Of course.Freya.
He has inside information from Freya. Lithe, statuesque, confident Freya. Just his type, judging by the women I’d seen with him in the village pub over the years.
“This house is also a collection of small, dark rooms that are not livable,” I argued. “If we want to make this inn successful, it must be authentically a wonderful, bright place to be, beyond when this reality show ends.”
“We can’t execute your plans on time.” He towered over me, his shoulders flung back. “Look, I’ve been in this business since I was sixteen years old. I have my own company, I employ ten people, and I have relationships with the best subcontractors in this area. Take my advice. I know my stuff.”
“Timothy. Haven’t you realized yet? I’mnotimpressed by your BDE, so save it for someone else.” Except he wasn’t wrong—his company was, hands down, the most highly regarded in the county.
He looked annoyed. Then his lips quirked, and his big limbs moved and settled and moved again in that restless way of his. “Big Dick Energy, eh?” he whispered, so quietly I could barely hear him. Like, was he making sure the crew didn’t hear? Or was he being flirtatious? “Tabitha,” he said louder, elongating my name, and his deep voice sent hot electric signals into my core and liquefied my knees. “You maynotbe impressed, but you noticed.”
I snorted.
Snorted.
“Pshaw,” I retorted, making it worse. Oh God, no. That was one of my father’s expressions. I did not want to be thinking about my father while saying things like Big Dick Energy.
Tim’s lips twitched with amusement, but my comment only seemed to make him draw closer. Brown eyes glimmering, he held my eyes with a challenging gaze. “Tabitha,” he growled. “Come. Here.”
My chest went tight. Oh God. The man was… He was an outline of big, bulky, virile intentness, andallthat male energy was focused onme. Lord. The air between us dissolved into a silvery blur, drawing me closer to him. It was hard to breathe.
“What’s BDE?” a voice behind me asked. Shit. Dad had just wandered in and clearly hadn’t heard Tim’s whispered definition.
Tim shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat.
Mum joined him. “Oh yes, I saw that in the comments about the show, and I did wonder.”
Wait. Our show was already posting online? Not that I was going to check; I didn’t have the energy.
Wait. Mum had searched online?
She barely used her phone, and I’d never seen a computer in the house. Oblivious to my confusion, Mum hummed as sheobviously pondered on BDE. She glanced around for inspiration. “Why, there’s our answer. Just look outside!” We all followed her gaze through the glass window to the backyard, watching the flutter of feathers over the pond.
“Brown Duck Ego,darling,” Mum said to Dad. She turned to me. “Did I get it right, Tabby?”
A scuffle sounded from behind me. I turned around to see Harry, cameraman two, dressed in bright-red football regalia, so how could I have missed him, in the doorway, his camera hoisted over his shoulder, the red light flashing that it was on, confirming thatYes!we were being filmed? How long had he been there? Had he captured our whole conversation? His big smile signaled the affirmative and that this was reel gold.
I gulped and nodded. “In one.”
Mum sighed, satisfied she’d solved the puzzle.
“Absolutely makes sense,” Dad said. “That brown duck has to lead them all the way to Iceland. His ego is well-founded.”
I didn’t know whether to cringe, laugh, or disappear quickly. Beside me, I heard a small, strangled splutter from Tim like he was holding in his laughter. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his shoulders shaking. I couldn’t look at him properly, so I stared straight ahead.
Thankfully, my parents headed outside to identify the particular brown duck that had a deservedly inflated self-image. Even more thankfully, Harry followed them out with his camera, knowing quite rightly that wherever they were produced the most bonkers, watchable footage.
I looked up at Tim, whose jaw was popping with the unspoken.
“Don’t say anything,” I warned him.
His eyes glinted as though he was having trouble holding in his comments. “You’re the one who brought it up.” Then he winced. “I do worry about hunting season, though.”
I giggled. “You should be more worried about living in Iceland that part of the year. A country of major shrinkage.”
14
Tim
