Bold(20)

“Fuck you,” he snarled. “The idiot doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

A big grin flashed across Harold’s wrinkled face. “That Tabby, she be quite a catch.”

“Tabby?” Reece and Devon’s voices rose in unison with marked surprise.

“Hell no!” Devon rumbled. “Where the hell would you get a fool idea like that from? We’re talking about Lauren, Brody’s secretary.”

“No. We’re not talking about anyone,” Reece corrected, more confused than ever that this old man could have seen an attraction between Tabby and him when it had taken nearly a lifetime for him to see it.

There was no use fighting it, he did desire the imp. When she had climbed beneath his skin and into his heart he had no idea, but the thought of never being with her again made him physically ill. And no woman had ever made him feel this way. The kicker was he had no idea what to do about the revelation.

“Well then,” Harold paused as if he were mulling over the last few seconds, “You probably should know that our lassie won’t be around today.”

“Damn her. She’s not hanging out with those muscle-bound linebackers, is she?” Devon sneered and Reece’s spine went instantly rigid.

“No,” Harold replied.

When he said no more, Reece ventured out on a limb. “Where is she?”

Something close to laughter danced in the damn man’s weathered eyes. “She be working on the sultan tent and pillows.” Harold pulled several folded papers from his back pocket and opened them. “Tabby sent these over.” He handed the wrinkled papers to Reece.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he breathed.

Tabby had drawn schematics for the shell of the tent, and she’d done an impressive job. He could easily work off of these. Needless to say, he hadn’t put much thought into the framework of the tent and that was so not like him. Just one more thing off kilter in his life since he’d opened his eyes about Tabby.

“The tent panels will be delivered to you by one o’clock or sooner.” Harold scrutinized the cottage with a keen eye. “Doesn’t appear to have taken ye long, thanks to Tabby.”

Reece cringed. If it hadn’t been for Tabby and her friends, they wouldn’t be able to start the sultan booth today. Her plans had saved some time, because what she proposed for the last booth, he and Devon could whip out in less than three hours.

“She has made a difference,” Devon admitted. “The extra help moved us ahead of schedule. The light coat of stucco applied yesterday was dry enough for us to apply the paint. All that’s left is finishing up the small details.”

“That Tabby. She be a jewel. Don’t you agree, McGrath?” The old man’s eyes twinkled and Reece got the damnedest feeling he was gloating.

“Maybe a jewel in the rough,” Devon chuckled, but Harold’s gaze was still pinned on Reece.

He gave Harold a curt nod.

“Well then, if ye lads don’t need anything, I’ll be off.”

When Harold was out of earshot, Devon released a breathy huff. “Can you believe he thought you were in love with Tabby?”

Reece refolded the plans and stuffed them in his utility belt. “Yesterday when you verbally attacked us, you didn’t think it was such a farfetched thought.”

Devon waited until Reece aligned the shutter, before he hammered the first two nails. “Yeah. Well. I let my good senses take a hike.”

Reece seesawed his jaws, carefully holding on to his anger. “Should I be offended you don’t think I’m good enough for your sister?” His gut tightened, waiting for a response.

Devon’s hammer stopped mid-swing. “Hell, Reece. You and I both know you’re not the settling kind. Tabby deserves a family, children. Not someone who is gone more than he’s home.”

Reece couldn’t argue with Devon so he didn’t try. His friend was right. He would be better off just forgetting about Tabby.

The trim and final touches to the cottage were completed by ten o’clock. He was studying Tabby’s drawings when Devon walked up.

“What do you say we catch an early lunch at the Seafarer.”

The Seafarer was a famous East Coast lobster house owned by Katie Wilson-Parker’s folks. Katie was Whispering Cove’s biggest celebrity, a master chef with her own television show, and she was one of Reece’s sister-in-law’s closest acquaintances.

“Sounds good. By the time we clean up and move everything to the other site, the Seafarer should be open.”

As Reece projected, it took about an hour to wipe the site clear of debris and transfer their building materials and tools to the new site where the sultan’s tent would be constructed.