“Any wedding would be bigger than yours. You guys eloped.”
Morgan shrugged, then leaned closer. “Question is, will Mom make the trip down for Quinn’s?”
Ryan sighed, swirling the beer in his bottle. That was the million-dollar question. His mom, Mariah, hadn’t exactly mellowed regarding Texas. She’d been suspiciously quiet since Patrick, their dad, had started making regular trips after his first visit with the reclaimed barn wood, but having missed Paxton’s wedding a few weeks ago, Ryan wasn’t holding his breath for a sudden change of heart. “Don’t know, Morg. Dad’s working on her, but…”
“But she’s Mom,” Morgan finished. “Stubborn as they come. Feel sorry for Dad sometimes.” He paused. “Mom might have hoped, after Owen got married, that the rest of you would all move home and settle down after this reality TV gig is finished. But it’s pretty obvious now—with Paxton married and Quinn all set to move in with Eloise in Sadieville after the wedding—that none of us are moving back there anytime soon.” His expression grew more serious. “Or are you thinking of going back?”
Tuckers Bluff and Uncle Sean’s family had felt like home when they were kids and the years hadn’t changed that. With all his brothers settling in Texas, he had no real interest in returning to Oklahoma. Maybe once in a while for a project or two, or to hang out with his parents, but settling down? No. Texas was his home now. Ryan shook his head.
Morgan flipped his free hand in a there-you-go gesture. “Then if Mom doesn’t come down for Quinn’s wedding, she might miss out on seeing any of her sons get married in person.”
The thought settled heavy in Ryan’s gut. Morgan was right. If their mother couldn’t overcome whatever had caused the rift years ago, she was the one who’d truly be left out. He watched Eloise laugh at something Quinn said across the porch, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the Texas heat or the beer. Yeah, settling down here definitely had its appeal.
Nicole Davis surveyed her hastily made bed and the three piles of her belongings.Definitelytaking,maybetaking, andprobablynot. The definitely taking pile was alarmingly small compared to the maybe. How long was this temporary gig in Tuckers Bluff really going to last? Mike had said at least a few weeks, but could drag on as long as a month or two while Farraday Construction waited for his knee to heal post-surgery. If she was only needed for about a month, warm weather clothes would do, but if he took longer, cold weather could descend on residents on a whim. Even in Oklahoma, there were days she’d swear Mother Nature was bipolar.
She held up a favorite pair of worn-soft jeans against a newer, stiffer pair.Laundry.That was another unknown. Would she have easy access? She probably should have asked Mike more about her accommodations, but he seemed so distracted. Probably about his upcoming surgery, so she didn’t press him much. Surely, whatever he’d arranged would be just fine.
“Still sorting, hon?” Martha, her parents’ next door neighbor and designated house-watcher, poked her head into the room. As always, her silver hair was perfectly coiffed.
Nicole sighed, dropping both pairs of jeans onto the definite pile. “Trying to. It’s hard guessing how long I’ll actually be gone, or what I’ll really need.”
“Oh, I know the feeling. Every time Fred and I go on one of those week-long cruises, I pack enough for a month.” Martha chuckled. “Better safe than sorry, I always say. Especially with clothes.” She peered at the piles. “Isn’t it exciting?”
“Packing?”
Martha was as good a neighbor as anyone could ask for, concerned and attentive and yet not always in your business. Or at least if she was, she hid it well. But sometimes following her train of thought was a challenge for Nicole. Maybe it was a generational thing. “No, hon. You’re going to be working for those television cousins.”
Oh.Nicole nodded. “Yes. I guess I am.” She’d been so concerned about her brother’s fall that aggravated an old football injury, leaving him unable to climb ladders or put any real weight on his bad knee, that she hadn’t really given a whole lot of thought about who she’d be working for.
“They all seem like nice people. And from what I’ve seen of that show, easy on the eyes.” Rolling her eyes in a mischievous way, she dramatically fanned herself with her hand. “Might be nice to have some eye candy while you work.”
Nicole laughed, shaking her head. “I’m just focused on doing a good job filling in for Mike. He’ll need this job after he’s recovered from surgery.” She glanced around the room, the quiet feeling amplified now. “It’s just… strange. This house feels so empty since Mom and Dad moved to Florida.” At first she’d thought retiring in the Sunshine State would be great for her parents. The way they described the senior community, filled with activities and entertainment practically twenty four seven, Nicole wished they’d build communities like that for young people. What she hadn’t expected was how quiet the house would seem without them.
“I know, honey. We all miss them.” Martha’s gaze grew distant for a moment. “Florida. Sunshine year-round.Sometimes I think Fred and I should pack it all in and head south ourselves.” She sighed wistfully. “Maybe someday.”
“You’d leave your prize-winning roses?” Nicole teased gently.
“Never!” Martha straightened, instantly back to her practical self. “Now, have you talked to Mike again? Gotten any more details about where you’re staying?”
“Not really.” Nicole added a sweater to the definitely pile. West Texas nights could get cool as fall settled in.
“I’m sure it’s going to be lots of fun.” The older woman had probably forgotten the part about Nicoleworkingon a construction site.
Something that to this day made her own mother cringe. From the time Nicole was a little girl, her mother had tried to interest her in frilly dresses, cute shoes, and ribbons in her hair. To her mother’s chagrin, Nicole was a grade A tomboy. She’d climbed trees with the boys, could throw from left field and reach the catcher in the bread basket to tag a player out without using a cut off man, and beat any boy at arm wrestling without breaking a sweat. All things that had come in handy when she found herself working construction. She could hold her own and even be accepted as one of the guys.
There were always those workers who resented when a woman could work better than they could, but most of the crews just appreciated a good worker and didn’t care if they were male, female, or Martian. Hopefully, the reality show crew were just like any other crew and not full of themselves Hollywood types. Shaking her head, she reached for her steel tip boots and thought, surely her brother would have warned her if there might be any chance of trouble. Then again, he was a man, sometimes oblivious to the hand in front of his face. On a sigh, she tossed her baseball glove on the definite pile. Maybe Martha was right and there might be time for some fun after all.
Chapter Two
“Great.” The red arrow on the dashboard temperature gauge of Nicole’s truck slowly inched higher and higher until old Betsy—named after her great-aunt, a feisty woman who lived on her own terms right up till the day she went to bed and slept her way to heaven at ninety two—was dangerously close to boiling over territory.
Surrounded by miles of dry and flat Texas dirt, under the hot Western sun, her truck had to pick now to compete with the Texas furnace better known as August. The last thing she needed was for her truck to give up the ghost. Blasting the heat in an effort to keep Betsy from steaming to a stop, she lowered all the windows and wished she could strip down to her skivvies. According to her GPS she was about twenty minutes outside of Tuckers Bluff. If she didn’t stop and get whatever was broken fixed, she’d never make it all the way to Sadieville.
By the time she spotted the single road ahead lined with small town shops on either side, the place was a sight for sore eyes. There had to be a gas station. Every town had at least that. Then she could pop the hood and with the grace of God, it would be an easier fix. She didn’t want to think what she’d do if she needed a new radiator. Easing down the road, she spotted an old sign that had seen better days announcing Ned’s Garage and she rolled onto the driveway in front of the singlebay business, turned the engine off, and for just a second, leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and thanked heaven she hadn’t melted into the seat.
Not how she’d planned her first day as the finish carpenter for the Farraday construction company to go. The last thing she wanted was to let her brother down by showing up late with a lame excuse reminiscent of the dog eating her homework.
She climbed out, carefully popped the hood to avoid getting burned, and stared at the engine like it might confess what it had done wrong if she glared long enough.
