He had a kitchen remodel all but wrapped, and Owen was handling some built-ins for another client. A lot of work was better than no work. He could build a beach house in Barbados when he was old.

Still, he felt edgy and annoyed, and couldn’t quite figure out why. Until he glanced over at the inn.

Hope Beaumont. Yeah, that might account for some edgy.

She did a good job, no question about that. The fact that she was anal, obsessively organized, and a chewer of details didn’t bother him especially. He’d lived and worked with that type all his life, in the form of his brother Owen.

Just something about her got under his skin, and tended to burn there from time to time since they’d locked lips on New Year’s Eve.

It had been an accident, he told himself. An impulse. An accidental impulse. He didn’t intend to repeat it.

But he could wish she was a plump, homely, middle-aged woman with a couple of grandkids and a knitting hobby.

“One day she could be,” he muttered to D.A., who obligingly thumped his tail.

With a shrug, he walked down, crossed over, and opened the door of the future MacT’s Restaurant and Tap House for the crew.

He liked the space, liked it particularly now that they’d rejoined the two buildings, opening the wall between with a wide doorway so the restaurant and bar patrons, and the staff, could move from one side to the other.

Avery knew what she wanted, and how to make it happen, so he knew MacT’s would be a good place to eat and drink, to socialize if socializing was your thing. Good dining for grown-ups she called it, as opposed to the casual family style of Vesta.

He had a soft spot for Vesta—and a softer one for their Warrior’s Pizza, but as Avery had been trying out recipes on them for months, he figured he’d be able to choke down a meal or two in her new place.

He crossed over to the opening, studied the bar space. A lot of work yet, he judged, but he could envision it finished, with the long bar he and his brothers were building in place. Dark woods, strong colors, some brick on the walls. And all those beers on tap.

Yeah, it wouldn’t hurt his feelings to spend some time there, and hoist a beer in satisfaction of a job well done.

When it was done.

He heard voices, crossed back over.

Once he got the crew going, he walked down to the bakery to check on the men there. If he’d had a choice, he’d have strapped on his tool belt, gotten to the real work.

But he had a morning meeting scheduled back at the new job site, and he was already running late.