Chapter Seven
“I’ll see you and raise you two.” Ruth Ann flipped her gray braid behind her back and tossed a few chips into the pot.
“I’m in.” Sliding her cards closed and setting them on the table in front of her, Dorothy added her two chips.
The table of the Tuckers Bluff Ladies Afternoon Social Club went silent as Eileen stared at her cards.
“Any day now, Eileen.”
“Hmm?” Glancing up, she realized it was her turn and she hadn’t a clue what was happening.
“Ruth Ann raised the bet, Dorothy is in, what about you?” Sally May huffed.
“Oh. Yes.” She reached for two chips and put them in the pot. “I’m in.”
Heaving a deep sigh, Sally May shook her head and put her cards face down on the table. “We haven’t been friends for over thirty years for me not to know when something is turning around in that little head of yours. What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Eileen went back to studying her cards and wondering why without even a single pair she’d stayed in this poker hand.
“Try again.” Dorothy smiled and leaned back in her chair. “We’re in no hurry.”
“All right, if it will get this game moving faster. I was thinking about Gray.”
“Is he all right?” Dorothy leaned forward, her brows knit with concern.
Beside Eileen, Sally May reached over and touched her friend’s hand. “Is it serious?”
“No. No.” Eileen shook her head. “Gray is healthy as a horse. All the dogs are fine. It’s just…”
“What?” Ruth Ann threw her hands wide palms up.
“I think he may be up to his old tricks.”
“Disappearing?” two voices echoed.
She shook her head again. “No. Not that.”
“Matchmaking?” All the ladies at the table now watched her wide-eyed.
“Maybe.”
“Oh, don’t stop there, woman.” Ruth Ann crossed her arms. “Spill.”
“All right.” She set her cards down, glanced around her, and then lowered her voice as she leaned into the table. “You know we have a houseguest for a few weeks.”
All the heads nodded. Ruth Ann softly said, “The carpenter’s sister.”
“Well, she arrived yesterday.” There was no need to explain about the truck breaking down, the whole town already knew more about Nicole’s truck than she probably did.
“As soon as Gray saw her, he pounced at her and actually knocked her over before he started licking her face like she was a long lost best friend.”
“Interesting,” Dorothy muttered. “Not like before.”
Eileen sighed and sat back in her chair.
She had been debating with herself since yesterday whether it was wishful thinking or if Gray was indeed up to his old tricks.
No matter how hard she tried to brush it aside, the thought that Nicole was meant to stay in Tuckers Bluff as the perfect match for someone simply wouldn’t leave Eileen be. “No.”
“Now wait a second.” Ruth Ann waved a single finger. “Gray was pretty attached to Eloise, even if he didn’t tackle her and lick her to death.”
“True.” Eileen bobbed her head. Her friend had a point. Gray had stuck to Eloise when she first arrived. And she did wind up with a Farraday—Quinn.
“So you think Nicole is the perfect match for, who?” Sally May steadied her gaze on her friend of decades. “Ryan?”
Eileen shrugged. “That would be my first guess since he’s the last of the unattached Farradays.
“Agreed.” Ruth Ann fanned her cards out again. “It’s probably Ryan. Or it’s nothing at all. And I need three cards.”
“Right.” Eileen picked up her hand again. “I’ll take two.” She’d have preferred four but she settled for holding her three hearts.
Dorothy dealt out the new cards. Eileen picked up her two cards.
An ace of hearts and a four of hearts. How about that—a flush.
Yep, good things come to those who wait.
She was just going to have to wait and see what Gray was up to.
A smile pulled at her lips. Ryan and Nicole. Wouldn’t that be something?
Having driven the last screw into the support bracket, Ryan tested its hold with a firm tug. Solid. He grabbed his drill, turning toward the next beam when movement caught his eye.
Nicole knelt at her workbench; head bent over one of the corbels.
Afternoon light slanted across her workspace, catching dust motes in the air.
She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail hours ago, but strands had escaped, falling forward as she worked.
Her hand moved in small, precise circles with a piece of sandpaper, smoothing the carved surface.
Pausing, she lifted the corbel to the light, squinted at it, then went back to sanding.
The concentration on her face reminded him of the way she’d looked studying that load-bearing beam the first day.
Like nothing else existed except the wood and her hands and whatever she was trying to coax out of it.
He stood watching the rhythmic motion of her arm and the way she tilted her head to check the smoothness of the wood with a single, reverent finger longer than he should have.
Taking a step toward the next bracket, his boot caught on something solid, pitching him forward, arms windmilling.
The drill flew from his hand, clattering across the floor.
His other foot hit the ground hard, barely catching his weight before he face-planted into the sawdust. Squeezing his eyes shut, then focusing around, he spotted an open toolbox directly in his path.
Most of the contents now scattered around like debris in a minefield.
Across the workspace, Morgan stood on a ladder securing a beam. His brother didn’t say a word. Just looked down at Ryan, one eyebrow climbing slowly toward his hairline.
Ryan felt heat crawl up his neck. “Didn’t see it.”
Morgan’s eyebrow climbed higher.
“I was focused on the bracket.”
The eyebrow stayed put. Morgan’s mouth didn’t even twitch, but his eyes said everything—caught you watching the girl.
“Shut up,” Ryan muttered.
“Didn’t say a thing.” Now sporting a knowing grin, his brother turned back to his beam.
Ryan retrieved his drill, intentionally not looking toward Nicole’s workbench.
He could feel his brother’s silent laughter from across the room.
The next two hours passed without incident, mostly because Ryan kept his eyes on his own work and nowhere else.
When Morgan finally called it a day, the crew started packing up.
Ryan coiled an extension cord, watching Nicole cover her corbel with a cloth and wipe down her tools.
Their newest crew member stretched, rolling her shoulders, and Ryan remembered the way her muscles had felt under his hands yesterday when he’d rubbed her neck.
Probably shouldn’t have done that. Definitely shouldn’t be thinking about it now.
He crossed the expansive area to where she stood packing up a few tools. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
“On the days Aunt Eileen plays poker in town most of the family usually grabs dinner at O’Farredeigh’s instead of cooking.”
“Your aunt plays poker?” Her mouth curved into a smile.
“Yeah. The Ladies Afternoon Social Club does a lot of good for the town, but mostly they play cards.” He shifted his weight. “Up to you if you’d like to join us or prefer I run you back to the ranch. You’d be welcome to forage through the leftovers.”
Her expression unreadable, she studied him for a long, uncomfortable moment. “The pub sounds good.”
“Yeah?” He hadn’t meant to sound so surprised, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Just let me finish packing up here.”
He nodded a few times and took a step in retreat. “No problem. I’ll meet you by the truck when you’re done.”
Having cleaned up for the day, Morgan walked past his little brother, a knowing grin plastered wide on his face. This time, Ryan didn’t say a word, he merely grabbed his hat and waited for Nicole to lead the way. Sometimes brothers were a real pain in the neck.
O’Farredeigh’s looked exactly like the kind of pub that lived in small-town stories—warm light glowing through old glass, a carved wooden sign over the door, and laughter spilling out every time someone came or went.
Behind Ryan, Nicole stepped inside and paused just past the threshold.
The place was cozy, all dark wood and scuffed floors, a long bar to the left, booths and small round tables scattered to the right.
The scent of corned beef and fresh bread made her stomach rumble despite Molly’s substantial lunch.
Ryan led her past the bar where a man who had clearly been chiseled from the same Farraday rock pulled a draft.
Catching her stare, Ryan lifted his chin in the bartender’s direction. “That’s Jamison. Owns the place. His wife Abbie owns the café. You’ll probably meet her tonight as well. She usually pops in for at least a few minutes depending on who’s watching the kids.”
They wove between tables to where Morgan and Valerie had already claimed a large corner table.
Quinn and Eloise sat opposite them. Meg and Adam slid around to make room.
Morgan and Valerie claimed the chairs on the other side.
Aunt Eileen and Uncle Sean sat side by side at the head of the table.
Nicole settled into the remaining spot beside Ryan, their backs to the wall, giving her a view of most of the room.
“Glad you were brave enough to join us.” Sean Farraday smiled up at her, his wife chatting animatedly with a woman at the table beside theirs.
The pub’s patrons started clapping, a few whistling. Aunt Eileen made a show of protesting, but she was already walking toward the stage.
“What’s happening?” Nicole whispered to Ryan.
“You’ll see.”
The music shifted again—a slow, jazzy tune began to play, something Nicole almost recognized.
Aunt Eileen took the microphone, closed her eyes for a beat, then opened her mouth.
She began to sing. Nicole’s mouth nearly fell open.
This wasn’t the brisk, “walk it off” matriarch from the ranch.
Her voice was rich, smoky, and carried an effortless, professional grace that seemed to expand to fill every corner of the room.
Around them, the pub had gone quiet. Even the kitchen sounds had dimmed.
Nicole’s gaze shifted from the family to matriarch to Ryan watching his aunt, a soft smile on his face.
His fingers drummed the table in time with the music, unconscious and easy.
The entire family had a sweet look of love and admiration on their faces.
Had anyone ever asked her, she would have sworn families like this only existed in sitcoms from the previous century.
Suddenly, she longed for a big boisterous family of her own.
Brothers and sisters to pick on each other, parents, aunts and uncles to puff proudly at your accomplishments, a bond that made anywhere they went feel like home.
The song ended. The pub erupted in applause. Aunt Eileen took a small bow, replaced the microphone in the stand, and returned to her seat beside her husband.
Nicole leaned in and whispered softly, “She’s incredible.”
“Used to sing professionally before she moved here to help Uncle Sean raise the kids after Aunt Helen died.”
“Oh. I thought Eileen was your cousins’ mother.”
He shook his head. “Their mom, Helen, was her sister. She and Uncle Sean raised all the kids together and it wasn’t till a few years ago when her ex-fiancé came to town that the two realized they felt more for each other than just the camaraderie of co-parenting.”
“They look like they’ve been together their whole lives.”
“In some ways, they have.” Ryan’s gaze shifted to his aunt and uncle, a sweet smile settling on his face.
No wonder her brother spoke so highly of all these people. Tuckers Bluff and the Farradays seemed to be the stuff dreams were made of. Even hers.