

Connie nodded numbly in response.

But how do I get you out of my soul?
she asked him silently, staring at the closed door.

With no need for restraint any longer, she allowed her tears to fall.

* * *

“H
EY
,
WHAT
THE
hell happened to you?” Brett asked when Finn walked into the saloon a few minutes later.

Murphy's
didn't officially open for another few hours although the doors weren't locked and even if they were, all three of the brothers had keys to the establishment since it belonged to all of them.

“You look like you just lost your best friend,” Brett said, concerned when Finn didn't answer him.

Finn shrugged his shoulders, leaving his brother's question unanswered. Instead, he went behind the bar, took out a shot glass and then grabbed the first bottle of hard liquor within reach.

When he went to pour, Brett pushed the shot glass away. The alcohol wound up spilling onto the bar.

“I can always pour another shot,” Finn said.

“And it'll land on the bar, same as the first shot,” Brett informed him, “so unless you plan to lick yourself into a drunken stupor, put down the bottle and tell me what's going on with you.”

“Always the big brother,” Finn said sarcastically.

“Yeah, I am, so deal with it. Now what the hell's going on with you? You're not going anywhere until you tell me,” Brett declared with finality.

Finn's throat felt incredibly dry as he said, “She's leaving.”

“When the hotel is finished,” Brett said, reviewing the facts as he knew them.

Finn's expression darkened further. “No, now. Today,” he snapped. The hotel had a ways to go before it was completed. He still felt that Connie's abruptly leaving for a new project didn't make any sense. Though, he could admit he was more invested than he'd thought.

“Why? Did you two have a fight?”

“No, we didn't ‘have a fight,'” Finn retorted angrily. “Her father decided he wanted her working on something else.”

“What does Connie say about it?” Brett asked him quietly.

Finn blew out a shaky breath, angrier than he could ever remember being. “She isn't saying anything about it. She's going.”

Brett continued to study his brother as he responded. “Did you ask her not to?”

“No,” Finn bit off. It wasn't up to him to ask. It was up to her to
want
to stay, he thought, totally frustrated.

Brett gave up standing quietly on the sidelines. “Why the hell not?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Finn demanded.

“How about ‘Connie, don't go. I love you.' From where I stand, that sounds pretty simple to me,” Brett told him.

Didn't Brett understand what was at stake here? “I'd be asking her to give up everything, that big house, the future she's been working toward all these years. Give it all up and stay here in Forever with me.” The inequality of that was staggering, Finn thought.

Brett nodded his head. “Sounds about right.”

“Damn it, Brett. I haven't got anything to offer her,” Finn cried angrily.

Brett looked at him for a long, long moment. And then he shook his head sadly. “If you think that, then you're dumber than I thought you were.”

Finn gritted his teeth and ground out, “You're not helping.”

“You're not listening,” Brett countered. “Connie grew up in pretty much the lap of luxury from what she said—and she didn't seem able to crack a smile when she first got here. After working in Forever—and associating with your sorry ass—she's a completely different person. She looks
happy.
That's what you can do for her. You can make her happy,” Brett emphasized. “That's not as common a gift as you might think.”

Finn waved a hand at his brother. Brett was giving him platitudes. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Ask her to stay,” Brett urged. “Honestly, what have you got to lose?”

“Face,” Finn retorted. “If she turns me down, I can lose face.”

Brett raised and lowered his shoulders in a careless, dismissive shrug. “It's not such a great face. No big loss. Might even be an improvement,” he told Finn, keeping a straight face. And then he turned serious. “And if you don't ask her to stay, you'll never know if she would have.”

Finn shook his head, rejecting the suggestion. “If she wanted to stay, she would.”