Not good. Not good at all.
I needed to pull away but my hand refused to obey my command.
Instead of the familiar pang of grief, my chest swelled with a deep inhale that brought a hopeful flutter. What the hell was that about?
“Thanks, Ronan.” Bree cleared her throat, the sound jolting me out of my reverie. “I’d like to see what you’ve come up with.”
Right. Work. I’d never lost focus like that before. Why now and why with Bree?
I turned my attention to the laptop I’d set up in the middle of the table. “This program will give you a 3D walkthrough of the pub with the new additions in place. Maeve wanted to keep the small-town vibe while bringing it into this century. She felt like the clientele might resist, so she counted on slow, measured changes helping them adjust.” I pressed play and watched Bree’s face as she watched the video.
I’d seen it enough to know it by heart. I created the damned thing after all. I needed to know how Bree felt about the whole thing, and I trusted her expressions to tell me.
She leaned forward, elbows on the table and gaze locked on the screen.
Expressive green eyes took it all in.
Her lips parted with an almost sigh, and she held out a hand. “Can you play that part again?” She slid her hand across the table at the same time I did, and our hands bumped.
I paused, but she yanked her hand back like she’d been shocked. “How far back do you need me to go?”
“About a minute. I want to see the front of the pub again.” A self-deprecating smile raised one side of her mouth. “Were the plants her idea or yours, because you should know I’m shit at keeping plants alive.”
“As it happens, they were both our idea, and I excel at plant care. If you want to keep them, I’ll make sure they survive.” Wherethe hell did that promise come from? I had a full plate with my construction business and nothing more than a driving desire to see Bree smile that made me accept the extra responsibility.
A frown formed instead. “You shouldn’t have to do that. I’ll let you, but that’s because I love flowers even though they hate me.”
Noted. I backed up the video to show her the setup again and unrolled the blueprints I'd drawn up.
Bree watched video all the way through, then tapped her nails on the table. “I like the general idea of what she asked for, and your execution looks great.”
“I sense a but in there?” I used her coffee cup to anchor one side of the papers and my hand for the other.
Bree arched her eyebrows and gave me a murderous look. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel stupid. I have no idea how to read these.”
“That’s why I’m here.” I walked her through every change, the wall I’d need to knock down to open up the area next to the stage, and the ones I’d need to add to expand the back room, along with the patio Maeve insisted I build.
Bree grabbed my hand when I skimmed over the bathroom area. “Wait.”
I froze. Heat spread through me at her touch and I very nearly lost the ability to think. “What?” Why did my voice come out hoarse and strangled? I wasn’t some teenage kid with a crush and a voice crack.
Bree leaned over the blueprints. She tapped the corner where the bathroom started. “Is there any way to make the bathroomsbigger too? I haven’t been in there yet, but I remember even as a kid that they felt tiny.”
“I brought that up with Maeve. They’re exactly the size required for a business, but increasing them would probably help cut down on some customer complaints.” I wouldn’t tell her I’d refused to use O’Sullivan’s bathroom for years because they were piss poor things more likely to get you pissed on than not.
Bree lifted her head.
Our gazes collided and fuck if the way she stared at me didn’t send excitement thrumming through my veins.
Her lips parted on a short exhale. Her pupils dilated and a flush spread across her cheeks. She felt it too. Gods damn me. “Let’s add that to the potential list of things to fix.” She said it in a breathless rush. “Is there anything else?”
“No.” I worked to keep my tone polite and unbothered, rolling up the blueprints and closing the laptop to keep myself too occupied to touch her again.
She stood when I did, sliding out of the booth and tugging her sweater down over her thighs.
Don’t think about how good she looked. Don’t think about her cute nose and kissable lips.
She was Shayla’s daughter.
