Chapter Fourteen
Some days Ryan wondered why he didn’t just stay in bed.
So far today if anything could go wrong, it either already had or probably would.
The weekend had been a whirlwind of intrigue and surprises.
Seamus had been slightly overwhelmed by Sunday supper, but fit in as though he’d always been a part of the noisy clan.
The turn of events with Nicole had him sitting on top of the world and at the same time terrified of falling off his newfound perch.
Every time he wanted to talk with Nicole alone, explore where this thing—whatever it was—would be going, one or the other of them would be pulled away.
Aunt Eileen needing help to return the trunk to the attic and lug a second one downstairs, or Morgan and Valerie wanting to discuss some changes for Monday’s work and shooting schedule.
For Nicole, first her brother called for his weekly update, followed by a thirty minute conversation with her mother over the pros and cons of Florida and Oklahoma.
He found himself wanting to shout to both of them—what about Texas!
Now, the camera crew was driving him nuts with retakes and staging changes and lighting issues while Jet and one of the older crew were squabbling like a couple of spoiled siblings.
It would serve them both right if he called his Aunt Eileen to come straighten the two out.
At least Jet seemed to be keeping his distance from Nicole.
Ryan just didn’t know if that meant he’d gotten the message: hands off Nicole, or if this was the calm before the storm.
“What’s wrong?” Nicole appeared at his side. Why did that woman have to look so dang sexy in a work clothes and a tool belt? No make up, her hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and she looked irresistible.
“Nothing. Everything.” He sighed. “Mostly nothing.”
She glanced around, making sure there wasn’t a boom mic hanging over them. “Want to share?”
Heaving a deep sigh, he smiled at her. “I’m just stressing a bit because Mom is supposed to arrive today and one of the crew is letting things slip through the cracks.”
“George.” It didn’t come out like a question.
He debated answering or not, but decided if he could trust anyone right now, it would be Nicole. “Yeah. How did you know?”
Hefting a shoulder, she sighed. “I’ve noticed him taking a few short cuts. When I pointed them out to him, I was told to stay in my lane.”
Fury bubbled to the surface. Ryan had to bite down hard on his back teeth to keep from shouting a myriad of words that would have had his mother and his aunts washing his mouth out with soap. “You should have told me.”
“I told Morgan.”
That stopped him cold. “You did?”
She nodded. “I thought of telling you but, well, I didn’t want to look like a whiner.”
“But it’s okay to whine to Morgan?”
Color flushed her cheeks. “Well, I, uh, I mean, he’s my boss.”
Ryan raised a single brow, something here was off.
“Oh, what the hell.” She blew out a deep sigh. “I’m not falling for Morgan.”
He couldn’t help it, delight made his chest puff out and his lips tug hard into a broad smile.
As if worried she’d revealed too much, she nibbled at one corner of her mouth.
The nervous gesture made him want to put a smile on that beautiful face.
Taking a short step to close the gap between them, he reached for her hand at the same moment a throat cleared behind him.
George muttered a quiet, excuse me, walked around them and disappeared through the door to the new stables.
He was going to have to have a talk with the guy. Strip him of some of that attitude.
Before Ryan could follow his crew member, Quinn came rushing inside. “Dad just texted me. He and Mom are about ten minutes out.”
“Okay.” He glanced around, whatever work still needed to be done was going to have to wait. His mother would expect a lot of fussing and attention. “Do Pax, Neil, Owen and Morgan know?”
Quinn glanced up from his phone. “Just sent a text.”
“Why the heck did Dad text you and not all of us?” Morgan came through the door, Paxton on his heels.
“You got my text?” Quinn sighed.
Nodding, Paxton looked at his watch. “We were on our way over anyhow. Figured they should be here any minute and the last thing we need—”
“Is to tick Mom off,” coming through the open doorway, Owen finished the sentence for his brother.
For a few moments they all stood there, looking at each other, no doubt similar thoughts running through their minds—was their mother going to screw this wedding up or play nice? No time to debate it, the rumble of a large pick up could be heard approaching.
Straightening their backs, Morgan was the first to speak. “Showtime.”
“I have to run,” he whispered to Nicole, who stood between him and Morgan.
Her smile looked so fragile as she nodded at him.
The concern reflected in her eyes, along with something that looked an awful lot like love, almost made his knees buckle.
He desperately wanted to pull her into his arms and find out if he was imagining things, but now was not the time.
His five siblings had already walked out the door and turned toward the B it groaned.
Frowning, she crouched down to inspect the mounting brackets George had installed earlier in the day.
Instead of the three-inch structural screws required for a weight-bearing gate, the silver heads of standard deck screws winked back at her.
They were too thin, too brittle, and entirely too short to reach the heart of the support post. Pushing to her feet, she heaved a deep sigh and rubbed at Duke’s flanks, pleased when he stopped moving.
“Don’t you worry, fella. We’re going to fix this right.
Just do me a favor. Don’t get spooked and kick or the darn thing might fall right off its hinges. ”
Grabbing a treat from a nearby bucket, she gave one to Duke, murmured a few more words to the horse, then closing the gate behind her, squatted down one more time for a closer look at the screws.
George sauntered up next to her. His thumb hooked into a pants’ pocket, he looked down at her, a smear of grease across his chin.
“What’s the problem now, Nicole? I’m on a schedule.
Valerie wants these bays finished and looking perfect before the cameras roll tomorrow morning. ”
“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?” Nicole straightened, her jaw set with a quiet, professional resolve. “You used the wrong screws. If either of those massive horses decides to lean their weight against this gate, the heads are going to snap.”