Brown-Eyed Girl (Travis Family #4)(37)

“Tank,” he said, “I need you and your guys to assemble the boardwalk arcade, and after that —” Steven broke off as he saw Sofia. His gaze traveled over the sleek length of her legs. “That’s what you’re wearing?” he asked, as if she were half-naked.

Sofia gave him a perplexed glance, a large bleached starfish in her hand. “What do you mean?”

“Your outfit.” Scowling, Steven turned his attention to me. “Are you actually going to let her wear that?”

I was dumbfounded. Sofia was dressed like a forties pinup girl in red-and-white polka-dotted shorts with a matching halter top. The outfit showed off her curvy figure, but there was nothing immodest about it. I couldn’t fathom why Steven would object.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.

“It’s too short.”

“It’s ninety degrees outside,” Sofia snapped at Steven, “and I’m going to be working all day. Do you expect me to wear an outfit like Avery’s?”

I sent her an irritated glance.

Before getting dressed that morning, I had considered wearing some of my new clothes, most of which had hung in my closet untouched. However, old habits were hard to break. Rather than choose something silky and colorful, I had reverted to one of my old standbys: a relaxed-fit white cotton tunic. It was loose and sleeveless, worn over a pair of billowy gathered-hem pants that – despite their charming name of “poet pants” – were admittedly unflattering. But the outfit was comfortable, and I felt safe wearing it.

Steven gave Sofia a caustic glance. “Of course not. But it’s still better than dressing like the featured performer at a strip club.”

“Steven, that’s enough,” I said sharply.

“I’m going to fire you for sexual harassment,” Sofia cried.

“You can’t fire me,” Steven informed her. “Only Avery can fire me.”

“She won’t have to if I kill you first!” She leapt toward him, holding the starfish like a weapon.

“Sofia,” I yelped, grabbing her from behind. “Take it easy! Put that down. Jesus, have you both lost your minds?”

“Someone around here has,” I heard Steven say. “Unless the plan is to flaunt Sofia as millionaire bait.”

That did it. No one insulted my sister that way. “Tank,” I said in a murderous tone, “get him out of here. Throw him into the pool to cool him off.”

“Literally?” Tank asked.

“Yes, literally throw him into the pool.”

“Not the pool” came Steven’s muffled voice. Tank already had him in a headlock. “I’m wearing linen!”

One of the qualities I appreciated most about Tank was his unqualified allegiance to me. He hauled Steven out of the kitchen, lumbering like a small bear. No amount of struggling and swearing would dissuade him.

“If I let go of you,” I said to Sofia, who was straining to break free, “promise not to follow them outside.”

“I want to watch Tank throw him into the pool.”

“I understand. So do I. But this is our business, Sofia. We have work to do. Don’t let Steven’s lapse of sanity interfere with it.” When I felt her relax, I dropped my arms from around her.

My sister turned to face me, looking furious and crestfallen. “He hates me. I don’t know why.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” I said.

“But why —”

“Sofia,” I said, “he’s an *. We’ll talk about it later. For now, let’s get to work.”

When I saw Steven two hours later, he was mostly dry. He worked on the finishing touches of the mini golf course, positioning an old-fashioned diver’s helmet so a golf ball could roll up a ramp into the front porthole.

As I approached, he spoke tersely while adjusting the ramp. “Dolce and Gabbana shorts. Dry-clean only. You owe me three hundred bucks.”

“You owe me an apology,” I said. “This is the first time you’ve ever been less than professional during a job.”

“I apologize.”

“You owe an apology to Sofia.”

Steven remained mutinously silent.

“Care to explain what’s going on?” I asked.

“I’ve already explained. Her outfit is inappropriate.”

“Because she looks cute and sexy? It’s not a problem for anyone else. Why does it bother you so much?”

Another stony silence.

“The caterers are here,” I finally said. “The band is arriving at eleven. Val and Sofia have almost finished decorating the indoor areas, and then I’ll have them start on the patio tables.”

“I need Ree-Ann to help with the cabanas.”

“I’ll send her out.” I paused. “One more thing. From now on, I insist that you treat Sofia with respect. Even though I’m technically in charge of hiring and firing, Sofia and I are equal partners. And if she wants you gone, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Understood,” he muttered.

As I headed back to the house, I passed Tank, who was carrying two huge bunches of helium-filled balloons for the dessert arcade. “Thanks for helping me with Steven,” I said.

“You mean tossing him into the pool? No problem. I’ll throw him in again if you want.”