None of them did.
Brooke always hated going to job sites. Still did. But when she was little, she’d pout when her father brought her to a job site and when that didn’t work, she’d throw a tantrum until her father finally gave in and let her wait in the truck. He stopped bringing her after she turned twelve, only to drag her to work when they were fourteen and decided that she needed to spend her summer doing something more productive than sitting on her ass all day watching reality TV.
She only lasted three hours before the men threatened to quit and her father had been left with no choice but to take her to the office and find something for her to do there. That led to the staff, his secretary, and the water delivery guy for some fucking reason, all threatening to go on strike if he didn’t do something about her.
Left with no other choice, Jonathan took Brooke under his wing, showing her how the business ran and taught her how to design houses. She didn’t seem interested until she found out how much she could make and decided that she’d found her calling.
Jonathan worked with her, taught Brooke everything he knew, signed her up for courses, answered her questions, and gave her a paid internship while she was in college and she…
Barely went to class.
When she showed up for work, she spent most of her time on her phone or bitching about having to make copies, get coffee, or having to make revisions on the projects that her father assigned to her. By the time she graduated college, one thing became painfully obvious, Brooke had no fucking idea what she was doing.
Her designs were fucking horrible and confusing. Clients hated them and their design team had no fucking clue what they were supposed to be. Jonathan kept working with her, hoping that she would figure it out only to realize that it was hopeless.
Then something interesting happened.
Brooke, who barely showed up most days, suddenly showed up to a meeting with a client that they couldn’t seem to please with a portfolio filled with designs that had the client begging to sign with them. Even Quinn had to admit that they were incredible. He’d never seen anything like it.
She’d somehow managed to nail everything the client wanted, along with everything they’d never thought to ask for and turned it into their dream home. He thought it was a fluke until she did it again and again. Word spread and soon, their waitlist went from a year to five, and then to ten. They began receiving offers from firms around the country, hoping to get their hands on one of Brooke’s designs, but to her credit, she refused to work with anyone else.
It gave B.T. Construction an edge that he couldn’t risk losing.
He’d tried finding someone, anyone else, who could match her designs, but so far, none of them came close, which was going to be a problem since there was no doubt in his mind that Brooke was going to take their parents up on this deal.
“You could always offer to buy the business,” Tristan pointed out while Quinn watched as a familiar black pickup truck parked in the makeshift parking lot across from his trailer.
“Page four,” Quinn murmured absently, barely aware of Tristan’s muttered, “Oh, shit,” while he watched the little pain in the ass that had been making his life a living hell since the day she was born, climb out of the pickup truck with the black notebook that she took everywhere in her hand and-
“What exactly does she do?” Tristan asked as they watched Dylan drop down on the bench between two of their cousins.
“I honestly have no fucking clue,” Quinn said, watching as Dylan opened her notebook, pulled out a pen and deftly stole the sandwich out of Nolan’s hand. He watched as his cousin narrowed his eyes on the little brat before grumbling to himself and grabbed another sandwich out of his bag.
While Brooke hated every minute of the three hours she’d spent on that fateful day at a jobsite, Dylan had loved every minute of her first summer working for their fathers. She showed up bright and early, wearing her father’s old tool belt, looking beyond fucking adorable, and sighed with satisfaction when she was handed a broom.
Every day, she showed up somehow more eager than the day before, asking questions, and taking on more tasks. It didn’t matter how many splinters, stitches, or concussions she got, she always showed up the next day with a huge smile on her face, eager for more. He kept her out of trouble, glared when she stole his food, and to this day, still felt terror surging through his body whenever she was within ten feet of a nail gun.
After that first summer, her father decided that perhaps it would be better if Dylan learned the business side of B.T. Construction and found her a spot out of the way. She’d made friends with everyone and had the ladies in the office, the water delivery guy, and their clients wrapped around her little finger.
After that…
He had no fucking idea what she did.
She randomly showed up at job sites, hung out by the coffee truck, annoyed his cousins for the hell of it, and made notes in her notebook before disappearing. Some days, she showed up at the office, found a corner and did whatever she did in that notebook, and other days she didn’t show up at all. When they had meetings, Dylan showed up, helped herself to the spread of baked goods they put out for prospective clients, nibbled on muffins and donuts while she sat there, staring off into space while Brooke went through the questionnaire that she came up with to help her create her designs.
As soon as the meeting was over, Dylan headed for the door, pausing only long enough to help herself to another baked good along the way before disappearing for a few days. When their parents retired, they’d offered to let Dylan run the business side with Brooke, but she’d turned it down, content on doing whatever the hell it was that she did.
“This can’t be legal,” Tristan said, sighing heavily as he tossed the folder back on his desk and-
“I’m afraid it is,” the reason why he would never even consider this deal said with a heartfelt sigh as she opened the door without knocking and walked into his trailer.
“Get out,” Quinn said, absently drumming his fingertips against the top of his desk as he sat there, grinding his jaw while he watched Dylan settle more comfortably between his cousins and-
Made his lips twitch when she absently reached over and stole Lucan’s soda, took a sip, and shoved it back in his hand as she kept her gaze locked on whatever she was doing in her notebook. He watched as his cousin’s eyes narrowed and knew the moment that his cousin debated throttling the little pain in the ass.
“We should probably have that talk,” Jenn said as Quinn grabbed his phone off his desk and sent a quick text, watchingas his cousin’s hand twitched while he glared at Dylan only to pull out his phone, grumble, and shove his phone back into his pocket as he looked up and met Quinn’s glare through the window.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Quinn said, tossing his phone back on the desk.
