About

I bought the property because I wanted peace. That was my first mistake. My second was hiring three ridiculously attractive men to build my house. The property was perfect— several acres tucked far enough outside town that I could finally breathe. The house would sit toward the back of the property, surrounded by trees and open fields. While it was being built, I parked my RV a comfortable distance from the construction site. Close enough to keep an eye on things. Far enough away that I could pretend I had privacy. Then the construction crew arrived. I probably should’ve questioned the name before I signed the contract. In hindsight, Killer Construction should’ve been my first warning. Because the three men who stepped out of the truck definitely lived up to the name. Mason was the foreman. Big, broad, permanently covered in sawdust, and irritatingly quiet. He had the kind of face that made me forget whatever sentence I was halfway through. Cole was the carpenter, and apparently his life’s purpose was to annoy me. He flirted like breathing was an involuntary bodily function and had a smartass response to absolutely everything. Then there was Eli. Sweet, quiet Eli. He didn’t talk nearly as much as the other two, but he noticed everything. The first morning I mentioned that I liked iced coffee, he showed up the next day with one. The original estimate for my house was six months. We’re currently on month nine. And I’m beginning to suspect my house isn’t actually being built. It’s being prolonged. “Why,” I asked one afternoon, staring at the unfinished kitchen, “is there still no countertop?” Mason glanced at the plans. “Complicated.” I blinked. “Complicated?” Cole leaned against the wall, trying— and failing— not to laugh. “Very complicated.” “I don’t know anything about construction, but I’m pretty sure countertops aren’t supposed to take three weeks.” I said, as serious as I could muster up. “They’re difficult countertops,” Mason said. Eli cleared his throat. “The countertops haven’t been ordered.” All three of us went silent. Mason slowly turned his head toward him. Eli looked at me. I looked at Mason. Then Cole. Then back at Eli. “…You guys are terrible at lying.” Cole grinned. “We’re excellent at construction.” “You’re nine months into a six-month project.” “Details.” Eli said casually. ————————————— Something was going on. Because lately, there was always an excuse. A porch that suddenly needed reinforcing. A door that apparently needed to be replaced twice. A mysterious electrical problem that had already been fixed. And somehow, every time I threatened to call the contractor and demand an explanation, one of the three would conveniently show up at my RV with coffee, breakfast, or some ridiculous reason why I needed to come see something at the house. I should have been annoyed. Instead, I found myself looking forward to seeing them every morning. Which was probably my third mistake. Because I was starting to suspect the house wasn’t the only thing under construction. Whatever was happening between the three of them and me… That was definitely going to be a problem.