She freezes, a guilty look on her face. Then settles back on the floor. Gesturing at the crew of guys installing black booths in the back of the bar, she calls, “Okay, fine. You heard him. Help me or he will yell at me.”
Solomon huffs a laugh. Woman’s still wearing those damn heels, even after he bought her a perfectly nice pair of boots. Stubborn.
And he fucking loves it.
Tearing his mind from Tessie, he tunes back into what he’s doing. Beside him on the bar top is a haphazardly assembled slider and a notepad filled with his chicken scratch. Local ingredients. Ten items for the menu. Damn good items. Upscale bar bites that will knock the socks off locals and tourists alike.
This is for Howler. A thank-you for putting up with his bullshit for the last seven years.
“Who did this?” Tessie’s impatient voice carries. She’s bent over a table, labeling new tunes for the jukebox. “You blocked all my sunshine. How am I supposed to work?”
Howler’s dry scoff. “Can we just pump the brakes, Goldilocks? ‘Love Shack’?”
“It’s a classic.”
Even if his best friend’s dislike of his girl bothers the hell out of him.
Howler’s Roost is currently a demolition zone, thanks to Tessie. He’s never seen her look happier. Or more pregnant.
For the last two weeks, their lives have consisted of working on the bar and the baby.
They went to a doctor’s appointment, where Tessie and Bear got a perfect bill of health. She’s healthy, the baby’s healthy, and Solomon can breathe easier.
Because Tessie’s thrown herself into the bar revamp at lightning speed. Sourcing furniture for the bar, drawing up mood boards, beg, borrow, and bribing her connections for expedited shipping, hiring local contractors to help where he and Howler can’t.
The working side of Tess turns Solomon on something fierce. He’s loved watching her weave her design magic. She’s a stubborn, take-no-shit woman. Working hellish hours no pregnant woman has any business working. And she’s doing it for him.
Selfless as hell. They would never have gotten it together if it weren’t for her.
Tessie’s put her life on hold for him. He had no damn right to ask her to come to Chinook. Now it’s up to him to give her everything she needs. His I love you. His entire heart. His home. A ring on her finger.
Shaking his head to focus on his food, he arranges arugula on top of the burger and frowns. Too pretentious?
Slender arms snake around his waist. “I like this look, Solemn Man. You cooking for us.” Tessie’s voice, the click-clack of her heels, is damn near Pavlovian. His dick jumps in his pants.
“Want to try?” he asks.
She nods eagerly. “Feed me.”
He does, slipping a sliver of a slider into her mouth. A grin tips his lips as he watches her chew, her brown eyes closing in satisfaction.
“What do you think?”
She groans. “Next level.” She splays a hand on her belly, which has Solomon doing the same, soaking in the slow roll of movements. “Bear’s a fan.”
“You got good taste, kid,” he tells her bump.
Storming over, Howler grumbles, then slumps on a stool. “Can’t believe I closed my damn bar.”
“Our damn bar. And it’s only for five weeks.” Solomon gives his friend a look. “Deal with it.”
“We should have a party,” Tessie says, leaning over to type something on her laptop. “To celebrate the revamp.”
Howler perks up. “Might work.” The sly twitch of his mouth says he wants the biggest bash around to bring in all the out-of-town girls.
“Will work.” Tessie flips her hair. “Half-price cocktails.”
Going rigid, Howler glares. “Never.”
“I’m done with you,” Tessie huffs, flouncing away.
“She’s moody,” his best friend says, lifting his brows.
“She’s pregnant,” Solomon barks in a tone that says he better cut it out or else. Resting his elbows on the bar, he leans down and roughs his face. “Look, could you try to get along with Tess for five goddamn minutes?” The two of them working together has been like bleach and ammonia. Do not mix.
Howler picks at a corner of the slider. “You’re raisin’ a kid together. It ain’t like she’s staying. Right?”
Mouth open, Solomon’s ready to tell Howler he’s being an asshole, but before he can get a word out, the front door slams open, and a harsh gust of icy wind sweeps through the bar.
Solomon stiffens.
There, in the doorway, stands Evelyn, her black hair wound in a tight bun, her no-bullshit briefcase hanging off a stiff snow-covered shoulder. Barely moving her head, she scours the bar. The moment her eyes land on Tessie, her face darkens.
“Fuck.” Solomon wipes his hands on a rag and slings it over his shoulder. His sister’s expression could set ice on fire.
Howler perks up on his barstool. “What’s ole Evilyn doing here?”
“Baby shower,” he guesses. “For Tess.”
A chuckle. “This’ll be interesting.”
Solomon ignores him. He’s got enough to worry about with his sister in town. Judging by their telephone conversations, she’s not here to make friends.
Pushing off the counter, he strides fast for his sister. “Hey, Evy.”
“Solomon.” She nods curtly. No hugs. It’s Evelyn’s stiff, keep-your-distance way. On rare occasions, he and his sisters have seen her let her tightly wound guard down thanks to a few glasses of chardonnay. That it will happen this visit, Solomon’s doubtful.
“You just get in?”
“First stop.” She holds his gaze, then swivels to Tessie. “Is that her?” Disdain coats her voice. “The pregnant blond thing shimmying with the broom?”
His hands fist on the thighs of his jeans. “Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
Howler, sneaking by with a ladder, coughs, “Bullshit.”
Evelyn puts out a stop-right-there hand. “You bring up fifth grade again, and I personally detonate your bar.”
His friend snickers, then says, “Goldilocks incoming,” before loping over to a group of guys who are laying new floorboards.
With a sigh, Solomon glances over his shoulder, opening his arm up to Tessie and curling it around her as she reaches his side. “Tess, this is my sister, Evelyn.”
“Hi,” Tessie says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks are pink, flustered at the surprise visit. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hello,” Evelyn says, her eyeline defiantly avoiding Tessie’s belly. A clear line drawn in the sand. She isn’t a fan. And she wants Tessie to know it.
It takes all he has not to shake his sister. To Tessie’s credit, she picks up on the cold shoulder. Putting a hand on his chest, she looks up at him. Her expression cool, neutral, tells Solomon she’ll give as good as she gets. “I’m going to get back to work. I’ll give you two a second.”
He tries to catch her hand. “You don’t—”
But she’s already off and running. He watches as she struggles to pick up a left-behind soda can. But since she can’t bend over fully because of her belly, she toes it with her high heels, rolling it where she needs it.
Solomon looks at Howler. “Go help her,” he barks. “Now.”
“Christ. Fine,” Howler mutters, flashing Solomon the bird before slinking off toward Tessie.
“How cute. You brought her back.” Evelyn purses her lips. “Like a souvenir.”
His mouth presses flat. “Stop.”
She adjusts the front of her trim navy suit. “Is there somewhere less-Tessified we can talk?”
With a frown, he takes his sister’s elbow and steers her back into the kitchen. When they’re alone, he slams a hand on the steel workstation. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting like a. . .” He trails off, at a loss for an inoffensive word to call her.
“I am aware of how I’m acting, Sol. I’m acting like a bitch. And I’m aware of how you’re acting too. You’re being an idiot. You don’t know what you’re doing with her. Which is why I’m here. To help.”
Heaving her heavy briefcase onto the counter, she huffs out a breath. Then Evelyn pulls out a thick stack of papers. “You’ve done one thing right at least. Getting your job back. That’ll help us in court.”
“Court?” He rips a hand through his hair. “What are you—”