Building Dreams. Ginna Gray
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“Me? Amanda, for heaven’s sake! I’m hardly in the market for a man. I’ve been a widow for barely seven months. Besides, I’m expecting a child, remember? A handsome hunk isn’t going to look twice at a woman who resembles a pumpkin with legs.”
“Maybe,” Amanda conceded in her laconic way. “But grief eventually fades and life goes on.” She rolled her head on the sofa back again and sent Tess a slow, wicked smile. “And you, my friend, won’t always be pregnant.”
Chapter Two
“Well? What do you think? Do we stand a chance?” Reilly shot his brother a hopeful look. The two men strode side by side through the lobby of Texas Fidelity Bank, heading for the exit.
“Maybe. Houston’s economy has picked up some, but things are still tight,” Ryan replied. “It could go either way.”
“So all we can do is wait, huh?” Reilly grinned and winked at a pretty blond teller. Despite the serious nature of their conversation, he was aware of the feminine sighs and dreamy stares that followed their progress.
So was Ryan, but, as always, he ignored them.
The women’s interest was understandable; the McCall brothers were an impressive sight. Except for subtle, almost undetectable differences, the two men were identical. Tall and broad-shouldered, they had the same ruggedly handsome features and both had the fit, muscular build of a man whose job involved physical labor. Each man’s thick hair had the glossy blue-black sheen of a raven’s wing, and long hours spent out-of-doors had tanned their skin to a deep bronze, creating a startling contrast to vivid blue eyes.
For the meeting with the bank’s loan officer both brothers had worn dark blue suits. There, however, the similarities ended. Ryan’s white shirt and diagonally striped navy and wine tie were conservative and sober, but Reilly sported a shirt the exact color of his eyes and a tie in multihued splotches of red, yellow and blue that looked as though it had been created by a berserk artist.
“That’s about all we can do,” Ryan acknowledged. “Wait and see if our loan application is approved.”
“I’m not worried. We’ll get the money. We’ve dealt with Larry Awkland before. He knows we have a reputation as first-class developers.”
“He also knows we damned near went under when the bottom fell out of the economy.”
“But we didn’t. That’s my point. While other construction firms were going belly up, we hung on.”
“Yeah. By our fingernails.” Ryan pushed open the plate glass doors and they stepped outside. The humidity and blistering June heat hit them like a suffocating wet blanket. “Awkland knows that, too. Anyway, it takes more than reputation to swing a loan these days.”
“So? That’s a prime piece of property we’re offering as collateral. If we get that interim loan we’ll develop it into a first-class preplanned neighborhood with all the amenities.”
Ryan’s Jeep Cherokee was parked around the corner from the bank. As he stepped around to the driver’s side to unlock it he looked over the hood at his brother.
“That’s true. But whether or not the bank feels there’s a need in Houston right now for another community of upper priced homes is something else again.”
“Aw, you worry too much, Hoss,” Reilly chided with a grin, climbing into the vehicle. “We’ll be breaking ground on this project within two weeks. You just watch.”
Ryan grunted, and his brother gave him a playful sock on the arm. “Loosen up, man. It doesn’t do any good to worry. I want this project to go as much as you do. But hey! If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen. One way or another, we’ll get by. We always do.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Ryan conceded, and pulled out into the traffic.
Though at times his twin could be exasperating, Ryan envied his easygoing nature. Reilly took life as it came and rolled with the punches, always bouncing back with a grin. Nothing bothered him for long, nothing worried him, nothing—or at least very little—roused him to anger. Reilly, like their younger brother Travis, was blessed with a sunny disposition and an eternally optimistic outlook. It was Ryan and their baby sister Meghan who were the serious ones.
Ryan wished he could be as casual and unconcerned as Reilly, but he couldn’t. For one thing, it wasn’t his nature. For another, he didn’t want to just “get by.” Dammit, they had been just barely getting by for the last eight or nine years, ever since Houston’s housing market went bust.
He and Reilly had started their company right out of college. They had hustled their butts off and worked like dogs those first few years, but they had succeeded in building R & R Construction into a thriving business. In the process they had built a reputation as first-class builders and developers. It had been a bitterly frustrating experience to stand by, helpless to prevent it, and watch it all crumble because of circumstances beyond their control.
Memories of that time were painful even now, and Ryan’s jaw clenched. He remembered how desperate he had felt, how hard he and Reilly had struggled to hang on. They had been forced to unload almost all of the property they had acquired for future development, taking a loss just to get out from under the debt. All they had managed to retain title to was the wooded tract in northwest Houston, and that only because it was theirs, free and clear. Ryan had even been forced to sell his home—the enormous, extravagant home that he had built for Julia—just to keep the company afloat.
Ryan’s fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Julia had never forgiven him for that. To his wife, that luxurious house, their upscale life-style, all the trappings that went with it, were essential. More essential, it turned out, than their marriage, or him…or even their son. Julia had been unable, or unwilling, to face a life without money and status.
It had been tough, these past eight years, raising a boy alone and at the same time scrabbling to hold on to his business. For a while it had been touch and go, but he’d gotten through it. Mike was one hell of a kid; a father couldn’t ask for better. And despite several shaky years, the company was still operating.
It galled Ryan when R & R, a firm that had once built prestigious homes, had been reduced to bidding on remodeling jobs or any other piddling project that came along. However, it had been those small jobs that had paid the bills and allowed them to scrape by…barely.
Their most recent job was an apartment complex renovation that was nearing completion. They were scheduled to meet with the owner in less than an hour for a walk-through inspection. Rather than waste time going home to change, Ryan drove straight to the project. Both he and Reilly kept a set of spare work clothes in the trailer that served as their on-site office.
They had almost reached the site when the car phone emitted a chirping ring.
Ryan snatched it up at once. The instrument was an expense he normally would not have bothered with, but after Julia left, he had gotten it so that his son would be able to contact him wherever he was.
“R & R Construction. Ryan McCall speaking.”
“Hi, Dad. It’s me. I’m over at Tess’s.”
“Again?