The Construction of Cheer - Liz Isaacson Page 0,35
accepting proposals from contractors and construction crews.
Twenty minutes later, she’d done it. A strange sense of accomplishment came over her, though she’d not really done anything all that special. Still, putting together a bid with sample schematics to show vision was hard work. Most companies that would take on something like this had dozens of employees, and a whole department that dreamed up concepts, spacious libraries with tons of sunlight pouring in, and luxury spaces for meetings, book nooks, and teen activities.
Montana had done it all herself. She didn’t like discussing her plans and drawings with anyone, and she hadn’t told anyone that she was even planning to put in a bid on the new library build.
She sat back from the computer and thought about Bishop. If there was someone she wanted to know about what she’d done, it was him.
A smile formed on her face, and she reached for her phone. I just submitted a complete concept and build bid for the new library in town.
She wasn’t sure what time he got up, but a message came in while she mulled over what else to send him. They hadn’t gone to dinner last Friday. He hadn’t asked about it again, and she hadn’t known how to bring it up.
With his brother and cousin gone, Bishop was running a lot of things on the ranch, taking care of Lincoln, and dealing with two nests of termites from two different species and colonies at the Ranch House.
A decision regarding that house had not yet been made, and he and Montana had been working on gutting the cabins for the past four days since her contract had started.
They’re not going to steal you from me, are they?
Montana grinned at the phone. It takes months for a bid to be accepted, she tapped out. I think we’re good.
She looked up from her phone. Were they good? She’d reasoned that he was busy, and she was still trying to work out the commute up to Shiloh Ridge with Aurora. There really wasn’t more time to be spent showering, putting on lipstick, and going to dinner with the man she saw all day long.
They had not held hands again, and in fact, Montana realized as she sat in her bedroom, he hadn’t flirted with her much that week, nor had he asked her to dinner again.
“Maybe you blew it already,” she grumbled to herself, especially when Bishop didn’t respond again.
Chapter Ten
“All right,” Ranger drawled. “That just leaves Bishop and his, uh, personal item.”
Bishop felt that uh way down deep in his soul. He shouldn’t have put that on the Friday morning meeting agenda, but at the same time, when he’d been praying to know what to do, that had been the thought inside his head.
He looked across the table to Bear, who gazed steadily back. Ranger leaned out from behind his computer, his gaze flitting from the monitor there to Bishop and back every few seconds. Cactus sat on Bear’s right, as did Ward.
He loved watching the four of them converse and come to an agreement about projects on the ranch. Bishop had been specifically invited to this meeting to present on the southern sector cabins, as well as the Ranch House.
He couldn’t wait to tell Montana how it had gone, despite the fact that she hadn’t asked him to update her after the meeting that morning. He’d told her about it at least a half a dozen times, and—
“Are you going to say anything?” Bear asked. “We have work to do.”
Bishop shifted in his seat and looked at Cactus, who nodded. “I met a woman,” he said.
“Another one?” Ward teased.
Bishop smiled along with the rest of them. “She’s different,” he said. “She makes me nervous, and while I’ve already asked her out—maybe two or three times—she’s never really said yes.”
Bear folded his arms but otherwise said nothing. Ranger closed his laptop and gave Bishop his full attention.
His nerves settled further. This was exactly why he’d put this item on the agenda for this meeting. They weren’t making fun of him. This was important to him, and therefore important to them.
In moments like these, he didn’t need to go to lunch with his mother ever again. Ranger was his person, and so was Bear, and so was Ward, and so was Cactus.
“We always get interrupted, or you know, I’ve made a joke of it.”
“I can’t imagine either of those,” Cactus said dryly. “Do we interrupt each other around here?”