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The women shared a smile.
Hannah’s breath caught. JP would be there with Kayla. Not much longer now, and she’d see her niece. Maybe even hold her. How the hell could she be expected to focus on accounting tasks when Kayla would come through that door at any time? Her stomach fluttered as she worked to keep the thrill off her face. “That sounds great. Let me know if I can help with dinner in any way, too.”
Mickie waved away her offer. “We’re good. I’ve got Keith on kitchen duty tonight.”
Hannah blinked. The man was that gorgeous and could cook, too? Mickie had won the lottery. “Oh, gosh, I hope you didn’t make him go to any trouble on my account.”
“No trouble at all, seriously. I was going to—”
Ronnie snorted.
“Excuse me?” Mickie shot her friend a narrow-eyed look. “You got something to say, Veronica Benson?”
“Uh, yeah, just that you can’t cook to save your life, so don’t try to pretend you were going to do it.”
“I wasn’t going to, you ho,” Mickie responded with sass. “I was about to say that I was going to order out, but Keith offered to grill some salmon.” She shot Hannah a worried glance. “Hope you like fish.”
“Love it.” She grinned what she hoped wasn’t a sad smile. The way Mickie and Ronnie were with each other, half making faces, half laughing at each other, reminded her so much of her relationship with Mary Anne. Not only had they been sisters, they’d been best friends, despite their vast personality differences.
“I apologize for Ronnie and her childish behavior. She can’t help it. She’s a Benson, and a high level of immaturity runs through their blood.”
“I heard that!” Keith called from the kitchen as Ronnie mimicked Mickie with mocking hand gestures and facial expressions. All three of them burst into laughter.
“Sounds like you’re really working hard,” Keith shouted. “Do you think you’ll get this place opened by the next century?”
“Hey,” Mickie yelled back, “Keep your trap shut. Your job is to cook and keep me satisfied in bed.” She winked at Hannah, whose face burned while Ronnie made mock vomiting sounds.
Would she be able to talk so freely if she had a gorgeous man who worshiped her?
“Okay, let’s get to work.” Mickie straightened and grabbed a binder.
Since moving to Colorado, caring for Mary Anne and Kayla had consumed all Hannah’s non-working hours. She hadn’t had time to get out and make new friends. Growing up in Boston, her friends had been more like she was. Rule followers who didn’t rock the boat and always colored inside the lines. Mary Anne had been the rebel of the bunch, and even she only stepped a few feet outside their steel-reinforced mold.
Well, until her diagnosis.
God, she missed her sister and friend. Hannah swallowed her grief. This wasn’t the time or place to break down about how unfair life could be.
“Okay,” she said with a slightly forced smile. “I’ll be the task master. Let’s focus so we can relax later.”
They dove into work, casting jokes and playfulness aside. Both women had a lot to learn about the financial aspect of running a business, particularly when it came to tax law, but they were quick studies, and more importantly, eager to soak up whatever knowledge Hannah could impart.
Within two hours, she’d gotten them up and running with her favorite bookkeeping software, reviewed their profit and loss projections, as well as assisted in designing a budget plan to match the scale and scope of the project. Money wasn’t an issue for Mickie, but the two were adamant their goal was to create a profitable business. The resort wasn’t merely a passion project for either of them, so they had no plans to go hog wild on the spending.
With each passing minute, Hannah enjoyed the company of Mickie and Ronnie more and more. Both worked hard but knew how to have fun and didn’t take themselves too seriously. They meshed well and spoke of their budding business with contagious enthusiasm.
If Hannah had three thousand dollars per night to spend at their resort, she’d stay in a heartbeat. Everything they spoke about sounded luxurious and fabulous, from the plans for food to the high-end linens on the fancy beds.
Before she knew it, the front door swung open, and another tall, bearded man strode into the house as though he lived there. Jagger. He wore black slacks and a charcoal gray button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing a tattoo on each forearm. These Benson siblings sure did like their ink. Even Ronnie had a few visible tattoos.
“Sup, fam?” Jagger asked as he dropped his worn messenger bag on the floor next to the door. A cloud of dust wafted from the bag. The casual way they treated Mickie’s expensive home had Hannah snickering.
“Hey, Jag,” Mickie said without looking up from the note she’d been jotting. “Please tell me you aren’t bringing a whole construction site’s worth of dirt into my house as usual.”
