Feisty by MacKenzie McKade Page A

South Carolina where a small crew completed the finishing touches on a business complex. Since everything had looked to be under control, he and Reece had left the jobsite early to attend the beach party last Saturday. Murphy had raised his ugly head and a water leak had caused some unexpected damage.
    He slipped his key into the front door of his house and let himself in. To make matters worse, Monday Tabby had been rushed to the hospital with contractions. Reece had been a basket case when he had called Devon. Thank God it had been Braxton Hicks—false labor. And then there was Sahara.
    The darn woman had thrown a monkey wrench into his neatly planned life. It was Thursday, June 6,and she had haunted his dreams every night. Even during the day, Devon had problems getting her off his mind. He strolled into the kitchen, noting the silence all around him. It might have been foolish, but he’d intentionally not called her in his absence to prove to himself he wasn’t pussy-whipped. Four fucking days since he’d been with her and he was dying to see her—touch her. He set his bag on the floor, and pushed his fingers through his hair. She was like a drug in his veins he couldn’t get enough of. It was ridiculous.
    Tossing his keys onto the kitchen table, he headed to the refrigerator. When he opened the door, a rush of cold air smacked him in the face. Just what he thought—nothing to eat, but at least he had a beer. He popped the top and pressed the rim to his lips. The bitter amber was exactly what he needed to quench his dry throat. As he closed the door, his stomach growled. Maybe he’d head into town for a little lunch. Instead of finishing the beer, he set it on the table and retrieved his keys. Retracing his steps, he headed back to town.
    The Seafarer was busy when he stepped inside. Harold, Errol and Byron were sitting at a table and they waved him over.
    “How’s Tabby?” Errol asked.
    As Devon pulled a chair out, the legs scraped across the wooden floor. “Talked to her on the way back from Bar Harbor.” Taking a seat, he waved a waitress down. “Said she’s doing well, but tired. I’m more concerned for Reece. He’s as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
    The men erupted into laughter.
    “Same for his brother, when Andy was ready to pop. Harder on the menfolk than the ladies.” Harold crossed his arms over his barreled belly.
    A tall slender teenager sauntered over to the table, pad and pen in her hand. “Hey, Devon. What’ll it be?”
    “Hi, Tish. Shrimp basket and a beer.”
    The young brunette pinned Devon with a questioning look.
    “What you waiting for, lassie?” Harold asked.
    “You don’t think he’s through, do you? I’m waiting until he completes his order before I leave.”
    Again the table burst into chuckles.
    Heat rolled up Devon’s neck. Now that she mentioned it, maybe he did always add to his order. A side of crabcakes did sound good. “Crabcakes,” he said quietly. She raised a brow. “And maybe a piece of Katy’s apple pie. With ice cream,” Devon added, gaining more laughter from the men around the table.
    Tish smirked, giving them an I-told-you-so expression before she turned and walked away.
    Byron raised a glass of iced tea to his mouth. “I think the ladies have you pegged. You’ll need to marry someone like Katy.”
    “Marry? Me? Naw.” Devon glanced out the large picture window when Sky and Sahara appeared before it. They slowed and stopped as they chatted.
    “Looks as if Sky and her soon-to-be sister-in-law are out taking care of wedding business,” Errol said.
    “Sahara be a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Harold asked.
    She turned at that moment and locked gazes with Devon. His heart fluttered and his damn breath caught. Pretty wasn’t the right word. Sahara was gorgeous and sexy as hell. The jean material across Devon’s lap grew taut.
    “They look to have a lot of packages. Be a good lad and see if you can help