Page 19 of Restored By You

She blinks. “Tonight?”

“Unless you’ve got plans.” What the hell am I doing? “There’s a local spot, Tavern Nine. Good food, decent people, they have live music on Saturday nights. We could go over the scope there, easier than standing on a porch.” And now you’ve just asked out a client, nice work, man.

Levi would have a fuckin’ field day if he was here right now. For all the times I’ve preached professionalism and boundaries to him on the job—here I am, doing exactly what I forbid him to do every other damn week.

Her expression goes from surprise to uncertainty. “Are you—” She tilts her head, those brown eyes searching mine. I hold her gaze steady, fighting not to show any fear. Whatever she sees has her shaking her head before nodding. “Yes, um, that sounds great, but Tyler has to come,” she says finally. “If that’s all right?”

“‘Course,” I say. “I can meet you there around seven.”

She bites her lip against a smile. “Seven it is, then.”

I head down the porch steps before I do something professionally inadvisable, like replace her teeth with mine to bite down on those lush, full lips of hers.

I shake off the thought. I’ve got plans to draw up.

Levi appears in the kitchen archway and takes one long look at the island covered in graph paper, measurements, and an open laptop with a nearly completed reno plan for both Shea’s property and the resort project.

“Huh,” he mutters, moving to the fridge and pulling out a longneck. He leans against the counter, his silence deliberate.

I save the draft I’m working on and look up. “Say it.”

He takes a swig from his beer. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your silence is loud.”

“That’s your conscience,” he says with a smug grin. “I’m just drinking a beer.”

I lean back on my stool and drag a hand over my bristled jaw. The clock above the stove reads 5:47 PM. I need to shower, change, and be at Tavern Nine by seven with a printed set of preliminary plans and a clear enough head to get through a conversation with a woman I cannot stop thinking about.

“I took the reno job,” I say.

Levi nods slowly, not surprised in the slightest. “And the resort?”

“Both are manageable.”

“Uh-huh.” He sets his bottle down. “This the same job that has you blowing up three pages of graph paper on a Saturday evening?”

I grunt.

He picks up one of the discarded drafts, studying it. “It’s a good layout,” he says finally. “Smart use of the upstairs square footage with the ensuite addition.”

“That was Shea’s idea.”

He sets the paper down. “She the one who bought the Hargrove place, flooded it, then gave you heart eyes this morning?”

I snort, snatching his beer from in front of him. I take a long pull. “What the fuck does heart eyes even mean?”

My brother sighs heavily. “She’s from California.”

I meet his eyes, my hold on the cool glass bottle tightening. I know where he’s going with this. Hell, it’s been on my mind since the moment I heard three months mere hours ago. “It’s a legitimate job,” I grumble.

“I know it is.” He runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair, studying me for a beat, and I know he’s deciding whether or not to push me on this. “It’s just—”

“Don’t.”

“—you said—”

“I know.”