Chapter 11
Jason
Knox’s voice sounds out from the interior of the bar behind me.
“What did you get up to this weekend?”
I grip my hands under one side of the heavy custom-made bar table, my brother Mitch hauling up the side opposite me, and on a silent count of three we heave it from the back of his tail-bed, carrying it as steadily as we can through the open entrance of Casey’s bar.
It’s been snowing all weekend, meaning that the temperature is freezing, but I can’t deny that right now both of my biceps are on fire.
I ignore Knox’s question for the moment, my sole focus on this table and how goddamn heavy it is.
“Jesus Christ,” I rasp, as we finally drop it down, ready to shove it in the back booth closest to the bar’s counter. “I know I said that it needed to be sturdy but what the fuck did you make it with?”
Our intentions with the furnishings for Casey’s bar were that they’d be easy enough to move around, but not so easy that a patron could flip them over if things got heated. From the looks of things, if a patron tried to flip a table that my brother made, they’d probably end up knocking themselves out before they lifted it an inch.
Mitch grunts, rolling back his shoulders before we shove the table between the upholstered bench-seats.
He gives me a dry look and says, “What do you think I made it with?”
I smirk and shake my head. “I can see that it’s made of wood. What I’m deliberating here is how much fucking metal you’ve secured it with.”
“Want me to screw this one down?” Madden asks, grabbing a couple of bolts from his back pocket, and I stomp some of the snow off my boots because it’s getting slippery as hell in here.
Seeing as Case might want to make some furniture adjustments when he gets home, I rub my hand down my jaw and shake my head.
“Keep them unbolted for now. No-one’ll be able to move them around, anyway.”
Mitch rolls his eyes and then cracks his knuckles, before jerking his thumb toward his truck. “Let’s go grab the other ones.”
“Can’t wait,” Knox deadpans, shaking out his palms because he still hasn’t recovered from lifting table number two. Then he tips his chin at me and asks, “You coming to the diner this Friday?”
I swipe a hand back through my hair and reminisce over what I was doing Friday past, where I didn’t make the usual crew hangout because I was busy working on wooing Sunday.
It was without a doubt the best weekend I’ve had in years. Picking Sunday up in my truck, taking her over to Hardy’s ranch, and then leaving her at Casey’s place with the promise that this is going to turn into something more.
Even if she just wants a friendship, at least I’ll be able to have her in my life again, because after half a lifetime of living without her, I know exactly what I’d rather pick.
When it comes to Sunday, I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give me.
And it wasn’t just riding at End of the Road Ranch that made the weekend so good. It was what spending quality time with Sunday led to for the rest of the weekend.
Her texting me on Saturday morning, telling me which trail she was hitting up with Haven, and then following it up with a couple of photos that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from.
And as we continued texting each other when the intermittent cell service allowed, I’ll admit that I was tempted to ratchet things up a notch.
By the time that I was taking a shower after a full day of working on the annex with Madden, I was more than half-tempted to send Sunday a couple photos of my own. And that’s saying something seeing as my camera roll is all work-related.
I’d slung my towel over my shoulder and stared at my reflection in the steamed mirror, thinking, will Sunday be as into receiving a photo of my weekend as I’m into receiving them of hers?
Even this morning I managed to get a couple of texts sent her way, although from the fact that only half of them got delivered I can tell that she must be away from the centre of town again.
I swipe my hand through my hair, not loving the idea of Sunday driving up the mountain roads now that it’s finally snowing, but seeing as she messaged me on Saturday when she was back at Casey’s place I’m putting my trust in the knowledge that she’ll keep me in the loop of what she’s up to.
And if that’s all that she wants from me, I’m okay with that. Being the guy that she keeps in touch with just so that there’s someone in this small town who knows her plans, because it’s undeniably dangerous as hell to travel into the mountains without someone knowing about it.
I breathe in a deep inhale, my chest swelling as I wonder if that’s what this is – Sunday having me on hand because I work search-and-rescue.
But honestly, I find that hard to believe.
If anything, she sounded pissed that I was involved with SAR.
And she definitely didn’t like the idea of any other women wearing my hat.
I swipe my hand down my jaw, trying to fight back my satisfied smirk.
It’s been a while since I was last involved with a woman, but that sure as shit doesn’t mean that I can’t still read the signs. And the signs that Sunday was sending me?
Yeah, she likes me.
I rub my palm across my stubble and bring myself back to the present.
“I’ll be coming to the diner,” I rumble. “Just had something important to do last Friday.”
Knox smirks. “Hot date?”
I smirk back at him. “Something like that.”
Madden’s silver eyes are burning into the side of my face and I know that it’s because he knows exactly what I was doing on Friday.
He’s been officially dating Hardy’s daughter Kitty since around July last summer, and as Sunday and I were pulling out of the ranch, Madden was just pulling in. Smirking at me from his Wrangler as I gave him the finger.
There’s not a chance in hell that I’m about to get into the finer details about my relationship with Sunday, and it’s not just because she’s fucking gorgeous and I want to keep her all for myself.
She’s beautiful, so she’s going to get attention wherever she goes. That’s something that I came to terms with way back when we were in high school.
It’s because I’ve been protective of her since we were fifteen years old, and those feelings didn’t just disappear when I enlisted in the Army.
Fuck, if anything, my emotions only grew stronger. And if those letters that Sunday sent me during my first year of deployment are anything to go by? I know it in my gut that her attachment grew stronger, too.
Our feelings didn’t go away. They stood their ground and endured.
And it doesn’t feel like over a decade since I last messed around with her, teasing her in the passenger seat of my car as I brought her back to her mom’s. It’s the same situation only we’re not in high school anymore, meaning that we’ve finally developed the sense to open up about what’s important.
We’ve done our hard rites of passage, where we moved away and built lives that we were proud of. But, at least for me, my time out of Phoenix Falls is over, and I know exactly what I want now that I can live how I choose.
I like the slow pace, the steady job, and the fulfilment that comes with doing winter search-and-rescue.
And I like that everything feels even sweeter when my time off work is spent with Sunday.
I grab my phone from the bench and head to the back of the bar, where we’re currently storing the electricals.
It’s just over a week until Valentine’s Day, which means that I need to get on with propositioning Sunday about us going to the outdoor cinema screening.
Back when we were in high school, she talked about that thing nonstop for months, only to end up not being able to go when we found out that it was eighteen-plus entry.
She’d almost burst into tears when Case told her in the cafeteria one lunchtime, those beautiful eyes growing wide before she turned one-eighty and sprinted to the girls’ bathroom.
I waited outside for her almost ten minutes into class, and, when she finally emerged, she looked so sad it made my chest ache. So we bunked off school for the rest of the day, and I took her up one of the trails to take her mind off it.
And when I finally got her home Casey practically broke my jaw, but I’d taken it with secret pride because his sister liked me – a lot .
I dip inside the back office, leaning against the dark wood desk as I unlock my cell.
My chest heaves steadily as I look over our messages, undeniably satisfied with the progress we’ve been making.
And when a new text suddenly comes through my heart lurches behind my ribs.
SUNDAY: Hey! Just letting you know I might do the Alpine Trail with Haven on Saturday morning. Don’t know if you’ve got plans, but feel free to join x
I stare at that little kiss for about twenty seconds straight.
Until I’m suddenly thinking, shit – I do have plans Saturday morning.
To head over to Casey’s place, so that I have an excuse to see Sunday.
And now they’re plans that I can’t change because I already ordered the fixtures for Casey’s yard. Meaning that, especially if the weather forecast about Saturday afternoon is correct, I need to be fast as fuck when it comes to the installation.
Hanging out with Haven and Tuck means that it isn’t a date, but, when I think about it, that means it’s so much more. That Sunday wants me to spend time with her closest family.
And I’m going to have to fucking decline .
“Jesus Christ,” I rasp, knee bouncing up and down like a sledgehammer.
Fuck it, I’m just going to be honest with her.
JASON: Wish I could, but I’m busy ’til midday Saturday. Meet up after? x
I press send.
And wait.
For five minutes.
To no response.
Great. Fucking A. Of course I’ve just blown my shot with Sunday.
The hottest woman in the state just gave me an excuse to see her – and I had to turn her down.
I hold off for another minute before dialling her number and pacing the office.
When the call goes to voicemail I curse and immediately hit redial.
But after attempt number three I sigh and send her a more detailed text, asking her to let me know when she’ll be home so that we can reorganise our weekend plans.
And then a deep voice sounds out behind me.
“You trying to wear the carpet out or something?”
I glance over the curve of my shoulder to see Beckett standing with his arms folded in the doorway.
Then I drop my eyes back to my phone, that delivered notification making my chest clench painfully.
I’m going to leave her a voicemail later, to make sure that nothing gets lost in translation here, because there’s genuinely nothing I’d rather do than spend my weekend doing anything with Sunday.
And when I say anything, I mean anything.
I pocket my phone and come back to the present moment, my mind on the rest of the tables that we’re going to be hauling.
“Forgot what it was like to have a work-life balance,” I tell him honestly, swiping a palm back through my hair before tipping my chin at him to move out of the way.
He falls into step beside me as we start trudging back to the main area of the bar.
It’s all wood and fucking beautiful – renovated exactly how Casey wanted it.
And I really want this plan to work for him, for more reasons than one.
“Is it the woman?” Beckett asks as we leave the back corridor, entering the main space.
“Yeah,” I admit, glancing at the bar’s countertop that we just fit this morning.
I give it a sturdy shove with my palm, ensuring that we’ve secured it well enough.
And it doesn’t move an inch.
Satisfying as fuck.
“What’s the deal there?” he continues.
For a long moment, I don’t say anything.
I squint as I look out of the front entrance, the snow outside bringing in a light chill. Then I scrape my palm down my stubble and watch him.
“Honestly, man? You don’t wanna know.”
He rolls his eyes. “Hit me.”
I snort. “Don’t even tempt me.”
He smirks and shakes his head before jerking his thumb toward the town square.
Just like that, the subject’s dropped. And I appreciate that about Beckett.
“Wanna hit up the diner before we finish in here?” he asks. “It’s already after two.”
It’s so light and airy in the snow-covered town square that we’ve been losing track of time. And by the time that Mitch is back with more tables we’re going to need all of the energy we can get to haul them in here.
I nod. “Sure. I’ll let Mitch know that we’re over there.”
And I’ll also order some extra food so that they can join us for a quick bite before we finish our work in the bar for the day.
But first and foremost, I’m going to make things right with Sunday.