Chapter 26 Ewan
EWAN
The small, decorative clock that sits on Gus’s desk ticks, audibly counting out each passing second and getting louder with each one. Fuck, that’s annoying.
And taunting. Leaving me feeling like Captain Hook, listening to the tick-tock, tick-tock fill the silence, driving me straight to the point of being willing to launch myself into the crocodile’s mouth. If Gus doesn’t get here soon, that is going to sound like a better option.
I lean back in the leather guest chair across from his stupidly pretentious dark wood desk, stacked neatly with piles of folders and papers, his computer monitors off to one side, the whole thing looking like a stock photo used for a website somewhere.
Not someone’s actual desk where work is done.
I can pretend as much as I want that it’s his office that is making me this anxious or his taking his sweet time even though he insisted I be here at eleven sharp, but that would be a lie.
Because I wasn’t sitting in this office last night when I couldn’t sleep. Or this morning in the shower when my chest was so tight that I had to lean against the wall to hold myself up and catch my breath.
Still, it’s the right move. One I’ve been resisting for years.
Said I’d never do. I also said I would never drink flavored coffee creamer or have sex in my place of business during work hours, so my word in that department means nothing.
Either that or pigs are flying somewhere out there. Either way, we’re here now.
Flying pork or not, this is about Maisey. About making her happy and showing her that I support her following her dream no matter what that is or where it takes us. About doing what I should have done the first time she told me she had a job offer.
The universe not only gave me a second chance with her, but another go at making this right. At making the right choice here. So that’s what I’m going to do. No matter how tough it is.
“Sorry,” Gus says, rushing into his office. “The morning took a weird turn, and things took longer in legal than I thought.”
He crashes down into his chair, the papers on top of the neatly stacked piles waving a little from the breeze he caused. The normally stoic look on his face is firmly in place, mixed in with some extra concern. Like he’s still not sure about all this.
Oh, how the tables have turned…
“There a problem?”
He shakes his head, flipping open a folder. “No, not a problem. Just a…”
A what?!
I sit up, leaning in, waiting for him to finish that sentence. To give me some kind of clue as to what the fuck is going on.
“…a situation.”
“A situation?”
What, had he been hiding out in the hallway, looking up synonyms for the word “problem” in the thesaurus, trying to church it up?
Or was that the term legal gave him to use so that I didn’t freak out?
Maybe someone down in Public Relations got ahold of this and is trying to put a spin on things.
Whatever it is, that has corporate speak all over it.
“Nothing to worry about. It’s not bad,” he tries to explain. Only I can tell he isn’t so sure. That something isn’t right. “I have all the paperwork to bring The Booby Trap under the umbrella of Hayes Industries and make it part of the network of companies. But…”
For fuck’s sake. I’ve wanted to lunge across a table to strangle my oldest brother more times than I can count over our lifetimes, over who knows how many different things, big and small, but this might take that cake. It’s like he’s doing this on purpose. Dragging this out, just to be a jackass.
“But what, Gus,” I snap, the gnawing inside taking over. I want to threaten that if he doesn’t just say it, I’m going to take that but and shove it up his…however that would be juvenile and not get us anywhere.
“There’s someone else interested.”
Errrr…what?!
There’s someone else interested. Interested in what? That statement doesn’t even make sense.
“In the store?” I clarify, because I’m still not sure I follow.
Gus nods, as stoic and solemn as always.
“How does anyone else even know about this? I asked you to keep it to yourself. You even said you’d ask Margeaux to be the one to do the paperwork so that it was kept in the family. How the fuck does it get out to someone who would be interested in outright buying it between Friday and now?”
What the actual fuck. This isn’t happening. How…
“This is Hickory Hills; things have a way. You know,” Gus starts, his voice fading, my own train of thought plowing straight through his attempted explanation.
I sit back, running through our conversation at Pour Decisions. It was just the three of us. Until Jace barged in. Then Hux. But they weren’t even there for the conversation about the store. Jace turned everything on its head with his demands about Presley Callahan.
The bar wasn’t even open. That was why I was even willing to have the conversation there. It was safe. The last thing I wanted was for this to get out, get around town, the same way my interest in the store had made its way around when I made an offer to old man Jennings ten years ago.
Old man Jennings.
“Seth Jennings,” I mutter, not bothering to hide my disdain.
He was there. He was fixing a toilet and must have somehow overheard us talking.
That jackass never liked that I bought the store from his grandfather and changed the name—a fact he’s never bothered to hide.
On top of that, he’s always had a thing for Maisey.
How that would play into this, who the fuck knows.
But I got ten bucks that says it’s Seth Jennings who thinks he can try and take the store from me.
And he can fucking think again. He’s going to have to pry it out of my cold, dead, and lifeless hands.
In fact, even then, he’s not going to get it, because I’m going to make sure The Booby Trap is so solidly tied to Hayes in every way possible that he couldn’t dream of making an offer.
Hell, I’ll burn it down and donate the land to the town first.
“What about him?”
“He can’t fucking have it.”
Gus throws his hands up. “I don’t know when everyone in this family decided they could just say someone’s name and then a very definitive statement and expect everyone else to follow along, but between you and Jace… Christ on a bike. Explanation is necessary, you know.”
I glare at him. He’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I want to concede his point. I’m too angry. My anxiety morphed into indignation pretty quick, but I don’t care. It’s nice to be feeling something else right now.
“It’s him, isn’t it? He’s the one making the offer.
He overheard us while fixing the toilet at Pour Decisions.
He’s always hated that I changed the name, and now he thinks that since he’s on the town council he’s got some power and can try and get it back,” I grumble.
“And after what he did to Hux last year, this is just his next power move.”
Now that I think it through, it all tracks. He tried to veto Hux’s request to revamp the town’s playground last summer as a gift to Dolly, stating it wasn’t a good use of town funds. Coincidentally, it took Dolly threatening his pastry habit to get him to change his vote.
Somehow I don’t think that would work here. Her cinnamon rolls are good. They aren’t that good.
“Next he’ll put a move on Maisey,” I tack on under my breath, then push to my feet. I need to move, get some of this energy out of me.
“What?”
“He had a thing for Maisey in high school.”
“Oh. Right, well…” Gus pushes to his feet, rounding his desk and walking over to me. He stands directly in front of me, stopping my ability to pace. “Will you just come to the conference room so that you can talk to them?”
“I don’t have anything to say to the plumber.”
Gus lets out an exasperated sigh, clearly done with me and my shit. To be fair, I would be too. There is already a part of me that is thinking that this is a sign that I need to reconsider. That this isn’t actually the way to go.
Reykjavík…
Maisey’s sweet voice flows through my head, the lightness in her tone as she says the name of the city she’s always wanted to go to.
The pain in her eyes the last few days as she’s agonized over her choices, so afraid of making the wrong one.
My heart cracks, splintering into tiny pieces that are barely holding on, knowing that I have a way to take that pain away.
A way to choose her over this town. To tell her that she means more than our hometown. More than anything else in this world.
“Ewan, please. I promised them you’d at least hear them out,” Gus pleads. “If you hate what they have to say, fine. We come back in here, we sign the original paperwork, and we go have Munch. Deal?”
I nod. That I can do.
“Good.”
Turning to go, I follow Gus out of his office, making a left to walk down the long executive hallway.
I pause, letting him get a few steps ahead, not sure why we’re going this way.
There’s only one conference room in this direction—the executive conference room—which is generally reserved for internal, senior staff level meetings, and on Mondays, is always reserved for Munch.
It’s incredibly rare that a meeting with a non-Hayes employee would be held in that room—Monday or not.
The last non-employee I remember even being allowed in there at all is when Nash crashed Munch two years ago to profess his love for Willa.
“We taking the long way?” I ask, still keeping enough distance between us for Gus to do an about-face if he realizes he’s on autopilot and has gone the wrong direction.
“Nope, I’ve got everything set up in here.”
He stops just outside the executive conference room, and now I’m really stumped.
“Everything else booked?”
“Ewan, you’re killing me.”
What’d I do?
He opens one of the double doors, holding it open and gesturing for me to enter. I lift a shoulder, trying to tell him I don’t understand his confusion, when I’m the one who has no idea what is going on here. None of this is making any sense.
Walking into the room, I stop. Right along with my heart.
It all makes even less sense now.
Sitting at the head of the table, the spot usually reserved for Auggie—or maybe Gus if he’s trying to get all bossy—is the very last person I expected to see. Jesus himself would be less of a surprise.
“Ewan, may I introduce you to your prospective buyer,” Gus whispers from behind me. “In fact, I think you might know each other.”
I nod, unable to breathe. Especially when that smile hits me.
“Maisey.”