Dalton jumped up from the couch. “You think the type of work I do is built for cold-calling? I’m an artist. You’re such an asshole. Just like Dad.”

“This isn’t helping,” Tristan interrupted. “I’m tired of you boneheads. Cut the crap and let’s figure out what we can do. I made some property sales and took on a renovation project. We still have the last payment coming in from the Weatherspoons. That’ll count toward this year’s profits. What about the senator? That’s a fat payment due in three months, right?”

“The senator pulled out when Dad died. I tried to get him back, but he hired a bunch of his personal friends to take the job.”

Tristan raised a brow. “Mob?”

Caleb shrugged. “Probably. Another reason I didn’t want to touch it in the first place. Seems the crew gets a lot of lunch breaks.”

Dalton laughed. “Remember how Dad used to screw with them when they tried to encroach on our territory?”

Tristan snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah, that time he dipped the baseball bat in ketchup and left it at the site with a note?”

“ ‘We’re watching. Always watching,’ ” Caleb recited. “They got so paranoid, it was like being trapped in The Godfather.”

“Or the time he hung up the dead deer skins?” Dalton jumped in. “They scurried out of here fast like the rats they were.”

“They’re definitely city boys,” Tristan said. “Dad knew just how to spook them. He knew we’d never get completely rid of them, but they disappeared from many of the big jobs for a while.”

Memories of his father haunted him. So many were bad that the few good ones they had were sacred, ready to be pulled out and dusted off with the only people who got it. His brothers. Damn, he wished things were different. Wished they could be closer instead of consistently battling this distance and simmering resentment.

Things had been strained between his family even before the car crash. His mother and father had grown even more distant with one another, barely speaking unless they were all together during a meal. Tristan butted heads with his father on real estate. Dalton tried to carve out his own specialty in woodworking against Christian’s wishes. But once Mom was taken from them, it all went to shit. They held on for six months, but the grief tore them apart instead of bonding them together. Christian became a cold son of a bitch, and Caleb ended up rushing into marriage to try to fix something that was too broken. It was like the perfect storm broke and scattered them across the globe.

Tristan was still pissed about Cal’s decision to cut him out of the business by taking Dad’s side. Cal was pissed at Dalton for sleeping with his fiancée and denying it. Dalton was pissed at both of them for ignoring his part in the business and the fallout from their mom’s death.

It was just one big pissed-off contest with no winner.

But Cal didn’t know how to fix it anymore.

As if they followed his thoughts, the smiles died from their lips, and once again they were looking at each other as strangers.

“Then what’s the new plan, Cal?” Tristan asked. “At this rate, we need a big job with a completion date of about eight months max. Where are we going to pull that from the magic hat?”

Ah, shit.

Every instinct he owned screamed and bitched in rebellion, but he knew there was no other choice. He needed to go visit Morgan Raines. After the stunt she’d pulled, he’d do anything to come up with another alternative, but he needed something fast, and this seemed to be the answer. His head pounded, and he held back a groan. He needed a flawless approach, so she didn’t think he’d rolled over like his dogs and surrendered. He’d make sure his terms were met and Pierce Brothers had a shot at survival after he took his punishment.

And, boy, this would be some serious punishment.

Each word that fell from his lips was another push down the plank. “I may have a solution.”

“Dissolve the company and let us go home?” Dalton asked.

“No. I’ll take a recent job I was offered. A big job. Some celebrity clients—the Rosenthals—bought property in Harrington. Gonna film some big movie here or something. Anyway, this woman, Morgan, wants us to build the house for them. We have to deal directly with her, but from what I remember, it’s a pretty big house. Lots of custom furnishings. The three of us can all work on it together, and we can ask any price we want.”

Tristan nodded. “Nice. This sounds like what we need to keep afloat. If we all focus on this project, we can complete it and get paid in full within eleven months.”

“They want it in six.”

Dalton winced. “Damn, that’s tight. Did you show Brady the plans yet? How is this Morgan to work with? Pain in the ass?”

Caleb let out a dry laugh. “Yep. Seems she never makes a mistake and thinks she’s goddess of the builders’ world. Brady will be on board; he’s as invested in this company as the rest of us. I’ll go see her tonight and close out the negotiations.”

“Don’t push too hard,” Tristan warned. “We need the job.”

“I’ll take care of it. I just need to make sure if we take it, you’re both with me. Since we moved in together, we’ve kept our jobs separate. I think it’s been the wrong move. If we work together on each project, we can streamline our productivity and show a united front to the town.” His brothers shared a look, but Caleb had reached the end of his pride and his patience. If this didn’t work, he’d lose Pierce Brothers. He raised his arms in the air. “I know we’re not comfortable with each other. I know sometimes I act like a dick. This one time, I’m asking to put aside our crap and build this house together like the old days. Do this for me, and I swear to God, I won’t ask for anything else again.”