“Tabitha Balfour, I absolutely adore your night attire,” he said in a theatrical tone, his eyes twinkling.
I loved that we were back to the sillyold friendsus. Both of us chuckling quietly, he grabbed one coffee from me and opened the door to the library.
I put my cup on the side table and sat down on one end of the sofa. He slumped onto the other side, his arm slung along the back, fully awake and smiley and taking up a lot of space. Settled in, he watched me closely. My eyes flickered to his lips, remembering yesterday. His mouth turned up in a smile, making me blush, so I grabbed my coffee and sipped for something to do.
He gulped his down gratefully, and I saw again how tired he was—dark shadows under his eyes, his clothes rumpled, his hair sticking all over the place. All because of this project.
“You’re working so hard. Thank you,” I said.
“And you.” His voice was low with worry, and he furrowed his brow in concern. “You’re so good to your parents.”
“Hmph. Not that they appreciate my hard work. When will I learn? I keep waiting for them to change, and they don’t.”
His forehead crinkled sympathetically. “Do you think they’ll make a go of the inn once it’s done?” His face was cautious, as if he was wondering if he had the right to ask.
Of course I had worried about this, but I was back to hoping that setting a fixed deadline to train staff at the inn, followed by a hard opening date when guests would knock on their door, would force them to step up. Or shame them.
Plan B was to sell the house and have them live with me, but that couldn’t be an option. “I honestly don’t know. It terrifies me that they’ll make a botch of it. Or worse, not even bother and allow something else to distract them.”
He put his chin on his hands and gazed at me with concern. “It worries me, Tabs, how your parents’ lack of any kind of—” he looked like he was measuring his words “—planning for their future is dictating your life. They’re not bad or evil people, but their carelessness can be selfish and irresponsible. You’ve got your own life to live. Have you ever thought about allowing them to bear the consequences?”
“How can you suggest such a thing?” My chest tightened, and my neck suddenly felt stiff. “They’re my parents. I can’t just ignore their needs, even if they live their lives differently from what you feel they should.”
When I was angry, I usually had no trouble telling him exactly how I felt, but being this vulnerable with him felt different. Was I just tired, or did I expect more compassion fromhim after feeling so close to him the night before? And how would I talk to him about our past if this was how he was making me feel now?
Tears pushed at the backs of my eyes, so I lurched to my feet. The last man to make me feel this angry was Perry, and I was now glad he was out of my life. But this? This…felt like a different type of betrayal.
“I need to change. See you on the shoot,” I said, needing to get away from him.
27
Tim
You bloody idiot.
I was so tired, my words hadn’t come out right.
I sprang forward and touched her hand to get her to stay.
“I’m so sorry, Tabs. I’ve made it sound like I was criticizing you. My sister always tells me to listen instead of trying to fix things. I’m a builder, and that’s what I do, fix things. But that’s no excuse. What I wanted to say was, I worry about you, because you’re a good person and you don’t deserve this. I hope I can say that because we’re friends now. I mean, more than friends, obviously. But friends at the core?”
“We are, yes.” She smiled and seemed to soften, and my chest lifted with hope. “Thanks, Tim.”
Thank Christ. Because I’d messed up with my advice—that her parents were dictating her life. Wasn’t my life the same?Should I take some of my own advice? But my circumstances were different. My mother had a neurological condition she couldn’t control. She didn’t have the capacity to help herself, and Amy needed the chance to pursue her acting career.
Eventually, I checked the time, turned to Tabs, and gave her a wolfish smile. “We have a few more minutes before the crew arrives.” No more talk about family. Just us now. I was loving this early morning version of her, oddly hot with her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun thing, and the floral tent that should have been a blocker but only sent my imagination into overdrive. I put down my coffee and leaned in for that kiss I’d been thinking about since she’d exited my truck last night.
A loud clank sounded from outside the front door—the bad kind of clank. Shit. I’d just concreted the path. I dove to the window that looked out toward the front lawn. I pushed open the window and poked my head outside.
“What the hell?” I fumed. “One of the pigs is walking along the path I concreted earlier this morning.” I stood up, ready to race outside.
Tabitha wailed. “My parents promised they’d keep them in the backyard.”
Another clank scraped from above. “The fuck—that’s coming from the roof.” I rushed back to the window and tipped my head up. Anxious voices sounded from above. Two familiar, anxious voices.
“Your parents,” I stormed. “Bloody hell.”
“Oh no,” Tabitha cried out. “What are they doing on the roof?”
