Nicole met his stare evenly. Before she could stand her own ground, Ryan stepped up beside her and Morgan on the other. She actually blinked, looking left then right. Their previously casual expressions had turned hard as stone.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” Ryan glared at Jet.
The man had at least some good sense. Bobbing his head, he took an immediate step back. “Just going for some more lumber.”
“Then get,” Morgan barked. That must be the gruff side.
Without another word, Jet ambled away and Nicole exhaled slowly.
Ryan’s hand had briefly touched her elbow. Not gripping. Not possessive. Just… redirecting.
She turned to him. “I can handle myself.”
“I know,” he answered simply.
Which, oddly enough, felt different than being dismissed. But her brother was right about one thing, Jet was a real piece of work.
Ryan watched Jet disappear around the back corner of the stables before letting his shoulders ease. The man had sense enough to retreat when Morgan barked, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t circle back later. He glanced at Nicole. She stood with one hand hooked through her tool belt, chin tipped up slightly, eyes tracking the roofline again like Jet hadn’t even happened.
“So,” Quinn said from behind them, his tone deliberately light, “you caught the load-bearing issue.”
Nicole turned, and Ryan caught the flicker of uncertainty cross her face before she masked it. “Yeah. Sorry if I overstepped—”
“You didn’t.” Morgan had already moved past them toward the back wall in question, running his hand along the beam. “We knew about it. Had it on the list. But it’s good to know you spotted it on sight.”
“Mike said you were good,” Quinn added, pushing off from the doorframe. “Looks like he wasn’t exaggerating.”
The tension in Nicole’s shoulders eased a fraction. Ryan knew that look—the constant waiting for someone to tell you that you weren’t qualified, weren’t good enough, didn’t belong. He’d seen it on enough job sites when women showed up to work. The difference was, most of them hadn’t proven themselves in the first five minutes like Nicole just had.
Quinn brushed off his hands. “How is Mike doing?”
A smile tipped her lips up. “Good. Surgery went great. Mom is having a blast pampering her boy.”
“I bet.” Quinn bit back a smile. “Back to the load-bearing issue.”
“The cross-bracing will be tricky.” She stepped closer to examine the angle. “You’ll want to maintain the aesthetic, keep it looking period-appropriate.”
“That’s where you come in.” Morgan pulled out his phone, scrolling to what looked like reference photos. “We’ve got images of original carriage houses from the 1880s. The idea is to make the structural reinforcements look like they’ve always been there.”
Nicole’s eyes lit up—the same way they had in the truck when she’d first spotted the ghost town. “Perfect. Making new look old, strong look delicate.”
“It’s a royal pain is what it is,” Quinn grinned. “But yeah, when it works, it’s pretty satisfying.”
They spent the next twenty minutes walking through the building, Nicole asking questions that showed she’d already been thinking three steps ahead. Where would the tourists flow?How much weight on the loft? What about ventilation for the blacksmith demonstrations?
Ryan found himself watching her more than the building. The way she unconsciously chewed her bottom lip when she was thinking. How her hands moved when she talked, sketching invisible lines in the air. The way she crouched down to check the floor joists, completely unconcerned about the dust on her clothes.
Quinn stepped up beside him and leaned in. “You’re staring.”
Ryan jerked his attention to his brother. “I’m observing.”
“Uh-huh.” Quinn’s smirk was infuriating. “Observing Mike’s kid sister. That’s gonna go well.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying, the last time you got that look—”
“I don’t have a look.”
