Chapter Ten
Running the roller up another strip of siding, Ryan watched the clear sealer soak into the old wood. Slow, steady strokes. Nothing fancy. Just one more layer of protection on something that had already survived more than a hundred Texas summers.
“Don’t miss that top edge,” Quinn said from the other side of the door. “Valerie will zoom in on the one spot you skipped.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Ryan answered. He stretched, catching the narrow strip under the trim. “You’d think she’d have better things to film than me painting.”
“Rolling,” Quinn corrected. “Painters get paid more.”
A familiar pair of voices floated toward them from down the boardwalk.
“There they are,” Sister said. “Hard at work. Bless their hearts.”
“Morning, ladies,” Quinn said, offering a polite nod as he continued working.
“We just had to stop by,” Sister gushed, her hands fluttering near her chest. “Sissy and I are just tickled pink! Imagine, Mariah Farraday coming back to Tuckers Bluff after all these years. And for a wedding! Oh, how I love weddings!” She clapped her hands together with a sharp, enthusiastic smack.
Sissy bobbed her head, her red hair catching the light. “It’s been far too long since the whole family was gathered under one roof.”
Ryan forced a smile, though the thought of his mother’s impending arrival brought a familiar knot to his stomach. “We were pretty surprised ourselves.”
Sister’s expression softened. “It’s been a long time coming, her making the trip down. Your daddy must be over the moon.”
“He sounded…hopeful.” Ryan tried to smile. “We’re all still waiting to see if it actually happens. So far, it’s just ink on a page.”
“Ink on a page is where most good stories start.” Sissy grinned at him. “And how lovely it will be to have your entire family together for such a wonderful event.” She turned slightly, looking toward the church steeple peeking over the rooftops. “Weddings bring out the best in folks.”
“Oh, how I love weddings,” Sister added, giving her hands a little pleased slap. “New dresses, happy tears, cake you don’t have to bake yourself…”
“And gossip you don’t have to feel guilty about,” Sissy finished.
Sister waved a hand dismissively. “We’ve already started freshening up the Violet Room at the B he just leaned into her touch, his dark eyes closing for a second.
Morgan checked his watch. “I need to get the trailer back.”
“Go on.” Quinn waved them off. “We’ve got the sealing under control.”
“Mostly,” Ryan muttered under his breath.
In the truck, the brothers drove off, the trailer rattling down Main Street.
Nicole lingered, watching Duke settle in place. His ears flicked at passing traffic, but he stood calm, chest rising slow and steady. As if checking on him, Duke lifted his head, swinging it toward Ryan.
Ryan stood a few feet from the trough, gaze drifting her way again. She caught the look—warm, unguarded—and felt her cheeks heat.
Taking a single step in retreat, the back of his leg bumped against the trough.
Before Nicole could utter a word, he wobbled, overcorrected, and landed with a thunderous splash.
Water sloshed over the sides, soaking the boardwalk.
Duke startled, dancing sideways, and Nicole had to grab his lead to keep him from pulling free.
In the trough, Ryan sat, the water up to his waist, his expression somewhere between shock and resignation.
From inside the livery, Quinn’s voice drifted out, “At this rate, you’re going to wind up in traction.”
Nicole bit her lip, trying desperately not to laugh.
Ryan’s glare promised retribution, but the corner of his mouth twitched with just a hint of amusement. “Not a word.”
“Wasn’t going to say anything.”
Heaving a deep sigh, he pushed himself out of the trough. Water streamed from his jeans, pooling on the boardwalk. “I’m going to change into something dry.”
Leaving wet footprints in his wake, Ryan squelched past her toward his truck.
Nicole waited until he was out of earshot before she let the laughter escape. Duke snorted beside her, as if he found the whole thing equally amusing. Her hand on the horse’s neck, she patted him softly and leaned in. “Interesting man, isn’t he?”