Going Down Easy (Boys of the Big Easy #1)(3)



He could not send her I-already-miss-you flowers. Damn, he needed to get his shit together.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Logan gave him a yeah-right look. “Damn, I knew I should have waited on her and Elena that first night,” he said.

Gabe felt his hand curl into a fist and had to work to relax it. It was ridiculous to be jealous over the idea of his brother being the one to serve Addison that first night. And the insinuation that it would be Logan kissing her goodbye on the front sidewalk on Monday mornings if he had made her that first bourbon sour.

But the idea of someone else flirting with her, touching her, kissing her, making her laugh, watching her eat beignets, wrapping his arms around her as they stopped to listen to a band on the corner of Royal and St. Ann . . . he definitely wanted to punch something.

If that wasn’t a huge red flag, he didn’t know what was. Dammit, he was a fucking mess.

“Shut the hell up,” Gabe told his brother. “I forgot the meeting, but it’s fine. What do we need to get together?”

Logan gave him a knowing grin but dropped the subject of Addison. At least for now. “I’ve got photos of the inside and outside from Grandma,” Logan said, pushing an envelope across the bar. “I’m putting together a list of things that have been done over the years, the stuff that’s original like the bar, the stair and balcony railings, the interior doors, the flooring in the back rooms. We also need to list the things that have been replaced and updated. The windows, the flooring out here, the exterior doors. That kind of stuff.”

Gabe nodded as he leafed through the photos in the envelope.

The building that housed the tavern and the living quarters upstairs had been in the Trahan family for five generations. It was one of the first buildings built in the French Quarter after the fire of 1794 and, obviously, required a lot of routine maintenance. The basic structure was in good shape, but some of the unique characteristics of the Creole-style building needed a special touch to restore it to its original glory—something that was extremely important to Gabe and Logan’s grandmother Adele. She was eighty-eight and had been nagging them to do the restoration for about three years. She’d gotten to the point where she was now claiming that she’d haunt the place if they didn’t get it done before she died.

Gabe didn’t want that. He knew Adele would be an irritating spirit, unlike the three fairly good-natured ghosts that already, supposedly, occupied the building. He wasn’t sure he totally bought the stories, but they’d been passed down through the family for years, and he had heard some strange noises and had found things out of place for no reason. He’d never seen anything. And he was very okay with that. There was no reason to add a potential fourth haunting.

Now they finally had the funds to do a true restoration of the building, and they’d been courted by two of the best restoration firms in the city. They’d decided to go with Monroe & LeBlanc. Not just because Addison had been consulting with them on another project and had mentioned to Gabe, more than once, that the firm would do an amazing job on the tavern—though her opinion probably had far more weight than it should, everything considered—but because Gabe and Logan both sincerely liked and trusted Elena LeBlanc, one of the partners. She was a regular at Trahan’s, and they considered her a friend. Plus, she’d brought Addison into the bar that first night, and, hell, no matter how much he wished he wasn’t completely whipped, Gabe couldn’t deny that he was grateful to Elena for the introduction.

“So can you make up that list?” Logan asked. “I’ve got this about done.”

“A list of the things that have been replaced rather than repaired and restored over the years?” Gabe asked. “Sure. Reagan probably has a lot of it, right? We would have needed to report that stuff for taxes and stuff?”

Logan sat up a little straighter. “I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah, she would. I’ll get that from her.”

Gabe lifted a brow. “You’re going to do that list, too?”

Logan studied the page in front of him. “Well, like you said, she probably already has those records. It won’t be hard to pull those out.”

Gabe leaned back against the counter behind him and watched his brother try to pretend to be cool about talking to Reagan. “Right, so I can easily get that from her,” he said.

“Don’t you have receipts and stuff to do this morning?” Logan asked.

He did. But he would always take time to harass his little brother. “That can wait. Reagan might need a little time to pull everything together for us. I should call her right away.”

Logan already had his phone out. “I’ve got it.”

Gabe smirked and lifted his cup. Logan was a player. He loved flirting—and more—with the local girls and tourists alike who came into the tavern. He never spent a night alone unless he wanted to. He was cool and charming and could get a girl to giggle and blush faster than any guy Gabe knew. But when he was around Reagan, he stumbled over his words, fumbled paperwork, said stupidly inappropriate things, and generally acted like a doofus. Clearly, his little brother had a thing for the sweet accountant. But Logan wasn’t making any headway. Logan couldn’t seem to keep his foot out of his mouth, and if it were Gabe, he’d be hiding out whenever Reagan came around. But Logan seemed to think every time was going to be the time he managed to get his act together and charm her, so he kept trying. And Gabe couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the show.

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