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“But—” There were so many objections crowding her throat she couldn’t decide which one to voice first. “But he’s not a cabinet-maker or a French polisher, is he?”
“He’s a builder, and he’s good. He’ll pull his weight.”
“So, is this a temporary thing? A couple of weeks? A month?” Gabby asked.
“It’s for as long as it needs to be.”
“What are you? Yoda? As long as it needs to be? What the hell does that mean?”
Tyler sighed. “Sometimes I forget what a pain in the ass you can be. Can’t you just do what you’re told for a change?”
It stung. Useless to pretend it didn’t. She was only looking out for him. Worrying about his business. And he thought she was a pain in the ass.
“Fine. I’ll add him on as a permanent employee.” She picked up a pen and poised it over her notepad, ready to take down his instructions verbatim, since that was clearly the kind of employee he wanted her to be. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Gabby. Come on. Don’t go all cat’s-bum-mouthed on me. You know I was only joking.”
Nice to know he found her hurt feelings amusing.
“Way to smooth talk me, silver tongue.”
“I’m sorry I called you a pain in the ass.” He said it like a dutiful schoolboy reciting his times tables.
She raised her eyebrows.
“And the cat’s bum comment was completely uncalled for,” he added.
“No kidding. And good work with the sincerity there, too. It’s really convincing.”
Tyler grinned. “Are we friends again?”
Friends.
For three years, they had been a lot more than friends. He’d been her lover, had practically lived at her place. She’d built all kinds of white-picket dreams around him. Then she’d realized that he was never going to share himself with her in the way she needed, and she’d pulled the pin on their relationship. He’d been angry at first. Convinced that she was asking for something he didn’t have to give. But after a while they’d settled into a friendship and she’d come to work for him.
Then he’d fallen in love with Ally and given all of himself to her freely and openly without a second’s thought.
“Your minute’s up,” she said.
Tyler laughed. Despite the fact that she was still annoyed with him, she couldn’t stop her mouth from twitching in response to the rich sound.
He pointed a finger at her. “I saw that.”
“Stop pretending you’re charming, because you’re not. You can’t ask for my opinion and advice one minute and then tell me to pull my head in the next.”
Tyler must have picked up on the seriousness of her tone because his smile faded.
“I was only joking, Gab, okay?” He was sincere this time, his eyes very sober.
She nodded, feeling ridiculous for being so prickly. She blamed the stranger she’d found at her desk this morning—Tyler’s brother had thrown her off her pace and she was still trying to regain her equilibrium.
“I’ll get the paperwork sorted today. What do you want me to set up as far as payroll goes?”
The million-dollar question—exactly what was Tyler paying his underqualified, transient brother?
“I’ll take care of that.”
She frowned, but this time she didn’t say anything. Before she’d joined the business, Tyler had handled the administration himself, so he was more than capable of adding an employee to the payroll. Why he suddenly chose to do so now when she’d been taking care of it for years was a whole other issue.
“Right. Then I guess we’re sorted,” she said.
“Good stuff.” Tyler stood, lifting his coffee mug in a casual salute before heading out the door.
She focused on her work, pushing all the nagging voices in her head to one side. At the end of the day, the name on the sign was T.A. Furniture Design. He was the one taking the risk, therefore he got to make the decisions.
Meaning she was going to have to get used to having his brother around.
It was an unsettling thought. Which was stupid. She got along with all the guys; she’d always been the kind of woman who got on well with men. They ragged on each other, told jokes, had the occasional beer together after work. They were her mates. And despite their not-so-great start, there was no reason why she wouldn’t rub along fine with Jon, too.
No reason at all.
JON TURNED OFF THE ORBITAL sander and ran his hand over the tabletop. In the very early days of his apprenticeship he’d dabbled in furniture making, but he hadn’t had the patience for it then. Now, he felt the smoothness of the wood beneath his fingers and felt a definite sense of achievement and satisfaction.
He was about to switch the sander on again when someone touched his arm. He looked up to see his brother standing there.
Jon slid off his ear protectors. “What’s up?”
“It’s quitting time. In case you hadn’t noticed.”
He glanced around in surprise. He’d been so lost in his work that he hadn’t registered that the rest of the guys had gone home for the day.
“Right. Well, I’ve still got a way to go with this.” Jon indicated the tabletop.
“You can finish it tomorrow. We’re ahead of deadline on that job.”
“I told Dino I’d have it ready for him in the morning. I’m happy to lock up if you want to head home.”
“Gabby usually does that. She’s still working.”
“Is that safe?”
Tyler raised his eyebrows. “You worried she doesn’t know how to handle a lock and key?”
Jon ignored the joke. “What if someone was hanging around? She probably doesn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.”
In fact, his brother’s office manager was so slight it had taken him longer than it should have this morning to figure out that the slim woman glaring at him was an adult, let alone Tyler’s right-hand woman. With her boyishly short hair and jeans and T-shirt, she’d looked more like a skinny teen than a woman who helped run a multimillion-dollar business.
“Don’t ever let Gabby hear you say that,” Tyler said. “She’ll tear you a new one.”
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? She’d be toast if someone tried to overpower her.”
Tyler groaned. “Definitely don’t say that to her.”
Jon gave his brother a look. “You’re serious?”
“Gabby prides herself on her independence. Hates it when people do things for her that she can do herself. If you’d met her mom, you’d understand. Really scary lady.”
Jon shrugged. “Fine. She can lock up, if that’s what floats her boat.”
Tyler pulled his car keys from his pocket. “Swing by the house on your way home if you change your mind. I’ve got some of that German beer you like and Ally’s cooking lasagna.”
Jon gave a noncommittal shrug. He knew Tyler was being hospitable, but the last thing Jon wanted was to sit on the sidelines of his brother’s life and play witness to his happiness. Not that he begrudged Tyler any of what he had—the business, his home, Ally. He simply didn’t need the reminder of all the things he’d messed up in his own life.
Plus it would make it a hell of a lot harder to stick to his self-imposed sobriety if he had to sit around and watch his brother knock back beers all night. And his abstinence would make Tyler curious.
Jon simply didn’t want to go there. Yes, he’d had a wake-up call about his excessive drinking, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it or advertise it.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Tyler said.
“Sure.”
He didn’t go immediately, and Jon sensed there was something else on his mind. Jon reached for the sander, checking the tension on the clamps. After a long beat, he heard the metallic clink of his brother’s keys and when he glanced up Tyler was heading for the door.
Not for the first time, Jon wondered whether accepting his brother’s offer of a temporary job had been a good idea. He didn’t need the money—he’d sold out of his construction business and had a sizable chunk of change in his bank account—but he also didn’t need to be sitting around staring at the walls while he worked out what to do next. Taking up Tyler’s offer to work for him once they’d finished renovating the house had seemed like the best option—it was either that or continue the downward slide toward oblivion in the bottom of a bottle.
There was no denying that the notion held a certain appeal—the end of the struggle, all the crap cloaked in a warm, fuzzy haze of alcohol—but he could still hear his father’s voice in his head, telling him over and over how worthless he was and how he’d never amount to anything.
He flat out refused to let the bastard be right.
He started the sander again. The vibrations traveled up his arms as he moved along the grain. Slowly, the tension banding his shoulders relaxed and he lost himself in the simplicity of the task.
He had no idea how much time had passed when the sander suddenly fell silent. Instinct made him look over his shoulder. Gabby was standing beside the outlet, her handbag on her shoulder. He pulled off his ear protectors.
“Sorry. I tried shouting and you didn’t hear me.”
She didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look it, either, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“If you’re ready to go, I already told Tyler I’m happy to lock up,” he said.
“But you don’t know the alarm code.”
Purely out of habit, his gaze dipped below her neck. She was small on top, one of those petite women with tiny breasts and narrow hips. She probably didn’t even need to wear a bra.
Basically the exact opposite of the kind of women he found attractive.
“I will if you tell me.”
She frowned. He wasn’t sure if it was because of what he’d said or if she’d caught him looking.
“What? You think I’m going to rip my own brother off?”
She stiffened. “It’s a complicated system.”
“I’ll take notes.”
She pushed her handbag strap higher on her shoulder. “All right. The keypad’s in the showroom.” She said it grudgingly. Reluctantly.
He followed her, aware of the tension radiating off her in waves. Man, she was one uptight chick. Tyler seemed to rate her highly, but personally Jon couldn’t see the appeal. Humorless, defensive, prickly—she was the very definition of hard work, and he didn’t do hard work when it came to women. Not that that would ever be an issue with Gabby—everything about her screamed not available, not interested, not ever.
She stopped in front of the alarm console beside the front door of the showroom.
“The code is Tyler’s birth year—not superoriginal, I know, but he insisted.”
Jon watched as she punched four figures into the alarm console and explained the system.
“Cool, got it,” he said.
“The lock is a little sticky. Sometimes you have to really force it.”
“Sure.”
“And we usually leave the showroom light on.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe I should leave you my number, in case you run into trouble.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he had it covered, but she was already rummaging in her bag. He studied the neat part in her straight hair.
“Big night on the cards?” he asked. Maybe if they got to know each other a little she’d loosen up.
She glanced at him. “Not really, just dinner with my girlfriend.”
He narrowed his eyes as the penny dropped. The no-frills clothes, the short hair, the lack of makeup, the whole not-available vibe—clearly, Ms. Wade batted for the other team. And based on the way she looked down her nose at him, she was one of those man-hating lesbians. The kind who thought the world would be a better place if men were cut out of the food chain altogether and replaced by lab technicians with turkey basters.
“Finally.” She pulled a dog-eared business card from the depths of her purse. “My number’s on the bottom. Call if you have issues with anything.”
He tucked the card into the front pocket of his jeans. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be needing it, but thanks anyway.”
The expression on her face told him she had her doubts, but she didn’t say anything. She moved toward the door and seemed surprised when he beat her there and held it open for her.
“Thanks,” she muttered, giving him a distinctly ungrateful look.
He remembered what Tyler had said about her not liking people doing things for her that she could do for herself and suppressed a smile. Probably it made him a bad person, but for some reason he liked the idea of yanking her chain a little.
“See you tomorrow,” she said, ducking past him into the warm night.
He waited until she’d reached her car and was safely inside. The moment he heard her engine start, he locked the door and returned to the workshop.
