Checkmate

Chapter 3

"That's it, boy," Connor cooed as the hundred and fifty pound pain in the ass cocked his head to the side and studied Connor. "Come on, big guy, you know you want it," he said, holding the hot dog he dipped in peanut butter up higher as he moved it slowly from side to side.

The demon spawn that Rory liked to call a dog licked his lips hungrily as his eyes zeroed in on the tasty treat. Grinning, Connor leaned over and reached for the laptop bag that he'd foolishly set down on the ground ten minutes ago so that he could grab his briefcase and the stack of files only to turn around and find the pain in the ass lying across it.

Connor tossed the tasty treat onto Rory's property. The dog sent him one last glare before he took off. Connor wasted no time in grabbing his laptop, knowing the damn dog would be back. Sometimes it seemed as though the damn dog liked screwing him over more than Rory did.

He was just about to head inside his house when a familiar red four door sedan pulled into Rory's driveway. Hadn't he already chased this loser off? It had been what.....three or four weeks since he last saw this asshole sniffing around Rory? Then again, most of the men Rory dated, all losers in his opinion, stopped coming by her house shortly after meeting him, which was the way he liked it.

But clearly he hadn't done his job if this one was coming back for more. As he watched the asshole step out of his car as he smoothed his hair back and straightened his obviously new shirt and slacks, Connor couldn't help but wonder how dumb the man really was.

When the man spotted him, he froze and noticeably swallowed. A loud menacing growl had the man taking a step back. Because that too pleased him, he pulled the second peanut butter dipped hot dog out of the baggy and tossed it to the dog Rory dared to name, “Bunny.” With a grunt, the dog swallowed the treat whole, but never took his eyes away from the asshole that refused to step away from behind his car.

Like that would protect him, Connor thought with a sigh as he walked over to the corner of his large white Victorian home, which happened to be a mere twenty feet away from the corner of Rory's house, an almost identical house. When the homes were built over two hundred years ago they had been identical in every way, except the direction of the layout was opposite in each house. The Master bedroom suite of each house had its very own open porch that extended past the walls of the house by ten feet and cut the distance between the two houses to eighteen inches.

It wasn't exactly a surprise that the house were built together since the houses had been built by identical twins. The brothers had built the homes for their wives only to discover later that their wives could not stand each other, at least that's what his realtor had told him. Whether or not it was true didn't really matter to him. All that mattered was that he could look forward to aggravating the piss out of Rory each and every night when she sat out on her porch to relax.

When he'd first bought the place, the small strip of land that separated the two properties held not only a tall wood fence that started at the street and ended at the back of the property, but large arboreta trees that were nearly as tall as the house, completely blocking Rory's house from his sight. Since he'd bought the house for the entertainment value, he of course had the fence and trees taken down the next day.

Rory had been pissed at the time, but she soon got over it and focused her attention back on fixing up her house while he did the same with his. It took him two years to get the house the way he wanted it, but it was well worth it. When he first bought the place he'd considered giving it a more modern look, but after his first night in the place he decided to go with what he thought it might have looked like when it was originally built. It took extra time, money and a lot of guessing, but he was happy with the results.

When he originally bought the property he planned on fixing it up and selling it off, having Rory around to torture was just a bonus, but once it was done he knew that he wouldn't be able to part with it. He knew it was the same for Rory. Although he'd never seen what she'd done, and god how he wanted to see what she'd done, he knew that she loved the house and also changed her mind about selling when the renovations were complete.

"Is Rory here?" the man asked as he shifted nervously.

"Is she expecting you?" he asked, leaning back against the house as he discretely reached behind the rosebush one of his ex-girlfriends insisted on planting and flipped the switch off of what he liked to call his “Little Box of fun” and settled his fingers over the three black buttons on the small panel.

"That's none of your business," the man snapped, noticeably bristling.

"Then I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself," Connor said with a careless shrug as he watched the man shoot him a scowl just before he stormed up the walkway and damn near jumped out of his skin when Bunny decided to block his path.

"Easy," the man said anxiously as he backed away from the dog. Even though it probably should be enough that the dog most likely made the man piss his pants, Connor felt that he needed a little more incentive to get the hell out of here and never come back.

"What the hell!" the man yelled as Rory's sprinklers came on full blast. Connor waited until the man ran back to his car, only falling twice and ruining his clothes with mud and grass, and was peeling out of the driveway before he turned her sprinklers off.

Best damn thing he'd ever built, he decided as he gave his partner in crime a mock salute and headed for the front door. It really was too bad he couldn't stand her dog since he did come in handy from time to time.

"Why are you covered in mud, sweetie?" Rory asked as she bent down to cup Bunny's mud splattered face. When she caught a whiff of peanut butter and hot dog she knew exactly how her poor baby got all dirty.

"Connor," she bit out, momentarily forgetting that she couldn't kill him for at least five months.

"You called?" the annoying bastard said, sounding amused.

She looked up, not surprised to find him standing on his second floor porch, shirtless and holding a bottle of beer. Sometimes she wished that he hadn't cut down those damn trees. At least she could have pretended that he wasn't next door and probably would have enjoyed relaxing on her porch more if she didn't have to see him. Then again, he would have just found some other way to annoy her.

"You want to tell me why you felt the need to soak Bunny?" she asked, resigning herself to waiting another hour or two before she ventured out onto her own porch. Not that it would make much of a difference since he'd just come back out again to aggravate her, but after three years she was used to it. She also loved her time on her porch too much to really care most of the time.

"I will if you tell me why you named that poor dog, Bunny," he offered, taking a sip of his beer.

Because the dog was her little honey bunny, but she would never tell him that. "Forget it," she said, sighing as she headed for her front door.

"Come up here and join me," he called after her.

"I'll pass," she said, wanting nothing more than a hot cup of cocoa as she went over the new plans McGill gave her earlier and work them into her plans. She also needed to figure out ways to speed up the renovation. Even with Connor's men and equipment they were looking at long hours. She needed to figure out how to get it all done without destroying their profit with overtime.

"Don't you think the two of us should sit down and go over the plans for Strawberry Manor?" he asked casually, but she wasn't stupid. She knew the only reason that he wanted to talk to her was so that he could pick her brain and discover what resources she had at her disposal. It's exactly what she would have done if she hadn't managed to corner one of his men an hour earlier and sweet talk him into spilling his guts about Highland Construction's equipment, its men and their skills. Now she just had to work all that newfound knowledge into her plans.

"Not really," she said as she unlocked her front door and sent up a silent prayer to have a Connor-free night. Of course her prayer was ignored. They usually were where Connor was concerned.

"That's too bad. I guess I'll have to tell McGill that you're not willing to fulfill your end of the contract," he mused loudly.

She didn't say anything as she slammed the door behind her, because there was nothing to say. He knew he had her in a tight spot and had no problem screwing her over. If she didn't play nice he could cost her the contract and more importantly, her reputation.

Clenching her jaw shut, she stormed into her kitchen and dropped her things onto the light oak country table. If she was going to deal with Connor and not kill him, then she was going to need a hot cocoa fix. As she waited for the water to boil, she fed Bunny and sorted through her notes. If he wanted to pretend that they were going to play nice that was fine with her since none of this bullshit mattered anyway.

The real battle wouldn't begin until tomorrow and she was more than prepared to win. So, if he wanted to play these pointless little games now that was more than fine with her. After she mixed up her special hot cocoa, took a sip and sighed happily, she grabbed the top folder and made her way through the house.

If she didn't absolutely adore her house she would have sold it and moved the hell away from Connor, but she did so she couldn't. This was her house, her baby, and nothing and no one was ever going to make her give it up. As she restored the house to its original condition she'd fallen in love with the large old house and couldn't imagine living anywhere else. Her only hope was that Connor got sick and tired of these games and decided to sell his house and move far, far, far, far, far away.

Just the idea of having a Connor-free day made her giddy. Now if it would only come true she might actually cry tears of joy, she thought as she headed up the back stairs to her room. As she walked across her large bedroom she wondered if Connor was going to use their new situation to his advantage and make her life a living hell even more over the next five months. Then she snorted at her own stupidity.

Of course he was going to try. He'd been doing it for over twenty-five years now and wasn't showing any signs of boredom yet. Every single day for twenty-five years the man went out of his way to make her life a living hell. It didn't matter what she was doing or where she was, Connor found a way to leave his mark on her day.

She still couldn't forget her eighteenth birthday. It started off great. Her brothers woke her up at two in the morning by tying her up and gagging her, a James tradition and one her father tried to make her brothers skip that year. Thankfully they didn't throw her in the trunk of Craig's car as tradition dictated. Instead, they tossed her in the backseat and threw a black pillowcase over her head and teased and tormented her for ten hours by refusing to tell her where they were going.

When they'd finally pulled the hood off her head and she saw where they'd brought her, she squealed happily as she gave all of her brothers bear hugs. Really, how many brothers were sweet enough to bring their sister to Canada on her eighteenth birthday to get her drunk?

Best. Brothers. Ever.

For the first four hours everything had been perfect. After she ate, because her brothers refused to let her drink unless she had food in her stomach, she tried beer, wine and hard liquor. Her brothers took turns watching her, but by the time the first hour had come and gone she was too drunk to really care.

She was happy and giddy as she danced to every song. Well, she danced when she wasn't drinking. All the men at the bar were super nice, too. They bought her drinks so she didn't have to spend a cent of her own money and jumped at the chance to dance with her. The night was going perfectly until she thought she spotted Connor lurking in the corner, watching her.

When she couldn't find him again, she just shook it off to an overactive imagination and yummy alcohol. A little while after that, things kind of got fuzzy. From what little she did remember of that night she knew it was all Connor's fault that she woke up the next morning handcuffed to him on a bench while a Mounty with a fresh black eye glared at them from across the room.

If it wasn't for Connor, she wouldn't have needed to be placed in a cell while her father tried to plow through a dozen officers so that he could wring her neck. The only pleasure she got out of that whole awful experience was watching her father take a swing at Connor, who must have been hung over, because he just stood there and took it.

"Stay," she told Bunny as she pushed back the dark thick curtains and unlocked the sliding glass door.

"Took you long enough."

"What the hell are you doing on my porch?" she asked, not really caring. As long as he didn't break into her house, and surprisingly he didn't, then she really didn't care.

"For our meeting," he said, leaning a hip against the banister as he sipped his beer.

"We don't have a meeting," she said even as she allowed her eyes to quickly and discretely run over his rather impressive chest and a set of abs that most men would kill for. While her brothers were huge and muscular, Connor had the type of body any Hollywood leading man would kill for. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but he was by far the best looking man she'd ever seen.

Her eyes moved back up to his chest and paused at the almost black Celtic tattoo that started on the left side of his chest and ended at his shoulder. It was large, beautifully drawn and unbelievably hot, the tattoo, not the man. She hated the man, but on any other man she would have been hard pressed not to trace it with her fingers or better yet, her tongue. As she forced her eyes elsewhere they landed on part of the tattoo that to this day remained a mystery.

She knew that she wasn't the only one who wondered who “LRJ” was and why the man had the initials placed in the middle of that tattoo. There were a few betting pools going around about the identity of LRJ, but as far as she knew no one had been able to figure it out. Connor certainly never told anyone. If someone asked, and damn near everyone asked at least a dozen times, well everyone but her, he simply shrugged it off like it was nothing.

"How many men do you have working for you full-time?" Connor asked, drawing her attention away from her rather disturbing thoughts.

"Fifty and I have another ten men that I already screened and interviewed for the job," she answered, not caring if he knew any of this. They were working together, kind of, so they'd have to share a few things.

Connor nodded as he digested the information. He placed his now empty beer bottle on the banister behind him. "How many are certified?"

"All of them."

"Can paint?"

"All of them."

"Interesting," Connor mumbled, but she didn't think it was. Her father made damn sure that she knew how to build a house from top to bottom and she made sure that all of her employees did as well. If they didn't know how to paint, drywall, put up siding, or do masonry work then she made sure they learned. Since every man that worked for her knew how to do every job she didn't have to put up with delays or waste money by hiring outside help. She also didn't have to waste time stressing over schedules or try to figure out who knew how to do what since all of her men were trained to do whatever was needed of them.

"Anything else?" she asked, itching to get back inside and go over the plans.

"Are you in a rush?" Connor asked, chuckling.

"No," she said, shrugging. "I just don't like you."

"I'm the best part of your day and you know it," he said and she knew that he truly believed it.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy. Are we done yet?"

But Connor wouldn't let it go, he never did. "Admit that I'm the best part of your day," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave her a cocky smile.

"I can honestly say with absolutely no hesitation that you, Connor O'Neil, have never been the best part of my day," she said, wondering, not for the first time, what horrible things she'd done in a past life to deserve having him in her life.

"Puhlease, that's bullshit and we both know it. I bet you fall asleep every night thinking about me and wake up every morning smiling and eager to see me," he mused, sounding smug, too damn smug.

"Actually, you have that backwards," she said, taking a sip of her perfect hot cocoa.

"Really?"

"Mmmhmmm," she said around another sip.

"How so?"

"Well," she said, placing her cup of delicious hot cocoa on the small patio table, "I fall asleep every night smiling because I no longer have to worry about seeing you for at least eight hours and wake up every morning thinking about how to avoid you."

"But you're still thinking about me and smiling when you do it," he said with a wink, leaning over and swiping her hot cocoa before she could stop him.

"Hey!" she said, trying to grab it out of his hands, but the damn man simply cupped the top of her head and held her back as he downed her delicious hot cocoa. She hated when he did this to her. It made her feel foolish and little and as soon as she got the chance she was kicking his ass.

"You bastard!" she hissed when he made a big show of smacking his lips.

"That was a damn good cup of cocoa, Rory. Thanks," he said, handing her back the cup as he dropped his hand away from her head.

"How could you?" she mumbled as she looked longingly down at the now empty coffee cup where her delicious hot cocoa had once been.

"Are you ready to admit that I'm the best part of your day?" he asked, leaning back against the banister.

She glared up at him before looking back down at the empty coffee cup in her hand and then back up at him.

"Aw, shit," he said, turning and jumping over the banister, crouching down on his own porch just as she let the coffee cup fly.

When it missed his head by a few inches she groaned. So damn close, yet not close enough, she thought as it slammed into the side of his house and shattered.

"Well, I guess we'll have to continue this conversation tomorrow night when you're in a better mood," Connor said, standing.

"I'll make sure to bring plenty of coffee cups," she said sweetly.

"Good," Connor said, sauntering towards his sliding glass door, "because I could really go for another cup of that delicious cocoa," he said, laughing when his beer bottle sailed through the air towards him.

"Damn it!" She groaned when she missed him again.

When the hell was her luck going to change?