From the Moment We Met

by Adair, Marina

  “I called every supplier I know, and a panel running the kind of power we need doesn’t exist. At least not one made after Roosevelt took office,” Tanner said, shooting Ben his most threatening look over Abby’s head.

  Wisely, Ben focused on the bundles of wires scattered through the warehouse, which ran the length of the exposed brick walls. Tanner knew without him having to say, they were too outdated to run a laptop and hairdryer at the same time without starting a fire, let alone do what Tanner needed them to and pass inspection. Which meant they would all have to be ripped out and replaced.

  “I know a guy who makes custom boxes,” Gus said. “He takes the old panel then rebuilds it with all the new bells and whistles. I already gave him the specs on that old dinosaur over there.” He pointed with his cane, his posture a little straighter than it had been as of late. “He’s had some experience with that particular model. And he’s done a few projects for me over the years, so I know he does clean work and will charge a fair price.”

  “That’s great, Gus,” Abby said and—Jesus—was his old man preening? Then she aimed that four thousand watts of joy his way, and it appeared it was an affliction that affected all Tanner males. “Is he available to come down today?”

  “Yup.” Gus rocked back on his heels.

  He looked healthier than Tanner had seen him look in months too, which made Tanner feel better about his decision to bring Gus on. Originally, he’d done it to get his dad out of the house, let him feel useful again—in a place Tanner could keep tabs on him. But maybe this would work out after all. His dad was smiling, flushed with excitement, and, more shocking, they had been in the same space for most of the day and hadn’t argued even once.

  “Melvin said he can be here anytime after seven, but he’ll need help getting some stuff from his car.”

  “Melvin from your poker group? As in Melvin Schwartz?”

  Gus shrugged a thin shoulder.

  “Dad, Melvin doesn’t have a car, and his electrical skills as of, oh, the last decade, consist of building engines for his model plane collection.”

  “Which is why I lent him my truck. And before he retired, he wired things for Uncle Sam,” Gus said, and Tanner realized the only reason they hadn’t argued was because they’d been too busy working on different projects. “Before that he was in the CBs during Nam. And if he could figure out how to pipe in electricity to a jungle in the middle of a damn war zone, I think he can figure out how to keep cheese cold. Now, you hired me as your foreman. You going to let me do my job or keep nagging like an old hen?”

  Tanner wanted to point out Melvin was practically blind, hence the lack of a car, and he was only available after seven because that was when he could sneak out unseen by the nurses at his assisted living complex, but he kept his mouth shut. Because that could be construed as nagging—and Tanner was not a nagger.

  Then he started thinking about how he’d been since Gus moved into his place, and sighed. Shit, he was a nagger. He was also man enough to admit that, sight impaired or not, Melvin had a way with wires and could save their collective asses. Except for one glaring issue.

  “Melvin’s state license expired when I was in high school.”

  Gus obviously didn’t see a problem with that, since he started harrumphing and huffing as though gearing up for an argument, which Tanner knew would be epic. Well, too bad. Tantrum or not, Tanner was the GC, his word was final, and his dad would do best to remember that.

  Something Tanner opened his mouth to relay when Abby shot him a look, then placing a hand on his dad’s shoulder, she said, all smiles, “Gus, that is a great idea about going custom. And you’re right, it would answer all of our problems.”

  And wouldn't you know it, the man was back to preening. Abby, with all of her five foot nothing of sweetness, was acknowledging his old man while taking a firm stance. Something Tanner hadn’t managed to accomplish in a really long time.

  Eyes still on Gus, as though genuinely interested in his opinion, she said, “I worked with this guy who finished installing all of the coolers for Ryo Wines last year. He actually retrofitted the old storage facility that came with the building with solar. Do you think he could handle customizing the electrical panel?”

  Gus scratched his head and Tanner found himself doing the same thing. “How old was the original building?” Gus asked.

  “Built in the twenties.”

  “Sounds pretty creative to me. I say he’d be a fit.”

  “If I got you his number, would you want to give him a call and feel him out before you pass it along to Tanner?”

  “I can do that,” Gus said, man with a mission.

  “Great.” Abby turned and smiled sweetly up at Tanner, and he felt all of his earlier frustration fade. She wasn’t just giving his dad a way to salvage his pride, she was giving Tanner an out.

  He wanted to lean down and kiss her, or at least say thank you. But everyone was watching, so he asked, “Any word from Eddie?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged, and a few of those curls she tried so hard to manage slipped free from her clip and framed her pretty face. “I’ll call him while you guys finish up. And thanks, Gus, for thinking of going custom.”

  Abby rummaged through her purse, grabbed her phone, and—bingo—like a moth to the flame, Tanner zeroed in on her ass until she disappeared into what was to become the new office. So did Ben—until Tanner punched him in the arm.

  “What was that for?” Ben said. “You were looking too.” Tanner leveled Ben with a look that had his eyes bulging. “Oh . . .”

  “Right, oh.” When he was good and convinced Ben got the point, he turned to Gus, who was already heading toward the electrical panel, taking measurements and making notes.

  Two seconds later, the office door swung open and out walked Abby. She handed Gus a piece of paper. “His name is Carlos. Just tell him I sent you. If you need me, call my cell. I’ve got to see a guy about a cheese shop.”

  Frown firmly in place, she bent over to grab her purse and, look at that, Tanner had his answer. Ass, boobs, legs. Didn’t matter. Tanner was a confirmed Abby man.

  Which was why when he saw her heading toward the parking lot, Mary Poppins bag in hand, hips swishing with purpose well before the quitting time, he turned to Gus. “Ray should almost be done pressure testing the plumbing system. When he’s finished, can you call Carlos?”

  To that Gus only raised a brow and Tanner went for casual, as though Abby wasn’t already halfway to the door. “If he can come out tonight, that would be great. If not, we need him here as soon as—” out the door she went, “Jesus, can you handle it or not?”

  “Yup. Was just waiting for you to finish flapping your gums.”

  “Be back in two.” According to Abby’s rules, Tanner couldn’t officially blow her whistle until five, which meant he needed to make sure she was coming back. He saw her walk past the window, fiddling with her top, and he knew exactly where she was going. Despite Eddie not answering, it seemed she was planning a pop-in.

  “Make that an hour,” he said over his shoulder, already fishing his phone out of his pocket and dialing Eddie. Halfway through the first ring the guy answered.

  “What a surprise, I was just getting ready to call you,” Eddie said, his tone dialed to kiss ass, and Tanner had to suppress the urge to hang up. He knew Eddie had just sent Abby to voice mail. “I was in the office when your paperwork for the cave you’re putting in on the DeLuca property came in. I pulled a few strings and had them push it through for you, so you can come by the planning department anytime after tomorrow and pick up the permits to start drilling.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Tanner said. He wasn’t going to be able to start drilling until the equipment was delivered. And before that could happen they needed to pour the foundation for the staging area.

  “Hey, no problem,” Eddie went on as Tanner cu
t through the bottlery, taking the rear entrance to make up time. “That was some game last week. I still can’t believe the Seahawks won. I was telling my brother-in-law, who’s up with his wife visiting from Wisconsin, that if you were still playing we’d have had that in the bag. I mean, the fumble that happened at the end of the fourth would have never happened with you playing.”

  “It was just a preseason game,” Tanner felt the need to point out. “They’re still feeling each other out, but they’ll come back.”

  “That’s what I told my brother-in-law you’d say.”

  He could hear the man self-fiving himself through the phone. Tanner would bet he told his brother-in-law a hell of a lot more than he was letting on. Most of it was probably BS. Which was why Tanner had no problem doing what he did next.

  “Well, thanks, man. And for having my back I have two seats for next week’s game against the Packers. Fifty yard line. They’re yours if you want.”

  “Are you serious?” Eddie’s voice exploded through the phone.

  “Yeah, I can’t use them. Plus, you can take your brother-in-law if he’s still in town, show him what the Niners are all about. Have a few drinks on me.” He pushed through the door and scanned the lot. He didn’t see Abby or her car. He doubled back to check the front lot. “I can give them to you when you do the plumbing and electrical inspection on the Hampton project out at the old bottlery.”

  “You’re working on the cheese shop for Babs?”

  “Just signed on.” When he was absolutely sure he’d missed Abby, he kicked the curb. “I can give them to you—oh, wait, I have to have them Express Mailed to me. When do you come out for the inspection?”

  “Tomorrow,” Eddie said. “But I was thinking of moving it to Friday, if that works better for you.”

  What worked for Tanner was not having to talk to the tool while his date sped off.

  “You know what, that’s a great idea, Eddie. Pencil me in for Friday so I can give you the tickets.”

  For five freaking minutes Tanner fielded questions about who he thought had a shot at the Super Bowl, what he would have done differently if that had been him last week, and if the Niners were going to pull out a win this weekend against the Packers. And if Tanner wasn’t already sitting on the curb, he would have asked the guy if he wanted him to bend over so Eddie could apply his lips directly to Tanner’s ass.

  Then finally, finally, when Tanner ended the call, he felt that familiar sense of frustration rise. Sure, he’d missed out on seeing Abby off and sure, he’d just bribed a city official with his name—two things that pissed him off. But what had his head pounding and his chest struggling to relax was that maybe Colin had been right.

  Maybe all of his success in town had more to do with his being a celebrity than his being good at what he did. Tanner had always assumed it had a little to do with both, but that in the end, it was about the relationships he’d made and the hard work he’d put in.

  “Thanks, you saved me a trip,” Abby said, taking a seat next to him. “I figured he was avoiding my calls so I was going to stop by. Surprise him.”

  He sent her a sidelong look. “He would have just had Roz tell you he was out.”

  “But you knew he’d answer if you called?”

  Tanner shrugged.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I thought you left.”

  “I did, then I realized I forgot my swatches for my meeting with Babs later. But I heard you laughing and it was the same kind of laugh you gave when my brothers were threatening to kick your ass, so I wanted to make sure they weren’t paying you another visit.”

  At that he laughed, and this time it was real. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a pretty big guy.” To prove it he held his hand out, palm down. “Your brothers aren’t even tall enough to reach my face.”

  Marc was, but Tanner could totally take him.

  Then Abby did something that had his chest tightening even further. She laced her tiny fingers through his and squeezed. “I wasn’t afraid for your face, Jack. I was afraid they’d say something to hurt your feelings.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Abs. My delicate man feelings are intact.”

  Although he was afraid his heart no longer was. Not after that one sentence. Not after the way she’d said it—as if he was important to her. As if his happiness was important to her. Not because she needed something from him, but because she wanted to make sure he was okay. Make sure he knew that he meant something to her.

  Tanner was on the cusp of having everything he’d always wanted, and while that had something catching high in his chest, it also scared the shit out of him.

  CHAPTER 12

  An hour and a half later, Abby stood in the back room of Valley Textiles, staring at the gold-leafed tile sample Babs placed on the counter and hoping to God the woman was joking. Out of the thousands of tiles to choose from, the woman had picked the most expensive and obnoxious tile available. Not to mention it was a special order—which meant extra ship time.

  “It’s just so bright and happy,” Babs said, flipping through the fabric catalogue as though they hadn’t already exhausted it an hour ago. “Everyone needs more happy in their day, right? Happy people make happy customers.”

  Normally Abby would entertain the idea, try to figure out a way to incorporate a tile more fitted toward Her Royal Highness’s loo than a cheese and wine tasting room with the already agreed-upon rustic earthy pallet. But today her patience was in limited supply.

  Maybe it had something to do with Babs’s suggestion to paint over the nineteenth-century handcrafted bricks that covered the Roman cross-vault ceiling. Or how their ten-minute “finalize the order” meeting had turned into Babs selecting a whole new creative direction based on the excitement level in The Duke’s eyes.

  Either way, Abby needed to get this design train back on track before they ended up with a Liberace-inspired cheese shop.

  “I really think we should stick with the reclaimed limestone in the original designs,” Abby said, keeping a watchful eye on the way The Duke inched closer every time she shot down one of Babs’s ridiculous suggestions. When she explained that replacing the factory windows with stained glass ones altered the historical integrity of the building, Abby thought she was going to lose a hand. “It pairs so beautifully with the distressed brick walls and the hammered steel countertops Tanner is making out of the old steel doors.”

  Babs flapped her hand as though unconcerned with how changing direction this far into the game could affect the timeline. “We can always change the countertops. In fact, I love the idea of maybe using dark wood, like the whole counter is one big cutting board. Very Western style, so it could match the barstools, which I think will be the pièce de résistance of the room.”

  Only if that room were a saloon in the Wild West, Abby thought as she looked at the picture of barstools Babs had been clutching to her chest all afternoon.

  “Is that goat hide?”

  “Yes, aren’t they lovely? I found them on this website last night and just knew they’d be perfect. You know, cheese shop . . . goat hide . . . get it?”

  Oh, Abby got it. Just like she got that, if left to Babs’s whims, the Pungent Barrel would be boycotted by every animal activist group on the planet. Because they weren’t just goat-hide-covered seats; the feet of the barstools looked to be made of hooves. “You don’t think eating on the carcass of the animal that provided the food might ruin people’s appetite?”

  Babs actually had the gall to look horrified, as though Abby were the insensitive one. The Duke just bared his teeth.

  “I think people will find it a fun play on cheese shop couture.”

  “Well,” Abby said, relieved to see the fine print. “It says here all stools are handcrafted at time of order, and due to flux in herd size”—gross—“to expect four to six months delivery.
”

  “What’s a few more months when the goal is perfection?” Babs said with dramatic flair.

  Abby took a breath. If she could get Babs to stick with the original plan, they could be open next month. She was sure of it.

  “It’s a goal we can accomplish in a fraction of the time by sticking to the original designs. But I like this idea of the goatskin,” she added.

  Babs blanched a little. “You do?”

  No, not really. And suddenly, Abby wasn’t so sure Babs did either. Which made no sense.

  “What if we ordered one for the shop office?” Abby ventured. “We could even get a few of the gold tiles and use them as the top for the shop desk. Maybe even go a little flashier with the hardware. That way you get everything you want and we still stay on schedule. Because in the end, that’s why you hired me, right? To keep this project on budget and on schedule?”

  Babs nodded, but didn’t look convinced. Her eyes scanned all of the tiles and swatches and yards and yards of fabric bolts. Then she picked up the packet of samples Abby had compiled for the proposal and thumbed through them—yet again. It was as if the woman would rather stand there for the next year exploring possibilities than make a decision.

  “You want this to be an elegant shop that people come from all over to visit, then talk about. And I want to give that to you,” Abby said with so much confidence even she believed herself. “With these designs, I can.”

  “I don’t know,” Babs said, her eyes big with uncertainty and maybe a little touch of sadness. And for the first time since she’d taken this job, Abby noticed how lost the woman appeared. “Maybe we should wait until Ferris sees these. I took pictures of the samples and your preliminary designs, even figured out how to send them to him via that interweb, but he hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

  A small knot of panic settled low in her belly at the word preliminary. As far as Abby was concerned, those designs were final. “Does Ferris usually weigh in on these kinds of things?”

  “No,” Babs said, her apricot halo bouncing with each shake of the head. “But my Leroy used to sit for hours with me, making sure every decision was right. This is the first project I’m doing without him.”