One Good Reason

by Sarah Mayberry

  Still, it would give him a chance to apologize to her again without the risk of the guys overhearing. He’d get it out of the way, then he and Gabby could go back to pistols at ten paces or whatever it was they did whenever they were in the same room.

  He locked his truck and strode to the entrance. He pressed the doorbell that had been provided for after-hours visitors and waited. When no one came after a couple of minutes, he knocked and tried the bell again.

  A few seconds later the workshop door swung open and Gabby walked through. The good-natured smile on her face faded when she recognized him through the glass. His gaze took in first her T-shirt, then her baggy combat fatigues and finally her chunky punk rocker boots as she strode toward him. Lastly, he focused on her hair, which had been parted to one side and gelled into a shiny brown helmet of asexual hair.

  She unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Exactly how long do you think it takes to walk from the back room to the front door?”

  His gaze dipped to the image of k.d. lang printed across her chest. “Nice T-shirt.”

  He wasn’t stupid—he knew a challenge when he saw one—and he couldn’t hide the smile curving his lips a moment longer.

  “What’s so funny?”

  He patted her on the shoulder as he moved past her. “I’m flattered you went to so much trouble for me. I didn’t realize you cared.”

  He heard her quick intake of breath.

  “Please. I know you think you’re the center of the universe and God’s gift to women, but you’re not the center of my world, Jon Adamson. Maybe it’s time to get over yourself.”

  He waited while she finished her little speech. Then he grabbed the price tag that was still dangling from her collar, tugging it free.

  “Must have been hard to find that T-shirt on such short notice. Like I said, it’s nice to know you care.”

  He dropped the tag into her hand. He’d delivered the perfect exit line and the script called for him to walk away now. But he couldn’t resist hanging around to see her reaction. Maybe it made him a little twisted, but he was starting to enjoy these sparring sessions.

  She looked at the tag in her hand, then slowly raised her gaze to his. He was all set to savor his victory, but she shifted slightly and a shaft of sunlight hit her face, catching her eyes and glinting off the earrings that Tyler and Ally had given her. He blinked.

  Ally was way off base—Gabby’s eyes were far richer than the gemstones sparkling at her ears. He didn’t even have a name for the warm golden tone of her irises. Cognac? Honey? Amber? None of them seemed adequate. Set off by long, dark lashes, they were hands down, no questions asked, the most arresting, beautiful eyes he’d ever gazed into. No mineral composite dug out of the ground was ever going to do them justice.

  The silence stretched between them. Jon realized he was staring, but couldn’t make himself stop.

  “I suppose you think you’re pretty clever,” she said.

  “No.”

  For the life of him he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Then she stepped out of the sunlight and his brain came back online.

  “I want to apologize,” he said. “For last night. For the whole gay/lesbian thing.”

  Her mouth tightened. “You already said sorry. It was a misunderstanding. I get it.”

  He looked at k.d. lang again. “Do you?”

  She pulled her keys from the lock and dropped them into the pocket of her baggy pants.

  “You done? Because I’ve got work to do.” She turned on her heel. He grabbed her elbow. She stilled, then narrowed those incredible eyes.

  How had he not noticed them before? He must have been blind.

  “I really am sorry, Gabby. I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but I didn’t mean to embarrass or hurt you last night.”

  He felt her stiffen. She shook off his hand.

  “I wasn’t embarrassed. And you certainly didn’t hurt me. I barely know you. Why would I care what you think of me?”

  She was so damned prickly. He bet the word gracious wasn’t even in her vocabulary.

  “You know, I have no idea. Just like I have no idea why I even bothered to apologize again. You go ahead and enjoy your indignation. I’m sure it’s very satisfying.” He walked away from her.

  “Fine. I accept your apology,” she called after him.

  “Good. Great.” He pushed through the swinging door with more verve than strictly necessary.

  The door swung sharply back, cutting off anything she might have been about to say. He stood in the silent workshop for a long beat, trying to rein in his temper.

  What was it about her that pissed him off so much? Even when he tried to be nice they wound up fighting. She took everything he said the wrong way, even his apologies.

  He simply didn’t get it.

  The door opened and Gabby entered. She didn’t look at him as she marched toward her office. He watched her straight spine, then he shrugged.

  So what if she didn’t like him? He wasn’t one of those people who had to have everyone love him. He was a big boy. He could live with her animosity. It wasn’t as though it was forever, after all. A few months from now, he’d be somewhere else and she’d be nothing but a fading memory, notable only for her defensiveness and fantastic eyes.

  He turned his back on her. He had work to do.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GABBY FELT LIKE AN IDIOT. She’d been so determined to show Jon that she didn’t give two hoots what he thought of her. Then she’d put so much time and energy into dressing to meet his mistaken assumptions that she’d done the exact opposite. She might as well have stuck with the miniskirt and stilettos.

  She glanced at the k.d. lang T-shirt. She’d had to drive twenty minutes out of her way to pick it up this morning before coming to work. Just so she could thumb her nose at Tyler’s brother.

  God, she was dumb.

  But that was fairly well established after last night’s self-revelation.

  What had she said to him? I barely know you. Why would I care what you think of me?

  It should have been true. She wished it was. But she had only to look in the mirror to know what a big fat lie it was. She’d spent hours this morning caring about what Jon thought of her. And for the life of her she didn’t understand why.

  The beginning of a headache pulsed behind her left eyebrow. She pulled her in-tray close and grabbed a stack of invoices. She needed to stop gnawing on this stuff. It was doing her head in—literally.

  It took some serious willpower, but gradually she lost herself in her work. The rest of the team straggled in, until finally she heard Tyler’s deep voice as he called out a greeting to the crew.

  Her stomach tensed and she put down her pen.

  Any minute now he would stick his head through the door and say hello. A dart of panic raced up her spine.

  Relax. It’s a day like any other. He’ll say hi, and you’ll say hi back, and the world will keep spinning. The same as it did yesterday, the same as it will tomorrow.

  The only difference was, yesterday she hadn’t acknowledged that she was still in love with Tyler. Seeing him this morning, looking into his face with all those feelings of grief and rejection so close to the surface… It was going to be hard. Damned hard.

  “Morning, Gab. Anything I need to know about?” Tyler asked from the doorway.

  She took a moment to compose herself before facing him. Tyler must never know how she felt. Ever.

  “All good here, chief,” she said, a bright smile on her face.

  “Bloody hell. What have you done to your hair?”

  She blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “It looks like a helmet. Or that snap-on plastic hair they have for Lego figurines,” Tyler said, moving closer to get a better look.

  For a moment she didn’t know what he was talking about, then she remembered she’d pulled out all the stops for Jon this morning, including gluing her hair down with gel and creating a ruthlessly straight side part.
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  “Is that hair gel?” Tyler asked.

  “I’m trying something different.”

  “Like what? Sculptural hair? I could carve this stuff.” He tapped her hair experimentally.

  Gabby pushed her chair back out of his reach. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you have no idea how rude you’re being right now.”

  If this were truly a new look she was experimenting with, she would be utterly crushed by his reaction. As it was, she was mildly offended. It didn’t look that bad. In fact, before she’d scrubbed off her makeup this morning she’d thought she looked a bit like one of the models in that Robert Palmer “Addicted to Love” video.

  “Sorry. It’s just— I guess you took me by surprise.”

  “Next time I try something different I’ll make sure to run it past you in advance.”

  Tyler wisely shifted the subject to a work matter. They talked for a few more minutes, then he gave her hair one last bemused look before heading for the kitchen to make his coffee.

  She kneaded her forehead with her fingers after he’d left, painfully aware that the conversation was the sort of exchange a brother might have with his kid sister. Vaguely insulting and comfortably familiar. If ever there had been any doubt in her mind about where she stood in his life—and there wasn’t—that conversation would have killed it stone dead.

  She was Tyler’s friend. No doubt if Ally had come along sooner in his life that was all she would ever have been.

  The phone rang, providing a welcome circuit breaker for her thoughts. It was only as she was reaching for the receiver that it hit her that despite having known her for only three days, Jon had taken one look at her this morning and understood exactly why she was dressed like a drag king. Not so Tyler, who had known her for years.

  She wasn’t sure what the realization meant, but like everything to do with Jon, it made her uneasy.

  AFTER TYLER’S REACTION, SHE should have known the rest of the crew wouldn’t be able to resist offering their unsolicited opinions on her new hairstyle. By midmorning she’d pretty much resigned herself to a day of taking it on the chin. Every time she passed through the shop they hit her with another question. Dino wanted to know when she’d joined the army. Paul asked if they should call her Gabe from now on. Kelly kept calling her Che and asking when the revolution would begin.

  They were her friends and they were funny and she couldn’t help but laugh, even though she was acutely aware of Jon taking it all in, his dark gray eyes not giving anything away as usual. She wondered idly if he’d had to practice to perfect that opaque, emotionless expression. Maybe he’d taken the Sphinx as his model. Or one of those impassive stone heads on Easter Island.

  It was pie day at the local pub on Wednesdays—a favorite with the boys—and Dino ducked into her office before lunch to persuade her to join them.

  “Can’t this week, sorry. Gotta get this stuff into the mail or we’ll miss another billing cycle,” she said, gesturing toward the pile of invoices on her desk. Getting their clients to pay in a timely manner was the bane of her existence.

  “I’ll have two pies, in solidarity,” Dino promised.

  “You’re a trouper. I’m touched.”

  The workshop was silent when she exited her office in search of a stray invoice a short while later. As usual, there were several pieces in production, each at various stages of completion. A still-rough dining table in spotted gum. A hall table in plantation mahogany. A sideboard in rich red gum. But it was the small, delicate drum table sitting in the corner that drew her eye. She veered off course to inspect it.

  Made from aged French oak, it was one of Tyler’s new designs, based on a client brief. The legs were curved and sensuous, the top simple but beautiful, the clean design allowing the grain of the wood to take center stage. She rested a hand on the smooth surface, unable to keep the smile from her face. She had zero creative ability herself, but she could appreciate it in others and she’d always admired Tyler’s ability to coax the best from a piece of wood.

  “Pretty sexy, isn’t it?”

  She glanced over her shoulder as Tyler approached. “It’s beautiful. The Lintons are going to be over the moon.”

  “They should be. Jon’s put in a lot of hours making this design work.”

  Gabby couldn’t hide her surprise. “Jon did this? I thought he was just a builder?”

  “Nothing just about any of Jon’s stuff. He and his partner in Canada built artisan houses, one-offs for people who could afford to pay for the best. Some of their places would blow your mind.”

  Tyler crouched and inspected the legs more closely. “I thought I was going to have to go back to the drawing board on this one. Once Jon started on the legs he realized there was no support at the stress point. I was ready to scrap the whole thing and start again, but Jon was sure he could do something. He used three interlocking dowels here to support the join. Managed to hide it, too. Pretty clever, huh?”

  Tyler touched the point where the three legs intertwined in a seamless join. Gabby found herself crouching beside him to inspect it. As Tyler had noted, it was smooth and flawless, the work of a master. “Yeah. Clever.”

  Tyler pushed to his feet. “With a bit of luck he’ll hang around for a while. I could use his help with all those designs we’ll be prototyping for the new collection.”

  Gabby was slower getting to her feet. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I’m doing payroll this afternoon. You didn’t mention how you want me to handle Jon’s wages…?”

  “Right.”

  She remembered his reticence on the subject when he’d first announced Jon was joining the business.

  “Look, if you want to handle it yourself, that’s fine. I’ll email the payroll file to you.”

  Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’s probably not necessary, since Jon is still refusing to take a wage.”

  “What?”

  But she knew she’d heard correctly.

  “I argued until I was blue in the face, but it was the only way he’d take the job.”

  Gabby flashed to the self-righteous little speech she’d delivered after the incident with the blonde in the showroom. You’re the one who’s taking advantage of Tyler.

  She closed her eyes briefly. “I wish you’d told me this earlier.”

  “Jon’s a private guy.”

  “You know he was here at seven-thirty this morning? And that he’ll probably be the last to leave tonight?”

  Tyler gestured impatiently. “What can I do? Shove the money down his throat? As far as I’m concerned, it’s enough that he’s here. The rest can wait.”

  There was an undercurrent to his words, a frustrated determination. He wanted his brother here, in Melbourne. Close.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what was really going on, but she swallowed the question. It wasn’t only because she suspected Tyler would be reluctant to answer. She’d seen the way Jon held himself apart, the way he watched the world from behind those eyes. It might seem odd given the tenor of their relationship, but it felt disrespectful to be digging into his personal business behind his back.

  “It could get awkward if the other guys find out about this,” she said.

  “Let’s worry about it when it happens.”

  Gabby studied Tyler a moment. “If he stays longer than a few weeks, you have to revisit this. You know that, right?”

  “You sound like Ally.”

  “Which means we’re both right.”

  “I wouldn’t get too hot and bothered about it. He probably won’t hang around long enough for it to be a problem.”

  Gabby was unsettled as she returned to her office. It had all been much simpler when she thought she knew exactly who and what Jon was—before she knew he had it in him to apologize and that he was working for free and that he could bring beauty into the world with his clever hands.

  Much, much simpler.

  JON STAYED PAST QUITTING TIME again that night. H
e was working on another prototype for Tyler, but Dino was also waiting on the drawers for a partners desk and he didn’t want to let either man down. He had no idea what time it was when he decided he’d done enough for the day and switched off the sander. He brushed the sawdust from his forearms and pulled his phone from his back pocket to check the time. Nearly eight. Right on cue, his stomach rumbled.

  He glanced toward Gabby’s office. Sure enough, the light was still on. No surprises there—it probably would have killed her to leave without fully briefing him on the alarm system again and giving him a hard time of some description.

  He swept the floor and put away tools, and only when he’d run out of things to do did he approach Gabby’s office. She wasn’t behind her desk, however, and he went in search of her. Light spilling from the open doorway of a room at the rear of the building drew his attention. He stopped when he reached the threshold, frowning at the sight of Gabby on a tall ladder, burrowing through an archive box that was balanced at the very top of a long metal shelving unit. The remaining walls in the small room were lined with similar shelves, all of them loaded with filing boxes and folders.

  “That must be some pretty urgent paperwork you’re after,” he said.

  She started, clutching the side of the ladder to prevent herself from falling.

  He stepped forward. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I’m fine. And you didn’t scare me. You just took me by surprise.”

  “There’s a difference?” he asked, reaching out to brace the ladder.

  She twisted to look down at him.

  “Yes.” She frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Steadying the ladder.”

  “It’s not going anywhere.”

  “Now it isn’t.”

  She sighed heavily. “This is one of those male chivalry things, right? Like opening car doors?”

  “You have a problem with me making sure your ladder doesn’t overbalance?”

  “I’ve climbed this hundreds of times. It’s not going to overbalance. So if you wouldn’t mind…” She waved him away with an imperious shooing motion.