Chapter Three
Was there a crack in the earth she could just fall into?
Nicole closed her eyes and quickly ran the conversation through her head.
Other than calling the brothers stupid and egocentric, she hadn’t really said anything that awful.
Shaking her head, she was back to needing a rock to hide under.
No man wants to be called both stupid and full of himself.
“Follow me.” Ryan waved her forward. No smile. No reassurance. Just grabbed the box from the truck bed and trotted over to the stairs of the trailer, taking them two at a time before stopping to hold the door for her. Still the gentleman. Perhaps in spite of what she’d said.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a Farraday?”
Something told him if he told her now that he’d been worried he’d embarrass her, that might make things worse. Instead, he hefted a single shoulder in a casual shrug. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
Didn’t think it mattered? Men. She fought to stifle a groan. Serves her right for choosing to work in a man’s world.
In the makeshift office, a man sat behind a desk calmly yet sternly talking with someone over the latest blueprints.
To his side another man leaned one hip on the desk, nodding at every word the seated guy said.
Trying to take it all in without looking conspicuous, from the similarities in their features, she had to guess these were three of the brothers.
Definitely all chiseled from the same stone.
“You must be Nicole.” A narrow door from the back opened and a rather striking woman with sharp blue eyes of average height dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and wearing cowboy boots that were clearly not for show, stretched her hand out. “Welcome. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Running through everything her brother had ever told her, she tried desperately to place who this woman might be. “Yes, ma’am.”
“No ma’am around here. Call me Aunt Eileen. Everyone does.”
Of course. “Pleased to meet you.”
“We’re mighty glad you’re here.” Aunt Eileen gave her hand a firm squeeze. “Mike speaks highly of you.”
Warmth slid up Nicole’s neck. “I’ll do my best not to let you down.”
“You won’t.” The man behind the desk stood. Tall. Solid. Authority without theatrics. “I’m Morgan.”
So this was the big boss. He didn’t look mean. He looked steady. The kind of man who expected things done right and didn’t repeat himself twice.
“And that’s Quinn,” Morgan said, motioning to the brother leaning one hip against the desk.
Quinn gave her a single nod. No smile. Not unfriendly. Just evaluating.
She resisted the urge to square her shoulders like she was about to bat cleanup.
Ryan stepped forward and set the small box on the desk. “She had a little truck trouble outside Tucker’s Bluff.”
Morgan’s gaze shifted back to her. “Trouble?”
“That’s what I was telling you. Polly saw her pull into Ned’s from the Cut n Curl, she told Sister about the new girl in town leaving with Ryan, Sissy put two and two together and called me.
I figured rather than wait for one of you to bring her home tonight, I’d just pop in and give her a ride myself. ” The woman beamed at her nephew.
Morgan paused a moment before looking to her. “Anything serious?”
“Overheated. Need a new hose.” She winced slightly. “Ned says it should be ready some time tomorrow.”
Morgan nodded once. No irritation. No sigh. “Ned will take care of it.” As if he too could read her mind, he continued, “He’ll be fair.”
Nodding slowly, her gaze darted to all the people in the room. Her brother was right, if fair and calm was how this operation ran, then she was going to like working here. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier as planned.”
“No problem. You can walk the site this afternoon. Start fresh in the morning.” He spun around to face his brother. “Ryan, you take the lead. Show her where we’re at.”
Aunt Eileen stepped closer. “You two run along. I need to catch up on a few things and then we’ll head back to the ranch.”
Ranch? Ryan had said most of the men stayed in the bunk houses at the ranch. She had a slew of questions, but for now, she was going to take a look around and then worry about what came next.
Again, Ryan held the door for her as she crossed the threshold. The August heat hit like an oven door flung open. Oklahoma wasn’t exactly Antarctica, but this degree of heat was going to take some getting used to.
“Main Street isn’t very long. It’s a short walk to the carriage house.” Ryan fell into step beside her. “You can pretty much tell all that’s been updated so far.”
That was true. The Mercantile felt like stepping back in time to an episode of Little House on the Prairie, and yet, it felt so new. Not an easy feat to accomplish. As they continued along the wooden sidewalk, Ryan explained all the changes and updates and future plans. She was duly impressed.
At the end of the street the old blacksmith and carriage building stood proud and tall, if a bit off kilter.
The weathered exterior remained, but inside, temporary supports braced sagging beams. The roofline dipped in one corner.
Nicole slowed instinctively, her carpenter’s eye taking over.
The load-bearing wall in the rear had settled.
The loft ladder angled slightly off square.
If they stored hay up there—“That back corner’s going to torque under weight,” she said before she could stop herself.
“If you’re using the loft for storage, it’ll shift unless you cross-brace it. ”
Silence.
She turned slowly.
Morgan and Quinn had followed them and stood under the doorway of the wide entry, both watching. Quinn’s head tilted just a fraction. Ryan didn’t say anything.
Heat flushed up her neck again. “I mean, if you’re planning to store hay or spare wheels. The weight distribution—”
“That’s right,” Quinn said evenly.
Morgan’s mouth tipped almost—not quite—into a smile. “That’s the plan.”
Nicole nodded once. Whether she’d just added insult to injury or proved her worth she wasn’t quite sure, but none of the brothers seemed to react as if she’d overstepped.
From the far side of the building, a man strolled over, tool belt slung low. Confidence dialed a little too high for comfort. “Well now,” he drawled, letting his gaze take a slow trip from her boots upward. “Didn’t know we were adding scenery to the crew.”
Ah. If her brother’s descriptions were accurate, she’d wager that this must be the ever unpopular Jet.
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.”
“—Mary Lou Keller.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened. “I was thirteen.”
“And yet.” Quinn’s grin widened. “Some things never change.”
Before Ryan could formulate a response that didn’t involve punching his brother, Morgan’s voice cut across the space. “Ryan, show her the loft. Quinn and I need to check in with the film crew about tomorrow’s schedule.”
“Sure thing,” he called back, gesturing to the ladder. “After you. Unless you want me to go first?”
Nicole eyed the ladder, then him. “I’ve climbed a few ladders in my time.”
“Fair enough.” He steadied the base as she started up, then followed, trying very hard not to notice that she climbed like someone who’d been doing it her whole life—confident, efficient, no hesitation.
The loft was hot, dusty, and smelled like a century of hay and horses. Afternoon light streamed through gaps in the walls, creating striped patterns across the rough wooden floor. Nicole moved to the back corner immediately, examining the sag in the roofline from underneath.
“This is worse than it looked from below.” She tested a beam with her hand. “How much of the original structure are you planning to keep?”
“As much as safely possible.” Ryan joined her, pointing out where they’d already reinforced some of the main supports. “The goal is preservation, not demolition. But safety comes first.”
“Good.” She pulled a small tape measure from her pocket and started taking measurements of the problem corner. “You’ll need to sister this beam here, and probably replace this joist entirely. The wood’s compromised.”
Ryan leaned in to look where she was pointing, and suddenly became very aware of how close they were standing.
Close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo—something clean and simple, maybe coconut.
Close enough to see the light dusting of freckles across her nose that the Texas sun had probably brought out on the drive.
She turned her head and their faces were inches apart.
“Sorry,” he said, taking a step back and nearly tripping over a loose board.
“Careful.” Her hand shot out, steadying his arm. “Wouldn’t want you falling through before we fix the floor joists.”
“That would be embarrassing.”
“Just a little.” Was she smiling? He couldn’t quite tell in the dim light, but her voice had a hint of amusement.
“Mike told us you were an expert finishing carpenter. He didn’t mention your structural knowledge.”
Her head bobbed. “Pretty much every finish carpenter has to start with the grudge work. I always paid attention.”
“It shows.”
“Thank you.”
The moment stretched out, neither of them moving. Then—
“Ryan? Nicole?” Aunt Eileen’s voice floated up from below. “You two about done up there?”
The spell broke. Nicole turned toward the ladder. “Coming!”
“All set?” Aunt Eileen asked as they reached the ground floor. She had her purse over one shoulder and keys in hand, clearly ready to go.
“Yeah.” Nicole brushed dust off her jeans. “This is going to be a great project.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Aunt Eileen beamed, then turned to face Ryan. “Morgan is having a difference of opinion with the main camera guy. You may want to go referee, but don’t work too late, we’re having a full house for supper tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat at his aunt and watched her loop her elbow with Nicole and walk away chatting like a couple of schoolgirls after cheerleading practice.
What he didn’t know was if that was a good or bad thing.
He loved his aunt, but he wasn’t sure he wanted her bonding with his crew, especially this one if it involved every embarrassing story from his childhood.
Stepping under the open doorway, he caught sight of Jet standing outside, watching Aunt Eileen and their new carpenter strolling to his aunt’s truck.
Every hair on the back of his neck told him that trouble was coming, and he didn’t like it one little bit.