Building Dreams. Ginna Gray
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Dad and Uncle Reilly own this company called R and R Construction an’ Dad says that dealing with bureaucrats is a real pain in the bu—” Flushing, Mike ducked his head. “Uh…that is…being a builder is a real headache,” he mumbled into his chest.
Tess fought back the urge to laugh. “I’m sure it is,” she agreed with a straight face, then tactfully changed the subject. Within minutes she had Mike chattering away once more, telling them all about his baseball team and their chances of making the play-offs.
By the time they had eaten, it was getting late. There was still a lot left to do, but their number one priority was to set up Tess’s bed. They had just completed that task when heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs outside, followed by a door closing.
“That’s Dad,” Mike announced. “I hate to leave you with so much left to do, but I’d better go. I’ll be back tomorrow, though, to help you get things straightened up.”
Tess thanked him profusely, making him blush again, but he looked pleased. When he had gone, Amanda gave Tess a sly look.
“Well, well, well.”
“Well, what?”
“I think that boy has a crush on you, that’s what. At the risk of sounding immodest, I’m somewhat of a local celebrity. Usually people get all flustered and excited around me, especially males, but Mike barely paid me any notice all day…except, of course, to ask questions about you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Amanda.”
“C’mon. You’ve got to admit, he’s been practically tripping over his feet all day, fetching and carrying for you.”
“That doesn’t mean he has a crush on me, for heaven’s sake. I think he’s just looking for a mother substitute.”
“Mmm. You may be right. If so, his instincts are good. They don’t come any more maternal and nurturing than you.”
The two friends sat in silence, slouched on the sofa, their napes resting against the top edge of the back, feet outstretched. After a while Amanda chuckled. “Right now Mike’s all knees and elbows and big feet, but give him a few years, put a few pounds on those bones, and he’s going to be drop-dead gorgeous. Exactly like his father.”
“His father? I thought you didn’t like Ryan McCall.”
“I didn’t say that, exactly. Anyway, so what? I may find his personality grating, but I’m not blind. I mean, just look at the man—tall and broad-shouldered, black hair, blue eyes, chiseled features. He probably has to fight the women off with a stick.”
“If you think he’s so handsome then why were you so short with his brother? They look just alike.”
Amanda snorted and shot her friend a sidelong look that reeked disgust. “That lightweight? Forget it. Reilly McCall is nothing but a glib-talking skirt-chaser who coasts through life on looks and charm. I’ve seen his type before and take my word for it, he’ll never amount to a thing. I don’t waste my time with men like that.
“Now his brother, on the other hand, is serious and dependable. Those qualities, combined with good looks are much more appealing. I bet even his abrasive attitude probably draws more women than it repels. Personally, the brooding angry man type doesn’t do a thing for me, but a lot of women can’t resist a challenge—the more standoffish a man is, the more they want him.
“Of the two, Mike’s father is by far the better prospect.” Amanda rolled her head on the sofa back and smiled at Tess. “And just think, you’ve got the inside track, living right next door, you lucky devil.”
“Me? Amanda, for heaven’s sake! I’m hardly in the market for a man. I’ve been a widow for barely seven months. Besides, I’m expecting a child, remember? A handsome hunk isn’t going to look twice at a woman who resembles a pumpkin with legs.”
“Maybe,” Amanda conceded in her laconic way. “But grief eventually fades and life goes on.” She rolled her head on the sofa back again and sent Tess a slow, wicked smile. “And you, my friend, won’t always be pregnant.”
Chapter Two
“Well? What do you think? Do we stand a chance?” Reilly shot his brother a hopeful look. The two men strode side by side through the lobby of Texas Fidelity Bank, heading for the exit.
“Maybe. Houston’s economy has picked up some, but things are still tight,” Ryan replied. “It could go either way.”
“So all we can do is wait, huh?” Reilly grinned and winked at a pretty blond teller. Despite the serious nature of their conversation, he was aware of the feminine sighs and dreamy stares that followed their progress.
So was Ryan, but, as always, he ignored them.
The women’s interest was understandable; the McCall brothers were an impressive sight. Except for subtle, almost undetectable differences, the two men were identical. Tall and broad-shouldered, they had the same ruggedly handsome features and both had the fit, muscular build of a man whose job involved physical labor. Each man’s thick hair had the glossy blue-black sheen of a raven’s wing, and long hours spent out-of-doors had tanned their skin to a deep bronze, creating a startling contrast to vivid blue eyes.
For the meeting with the bank’s loan officer both brothers had worn dark blue suits. There, however, the similarities ended. Ryan’s white shirt and diagonally striped navy and wine tie were conservative and sober, but Reilly sported a shirt the exact color of his eyes and a tie in multihued splotches of red, yellow and blue that looked as though it had been created by a berserk artist.
“That’s about all we can do,” Ryan acknowledged. “Wait and see if our loan application is approved.”
“I’m not worried. We’ll get the money. We’ve dealt with Larry Awkland before. He knows we have a reputation as first-class developers.”
“He also knows we damned near went under when the bottom fell out of the economy.”
“But we didn’t. That’s my point. While other construction firms were going belly up, we hung on.”
“Yeah. By our fingernails.” Ryan pushed open the plate glass doors and they stepped outside. The humidity and blistering June heat hit them like a suffocating wet blanket. “Awkland knows that, too. Anyway, it takes more than reputation to swing a loan these days.”
“So? That’s a prime piece of property we’re offering as collateral. If we get that interim loan we’ll develop it into a first-class preplanned neighborhood with all the amenities.”
Ryan’s Jeep Cherokee was parked around the corner from the bank. As he stepped around to the driver’s side to unlock it he looked over the hood at his brother.
“That’s true. But whether or not the bank feels there’s a need in Houston right now for another community of upper priced homes is something else again.”
“Aw, you worry too much, Hoss,” Reilly chided with a grin, climbing into the vehicle. “We’ll be breaking ground on this project within two weeks. You just watch.”
Ryan grunted, and his brother gave him a playful sock on the arm. “Loosen up, man. It doesn’t do any good to worry. I want this project to go as much as you do. But hey! If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. One way or another, we’ll get by. We always do.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Ryan conceded, and pulled out into the traffic.
Though at times his twin could be exasperating, Ryan envied his easygoing nature. Reilly took life as it came and rolled with the punches, always bouncing back with a grin. Nothing bothered him for long, nothing worried him, nothing—or at least very little—roused him to anger. Reilly, like their younger brother Travis, was blessed with a sunny disposition and an eternally optimistic outlook. It was Ryan and their baby sister Meghan who