Chapter 26
Tabitha
I woke the next morning, feeling like it was Christmas and I had presents and decorations and wonderfully festive food to look forward to.
I’d dreamed of being submerged in clear blue water, a muscular, naked man swimming toward me, always slightly out of reach.
Tim. But he wasn’t out of reach. I’d savored every second of his mouth on mine last night, how he’d felt on top of me, and we had a date lined up in four days.
What was it going to be like to see him today?
A rumbling sound drifted from downstairs—snoring. Probably one of the dogs. Mum and Dad had been told to keep the rest of the animals outside, because the house was a safety issue, but they let the dogs and cats in at night. It was pretty loud.
I checked the time. Only 5:00 a.m. Early even for Mum and Dad.
I peeked into my parents’ room, all quiet. Except for the snoring, the rest of the house was silent. I padded downstairs without turning on the lights and followed the sound. I tiptoed into the kitchen and froze.
Like a big bear, Tim was collapsed over the newly installed kitchen island, snoring his head off, his builder’s pencil and ruler still in hand.
My gaze tumbled over his broad shoulders and strong back, and I barely resisted the urge to drape myself over him.
I tiptoed into the library to get him a blanket.
The hallway on the way back to the kitchen was punched with holes for the new electrics, reminding me of the messy building day we had in front of us. I kept looking straight ahead. Just give me these few minutes of peace. Back in the kitchen, Tim was just as I’d left him.
I’d just pulled the blanket over him when he woke with a startled cry.
“Sorry. I was just getting a blanket for you,” I stammered. “You were snoring your head off.”
“Fuck—was I? Sorry, did I wake you up? I laid the concrete, and I wanted to get a head start on the measuring before we start filling in the walls today. I’m getting really worried about this deadline.”
What time did he get up to do this? My heart twinged hard. Tim Langston, you keep surprising me with what a hard worker you are. “Shall I leave you to sleep some more? Why don’t you rest in the library?”
He blinked and stood up, stretching like a big bear coming out of hibernation. “No worries. I’m up now.” His voice was all sleepy and growly like a woken-up bear too, waking up parts of me.
“Can I make you breakfast?” I asked, the empty spaces reminding me that the kitchen wasn’t in a condition to cook. We only had a microwave, toaster, and kettle station Tim had set up in the formal sitting room area. Trystan handled breakfast, but I could offer Tim microwaved eggs and toast.
“Maybe just a coffee for now?” He ran a quick eye down me, and his lips twitched with a slight smile. I suddenly remembered I was in my dorky long flannel nightgown that had this high, lacy neckline. Ugh. Not. Sexy.
“Shall we have our coffee in the library?” he asked. “Being in the kitchen gets my stress levels up, seeing all there is to do.”
I considered heading quickly upstairs to change first, but I wanted to enjoy these few quiet moments with him. While I made the coffee in my old-lady nightwear and bare feet, I was very aware of his eyes on me, very probably reconsidering asking me out on a date.
“Um. You’re probably wondering why I’m dressed like a character in Little House on the Prairie,” I said.
“Tabs, it looks very—”
“What?” I challenged him with my hands on my hips.
Eyes wide, hands flung out, he looked panicked. “Comfortable. Roomy.”
I waited, hands still on my hips, messing with him because his deer-in-the-headlights look told me he wasn’t sure if I was offended.
“Versatile,” he added desperately.
“Could be used as an umbrella,” I chimed in, signaling that I wasn’t actually offended.
His face relaxed with relief. “A parachute,” he quipped. “If you had to leap out of a plane.”
“A tent.”
“I mean, we could both go camping in your nightie,” he said.
We both spluttered out with laughter. I was holding the empty cups, bent double at the thought.
Then I unfolded and our eyes locked, and his pupils flared.
Was he thinking of the both of us naked, trapped and squashed together inside my nightie?
Because I was. It was the most bizarre, silly image, but somehow it was also very sensual and arousing.
The grouching of the shower pipes activated from above, and my head snapped up.
My parents might be down any moment, and I wanted to talk to him in our little bubble, without being bombarded with Mum and Dad’s chatter about the animals.
Maybe even broach what happened between us in our twenties so I could fully move past it.
I poured us each a coffee and handed his to him. “Why don’t we steal a few moments while we can?”
He scraped a hand along his raspy jaw. “Good idea.”
I nodded for him to follow and led him to the library.
“Your nightie could be used in this dancing room you seem so fond of creating,” he said with a smirk.
“Just remember,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “I am holding the coffee, and as you know, I gesticulate a lot.”
“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 silly old friends us. 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 from him 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.