Cat winced at the bite in Hank’s voice. Apparently she’d overestimated his enthusiasm for the extra income. She crept closer and hid behind the open door.
“Come on, man. We’re only talking about several hours.” Jackson’s chair squeaked as if he’d leaned backward. “Take an evening or two and finish it.”
“You know I can’t work evenings without a lot of hassle. Plus I’m exhausted with the pace we’re keeping. You’re taking on too many commitments.”
“Don’t tell me how to run my business.” Jackson’s control over his temper slipped. Cat frowned, hating being a source of their conflict.
“As your employee, I’m telling you you’re asking too much.” Hank’s tone softened. “As your friend, I’m concerned. You drink all night, and then run around all day like a crazy man. You look worn out. You’re curt with the crew. Something’s got to give.”
“Yet look at which one of us is whining.” The chair squeaked again. “Seems you’re the one who can’t handle the pace or remember how to have fun anymore. Maybe I should be the one raising concerns.”
“Go to hell, Jackson. You know what’s going on in my life. Back off before we both say things we regret.”
The mounting tension seared Cat’s stomach like a double shot of Jägermeister. She needed to shut them down before things got out of hand, although Hank’s vague reference to problems in his life piqued her curiosity.
“Yoo-hoo, it’s me!” she called out, masking her uneasiness with a smile as she swung Jackson’s door wide open.
Both men snapped their heads in her direction. Jackson’s forehead furrowed in confusion, while Hank rose from his chair. Another snug T-shirt hugged the muscles of his chest and sun-kissed arms. She caught herself before letting her gaze linger, then focused on her brother so Hank wouldn’t glimpse her sudden, naked desire.
“Sis, what’re you doing here?” Jackson asked.
“Meeting Hank about my armoire, then joining you for dinner.” She tilted her head sideways in response to Jackson’s sudden sheepish expression. “You forgot?”
Jackson let loose a long exhale before looking up. “Sorry. I didn’t write it down, and now I’ve made other plans.” He grimaced while stretching his arms out in front of him and drumming his palms on the desk’s surface. “Wanna tag along?”
Cat noticed Hank’s disgusted headshake before he cast his eyes to the ground. She wanted to support her brother, but perhaps Hank’s accusations were valid.
“I’ll pass on being the third wheel,” she replied.
Jackson sat back and linked his hands behind his head. “If you want me to cancel my other plans, I will.”
She knew he would—and probably should—but she declined. “No, thanks. I’ll borrow Hank for a while, then maybe stop by Dad’s before I go home.”
“I feel bad, sis.” Jackson’s gaze swung from her to Hank and back, then he smiled as if struck with a fantastic idea. “Hey, why don’t you two grab dinner together while you talk? My treat.”
Hank looked cornered, so Cat let him off the hook. “That’s okay. I’m sure Hank has better things to do than babysit me.”
“Trust me, the guy could use a night out.” Jackson threw Hank a playful smile. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. Let me apologize by treating you both to dinner. Go anywhere. Charge it to my card.” He slid his platinum Amex across his desk.
Cat didn’t know how to respond without making things worse. She held her breath, glancing at Hank, seeking some kind of cue. Say yes.
His eyes remained trained on Jackson. He gripped his waist before glancing at her and over to Jackson. “Keep your damned card. I’ll pay for my own meal, thanks.” Then he nodded toward the door. “Come on, Cat, I’ve got your drawings laid out on the conference table.”
“Are you two okay?” she asked quietly once they entered the hallway.
“It’s best if you stay out of the cross fire,” Hank mumbled.
“But I’m responsible.” She fidgeted with her hair. “I manipulated Jackson into pressuring you. Don’t blame him. He’s just being a good brother.”
Hank made no reply as they walked into the conference room. He halted at the edge of the table and turned to her. “I figured as much, but I understand your reasons. And this isn’t the first or last disagreement he and I have had. Don’t worry, though. We always get it all done without bloodshed.”
His gracious attitude only increased her guilty conscience, but she kept quiet while he sorted through his hand-drawn sketches.