Page 9 of Three Bossy Boyfriends (Honeysuckle Harbor #3)

Tucker

“Hey, hey, sexy mama!”

Instantly, I pause in the middle of getting an update on the timeline from my electrician and turn to see where the voice is coming from.

There are a couple of guys who are my own construction crew, not the electrician’s, who are apparently catcalling a woman.

Nope. Not gonna happen. Not on my crew. Not on my construction site.

“We can revisit this tomorrow, Ray.” I need to go crack some fucking heads together and lecture these idiots on how to speak to a woman.

“Whatcha doing later?” I hear one of the guys call out.

I can’t see the guys or the woman yet. They’re right around the side of the construction trailer, where the guys have been laying rebar to pour concrete.

“Making a voodoo doll of your face and sticking a pin in it,” is the cool and casual reply.

I recognize that voice.

Finley.

I grin at her response. Hell, at least these guys deserve a curse put on them.

That thought makes me wince as I walk around the corner, boots crunching over gravel. Maybe I deserved it too.

The guys are reacting with lots of snorts and one “Woah, simmer down there, girl.”

The primary catcaller and the one eyeballing Finley as they finally come into view is Joe. He’s loud, crass, and does just enough work to not get called out, but never overextends himself. I’ve never liked him, and now I actively despise him for his behavior.

Finley is wearing a black skirt, an ivory blouse, and heels—carrying a manila envelope and her phone in one hand, and has a lightweight winter coat on.

Her legs look incredible, her wavy hair gets tossed over her shoulder by a head flip, and even from fifteen feet away I can see she has on red lipstick that gives me the sudden urge to muss it up with my own mouth.

The thought is disarming. I never in a million years thought it would be Finley Anderson driving me to distraction on a job site.

But in the past week, I’ve thought about her more than once.

Hell, constantly. And not in the same way I have over the last ten years, which was sometimes with guilt and regret over what I said in high school and other times with frustration when things weren’t going right in my life and the guys would give me a hard time about being “Finleyed.”

This is different. Since I saw her at that law firm, I can’t stop thinking about the woman she’s grown into. Not only is she gorgeous, she carries herself with confidence, which is really damn sexy.

I would never have imagined her as a lawyer, but it does make sense.

She’s always loved to argue.

I approach the group of three guys and Finley, who is standing precariously in her heels in the gravel. “Hey Finley. I sincerely apologize for them.” I jerk a thumb behind me at my crew. “That was really uncool.”

Her eyebrows raise.

Then I turn to Joe. “Your turn to apologize to the lady for being disgusting and making her feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not apologizing to her!” Joe protests. “It was a compliment!”

I doubt most women think, “Hey sexy mama,” is flattering. My blood pressure jacks up. Joe’s bullshit justification pisses me off.

“You’re fired,” I tell him flatly. “Turn in your gear.” I eyeball the other two. “I didn’t hear you saying anything, but you didn’t stick up for her either. Don’t make my worksite a fucking cliche and don’t you ever disrespect a woman where I can hear you. Now get back to work.”

The other two guys look appropriately shamefaced. They murmur apologies and get the hell out of there.

“You can’t fire me!” Joe glares at me.

“I can, and I did. Now get the fuck off my site.”

Joe throws his hard hat on the ground and says, “Fuck you.” As he’s stomping away, he says, “Stupid bitch,” to Finley.

That’s all it takes. I get right in his face. “If you ever talk to her like that again, I will knock you the fuck out.” I move past him, bumping him with my shoulder. He stumbles backward.

“Let’s go inside my trailer, Finley.” I put my hand on the small of her back to guide her away from a sputtering Joe.

He’s grumbling and doesn’t seem like he’s going to come at me, but I still want her tucked away inside in case he changes his mind.

“Threatening an employee doesn’t seem wise when you’re already being sued,” Finley comments casually as we pause in front of the trailer.

I open the door and gesture for her to go in. I assume she’s here to see me about the case. I try not to wince when I realize that she might be—hell, is—right.

“He was way out of line.”

“I can take care of myself.” Finley climbs the two steps into the trailer.

Suddenly, her ass is at my eye level. It’s covered by her coat, but I’m still very aware of how close I am to her.

These newfound sexual fantasies involving the former goth girl are really starting to get under my skin.

The last few years, I haven’t dated much.

Nothing serious. I’ve hooked up here and there when it was convenient and not likely to get messy but apparently not frequently enough.

I’m getting hard just watching Finley’s hips swaying and her toned legs in those heels climb the stairs.

“No one thinks I can take care of myself,” she adds, entering the trailer and turning to give me a hard stare. “And yet…I always have. I even found myself my own prom date.”

I don’t want to talk about prom. It makes me feel shitty.

I spent the whole night dodging Finley, because after I tried to apologize to her after she overheard me, she had put her so-called curse on me.

It took the fun out of being crowned prom king that night, and I wound up drunk, puking off the side of the dock at the waterfront venue.

My date, the very blonde and bubbly cheerleader, Hyacinth Waters, had stormed off in tears that I had embarrassed her and ruined prom.

Finley’s date had been a painfully shy genius named Bart, who we are all pretty sure had been bullied—by her—into taking her. He’d spent the whole night looking terrified in his tux.

“I hear Bart is a tech guru who has a million-dollar yacht now,” I tell her. “You should have locked that in.”

She waves her hand. “I gave Bart the confidence he was lacking and then I set him free to succeed.”

That makes me laugh. “You’re responsible for Bart’s career success?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, I played a part.”

I can’t help it. I’m intrigued. “What did you do to him?”

Her eyes narrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I stare at her, willing her to crack.

She stares back.

I cross my arms over my chest. Her gaze drops to my muscular arms and shoulders and the tip of her tongue sneaks out and moistens her lower lip.

Well, well. Finley isn’t immune to my charms after all.

I shift in closer to her.

She immediately takes a step back. She looks a little flustered, her cheeks flushing.

That’s a fucking victory in my book.

“I didn’t curse him like I did you. Let’s just leave it at that.” She holds out the envelope. “Sign these papers and get them back to the office as soon as possible.”

“What are they?”

“You can read.” She waggled the envelope again. “Take it. I have to go.”

“Do you have plans?”

“Yes, I’m going to Harrison’s for dinner with my family and my boyfriend .”

She way over emphasizes the final word. It almost sounds like she’s making it up. “You don’t have a boyfriend,” I say, partly because it feels like she’s lying and partly because I don’t want it to be true. “Or I would have heard about it.”

“You are such an asshole. It may be shocking to you, but there are men who are willing to date me.”

Shit. Now I’ve offended her all over again without meaning to. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s Evan Young, one of the attorneys at the firm, and he’s very happy dating me.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “A lawyer ?” That doesn’t seem like her type at all. But Evan was good-looking and friendly and about our age. “You’re dating a lawyer?”

“I’m a lawyer! Why the hell wouldn’t I date a lawyer?”

I don’t have an answer for that. Other than that I don’t want her to be dating a lawyer. Which is ridiculous. It’s not like I want to date Finley.

Wait. Do I?

A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead.

No, not date her. Fuck her. I want to fuck Finley Anderson.

That’s what I’ve been feeling all week. That’s why she’s constantly on my mind and invading my thoughts at the worst moments possible.

She’s a sexy little package of sassy insolence, and I want to tame her, see her go soft for me when she comes all over my hard cock.

“We’ve been together for nine months and we have lots and lots of amazing, hot sex. All the sex.”

Now I’m actually jealous.

Because I’m alpha. I’m protective and dominant all at once.

I love to worship women and give them everything they want in and out of bed, making their expressions go soft and their eyes roll back in their heads.

I fucking love that I’m bigger and stronger and can haul a woman up from under her ass and pound her against a wall while she screams with pleasure.

I’m focused and determined, and I always get what I want.

What I want right now is Finley Anderson.

“Yeah?” I ask her, my voice low and growly. “Are you two going to sneak off at family dinner and do dirty things to each other?”

I really don’t understand why, but the thought of her getting fingered under the dinner table by another man only turns me on even more.

She visibly swallows. “Maybe.”

“Lucky bastard.” I take the envelope. “Have a good fucking night.”

“Thanks.” Finley is officially rattled.

Good.

She tosses her hair back and buttons up her coat. “I will.”

Then she’s gone, and I’m left with a throbbing cock and legal paperwork.

I’ve one hundred percent been Finleyed.