Read Loving You for Free Online

test … they’d have a field day
.
    His head was pounding with a rhythmic slam that felt as though his brain were sliding from side to side to bang against his temples. He hadn’t had a headache like that since his last hangover. And since he hadn’t been drinking, there was no reason for the—shit. He finally located the source of the noise battering at his head and muttered every vicious curse he could think of.
    Throwing the blankets back, he swung his legs off the bed and sat up. Bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor and he shivered as he reached for the gray sweats strewn across a nearby chair. Standing up, he tugged the pants up over his naked ass and headed for the window on the far side of the room.
    That pounding accompanied every step he took asif he were a dancer in a well-choreographed show. Wincing as the hammering sound smashed against his caffeine-starved system, he threw the window up, stuck his head outside, and almost groaned as the sun slammed into his eyes. Jesus Christ. Did people actually get up this early on purpose?
    Pulling in a gulp of air, he yelled, “What the hell’s going on?”
    â€œGood morning, Nick!”
    Nothing good about it as far as he could see. Nick glared at the cheerful little man standing on a ladder not two feet away. Hank Marconi, of Marconi’s Construction, grinned at him. Barrel-chested, Hank had thick gray hair, twinkling eyes, and a nose that took up half of his face. Actually, he looked like a short Italian Santa. Normally, Hank was so short Nick had to practically bend over to look the man in the eye. However, this morning the little guy was perched on a ten-foot aluminum ladder and staring at Nick eyeball-to-eyeball.
    â€œHank,” Nick asked, his voice rough with the lack of sleep scratching at his throat, “why are you torturing me?”
    The man’s wide blue eyes fairly sparkled. Humor creased his features and he shook dangerously as a laugh rumbled through his compact body. “Torture? Ah, Nick, your papa and me, we used to be up with the birds every morning.”
    â€œPapa’s dead,” Nick reminded his father’s oldest friend.
    â€œGod rest his soul,” Hank muttered, and crossed himself quickly. Since he was holding the hammer in his right hand, it was a miracle he didn’t knock himself out.
    â€œLack of sleep probably did him in early, Hank,” Nick said, despite hearing the plea in his voice. “Are you trying to kill me?”
    Hank laughed and shook his head, sending that wild gray hair into a tangle of waves that a lot of women would have cheerfully done him in for. “Hey, Nick, I’m just fixing the eaves.” He used his hammer as a pointer to indicate the missing boards along the roofline. “You remember? We talked about it a couple days ago?”
    Remember? Okay, yeah. Nick had a vague recollection of some conversation about eaves. But then, who could be sure? There’d been so many conversations about so many things that needed fixing, how could he possibly keep them all straight?
    And who the hell would have expected work to start at the crack of dawn?
    Shaking his head and blinking into the morning sun, Nick shivered slightly as the cool November air brushed against his bare chest. Winter was coming fast, and if he wanted to be able to keep the wind, not to mention the rain, out of this wreck of a house, he supposed he’d have to put up with the construction guys.
    â€œOkay,” he said, and spoke up again quickly as Hank lifted his hammer to slam yet another nail into the bare wood. “But can you just give me five minutes to get dressed and downstairs before you start hammering again?”
    â€œLate night?” Hank asked with a wink and a smile.
    â€œSomething like that,” Nick assured him, then ducked back into the bedroom and closed the window. While he grabbed up jeans, underwear, and a sweater and headed for the bathroom, he