“Is the black dog yours, sir?”
“His name’s Luke,” Bowie barely whispered as he tried to decipher all the thoughts running through his mind. If this girl was comfortable here, did that mean she was Austin’s? There was no way Carly Woods would hide her son’s daughter from his friends.
“He’s very nice. I asked my nonnie if he could stay in the house with me while you worked.”
“Nonnie?”
The younger version of Brooklyn smiled. “My grandma. She owns the inn.”
Bowie stood. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he needed to get the hell out of there. Austin had a child, and no one knew. Not even one of his friends had been invited to be a part of her life. They hid her away like a dirty secret or an abomination. He wasn’t sure which, but neither made sense to him. Why wouldn’t Carly have told him that Austin’s blood still flowed?
Because he hadn’t been a good friend—that’s why. He didn’t deserve to know anything about the Woods family, let alone be present in the life of a daughter his best friend never had an opportunity to raise. However, he couldn’t help but think that he could’ve been there for Brooklyn, helped her out, been her support system, been there when she gave birth. Austin’s friends would’ve made sure the girl was loved by all, cherished, and knew the best parts of her dad, but instead, no one had said anything. No one had bothered to share the news. He had so many questions surrounding Brystol, Brooklyn, Carly, and their actions. He was hurt. He wanted answers that he knew he wasn’t due, but he planned to ask the questions anyway.
TWELVE
Brooklyn perched herself on the top of the ladder and scrutinized the scene below her. Four of Bowie’s men were in the lobby with her. One was deglossing the trim, one taping plastic to the floor—which, in her opinion, should’ve happened right after they’d removed the furniture. The third man was on his cell phone, and the fourth was standing off to the side with his hands on his hips, staring at the pile of scaffolding that should already have been up and ready for use. If it had been, Brooklyn wouldn’t be on the ladder trying to tape off sections of trim.
She was already frustrated by Bowie’s efforts. The way he conducted business was not to her level, nor was it the level she had learned from his father. It was Bowie’s dad who gave her a job with Seacoast Construction after high school as his personal assistant. The job wasn’t much, but it paid her rent and put food on her table.
She returned to the task at hand, stretching as far as she could without tipping the ladder or falling off. She was trying to give Bowie some leeway. He had sworn his team was efficient and worked fast. None of which she was witnessing. She pulled at the tape, ripping off a chunk. She was about to slap it to the wall when Bowie’s booming voice interrupted her. He was screaming loud enough that he could be heard throughout the house, but his words were unclear. She scanned the room, watching as his employees scrambled to look busy. The brushstrokes of the man who was working with the liquid sander suddenly became faster. The pieces to the scaffolding started to clank together. The gent on the phone now had a bucket and rag in his hand, and the plastic floor covering seemed to unroll much faster.
Brooklyn was laughing when Bowie entered the room. If his employees thought he was mad at them, they didn’t show it. Bowie slowly turned toward Brooklyn and huffed. She conjured up an image of a bull turning red with steam coming out of his nose, making her giggle even louder.
She had started to climb down when Bowie’s words stopped her. “How long did you think you’d get away with it?”
“You’ll have to be a little more specific.”
“Do you think this is all a joke?” he asked. “You act like we meant nothing to you.”
Brooklyn was confused. What the hell was he going on about? She finished her descent, and once her feet were firmly on the ground, she handed Bowie the tape. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but your crew in here is really slow and needs to pick up the pace. They stand around, waiting until you come in before getting to work. It’s unacceptable.” She used their lack of efforts as a buffer between her and Bowie. It was the only way she could cope with him around right now.
Bowie’s mouth dropped open. She had no intentions of going tit for tat with him and left him standing there. He could deal with his crew, or she would. It didn’t really matter to her; she just wanted the job done efficiently and effectively.