Bran listened for the sound of machinery outside the workshop. Typically, Bran and his brothers walked in if the equipment was going. The machines were so loud that Jaeg would never hear them if they hadn’t. But no sound came from the shop, so Bran knocked before letting himself in.
Jaeg was across the room, leaning over a waist-height wooden table.
He pushed up his shop glasses and turned at the sound of Bran entering. “Hey, man. Thanks for coming.” He looked down at a piece on the table. “It still needs work, but I want your opinion before I give it the finishing touches.”
Bran was up to his ears in work obligations, but this was a task he looked forward to. He had no doubt whatever Cali and Jaeg created for the restaurant would be fantastic. “No problem. Levi’s eager to see what you’ve been up to, and so am I. Thanks for squeezing in the commission with your busy schedules.”
“Anytime. It’s easier now that I have Cali drawing up designs. Takes me a week to come up with something she can do in an afternoon. And every damn one she makes is a winner.”
“Seems to me you picked the right fiancée for your profession.”
Jaeg chuckled. “I would have fallen for her if she worked at a fast-food restaurant. But it doesn’t hurt that she’s brilliant.”
Bran glanced past Jaeg’s shoulder. “Well, don’t leave me hanging. Let’s see this masterpiece.”
Jaeg propped up the four-by-six-foot wooden plaque for better viewing, and Bran’s eyes widened. “Is that our fucking resort?”
“From an artist’s viewpoint, yeah. Cali sees things her own way, which is why her drawings are incredible. She has a killer eye.”
Bran ran a hand over his mouth. “It’s unbelievable. Though not entirely accurate—I notice she removed the parking lot.”
Jaeg chuckled. “Artistic license.”
The image was realistic and yet not. It was a million intricate shapes creating this three-dimensional, warm, and inviting rendition of the club, with the lake peeking through pine trees. And true to Jaeg’s form, the grain was incorporated into the design. “Is that oak?”
Jaeg nodded. “White oak.”
Bran shook his head slowly, his chest tight. Ever since their father had passed, the vibe at Club Tahoe had changed. Nothing Bran could put his finger on, but something was different. And Cali had captured it. The place had a new energy about it. Something filled with—Jesus—hope.
Bran and his brothers had mixed emotions when it came to Club Tahoe. Their father had spent every free moment making a success of the luxury resort instead of raising his sons. When he passed and left Bran and his brothers in charge of the place, it had been a painful call to duty.
They could have walked. Sold Club Tahoe or hired new management. Instead, they’d banded together.
For the first time, Bran realized that keeping Club Tahoe had become more than an obligation. It was something he and his brothers were doing for each other, not that they’d ever admit it.
The strain of their relationship with their father had affected them all in different ways. But when Bran looked at the art Cali and Jaeg had created, he loved it for more than its beauty. He loved it because it represented the new Club Tahoe, and the new connection to his brothers that had grown from the loss of their father.
Bran dropped a heavy hand on Jaeg’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you. It’s…more than I expected. Will you tell Cali my brothers and I are grateful?”
Jaeg rested the piece on the table and covered it with a cloth. “Come in and tell her yourself. You have time for a beer?”
Bran’s heart raced. Ireland lived with Cali and Jaeg, and there was a good chance she’d be home as well. After Bran’s moment of insanity on the booze cruise, he’d hoped to avoid Ireland entirely. But what Cali and Jaeg had made for him and his brothers came from the heart. He couldn’t leave without thanking Cali.
Bran gave Jaeg a stiff smile. “I always have time for a beer.”
Ireland stood stillwhile Cali slipped what she called awine yokeover her head, the contraption sitting around Ireland’s neck and resting against her boobs. Cali inserted a glass of red wine into the yoke.
Ireland glanced down. “Really?”
“Hell yes.” Cali repositioned the glass so it fit snugly. “Just wait; you’ll come to love this thing.” She twirled her fingers near her head, her own wineglass dangling from a souped-up yoke she must have bedazzled, because that shit sparkled like aDancing with the Starscostume. “You can’t beat ‘no hands.’”
Cali gave Ireland a side-eye and reached across the island for a cracker. “Note—I didn’t need to set my wineglass on the counter to grab food.” She lifted her wine from her Victoria’s Secret-enhanced cleavage and sipped.
“You have two hands, Cali. You only need one to grab food.”
Cali shot her an annoyed look. “Notif you’re carrying a plate.”
Ireland laughed and shook her head. There was no arguing with her cousin. Besides, itwascumbersome to drink wine and hold an hors d’oeuvres plate. Still, there was no way Ireland would wear this thing in public. She was about to tell Cali as much, when the sounds of male voices floated through the open window.
