“It’s good work. A lot of work. And I say that means I owe you beer and a burger.” That’s basic enough, he thought.
Just a few weeks ago, she’d have hesitated, looking for some excuse or wrestling with what it might mean. Instead, she cocked her head and studied him, another of those smiles curving her mouth. “You taking anybody else out for beer and a burger?”
“Nope. Figured it’d be just me and my girl.” He waited to see what her reaction to the possessive would be.
Her smile widened. “Good. I’d hate to have any third wheels on our date.”
Progress, Brody thought, is a beautiful thing.
4 Weeks 'Til Show
Zeke Hammel was a thorough man. As the structural engineer charged with determining whether the theater was safe for public use, he needed to be. But Tyler fairly vibrated with impatience as he walked through to make his inspection. His very detailed, pain-staking inspection. She couldn’t get a read on this guy. His weather-worn face made him look more like a stoic cowboy than an engineer. As he studied the new railing, Tyler half expected him to murmur, “Yup,” and pop a plug of chewing tobacco into his mouth. She hung back a bit as Brody answered the questions, knowing she really had no place here but unable to stay away.
We did good work, she thought. Miracle work.
Brody had set out to make something that was merely functional, to get them through to the performance and beyond. But with the unexpected outpouring of help, they’d pulled off quite a bit above functional. It wasn’t a full restoration—several rows of seats had been irreparably damaged—but they’d erased the destruction as wholly as they could. Brody had added additional columns into the design beneath the balcony, taking advantage of the missing seating to provide extra support to the structure. He was taking no chances on a repeat collapse.
Finished with the balcony, Zeke moved unhurriedly down the stairs to the lobby. Norah and her mother-in-law to be, Mayor Sandra Crawford, followed. Brody paused to take Tyler’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze before they, too, headed downstairs.
The sun had still been up when they’d started. Tyler could see it was full dark beyond the lobby doors. The engineer was scribbling on a clipboard, flipping pages, checking things off. Norah and Sandra stood, arms linked. Tyler tightened her hold on Brody as Zeke signed something on one last page and looked up.
“Well?” blurted Norah.
In answer, Zeke handed over the clipboard.
She scanned the front page then let out a whoop, thrusting the clipboard into the air. “Pass!”
Relief gushed through Tyler, weakening her knees, even as she gave a bounce and a double fist pump, which had the effect of dragging Brody’s arm up like a winning prize fighter. His hundred megawatt smile warmed her down to her toes.
“I’ll have a more detailed report on your desk in a couple of days,” Zeke continued, “but I figured given the time crunch you’d want approval as soon as possible.”
“You figured right,” said Brody.
Zeke crossed to him. “You do good work, Jensen. You ever decide to relocate back to Wishful, I’d like to work with you again.”
“Appreciate it,” said Brody, shaking the offered hand.
With a brief word of farewell to the mayor and Norah, Zeke slipped out the doors, letting in a gust of cold evening air. As soon as he was out of sight, Brody let out a hoot and scooped Tyler up. “We did it!”
Tyler was laughing when his mouth took hers in a fervent, celebratory kiss. She felt the spark of it in her blood and kissed him enthusiastically in return, sliding her arms around his shoulders, her hands into his hair. By the time he set her on her feet again, she was breathless and dazzled.
“I pulled it off,” he grinned. “Seemed only fitting to claim my reward.”
“So you did,” said Tyler. He’d pulled it off, preserved their history, and begun building something else while he was at it.
“If you’re done locking lips for a bit,” said Norah, eyes twinkling, “we need to get our butts to Speakeasy. Everyone is waiting to hear the news.”
Brody saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Ride with me,” said Tyler. “We’ll get your truck later.”
Once inside her truck, Brody collapsed into the passenger seat, head falling back against the rest. “God, what a crazy week. I can’t remember when I slept less.”
“Tired?”
“I should be, but no. I feel really buzzed. Hyped up on adrenaline.”
“The crash will be brutal.” She snaked out a hand, tangled her fingers with his across the console. It was a pleasure to give in to the desire to touch, to maintain physical contact.