Harlowe Island: Falling for the Electrician
Автор
S. L. Adams
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1,1M
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Audrey Harlowe doesn’t do love—her focus is on family and running Harlowe Homes. But when billionaire Silas Hardy arrives to oversee his cottage’s construction, sparks fly. The grumpy New Yorker clashes with Audrey at every turn, but their fiery arguments soon ignite into something far hotter. A summer fling seems inevitable, but can a no-strings affair survive the heat? With walls around their hearts and obstacles in their way, Audrey and Silas must decide if love is worth the risk.
Chapter 1
AUDREY
Book 3: Falling for the Electrician
The angry red eye of the universe glared at me from the mirror. A massive, pus-filled pimple—smack-dab in the middle of my forehead.
Her evil laugh echoed through my skull, triggering the start of a nasty headache while she reached inside my body and squeezed my uterus.
Bridget.
That was the name I assigned to my handler in the universe. She was a nasty bitch who had made it her mission to torment me.
I grabbed the edge of the counter and expelled a stream of putrid stomach acid mixed with tiny chunks of pike. We had a fresh fish feast the night before. My brother, Levi, took his visiting in-laws from Florida on a fishing trip.
When they returned with two six-pound pike, they cooked it up on a campfire. The pike tasted delicious going down. But coming back up?
Not so much.
The temptation to crawl back into bed was strong. But I didn’t have that option. Not that day. It was my brother’s wedding day.
Levi’s in-laws were staying in my apartment above the boathouse. I’d been sleeping at the main house for a week, and I had to share a bed with my sister, Naomi, the night before. Our younger sister, Myra, reclaimed her bed.
And she brought her boyfriend, so I couldn’t exactly sleep in there with her. Not that I would’ve chosen her over Naomi. Myra was six months pregnant. She would’ve taken up the entire bed with her big belly and assortment of pillows.
My mother refused to hire caterers, opting to prepare all of the food herself for fifty guests. If I didn’t get down to the kitchen soon, she would come looking for me.
I stripped off my pajamas and stepped into the shower with a heavy sigh.
Harlowes show up to the job site, rain or shine, sad or happy, sick or healthy.
And they don’t stay home because of female troubles.
Put a plug in it, take some damn Midol, and get your ass moving!
My father may have been dead, but he was still very much alive in my head. He raised me and my four siblings with a lot of tough love—especially the girls.
His methods may not have always been the best, but he knew what it took for women to be successful in the home construction business. I closed my eyes, drifting to my happy place while the hot water cascaded over my body.
Misty Cay. A fictitious island in the South Pacific. The setting of my favorite soap opera. I was Mrs. Wellington, the wife of billionaire Stewart Wellington.
My sister pounded on the door, yanking me from my fantasy.
“Audrey! Hurry up! You can’t use all the hot water!”
“I’ll be right out, Naomi! Back off!”
I had just finished rinsing my hair when I heard the other door open. Naomi shared a bathroom with Myra. I made sure to lock Myra’s door before I got in the shower.
My little sister had issues with boundaries. Myra tended to forget we were grown women, and not all of us were comfortable with nudity. If I had her body, maybe I would walk around naked without any inhibitions, but that wasn’t the card Bridget dealt me.
I peeked around the shower curtain, praying it wasn’t my sister’s boyfriend. “I know I locked the door, Myra,” I sighed when I saw her sitting on the toilet.
“I had to pee really bad.”
“So you picked the lock?”
“Yeah.”
“There are other bathrooms in this house.”
“I didn’t wanna put on clothes or walk that far.”
“Then you should’ve waited. It’s not polite to break into the bathroom when someone else is using it.”
“Can you lower your voice?” she hissed. “You’re gonna wake up Bart.”
“If you don’t get out of this bathroom right now, I’m going to tell Mom you’re awake and ready to help in the kitchen.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
She hauled herself from the toilet, glancing at me in the mirror while she washed her hands. “I have to rest,” she reminded me with a smug grin. “Doctor’s orders. And technically, I’m a guest. I don’t live here anymore.”
“Whatever,” I muttered. “Can you get out of here so I can finish getting ready?”
“Why is Myra up at five?” Naomi called through the other door.
“I had to pee.” Myra snorted. “Did you forget I was six months pregnant?”
“Definitely not,” Naomi mumbled.
“Go back to bed, Myra,” I sighed. “Sleep in until ten, then have sex with your boyfriend. We wouldn’t want to interfere with your charmed life.”
She braced her hands on her hips, glaring at me with her gorgeous eyes. We often joked that our youngest sibling was adopted. Myra was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, big-boobed knockout.
Naomi and I were both skinny brunettes, with no sexy curves or breasts to speak of. I had enough to fill a B cup, but Naomi could barely fill an A.
“What’s your problem, Audrey?”
“Nothing, Myra,” I sighed.
***
“What’s the matter with you this morning?” Mom asked.
“Nothing, Mother,” I grumbled.
“She has her period,” Naomi blabbed.
“Really, Naomi?” I hissed.
“What? It’s just the three of us.”
Mom pulled a ball of dough from the fridge and dropped it on the counter. “Audrey, you really need to see a gynecologist,” she said. “Where is my rolling pin?”
“Right here,” Naomi announced, holding it up in the air.
“Why did you move it on me?”
“I didn’t touch it, Mom. The wheels are coming off your bus.”
“They are not.”
“You should’ve hired a caterer.” I sighed, shaking my head while I sliced up a green onion.
“Audrey, these debilitating periods are ruining your life. There must be something they can do. Why don’t you make an appointment with the new young gynecologist in town?”
“I’ve been to a gynecologist, Mother. I can’t take any type of hormonal birth control. You know that.”
“Doris Graham had an ablation. It’s a wonderful alternative to a hysterectomy. They can do it as an outpatient procedure. Minimal recovery time.”
“Can we please change the subject?” I requested. “Let’s focus on the wedding today.”
“Silas Hardy is bringing a date,” she informed me. She slid a pan in the oven before pinning me with a disapproving scowl. “Why didn’t you invite Drew?”
I gritted my teeth, the knife in my hand just missing my thumb before it sliced through the carrot I was working on.
“Audrey, be careful,” she chastised.
“Mom, can you please back off?”
“I’m concerned about you, honey.”
“Why did you invite Silas?”
“He’s a friend of Levi’s.”
“No, Mom. He’s a customer.”
“That’s right, Audrey,” she snapped. “An important customer. One who is bringing significant profit and exposure to Harlowe Homes.”
“This was supposed to be a private family wedding, with only close family and friends.”
“It was Levi who added him to the guest list, not me.”
“I don’t believe you, Mother.”
“Why do you dislike that man so much?”
“He’s an arrogant ass.”
“You never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Why didn’t you invite Drew to be your date?”
“Drew has a girlfriend,” Naomi said.
“Since when?”
“He started dating her in January,” I said. “She’s a coworker.”
“He’s dating a fellow firefighter?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“There’s only one woman on the Bristlecone Bay Fire Department,” I sighed.
“Drew would not date her.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t know that. Did you get kicked out of your gossip club?”
“If Drew was dating that strange woman, I would’ve heard about it.”
“Maja isn’t strange,” I said. “Just because somebody isn’t the same as you, that doesn’t make them weird, Mom.”
“She pushes a giant ball around her neighborhood. Blythe said she almost flattened her chihuahuas.”
“She has to stay physically fit.”
“The woman is covered in tattoos.”
“So?”
“And isn’t she a little old for Drew?”
“She’s thirty-five.”
“And he’s twenty-eight.”
“So?”
“Audrey, I just want you to be happy, honey.”
“I am happy, Mom.”
“You never go on dates anymore.”
“It’s a waste of time!” I snapped. “Drop it! It’s my life!”
***
I wasn’t a jealous person. Most days, I was able to appreciate the life I had: a loving family, my health, a job I enjoyed, a roof over my head, food in my belly, and money in the bank.
But not on that particular day.
Nope.
Bridget made sure of that.
I was too hormonal to handle my brother’s wedding with the maturity and behavior expected from me. Audrey Harlowe always conducted herself in a professional manner when she was in public.
It didn’t matter if it was a business meeting or a private family gathering. Myra walked down the aisle in all her pregnant glory, locking eyes with her man.
I wanted that.
Bart looked at my sister as if she had hung the moon. He didn’t care that she was thirty years younger than he was, or that she could be a stubborn pain in the ass. He loved her.
“Myra,” I hissed when she came to a complete stop.
She continued to the end of the pink runner and climbed the steps to the gazebo.
The bride came next, on the arm of her father. Milly had two things that I would never have.
Her daddy to walk her down the aisle.
And a baby in her belly.
***
I moved along the buffet line behind Myra and Bart, collecting food that I didn’t feel like eating. The beer and tequila shots weren’t playing nicely together in my empty gut.
I rarely drank, but as soon as I escaped from the family photo session, I headed straight for the bar.
“You’re going to be up all night with heartburn,” Bart warned my sister.
“That’s what they make antacids for, doctor,” Myra said.
“But antacids are high in salt, and that can lead to bloating.”
“Then I’ll let out a few good farts.”
“You’re fighting a losing battle, Bart.” I laughed. “My sister never listens.”
“I am very familiar with her stubborn streak,” he sighed.
“And you never take my side, Audrey,” Myra whined.
“That’s not true, Myra. I’m always looking out for you and trying to save you from yourself.”
“You’re just salty because Silas brought a date.”
“I don’t care,” I huffed. “I don’t even know why he was invited. He’s a customer.”
“An important customer,” she said, doing her best imitation of our father. “When you own a business, work doesn’t end at five o’clock. It’s a twenty-four-seven job. We have to make new contacts and solidify existing business relationships during social events.”
“A private family wedding is not a social event.”
“Take it up with Mom.”
“His date looks like a plastic doll,” I muttered, grabbing one of my mother’s famous mac and cheese bites.
“Better watch your carbs, big sister,” Myra whispered. “You wouldn’t want to lose that tiny waistline.”
I glared at her before grabbing three more of the carb-filled bites.
“I think somebody is a little jealous,” she sang.
“Zip it, Myra,” I hissed when Silas approached with his date.
“Good evening, ladies,” Silas said. “You look stunning as always, Myra.”
Bart slid his arm around Myra’s waist. “Myra always looks beautiful.”
“You’re a lucky man, Dr. Beaverton.”
“You’re both full of shit,” Myra laughed. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go stuff my face with all this gassy, heartburn-inducing yumminess.”
“How are you, Audrey?” Silas asked.
“I’m good, Mr. Hardy,” I announced. “Great actually. It’s a beautiful summer day. Levi and Milly had a lovely ceremony. I have a great job and a wonderful family. And the best part about today is that I’m not at work. This is not a business event. It’s a private family party, and I don’t have to be polite to you.”
I tipped back my beer bottle, taking a long swallow while he watched with an amused grin.
“How much did he pay you to be his date?” I asked, staring at the plastic woman’s gross fake tits.
“Could you excuse us for a moment, please, Gladys?” Silas requested.
“Of course,” she said, her botoxed lips curling into a stiff smirk.
“There’s no way your Barbie doll is named Gladys,” I laughed.
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not nearly enough.”
He tilted his head, penetrating me with a magnetic stare. His eyes were like black coffee. Not technically black, but pretty darn close. Dark roast, brewed a bit too long.
“Didn’t you just finish telling me how great you’re feeling, Lambkin?”
“My name is Audrey.”
“That’s a lovely name, and it suits you when you’re at work. But as you pointed out, you’re not at work today. Therefore, professional address isn’t required.”
“You’re right, dickhead,” I spat before spinning on my heel and storming off.
“That hurt my feelings, Lambkin,” he called out.
I lifted my arm over my head and gave him the finger.
