From the Moment We Met (6 page)

“Oh, boy,” Lexi said, shooting Frankie a look. “I think we need chocolate.”

“Lots of chocolate,” Abby clarified, because hearing about her brothers’ sex lives didn’t even make the list today. And if she was going to get through her rapidly spiraling life, she’d need more than a pat on the back and a bouquet of helium-filled condoms.

Everyone crammed into the booth, and over a piece of Death by Chocolate cake, which came with three forks, a mountain of whipped cream, and hot fudge, Abby explained everything about the day from the statue to the doggie habitat, and when she was done, collapsed back against the bench, emotionally spent.

“Three years?” Frankie asked, forking off a bite. “How the hell did it take you three years to find out he’s dead?”

Abby shrugged. “He was using a different name.”

“Wow.” Lexi put her bite down and pulled Abby into her arms. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us,” Abby said, frustrated that a little tear escaped. “I think I’m angrier at him now than I was when he left. I mean, who commissions a statue to be delivered to his estranged wife just in case he dies first?”

Lexi pulled back, her eyes wide as an owl’s. “He meant for it to arrive today?”

Abby nodded. “If Richard was no longer alive, his lawyers were instructed to have it delivered on the day the divorce became official. And that was today. Lucky me.”

“And what would have happened if you’d never filed for divorce?”

“Then it would have arrived on our twenty-fifth anniversary.” Such a Richard move. He had always tried to control her life, always had to have the final word, and for years she had allowed him to. But she was done with a capital D.

“Isn’t that kind of morbid?” Frankie asked. “Planning how to stick it to you even after he died? He wasn’t even that old.”

Nope, but he was that egotistical. “Richard always needed to make sure he won, and he did, so point to him, because technically I’m his widow.”

Information that would make her Nonna ChiChi extremely pleased. A widowed Catholic was far more respectable than a divorced one. Even if her husband had broken every marital vow known to man—and a few against nature.

“Does that mean I can lose the hat?” Frankie asked, yanking the
DIVORCÉES DO IT BETTER
tiara off her head. “It clashes with my dress.” Which was leather, black, and as badass as the owner.

Lexi shot Frankie a look, then sent a very different kind of look Abby’s way. One that left Abby squirming in her seat. “Well, of course you are. The accident would have happened before you filed.”

“Yeah, well, about that.” Abby let out a breath, but it didn’t help. She had broken a promise to her best friend, then lied about it. Not intentionally, but in the end that was what it would look like. Because, last summer, tired of being played by cheating bastards who posed as husbands, Abby and Lexi both set out to take back their lives and made a binding pact. Lexi vowed she wouldn’t let her messy divorce stop her from opening her dream eatery, and Abby promised to file for divorce. Which she had.

She also may have, in a Tony Robbins–inspired moment, promised to go out on a date—with one sexy hammer for hire. But she didn’t want to think about that. Not when she was still married to her deceased husband and having more-than-inspiring fantasies about Jack Tanner and his tool belt.

God, what a mess.

“Remember how I filed last October?”

“I do. I went down to the courthouse with you,” Lexi said in a tone that had Abby studying the wood grain in the tabletop.

Abby didn’t do disappointment well, which was why she’d rather flee town than let someone down. Especially when that someone was family.

“Well, I got a notice back in November that there was some kind of mix-up. So, I, uh—”

Panicked. Freaked out. Took it as some sign I was making a colossal mistake.

“—waited to refile.”

Lexi’s eyes went wide. “You waited?”

“Until right before I left for Italy.” Which was in February, right after Valentine’s Day, and right after she’d realized there was someone she actually wanted to spend the most romantic night of the year with—but couldn’t because she was still married. Not that it would have mattered. According to Facebook, Tanner had shown up with a pretty blonde on his arm.

“I was wondering what was taking so long, but didn’t want to bug you.” Lexi went so quiet Abby felt it in her bones. “Why did you wait?”

Now it was Abby’s turn to go quiet. She didn’t want to lie, but she was too afraid to admit that a husband, no matter how estranged, was a great deterrent from playboys who had the power to break her heart all over again.

“Holy shit.” Frankie’s eyes went big with shock, then narrowed into two very scary slits. “Don’t tell me you’re still in love with the A-hole?”

“What? No.” She wasn’t. A part of her would always love Richard, but that was the naive young girl who had hoped he was the answer to the aching loneliness that had taken up residence in her chest since the night her parents died.

In the end, he’d left her brokenhearted too. Which was why Abby was content to go it alone for a while. She couldn’t lose what she didn’t have.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lexi whispered, and it took everything Abby had to crush down the panic threatening to take her under.

“She chose to stay married to the Dickless Wonder,” Frankie explained, waving a corresponding gesture in the air. Another pointed look from Lexi, which Frankie returned—only pointier. “What? Would you admit to that shit?”

Abby ignored this. “It was just that between pregnancies and weddings”—
and all the marital bliss that’s been floating around these days
—“there never seemed to be a good time to bring it up.”

Or a good time to admit that this was it. That once she filed that paper, she’d be the only one in her family who was truly alone.

CHAPTER 4

L
ike I said the last two times you begged me, it’s not going to happen,” Tanner clarified. He couldn’t believe that his best friend was starting this shit with him. “Ever.”

“You have to help me out here,” Colin Palmer said, signaling the waitress for another beer.

Since it was Wine Down Wednesday at the Spigot and the San Francisco Giants were playing baseball on the big screen, there wasn’t a spare seat in the joint. Otherwise, Tanner would have taken his beer and found somewhere that didn’t stink of desperation and whine. Preferably someplace quiet. And romantic. With Abby, who he hadn’t seen in two days and was realizing that was far too long.

But that would have to wait, since she was avoiding him and because he was expecting Ferris Hampton, the world’s top golf course and luxury resort developer, to arrive any minute. They were set to discuss the final details of the proposed new PGA golf course and luxury estates Ferris wanted to build—right here in St. Helena, with Tanner Construction as his partner.

Tanner owned the land. Ferris had the capital to develop. It seemed like a perfect partnership. Only Ferris wasn’t 100 percent sold yet. There was another piece of property in Santa Barbara he was considering—and it was up to Tanner to get him to commit to the Napa Valley.

“I did help,” Tanner said. “I recommended Abby. She would have smoothed out the problem with Babs before the last contractor even considered walking.”

“And like I said the last time you brought up Abby, not going to happen.”

Tanner shrugged. Not his problem then. He’d recommended a great designer. It wasn’t his fault Colin couldn’t get over this ridiculous man-trum he was throwing. So Richard had pulled one over on him? Tanner had lost some money too. So had half the town. Time to move on.

“Come on, we’re partners. You have to say yes,” Colin continued.

“You sound like my ex-girlfriend. And no.”

“Babs says she doesn’t need a designer anymore since she’s convinced she can handle the job on her own, which is why Brandon walked, leaving me short a general contractor for the cheese shop. No sane person is going to step into the middle of a project this screwed up, especially with Babs Hampton giving the orders,” Colin pleaded.

“Thank God I’m sane.” Man, the guy was relaying every reason to say no. “We’re about to start construction on the DeLucas’ new wine cave, and we’re a week or two out from getting the certificate of occupancy on your house. Which means you can finally move out of mine.” He sent Colin a look, which the guy ignored. “There is no way I can also oversee Babs and her ever-changing ideas.” Tanner let out a breath. “Then there’s my dad . . .” he added almost as an afterthought.

Three months ago, Gus Tanner suffered a minor stroke. Instead of listening to his doctor and taking it easy, good old Dad decided to take on a framing job up the valley, found himself in a nasty altercation with a wood lathe, and lost. Meaning Gus had spent the past eight weeks sporting a knee-to-ankle cast, and Tanner had gained another roommate. The cast was gone, though his dad was still monopolizing Tanner’s television.

“I’m asking you, as my best friend and business partner, to do me a favor,” Colin continued. “This Hampton project with Ferris is almost in the bag. Helping his mom out would go far in sealing the deal.”

“Col, I know just how huge this could be.” The golf course was the kind of project they had been working toward since founding Tanner Construction. “But we don’t do these cheese shop kinds of jobs for a reason. They’re a lot of headache for very little return. And I want to give Ferris every reason to say yes, I do, but not at the risk of messing up the legit jobs we have on the line.”

“We haven’t even gotten all the permits for the DeLuca cave,” Colin went on as though Tanner wasn’t up on every detail of their company already. “And the Pungent Barrel will take, what? A few hours a week for maybe two weeks to get it ready for opening?”

“Do I even need to call bullshit? That
two-week
remodel has already taken over four months.”

“That’s because she keeps scaring off the help. With you it would take a month. Tops.”

“We both know that even if this were a simple renovation, which it’s not, since the building is old as dirt and falls under the Historical Preservation Council’s jurisdiction, not to mention fixing all the loose ends the last contractor probably left,” Tanner shook his head, “we’re talking two months of me on the site, busting my ass all day long.”

“Shitshitshit.” Colin thunked his head against the back of the booth a few times before looking at the ceiling as though asking for divine intervention. Tanner was right and he knew it.

“Babs has scared off every reputable contractor in the county,” Colin continued. “No general contractor means the project will never end. Ever. Why would a guy like Ferris want to spend the next two years here, building his next project with his mom breathing down his neck, driving him crazy with chasing off crews?” Colin rested his arms on the table and leaned in—way in. “If you sign on for Babs’s project, then I know it will get done and the crew won’t walk and everyone will be happy. If you don’t, then I guarantee the Pungent Barrel will become the Winchester Mystery House of cheese and wine shops, and break some record for the longest renovation project in the history of the world. Every day that her project goes unfinished, Santa Barbara gets better looking for Ferris, man.”

Colin sat back and sighed. “Hell, if it were me, I’d choose Santa Barbara just because it was six hours away from her.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you wrote off Abby,” a threatening voice said from behind. Tanner didn’t have to turn to see who it was.

Trey DeLuca, the youngest and the biggest hothead of the brothers—and that was saying a lot—sank down onto a bench on the other side of Tanner.

“How can I write her off? This isn’t even my project,” Colin lied.

“Tanner Construction might not be the builder, but everyone in town knows you are managing the subcontracting as a favor to Ferris,” Trey challenged. “And you told Babs that Abby wasn’t a solid choice.”

“Wait, you told Babs what?” Tanner demanded to know.

“Exactly what I told you last week. She asked if Abby was a good choice, and I said I didn’t think she was the right fit,” Colin
said casually, sending Tanner a look that was anything but casual. It was the same pissy glare that summed up every conversation they’d ever had about Abby.

Tanner glared right back.

“How would you know? You didn’t even look at her ideas,” another voice challenged. Marc, shoulders shoving and elbows jabbing, took up residence next to Colin, making sure to get up in his personal space.

“Babs wasn’t impressed.”

“Babs has a chartreuse-green urinal in her sitting room that she calls art,” a third voice added. Nate pulled up a chair at the head of the table, strategically blocking Colin in.

Colin wasn’t a small guy by any means. He wa
s six one, in good shape, and could handle himself in a bar fight—something Tanner knew firsthand. Only in this bar, smashed between a herd of DeLucas, his buddy didn’t stand a chance. Nope, one-on-one, Abby’s brothers were beyond intimidating; as a collective force they were scary as shit. And when it came to the women in their lives, a wise man would give them a wide berth.

Colin wasn’t a wise man. “Look, can we cut the crap? You’re here because I didn’t recommend your sister. And no matter how much you threaten and whine, I’m not going to recommend your sister. End of story.”

The look on Nate’s face said the story was far from over as he slid a folder of very official-looking documents across the table to Colin. “The money that Richard took from you and Ferris will be repaid in full. Tomorrow. With ten percent interest. All I need from you is the account you want your money wired to, where Ferris wants his, and in twenty-four hours, as far as this whole Richard BS is concerned, we’re square.”

Jesus
, Tanner thought as Colin picked up the bank instructions. They were more meddlesome than a bunch of old ladies. And Tanner couldn’t help but grin because, man, Abby was going to kick their collective asses when she found out they had gone behind her back to distribute the funds to the investors.

“Huh.” Colin flipped slowly through the documents, only to close the folder and say, “I guess that whole adage ‘Better late than never’ is a crock, since I don’t feel any better and it doesn’t change the fact that I am never hiring your sister since she isn’t the right fit for this job.”

“Well, then maybe Tanner Construction isn’t the right fit for us anymore,” Trey said, standing.

Yeah, moron
, Tanner wanted to say when Colin shot him a panicked look. Tanner Construction was the exclusive builder for DeLuca Wines. In fact, Tanner had cut a deal with them that would help make their company the newest giant in the wine cave business, a business built on constructing subterranean facilities for the aging and storing of wine. It was a cave they’d spent the past year planning for. A cave that, if Colin didn’t screw this up, they were weeks out from breaking ground on.

“Actually, Abby’s the perfect person,” Tanner said casually, not even bothering to see if Trey would take his seat—which he did with maximum grumbling. “She is talented, easy to work with, and most importantly, she is available. Plus, after having dealt with these idiots for thirty years, I know Babs and her sporadic whims won’t even faze her.”

That earned him a hard look from all of the brothers. He just shrugged. It was true. But Colin wasn’t convinced, which was obvious from the
are you fucking kidding me
look he was shooting Tanner’s way.

“Your hiring Abby would go far where the community is concerned. It could really open up doors for her and end this boycott,” Nate explained.

“So, what will it take for her to get a fresh start with you and the Hamptons?” Marc asked, and if Tanner didn’t know any better, he’d think Abby’s brother had just offered to bribe Colin in order to get Abby the job.

Colin looked shocked. Then he looked right at Tanner and calmly set the contract on the table. A sinking feeling started way down low in Tanner’s gut, because he knew how this was going to play out. And it wasn’t going to be good for anyone involved. Colin only got that calm when he was about to tell someone to go fuck themselves, which was why Tanner leveled him with a hard look. “Everyone deserves a fresh start, right, Colin?”

Colin leveled Tanner with a look of his own, then shrugged. His partner was stubborn as hell, but he knew when to back down. And right now was that time.

“You know what, Tanner? You’re right. Everyone deserves a fresh start.” He looked at the rest of the table. “But as for Babs’s shop, seems she has chased off another contractor. So she’s too busy looking for a GC to talk about designers right now. Tell Abby I’m sorry,” he finished, not sorry at all.

“Tanner can do it,” Trey said. And just like that Colin’s plan backfired. “He liked working with Abby. They did a bang-up job with Lexi’s bistro.”

Marc turned to lance Tanner with a glare that packed enough warning to send most men scurrying. Tanner wasn’t most men, and he didn’t scurry. Instead, he feigned confusion, as though he didn’t know that Marc was the only brother who suspected “like” didn’t begin to cover how Tanner felt about working with Abby. Doing that remodel with her had been the best part of last year.

Problem was, if he agreed to this, made some ridiculous deal to secure her a job that her talent should have been enough to get to begin with, he would be no better than her brothers.

“Like I was telling Colin a second ago. I don’t have time. I don’t do small retail renovations. And I don’t feel comfortable managing Abby’s career behind her back.”

“We’re not managing her career,” Nate defended. “We are simply—”

“Managing her career,” Tanner interrupted. “She is a grown woman who doesn’t need her brothers underselling her abilities.”

His phone buzzed. He fished it from his pocket and stared at the screen in surprise, then he smiled. He couldn’t help it. It was big and stupid, and he didn’t care.

“I gotta take this,” he said to the table and, ignoring the irritated glares shooting his direction, hit talk. “Well, hello there.”

Nothing but silence. And maybe some heavy breathing. He pressed the phone closer to his ear and, nope, not heavy breathing so much as huffing. Loud, irritated huffing.

“Hello?” he prompted again. Clearly, Abby was considering her options: one, hang up and hope he didn’t have her number stored in his phone—which he most certainly did. Or, two, pretend she’d misdialed. He went for option three. “I can hear you breathing.”

A frazzled sigh came through the earpiece before she finally said, in a tone that told him frazzled didn’t even begin to cover her state of being, “Hey, Jack, it’s Abby.”

“I know, I recognize your huff.” He leaned back in the booth and his smile became a full-on grin. “Yup, that one right there.”

“Remember how you said that if I ever needed anything, that I could call?”

“I remember everything we have ever talked about.”

“Right. Well, I’m calling.”

He’d almost forgotten. “Do you want me to swing by and take a look at the desi—”

“Oh my God, don’t say it out loud,” she whispered, loudly. “Especially if you’re with my brothers . . . are you with my brothers?”

He eyed the men in question, who were all eyeing him back. “Yup.”

“Don’t let them know I’m on the phone.”

Tanner sighed. “Give me a good reason and I’ll consider it.”

Again with the huffs. “My asking isn’t enough?”

“Nope.”

She hesitated long enough to make Tanner worry he’d blown it. That he’d pushed too far and she was going to hang up, and then he would never know what kind of call this was, and what kind of help she needed. Which would suck, because he had several scenarios playing out in his head. Some involved wine, others lace and silk, but all of them ended with breakfast in Abby’s bed. Naked.

“Fine.” She sounded tired. “When I bought this house, Marc said it was a dump. Gabe swore the only reason it hadn’t been condemned was because it was historically protected. Nate went on and on about how I wouldn’t buy a used car without having a mechanic look under the hood, so why would I buy a house without seeking professional advice.”