From the Moment We Met (10 page)

If Dolly and her devices were anything like the women Colin usually spent time with, any man would. Including Tanner. Normally. But not today.

Nope, he had two former playmates naked in his pool, and instead of inviting them in for a little breakfast and get-to-know-you, he poured himself a second cup of the morning and scavenged the pantry for something that didn’t have preservatives, saturated fats, or alcohol. A testament to just how sad his life had become was that he couldn’t even muster up the interest to talk up a beautiful naked lady.

Well, he could. It was just the beautiful naked lady he wanted to talk up wasn’t interested in anything he had to say.

“I’ll talk to Colin.” Because suddenly the last thing he wanted was a big party at his place.

“Good, because you said I could host poker night here and if I call the guys and cancel, I’ll look like a heel.”

Tanner had never actually said his dad could host poker night. He had offered to drive Gus to poker night last week and pick him up. Which Gus had responded to with a heartfelt, “Do I look like I need a chauffeur?”

Not that Tanner wasn’t happy his dad was feeling comfortable enough to invite his buddies over. He just wished it had been for another day. Because bikini-optional or not, Colin was going to lose it if Tanner told him he had to cancel.

“Why don’t you tell the guys it’s game day? We can all watch some ball then you can disappear after and play poker.”

Tanner opened the refrigerator and pulled out some eggs, onion, and cheese. An omelet was healthy and one of the few things he could cook that his dad would eat. Except the cheese was looking a little fuzzy and the onion was sprouting.

Eggs and toast it was.

“With knockers like that girl’s got?” Gus shook his head. “The guys would be too busy staring to pay attention, plus Sal’s got an appointment to get his pacemaker checked. Until that happens, I don’t think his heart could handle all that stimulation.”

“They’re not going to be parading around naked.” If Tanner had anything to say about it, and since it was still technically his house, he did. So no parade. Period. This Sunday was going to be about beer, ball, and bros. Especially when the Niners were playing and it was the first preseason game of the year.

Tanner cracked a few eggs into the skillet and dropped four pieces of bread into the toaster. “Wait. How do you know the size of her . . . flotation devices?”

Gus had the worst eyesight on the planet, and since he refused to wear his glasses he was like Mr. Magoo in a china shop. So if he had gotten a good look at Colin’s latest pillow fight, then Gus must have gotten pretty damn close. Or he was using his binoculars.

“I went out for my morning walk, doctor’s orders, when my leg started giving me trouble, so I pulled up a lounge chair and took a little rest. Not my fault she forgot her bathing suit.”

Gus hadn’t followed a single one of his doctor’s orders, especially taking daily walks. But Tanner kept that to himself and flipped some pretty perfect eggs onto two separate plates and lightly buttered the toast.

Breakfast ready, he slid one across the counter toward Gus and dug into his own. He finally had his dad in the kitchen and was about to feed him a meal that didn’t consist of caffeine or hot wings. He wasn’t about to piss the old guy off.

“Don’t worry, Dad, we’ll stick to the TV room. You and the guys can take the game room since it has the poker table, but you’ll have to share the kitchen. Colin and I are just trying to finalize some business with these guys, that’s all.”

“If you’d gotten a degree you’d be running your own business, not finalizing other people’s and trying to impress a bunch of starched loafers.”

“I did get a degree, one I use daily when running my own business,” Tanner informed him like he had a thousand times before and resisted the urge to point out that if he’d gotten a business degree instead of one in construction management, he’d be one of those starched loafers.

“Yeah, well, just because you have a fancy ring and slap a logo on the side of your truck doesn’t mean you don’t swing hammers for a living. Don’t need a big school education for that now, do ya?”

Gus had seen football as a means to an education. Tanner had opted out of grad school to play in the NFL. Something most dads would have been proud of.

Not Tanner’s dad. And now that he’d said his piece, Gus stood and palmed his mug before walking his cantankerous ass right out of the kitchen.

“What about breakfast?” Tanner hollered. And the fact that his fancy ring afforded them both the opportunity to move out from over a dry cleaner into the kind of house his dad used to build for those starched loafers?

“Dr. Johnson said I need to watch my cholesterol,” Gus hollered back. “Those eggs have enough in them to kill a man half my age.”

Taking a bite, he tried to shrug off his dad’s words and get back to his relaxing morning, but he’d barely had time to recover from one temperamental roommate when the screen door flew open and in came the other.

“You want some eggs? I hear there’s enough cholesterol in them to kill you.” Tanner pushed the plate forward. “Have a seat and eat up.”

From the look on his face, Colin didn’t want the eggs and he didn’t want a seat. He wanted a fight. And all Tanner wanted to do was enjoy his nice, leisurely Sunday breakfast in peace.

“Want to explain to me how Abby DeLuca landed the design job for the Pungent Barrel?”

Abby got the job? Tanner wanted to smile, wanted to call her and tell her how proud of her he was. But that would have to wait. Colin was just getting revved up, so Tanner shrugged and said, “Talent.”

“And what talent would that be? Her designs or her ability to make you think you stand a chance? Because last I heard, Babs had passed. Then Abby lets you play with her pipes, and oh, look at that, she shows up to the interview with designs that are way too spatially exact to be guesswork and a proposal that already looks Hampton-approved.”

Appetite gone, patience gone, breakfast over, Tanner picked up his plate and scraped the eggs into the sink. “I helped her take some measurements, gave her a few pointers. Not the end of the world.”

“Tell that to Ferris. You know, the guy who made it clear he did not want Abby DeLuca anywhere near his mother or a Hampton project. The same guy we are trying to convince to take a chance on us. What were you thinking?”

“That Abby was the best person for the job.”

“Is that your professional opinion or your dick talking?” Colin misread Tanner’s frustrated silence for a green light to continue. “My guess is your dick, because that’s the only way you’d be stupid enough to take on the general contractor position, when you know it could screw up everything.”

Tanner ran water over the plate and slammed it in the bottom of the sink. “Two nights ago,
two
, you were begging me to take the job.”

“Things change,” Colin snapped.

“Not here. I already told you that I don’t do small retail renovations and I’m not doing this one.”

“Then why did Babs tell me that Abby’s first official decision was to hire you?”

That had Tanner going silent. Abby wanted to work with him on this project? He would have thought she’d rather work with, well, anyone but him. Not that he had the time, but maybe it meant she was coming around.

“She didn’t ask me to submit a bid,” he said truthfully, wondering what he would say if she did ask him to sign on as GC.

Colin released a pent-up breath and slumped down in the chair. “Good, that’s good,” he mumbled, piling Gus’s eggs on the toast before taking a bite. “I was afraid I’d have to explain how playing grab-ass with the DeLuca Darling wouldn’t sit well with Ferris.”

“You don’t and it wouldn’t, but even if I agreed to be the GC, my choices are no one’s business but mine.” Because he’d heard enough about his bad life choices from his dad, he didn’t need it from his buddy or some uptight developer—no matter how badly he wanted that job.

Colin stopped midbite and sent Tanner a scathing
are you fucking kidding me
look. “We get jobs based on our reputation, and that’s not going to happen when you’re messing around with a girl who stole money from half this town. The half who can afford to drop a couple hundred mil on a golf course.”

“Abby didn’t steal it. Her husband did,” Tanner argued in a tone that told Colin he was on the line, about to step over it, and get a face full of Tanner’s fist.

“I don’t get it, man. You’re willing to risk everything we’ve worked for over a few weeks of fun. What is it about you and this girl?”

That was the question of the hour. One Tanner didn’t have an answer for. Abby was difficult and stubborn, and she drove him bat-shit crazy. But she was also genuine and determined, so real he couldn’t seem to stay away. Looking back, his relationship with Abby was the most real one he’d ever had with a woman—how pathetic was that?

Abby didn’t care about his big-ass house or that on any given weekend he could take her to a dozen celebrity-filled events. If anything, that only seemed to piss her off further. Something that made Tanner smile.

“She’s real,” he said simply.

“Real?” Colin said, a boatload of sarcasm weighing down his words.

“Yeah, real.”

“What’s real is she got you benched from the biggest game of your high school career,” Colin said as though Tanner hadn’t lived the entire frustrating event.

“She had just lost her mom and was a scared kid. Plus, I was leaving for school.” Or he would have been if Abby’s shenanigans hadn’t gotten him benched. “Just bad timing all around.”

“So, what? The timing is finally right? She’s single and desperate and, oh yeah, broke. You’re not. Perfect timing if you ask me.”

“Back the fuck off, Col,” Tanner threatened, leaning across the island and throwing his size behind his words.

“Jesus, Tan, you ended up throwing ball at the junior college instead of University of Alabama. You considered giving up playing for Buffalo because you saw her again.”

He’d done a hell of a lot more than see her that weekend. He’d
seen
who she was deep down, the amazing woman who hid beneath the darling facade. That made moving to New York hard as hell, but in the end he’d left—and she’d married Dickwad.

“I’m wearing a Super Bowl ring, so I don’t think my career suffered all that much.”

“Yeah, well, everything I have is wrapped up in this deal,” Colin said in a tone that had Tanner going on the defensive and feeling like he was a screw-up of a kid all over again. “You might be okay with living off your name and no real merit behind it, but I don’t have that luxury, because if the golf course goes south, I don’t have a Super Bowl ring to fall back on.”

“Sure you do.” Tanner didn’t take his eyes off Colin. “Seems you have mine.”

Colin froze, and that’s when Tanner knew he’d pushed too far. Colin might not have a ring or some fancy-ass degree, as Gus had so amply called it. He’d never had the chance to leave the valley like Tanner had. But he was smart, damn good at what he did, and had worked his ass off to get Tanner Construction to where it was today.

So yeah, his name might not be on the magnet—door or otherwise—but he’d earned every percent of the fifty he owned. And Tanner was completely out of line.

“Shit, Col.” Tanner pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I woke up to Wreck messing all over the floor, then Gus was pushing every button I—”

Colin held up a hand. “You know what? I don’t care. You’re a big boy. If you want to go there again with her, fine. Just don’t let it affect the company.”

“You make it sound like we’re picking out baby names. We haven’t even gone out on a date.”

“No, but you’ve spent the past year hanging out in the wings, waiting for her to be single, waiting for her to say she made a mistake. Waiting for her to . . . hell, I don’t know. You just wait.”

“I haven’t been waiting,” Tanner argued.

Sure, he’d gone out of his way to be around her as much as possible. But
that was because riling her up was fun, not because he was some loser following the homecoming queen around waiting for her attention. Right? “I’ve dated dozens of women over the past year.”

“Yeah, whose collective IQ is lower than their bra size. Hell, Tanner, there isn’t a single woman you’ve paraded around town who had any potential other than to piss off Abby. So you know what, let’s cut the shit, speed this along. You sign on as GC—”

“I’m not taking on this project.”

“Yeah. You are. And we both know it. You’ll spend all night thinking about it and by tomorrow you’ll have guilted yourself into it. You’re a sucker when it comes to helping people out, plus you know the only way Abby will ever get that job done on time and on budget is if you step up. So yeah, you’ll do it, regardless of what it could cost us.”

A silent staring contest ensued, followed by a standoff so tense it had Wreck whimpering at the back door.

“She’s one of the best at what she does,” Tanner finally said, working hard to push down his anger.

Colin didn’t know Abby the way he did. All Colin saw of their relationship was the aftermath.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t trust her. Never did. Not with our company or our business partners. And I especially don’t trust her with you.”

Colin shoved his stool under the counter and headed for the back door. He stopped at the threshold and looked back. Wreck took the opportunity to nudge his way inside.

“If she didn’t want you back then, man, she sure as hell doesn’t deserve you now,” Colin said smoothly. “How’s that for real?”

The door slammed and Tanner rested back against the counter.

A warm nose pressed against his thigh. Tanner looked down to see Wreck at his feet, all drool and support. Then the dog crouched down in the squat position, his ears back in concentration and—

“No! You do not get to crap all over what is left of my weekend,” Tanner yelled, shooing the dog out the door. Not that it made a lick of difference. Wreck had been heard and Tanner went to look for the mop.

CHAPTER 8

G
ood luck with that.”

Abby paused in surprise at the finality in Brandon’s voice. She hadn’t expected him to flat-out turn her down.

She shifted her phone to the other ear, paced the front room of her house once more, and forced a smile. “I don’t need luck. It’s a solid plan of action.”

“You do know there are only so many Memory Lane Manor entries accepted each year.” She did now. “Last I heard, they were full. So unless you have a marker to call in, getting them to look at your entry will be impossible this late in the game.”

“I’m already on the list,” she lied. She had no idea how she was going to get into that meeting, but she was going to make it happen. Even if it meant going as Lexi’s assistant. “Come on, Brandon, I need you if I am going to get the place up to code by the inspection. Plus, it’ll be fun!”

“You need a new boss if you’re going to make that happen. And nothing about being crammed in that bottlery with Babs for any amount of time sounds like fun. Not after these past few months.”

Neither was listening to another rejection while still in her robe and Godzilla slippers. But he didn’t hear her complaining.

“When Colin told me about the job, it was supposed to be a simple retail remodel, minimal crew, five weeks max. That was more than two months and the Taj Mahal ago. And I was the third GC to be hired. At least she isn’t under the delusion anymore that she doesn’t need a designer.”

Abby ran a finger down her list of prospective contractors and—

Gulp.

—It was official. She’d exhausted her entire list. Well, except for one name. And that was
not
going to happen if she could help it. Getting Brandon back was a must.

“I’m willing to make it worth your while if you come back to the job.”

Heck, if it meant she didn’t have to work beside Jack Tanner and could still bring this job in on time, she was open to splitting her earnings with him.

“I like working with you, and I bet your designs are amazing, but I already had to bump three other projects because that woman changes her mind every two seconds. Amazing designs or not, I can’t spend any more time on the town’s
Titanic
.”

Yeah, that was what the other eight contractors had called it.

“It’s already a half a million over budget, weeks behind, and with no crew. I have to admit, I am a little surprised you’d be willing to risk taking it on after . . .”
Richard turned up naked on your front lawn
went unsaid, but she got the point. Her life was in total chaos and everyone was already watching.

“I can make this work,” she heard herself say.

Brandon’s pause said he thought differently. “I hope so, because I think you’re really talented. There is already so much buzz circulating around this place that if you get it considered as a Memo
ry Lane Manor Walk entry, everyone will be watching. And I’m not just talking about the Napa Valley. If it is a half-ass finish job, which is a huge possibility, that’s what people will remember, that’s what will go under your name.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “Only that when I pull it off, everyone will take notice.”

Brandon was silent for a moment, probably wondering what to say since he was too polite to tell her she was delusional. “I could send you over a list of guys who do clean work.”

“Thanks, Brandon, that would be great.” Although she already knew who he’d send and she’d already called them.

“But I got to be honest, most of the guys I know are like me, they run a small crew and are usually pretty booked up this time of year. Your best bet would be to go after a bigger company, one that has a roster of guys to pull from. Hang on, I got a guy.”

She could hear Brandon scrolling through his phone, even knew the precise moment he found his “guy,” because her body went wonky, especially her breathing, so it was no surprise when he said, “Jack Tanner. Not sure if this is his kind of project, because if it were, he’d have signed on when Colin did, but it’s worth a try.”

And wasn’t that the story of her life? She was minutes away from finally,
finally
, ridding herself of Richard. And now it seemed the only way to repair the damage done by that relationship was to jump into business with another man from her past.

“I still have a few more people to call,” she lied. “But I’ll keep him in mind.”

“I wouldn’t waste too much time calling around, because in my professional opinion he’s your best bet.” Something she was slowly coming to understand. “This town loves their local celebrities, and Tanner isn’t just famous, he was homegrown. Hell, his name on a project always helps grease some wheels when it comes to working with the planning department. And trust me, with this project, you need all the greasing you can get. Throw in an autographed ball and some free tickets, and you’re golden as far as gaining permits and approval.”

And wasn’t that a sad statement.

“Thanks, Brandon. And let Tommy know I am sorry about canceling piano lessons again. But next week we’ll start back up.” After a few more pleasantries, she disconnected.

Admitting defeat, she sank down on a barstool, her slippers growling, but even that didn’t make her feel tough. She rested her forehead against the counter with a loud thunk.

The tiles felt cool against her face, and if she closed her eyes long enough she could almost see the iceberg in front of her, could hear everyone screaming for her to change direction, to get out of the way of the gigantic glacier of professional doom that was going to sink what was left of her reputation in one deadly crash.

“Over my dead body,” an elderly and very angry voice came from the front yard, followed by some shouting—and was that a police siren?

Abby was on her feet and, because it was
that
kind of shouting, grabbed the baseball bat that sat by the front door—a housewarming present from her sister-in-law Frankie—before walking out to the porch. The early August heat was sweltering and carried a sweetness from the nearby vineyards.

Growling with every step, Abby reached the edge of the porch, raised her hand, and squinted into the sun—and into the red and blue flashing lights speeding down the cul-de-sac right toward her house—swearing when she saw the only person who could stand between Abby and her freedom.

“Nonna?” she shouted. At least she tried to, but she didn’t think her voice could be heard over the revving of the tow truck or the blaring siren that died when the patrol car slowed to a stop. “What are you doing here?”

She raced down the steps, and then dropped the bat when she saw Deputy Baudouin climbing out of the cruiser. The last thing she needed was to involve herself in a brutality. That was when three frosted heads turned to look at her in surprise.

On the lawn, dressed in mourning black and the most elaborate bonnets known to man, stood Nonna ChiChi and her posse of two, Pricilla Moreau and Lucinda Baudouin. Mesh netting pulled low over their eyes, they were holding hands in what could only be called the ring-around-the-rosy position, looking ready to start belting out hymns.

“Got a call about an assault in progress,” Jonah said, hand firmly on his sidearm. Then he saw the three grannies holding hands around Richard and looked heavenward.

“Assault?” Rodney asked, sounding startled in the back of his tow truck. He had a greasy
RODNEY
’
S RECOVERY, REPOSSESSION & PARTY RENTALS
T-shirt stretched thin over his spare tire and a thick metal chain dangling from his hand. “I was minding my own business, trying to load up Richard like Mrs. Moretti . . . um, the lady who owns this statue, now asked me to, when that one,” he pointed to ChiChi, “said I was desecrating sacred ground. Then the one with the bad attitude assaulted me with her purse.”

All eyes went to Lucinda.

“He was trying to goose me,” Lucinda accused, her face looking as though she wasn’t as opposed to the idea as she was pretending. “I was just acting within my rights. Defending my temple.”

“Is that true?” Jonah asked, slowly moseying his way over, almost looking sorry for the guy. “Did you try to goose my aunt?”

“No, sir.” Rodney took off his hat, showing everyone his sincerity and big bald patch. “That was an accident. One that could have been avoided if she hadn’t cuffed herself to her lady friends and the statue.”

Abby stepped closer and sure enough, fuzzy pink handcuffs adorned all of their wrists—including Richard’s. “Are those real?”

“According to the nice young man who gave me a lap dance, they are,” Pricilla said, holding up her wrist. “See, it says one hundred percent certified Anaconda Steel, right here on the chain.”

“I think that’s the strip club’s motto,” ChiChi explained.

Pricilla’s round face puckered in confusion, then, as though understanding suddenly dawned, a bright red tint lit up her apple cheeks. “Oh, that’s what he meant.”

Jonah picked up her wrist and inspected the cuffs. “You got the key?”

All three ladies smiled, then shook their heads. Here Abby had been so sure her day couldn’t get any worse.

Jonah nodded, looking resigned, as though this was a normal day in his small-town life as a St. Helena deputy. “Well, then it looks like I’m going to have to cut them off.”

“What if we refuse?” Lucinda asked in a tone that had everyone taking a step back—except for the deputy. “You going to arrest us?”

Eyes on the cuffs, not the least bit intimidated, he said, “No, Aunt Luce, I’ll bring out the riot gear and hose you all down.”

Abby didn’t know if he was joking or serious, but either way it did the trick. The ladies actually looked nervous.

Jonah looked at Abby. “You want me to arrest them for trespassing?”

Abby felt a surge of guilt because that was exactly what she wanted. For Jonah to load up the grannies, then back over Richard with his squad car and make them all disappear so she could go back inside, eat the entire wine cake while watching highbrow reality television, and forget that today ever happened—that the past eight years had ever happened.

Then she realized that was what the old Abby would do, the old Abby who was a pushover and let people run her life, and gave in when things got hard. The new Abby, the one who was going to figure out a way to get a top-notch contractor and make Babs’s cheese shop a celebrated piece of modern design, looked ChiChi in the eye and said, “You know what? I’ll give you ladies five minutes to find those keys or I will let the deputy make that call.”

“Abigail Amelia DeLuca,” ChiChi chided, going heavy on the guilt, “what has gotten into you? Threatening to have your elders, your
grandmother
, arrested for spending quality time with her grandson-in-law.”

“It’s not a threat, Nonna. So I suggest you start looking for those keys and explain to me why you are here, cuffed to Richard, when you are supposed to be whipped creaming it up in Vegas.”

ChiChi tried to cross her arms sternly, which didn’t work so well since she was tethered to her coconspirators.

Jonah pressed his shoulder radio and asked for backup, and ChiChi decided to start talking.

“Last night we were at Anaconda, making some new friends, when Father Giuseppe called, asking if I knew my grandson-in-law was back, God rest his soul,” ChiChi said, somehow managing to make the sign of the cross, her friends’ arms being yanked in all directions. “So we caught the next flight home.”

“You came, you saw, now move aside, Chiara,” Nora said from over the fence. “Rodney is here to remove the illegal garden art, and time’s a wasting.”

“This is not an illegal anything,” ChiChi snapped. “And it is a fabulous rendering. A very, um,” ChiChi cleared her throat, “larger-than-life take on things.”

“Fabulous?” Abby had to ask, because her nonna had used many adjectives beginning with the letter F to describe Richard, and none of them had come anywhere near the word
fabulous
. “You refused to acknowledge Richard even on our wedding day, so you want to tell me what this is really about?”

Nora appeared from behind the fence, inching closer, camera poised, wanting to hear the truth from the source herself.

“It’s that Father Giuseppe,” ChiChi hissed, and Abby suddenly felt a thousand years old and fifteen again all at the same time. “He called last night saying we should respect Richard’s dying wish about the statue, that it’s the godly thing to do.”

Father Giuseppe had been running the local parish since before St. Helena got indoor plumbing. He was built like a mule, smelled like guilt, and, to ChiChi’s dismay, was half Italian and half Sicilian—which was why ChiChi claimed his word was only good when it was Italian, meaning every other day of the week and rotating Sundays.

“But yesterday was Saturday,” Abby pointed out, because if ChiChi was siding with a man of the cloth over the removal of Richard, Abby didn’t stand a chance. “You never listen to him on Saturday.”

“Which is why he waited until a minute past midnight to call, knowing it was his Italian day and I couldn’t say no. If you ask me, that was his Sicilian side calling. No God-fearing Italian would call a woman on her bachelorette party and interrupt a stage production of
Magic Mike: The Musical
.”

“Nonna,” Abby whispered, her heart so far up in her throat it made talking difficult, “I can’t keep him here.”

“Not forever, child,” ChiChi whispered, leaning in even closer, which had all of the neighbors, who were drawn to drama like flies to shit, pressing closer to catch what bit of gossip they could. “Just until Richard’s grandmother comes to pay her respects. She wants to see him in his chosen resting place.”

“Richard has a grandmother?” According to him, after his parents died, he had no family. Something that had resonated deeply with Abby, had drawn her to him. And right then she didn’t know what made her angrier—that he’d lied to her from the start or that she might just be stuck looking at his face for longer.