Bold(9)

He glanced up, his blood running cold.

The damn woman was surrounded by a herd of men. Their lusty gazes pinned on her breasts prominently displayed in a bikini top that showed more than it hid. And she had changed into a pair of booty shorts that had Reece’s heart pounding to a lusty tune.

“Sonofabitch,” Devon moaned. When a burly man swiped her off her feet, cradling her in his arms, Devon got to his feet. His clenched fists matched Reece’s.

“What the hell—”

“Reinforcements,” Tabby interrupted her brother as the man set her down. “Jack, Tom, Bill and Eric are from New York—football players—linemen,” she added with a delightful smirk. “They’re on vacation, but they agreed to help with the painting as long as I partied with them tonight.” She smiled, receiving grins from all four men built like Mack trucks.

Their damn necks looked as thick as Reece’s biceps. Their biceps were as large as his thighs.

Tabby’s tongue slid seductively between her lips. “This is my brother Devon and his friend, Reece.”

He took the impact of her words like the jab of a right hook. Fire surged up his neck, heating his face and ears. Apparently he stopped breathing, because when he finally inhaled, he gasped.

Devon’s friend? Is that all I am too you?

The thought nearly bowled him over. It wasn’t simply lust, but something deeper, which made it that much worse.

“So how do you like it?” She batted her long eyelashes innocently. Before he could reply, she added, “The paint. Are the colors what you expected?”

Paint? She was talking about paint?

Damn brat. Taking a deep, slow breath, he reached inside to find a calm place that didn’t exist.

“They’re fine,” he growled. When what he really wanted to do was jerk her away from her harem and into his arms. “The paint is fucking perfect.” With the wheat-color thatch roof, her choice of khaki, along with chocolate trim, would make the windows, door and porch pop. Similar to what Tabby’s and Devon’s eyes were doing right now as they stared at him in disbelief.

Shit. He had to remember that his best friend’s sister was an itch better left unscratched. He had no right to feel possessive—protective, yes, because of their history and his friendship with Devon. But friendship wasn’t the emotion rising so fast it scared the shit out of him. If he didn’t know better, he’d label this feeling as jealousy. It certainly didn’t help when the man Tabby referred to as Jack spoke.

“Let’s get this show on the road. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I’ll be able to hold this beautiful woman in my arms.”

While Reece bristled like a wire brush, Devon scowled. “I hope I don’t have to remind you that’s my sister you’re addressing.”

“Point well taken. I have nothing but respect for her,” Jack offered. But the hungry way his gaze stroked her said differently. “Now where do we start?”

Reece responded first. “Tabby, you can start with the trim while your friends can start painting the deck and porch.” The shutters lay in an area away from the actual cottage, leaving plenty of distance between her and the men. Which would allow him to focus on what he was charged with—getting this booth finished.

They had just started painting when Harold strayed into their folds. He went straight to Tabby. After speaking with her briefly, she rushed off as if her ass were on fire.

Curiosity got the best of him as he set his brush across the bucket of paint and sauntered over to the elderly man leaning against his truck.

“Hey, Harold.”

“McGrath.”

“So, what do you think?” he asked casually, when what he really wanted to know was where the hell had Tabby gone off in such a hurry.

“That lassie has some talent. It’s looking great. You know she’d be an excellent addition to your company.”

The man’s observation brought Reece up short. Tabby working for him, day in and out, would drive him absolutely crazy. He would never be able to keep his hands off her. No. It was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

“Speaking of Tabby, where did she go?”

Harold pulled his bushy gray brows into a frown. “I’ll not be babysitting the lass. I just came here to tell ye that Principle Gowen opened the auditorium for you. Best head over there straight away.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Reece glanced at the speedy progress the men were making on the cottage. With him and Tabby gone, it would keep her friends busy a little longer.

Harold leaned toward him, his voice softening. “I heard that Errol, that pond-suckin’, baldin’ beachcomber, was considering horning in on our take.”