Page 76 of One Bride for Three Single Dads

“You’re out of your feckin’ mind,” I hear Patrick mutter under his breath as he snatches a level off the floor and walks over to the fireplace. He lays the level vertically against the left edge.

Even from here, I can see that the bubble in the level is exactly in the middle.

Patrick turns around and points at the bubble accusingly as he stares at Harrison.

Then he strides over to the other side of the fireplace.

“And just for good measure…” he announces as he executes the same act on the other side.

Patrick drops the level on the floor and walks back out of the room without another word.

Harrison turns to me and shrugs theatrically. “I know you saw it too,” he complains.

“You probably just insulted his entire family,” I inform him. “His last name is Mason, for Chrissakes.”

“Oh shit, really?” Harrison chuckles. “Yeah, okay, I see what you are saying. Well, can’t the guy take a little bit of criticism?”

“Apparently not.”

Harrison turns around and stares at the fireplace again, but seems to be willing to let it go. I am 90 percent sure that he was just fucking with the guy. Harrison doesn’t seem to appreciate the Irish crew like I do. He takes it as a personal insult, probably made worse by the fact that spraining his ankle was the reason we had to get them in the first place.

“Well, I guess I made my point,” Harrison finishes, then walks into the kitchen.

“You made a point?” I ask as I follow him. “Are you sure? What kind of point was that?”

Harrison shakes his head at me like I’m stupid. “Who’s the boss.”

“You want to explain?”

“I’m just reminding Patrick and the guys who is really in charge here.”

“And that is you?” I ask, feeling my eyebrows go up.

“That’s all ofus,” he insists.

He walks over to the greenhouse, opens the door, then closes it again. Then he walks back to me. I can sense he has a lot on his mind.

“Have you heard them talking?” he asks me pointedly.

“Yeah, I hear them talking all the time,” I shrug. “I know it’s supposed to be English, but I can’t understand a fucking word.”

He points at me with his index finger, a little more viciously than I like. “So you didn’t notice them talking about Jolene?”

“Talking about Jolene? Like what?”

Harrison sucks his teeth and shakes his head. “No respect,” he mutters.

I can hear how pissed off he is. What have they been saying?

“Seriously, man, it sounds like a foreign language to me. What are they saying?”

“I don’t know. It’s lassie this, lassie that. They talk about her all the time. They know.”

“They know what? There isn’t anything to know.”

“Oh, isn’t there?” he scoffs.

I turn the thought around in my mind. I have to admit, it makes me feel little sick to think anybody has been talking badly about Jolene. The woman I want to protect. The woman who trusted me enough to come here with us.

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