Read Online Books/Novels:
Van (Vested Interest #5)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
Vince Morrison, known to most people as Van.
Good with his hands, be it crafting a piece of wood, playing his guitar, or pleasing a lover—he excels at them all.
Friendly, flirty, and talented, he’s cool under pressure, and hot everywhere else.
But he keeps his heart closed, even as his interest and emotions are tested.
Olivia Rourke works alongside him at BAM.
Talented, private, and intriguing, she touches something inside him he can’t deny.
He wants to know her. In every possible way.
He wants her to know him.
Her past tells her to stay clear. Van is everything that she wants, and exactly what she cannot have. She has someone else to think of who is more important.
Can either of them risk their hearts?
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I sat down heavily, my chair squeaking under me in protest. Dust swirled from my clothes, and I ran a tired hand through my messy hair, grimacing when my fingers got stuck in some drywall compound that had splattered.
It had been a long, hard day.
A low groan left my mouth as I rotated my shoulders and flexed my sore hands. The left side of my body ached the most, my leg stiff and sore, adding another layer of discomfort to the day. To top it off, I was hungry, and unfortunately, the café at the front of the building was closed this time of night.
My office was located at the back of the main floor of the BAM building. BAM had been founded by Bentley Ridge and was a highly successful, diversified company. Along with his two best friends, Aiden Callaghan and Maddox Riley, they had turned Bentley’s vision of a land development business into a multibillion-dollar conglomerate. Huge land development deals, vast holdings, and investment opportunities were only a few of the things BAM was involved in. Bentley’s first passion for flipping houses was what kept me busy. I made sure his profit margin stayed high. I loved what I did—and the company I worked for. All the owners of BAM believed in one simple rule: treat your employees well and reward them for their hard work. It worked. I had never known another company that ran as smoothly as this one did.
The small café in the building was popular with the staff, especially Aiden and me. Although the public had access, it was BAM that kept the business as successful as it was—the baked goods were stellar, the sandwiches top-notch, and the couple that ran it knew us all by name, and our likes. Mine was basically everything on the menu.
Tonight, though, I would have to settle for pizza.
For a moment, I let my head fall back against the headrest and shut my eyes, enjoying the quiet.
I shared my space with Jordan Hayes, who oversaw all the details of the larger builds and projects BAM handled. Our office was filled with plans, blueprints, and models. The shelves overflowed with books and documents, and the cupboards held a lot of tools and equipment I liked to keep safe. In one end of the office was a large table we used for meetings—if we remembered not to pile junk on it. The door to the back loading dock was convenient and a great place to park my large truck.
Across the hall was the area various crews used when they needed some office space, and the rest of the floor held the design team, headed up by Olivia Rourke, who’d joined the firm over a year ago, filling a much-needed void for a designer. She handled all aspects of the final look of the houses, condos, and apartments Bentley liked to buy and flip. That end of the business kept us both busy with crews constantly working on a new project. On occasion, we were brought in on some aspects of the larger projects, but those were usually left in the capable hands of Jordan and his vast network of contractors and trades.
A twinge shot through my arm, and with a groan, I reached for the Tylenol, swallowing a couple of tablets with some warm water from a bottle on my desk. The compact refrigerator was too far away to get a cold bottle.
I dropped my head to my chest, and I inhaled long, slow, deep breaths. I centered my thoughts and focused on the air that entered and exited my lungs. I worked my way through the pain and let the medication take the edge off.
I flexed my left hand, wondering if I needed to go see the doctor again, or if it was a simple case of working too much. This job involved a lot of demolition and moving of walls, heavy lifting, and long hours. All work I loved and excelled at, but I was tired.
Maybe I was getting too old for this shit. Sometimes thirty-nine felt ancient.
The sound of a throat clearing startled me, and as my eyes flew open, I knocked over the empty bottle on the edge of my desk. In my doorway stood Liv. The light from the hall highlighted the bright glints in her light brown hair, creating a halo around her face. Short and curvy, she was dressed in her usual work clothes. A long, loose shirt over dark leggings. Her hair was always up in a knot or a long braid flung over one shoulder, the way it was tonight. Without looking, I knew her feet would be encased in either flat shoes or high-top sneakers. When we were on working job sites, she wore steel-toed boots on her small feet, which, along with the hard hat perched on top of her hair, I found incredibly sexy.