Diamonds in the Rough. Michelle Madow

water bottle and plate with her.

      “Courtney?” Brett said, and she paused, her breath stopping in her chest. “Are you planning on finishing that?” He glanced at the half-finished slice of pizza on her plate, and her heart fell to her stomach. What had she wanted him to say?

      Certainly not that.

      “No.” She thrust her plate at him and stood up. “Enjoy it. I’ll see you around.”

      She tried not to glance back at him as she walked away, but she couldn’t help it. He must have been waiting for it, because he gave her a wave with what was left of the pizza, and she felt terribly guilty for running away.

      If suppressing her feelings for him was the right thing to do, then why did it feel so wrong?

      * * *

      As Brett had predicted, Oliver got moved from working on the roof to painting the outside of the house. He positioned himself next to Courtney—probably to annoy her. And he showed every sign of being hungover. He had circles beneath his eyes, his dark shaggy hair was a mess and his face took on a greenish hue every time he bent down to dip his brush into the paint. Courtney would never say it out loud, but after he’d bet he could sleep with her and her sisters over the summer and had tried to kiss her when she’d told him she wasn’t interested, she couldn’t help enjoying seeing him so miserable.

      He wiped sweat from his brow, leaving a streak of paint in its place. “One more hour of this torture,” he complained, taking a break from painting to sip his water.

      “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?” It was the most she’d said to him since they’d started painting. “You never expressed interest in Habitat until today, and it seems like you hate it.”

      “Princess Courtney deigns to speak to me.” He smirked.

      She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Let’s just keep painting.” She turned away from him, planning to ignore him for the rest of the day.

      “I’m here because of my parents.” Oliver surprised her by seriously answering her question. “A few of my teachers gave me academic warnings, so my parents are pissed. They said I have to get my grades up, join extracurriculars and make sure there’s no more publicity about my partying and gambling. If I can’t do that, they want to send me to boarding school. No way am I letting that happen. My sister’s in boarding school, and from what she says, it sucks.”

      “I didn’t know you have a sister,” Courtney said.

      “Half sister,” he said. “Brianna. We have the same dad, and my mom prefers to pretend that she doesn’t exist. But there’s no way I’m leaving Vegas to go to some strict-ass school in the middle of nowhere. How lame would that be?”

      Courtney thought boarding school might be good for Oliver, but she doubted he would react well if she said so, and she didn’t want to pick a fight while doing charity. “Why’d you choose Habitat?” she asked instead, genuinely curious about how, out of all the clubs offered at Goodman, he’d chosen the one that involved hands-on work on Saturday mornings.

      “I figured it would be easy,” he scoffed. “No papers, no homework—all I would have to do is show up and build stuff. But waking up early and working in the heat all day blows.”

      “It’s definitely not something you want to do while you’re hungover.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know what a hangover looks like. I didn’t think you drank.”

      “I don’t.” She focused on the spot she was painting. Because she was more than familiar with what a hangover looked like—knowing had been inescapable when growing up with her mom. Sometimes Mom was curable with a few glasses of water and an aspirin. Other days it was worse, with her throwing up until late afternoon, lying in bed moaning and clutching her stomach, swearing she would never drink that much again. Last year, when it had gotten really bad, Courtney and her sisters had gone a month living on peanut butter sandwiches because their mom had spent all the grocery money on alcohol. So, yes, Courtney knew what a hangover looked like.

      “Why not?” Oliver stepped closer to her, and she moved away. “Maybe a few drinks would help you loosen up.”

      “I don’t need to loosen up.” Courtney focused on painting, refusing to look at him. The predatory way he was watching her made her feel like there were snakes crawling under her skin.

      “You’ll never know unless you try,” he said. “We could have had fun this summer. It sucks you found out about that bet, because I made it before I met you. After we hung out at my mom’s event, I actually liked you. Who knows what would have happened if you’d given me a chance instead of going for your emo soon-to-be stepbrother?” He laughed and glanced up at Brett, who was hammering the roof so hard that Courtney worried he might break it. “And that got you nowhere, since, from what I hear, the two of you aren’t ‘allowed’ to date. Although you looked pretty cozy at lunch…”

      “We’re not dating.” Courtney splattered paint against the wall. She wanted to dump the bucket of it over Oliver’s gelled hair. Instead she took a deep breath and glanced up at Brett, whose warm eyes met hers.

      He climbed down the ladder and joined them, claiming to need another bottle of water. “How’s everything going down here?” he asked, looking back and forth between Courtney and Oliver.

      “Fine.” She didn’t want to tell Brett what Oliver had just said. The last thing they needed was a rematch of the scuffle they’d had at the grand opening last summer. Given Oliver’s hungover state, Brett would win the fight, and Courtney didn’t want him getting in trouble on their first Habitat build day.

      “Are you sure?” Brett leaned closer to her and said softly, “Because you looked like you wanted to break Oliver’s nose with the hard end of your paintbrush.”

      Her grip tightened around the handle. “Then I’ll have to work on making my feelings not as transparent.”

      He eased the paintbrush from her hand and placed it next to the bucket. Her skin tingled where it touched his, and she made no effort to move away. “Since the day’s almost over, let’s see if we can help with cleanup,” he said.

      “Okay.” She didn’t want to be around Oliver for a second longer.

      Brett led the way, and she followed.

      “What was that asshole saying to you?” he asked once they were far enough from Oliver that he couldn’t overhear.

      “Nothing important.” Courtney shrugged. And it really wasn’t important, because she didn’t believe a word that Oliver said. He’d never “actually liked her”—and by bringing up Brett, he’d just been trying to get a reaction from her. To see if she still had feelings for Brett after they’d kissed over the summer.

      She hated that it had worked.

      “Come on,” Brett said. “I saw the two of you talking. You looked livid. He obviously said something to piss you off.”

      “He was just saying how he’s only doing Habitat because his parents are forcing him,” she said. “He doesn’t care or realize that by being here, he’s helping to change the lives of an entire family by giving them a home when they wouldn’t have had one otherwise. He’s so ignorant. I don’t think I could have taken listening to him for much longer.”

      “Well, I’m glad I was able to help you get away,” he said. “Especially after you admitted to wanting to smack him with your paintbrush. It wouldn’t have been right for you to get in trouble on our first build day because you were giving Oliver what he deserves.”

      She paused midstep. Hadn’t that been similar to what she’d been thinking, but about not wanting Brett to get in trouble?

      “Everything okay?” he asked. “You’re not thinking of going back there and starting a fight with him, are you?”

      “I