It’d kept Alex awake for the whole night. Well, equal parts that, and thinking about Sydney. The beautiful, big-hearted woman who apparently would do anything for her family. Including dragging him into a hip-deep lie.
It was easy to tell that the Mercantile, with its prime location right between the main historical drag and the marina, was an integral touchpoint for the small town. Which meant that lying to the people who ran it would no doubt come back to bite him in the ass.
But he’d been unable to say no to her big, pleading, honey-colored eyes.
Alex rolled off of his heels to sit on the step, leaning back against a pink-patterned wallpaper that would be the next thing they tackled. And reminded himself not to let his friend see his own indecision. He had to be their rock.
So he slid on an easy grin. “We have to start somewhere.”
“The stairs don’t feel important. Who books a getaway because of a staircase?”
Ah. Teague’s years with the Special Forces gave him an entirely different frame of reference. Alex had barreled forward with the decision without explaining.
He never would’ve done that back at the Orion. Employees didn’t work well in the dark. But he was so used to automatically being on the same page as Teague that he hadn’t thought to talk it through.
Dumb.
He was sucking at the whole transition of friends-to-business-partners thing.
Alex reached between the railings to grab the travel mugs of water they’d staged. He handed one to Teague. Better to lose five minutes now to get him all the way on board.
“Look, there are two things that will make us money. That’ll bring people here, as opposed to that inn on High Street, or the resort over on the Bay. The rooms, and the wow factor. The cottage rooms are in better shape than the main building, so Everleigh and Amelia are starting there. The wow factor is this grand entrance.” Alex waved a hand to indicate the open staircase that circled up all five flights. “People go nuts for a dramatic, sweeping staircase. Bridal parties can take photos on it up the wazoo. The sooner we get it restored, the sooner we can start marketing it.”
Teague shoved his mask to the top of his head. Wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Okay. When you break it down like that, I get it. But man, I don’t think I’ve got the vision you do.”
“Doesn’t matter. Actually, it’s probably for the best. Too many different visions muddy the waters. You bring the sweat equity. The drive to finish. The know-how, thanks to working with your uncle’s construction company.”
“That’s me. Sweaty know-how. Used to have that on the name plate on my flak helmet.” Teague leaned over. “Also what more than a few ladies call me.”
“Ladies who only know English as their second language?” he ribbed back. God, it was good to have his friend home.
The front door slammed open, banging all the way back against the wall. Alex winced at imagining how deep a gouge the doorknob must’ve left. Guess he needed to add doorstops for every room to his never-ending list. Installing them would be an all-day project.
Amelia stopped at the threshold, hands fisted at her sides. Her face was almost as red as her hair as she yelled, “Alexander Graham Kirkland. Where are—oh. There you are.”
Uh-oh.
Amelia never rocked his middle name. He was in trouble. And, much like many of the times his parents had bellowed it, Alex had no idea what for.
After another slow sip of water, he waved a greeting. “What’s up, sis?”
She marched to the side of the stairs and glared at him through the railings. “Do not act casual.”
“It’s not an act.” Teague snorted. “It’s hard to be anything but casual when squatting over a sander.”
Teague always had his back.
She white-knuckled her fingers around the railings. “I am your only blood relation on the planet. But you don’t bother to tell me that you’re engaged? Do you know how hurtful that is?”
Shit.
Teague dropped his travel mug. It bumped and clanged its way down seven steps before rolling to a stop at the door. “You’re what?”
“I’m not. I’m nothing.” Alex stood, back against the wall. “I didn’t think you’d find out.”
“Really? So you weren’t going to invite me to the wedding, either? Or Teague, for that matter?”
“Dude. You weren’t going to let me throw you a bachelor party?” The disappointment that coated Teague’s words was as thick as the pain