Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW BENZ AROUND TOWN?
Griffin
Everything is off.
And it pisses me off.
I’m having difficulty sleeping, knowing that my road is no longer just my road. Yes, it still has my name, but she occupies it now. It makes me uneasy. It makes me anxious. Especially knowing that it’s someone who’s never been here before.
She’s not loud, but she just takes away my quiet.
Distracting my peace.
She moved here for what? To start a new life?
I don’t buy it.
What I mean when I say everything is off is that she’s off.
I’ve spent the last few nights sitting on my deck and peering like a creep through the trees in the direction of the tiny home. One night, I watched while she let her ridiculous ball of fluff outside to run around. Not only was it irritating that she let the mutt run free, but it came straight into my yard where I watched it piss on my rosebush.
What confused me the most was that she was dressed in business attire, like she was planning to go to town hall for a meeting .
I hate knowing someone is in that home now.
The bell for the door of the bar dings and I turn to face it.
My father. What a pleasure.
“Good afternoon, Griffin,” my dad announces with a smile.
“Eugene.” I nod in his direction. He takes one of the open seats at the bar and removes his cowboy hat. “What brings you in today?”
“I stopped by to have some lunch with my favorite son. Even though he can’t call me Dad, I still wanted to stop in and see him.” He smirks.
I raise a brow in his direction because I’m his only son.
Taking a moment to scan his features, he looks more like a cowboy than a mayor. He used to be one when he owned the ranch, before he ever got into town politics. This man did every job from cleaning the stalls to running the fences to repairing things that needed to be fixed. I’ve never once seen him wearing a suit and tie like a typical mayor. It doesn’t fit the town vibes anyway. He prefers his Wrangler jeans, thick, brown outdoor jacket, and cowboy boots.
“And to let you know, you might get a little busier here by the end of the year,” he adds with a raised brow, exaggerating the wrinkles around his face.
“Why’s that?” I ask, placing a menu in front of him.
“I have a ton of meetings coming up with the zoning and planning board. We’re working on getting that old ski resort on the west side of town up and running again.”
“The one that’s abandoned because Bluestone Lakes and Bonneville haven’t been able to decide who’s going to take ownership of the mountain?”
He nods. “We’re going to work together with them. An improved resort to bring a bigger crowd into Bluestone.”
Lovely .
“Wipe that annoyed look off your face.” My dad laughs. “This is great for business, son.”
I fight back a groan. Building up this town only means one thing. Opening a ski resort would only turn this into a resort town. More out of town people coming here to treat us like the scum on the bottom of their feet. Rich investors would flock to my bar acting better than everyone because money lines their pockets. I can’t wipe the annoyed look off my face because it doesn’t sound fun. If I was someone who looked on the bright side of things, I’d be happy because it would bring in revenue for the bar.
It’s really a catch twenty-two for someone like me.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask, changing the subject.
He flips the brochure-style menu from front to back. “You should consider adding more to this menu. You only have like ten options here.”
“It’s a bar…with bar food. You get what you get with what we have to work with.” I shrug.
He scans the small menu even though he gets the same thing every time he comes in here. “I’ll take the chicken sandwich, extra bacon, and ranch on the side.”
Yep, the same thing he always gets.
Nodding, I jot it down on our guest check before sliding it through the small window that leads to the kitchen. “New order,” I shout to the two kitchen staff I have back there. The moment I turn around, the bell for the door dings again. The most annoying noise in the world.
“My man!” Tucker bellows, making his way to the bar when he spots my father, with his friend, Levi, in tow. His buddy from work right behind him. “Oh shit, hey, Pops. Didn’t see ya there.”
“Afternoon, Tuck. Staying out of trouble?” he asks.
“Always, sir. You know that.”
I roll my eyes because Tucker Daniels lives and breathes trouble.
Even if he’s just my cousin, I love him like a brother. But he sure is a smart ass, and always finds himself caught up in trouble he doesn’t need. I blame it on his age. I can’t discredit how hard of a worker he is, though. He spends all day doing construction, from building new homes to fixing up businesses in town, and then comes and works a few nights a week at the bar for me. For a twenty-three-year-old, he’s probably the hardest-working guy around and will drop everything he’s doing for his friends and family, without hesitation.
“Don’t you get enough of this place?” I ask Tucker.
“Never in a million years, Griff. You know this.” He grins proudly before taking a vacant seat next to my father, while his friend, Levi, takes the spot next to him at the same time the cook brings out Eugene’s sandwich.
“Ohhh, the chicken sandwich with extra bacon? Good choice, Pops.” Tucker nods in approval before facing me again. “Can I get the same?” I pull out the guest chest to take his order. “Oh, I’ll take some of that spicy ranch sauce stuff you got on it too.”
“Levi?” I say his name as if to ask if he wants anything before putting both of their orders in.
“Same thing,” Levi says before I drop the guest check in the window, and I let the staff know we have another order.
Levi works with Tucker doing construction on the days where the workload is heavy, other days he tends to the Barlow Ranch and the horses for us. He’s the best ranch hand we have.
I let them have a conversation over work and the weather, while I work on stocking what little we have behind the bar. It’s been days since I heard things are going to be delayed, and guess what, it’s still not here.
I pride myself on being able to carry a variety of things that guests would want to drink. Whiskeys and bourbons, flavored vodkas, and rums for mixed drinks. Beer isn’t a common thing we sell here, believe it or not, but I always make sure to have it available for the few regulars who do drink it.
I like to think it’s because of the atmosphere I’ve created here.
There are no windows, so it’s kind of dark and weathered here. Everything on the inside is a deep wood color, including the tables and chairs. I think people associate the color scheme with a dark amber liquid. Whiskey and bourbon are most definitely our best sellers.
And guess which one is delayed right now?
Ding ding. My fucking bourbon.
I buy only the best and refuse to buy it from some cheap distillery. I import our bourbon straight from Fiasco, Kentucky.
Foxx Bourbon is our best seller. Rightfully so. I’d wait forever for it if I needed to.
“Hey, Griff,” Tucker interrupts my thoughts at the same time the kitchen brings out the last two lunches. “Have you seen the new Benz around town? I saw it roll by the other day and I thought it was just a passerby but rumor has it they moved here.”
My eyebrows knit together because I know exactly who he’s talking about.
“What a stupid move on his part,” Tucker continues. “A white car? In a town full of dirt roads? What a dumb ass.” He laughs, shaking his head.
“Pretty sure it’s a female,” I tell him.
“Yeah, duh.” Levi swats his arm. “You know, the whole white car thing. She’s probably on the PTA somewhere and always has her shit together.”
“Doubt it,” Tucker scoffs with a mouthful of food. “You know small-town talk, we would totally know if she had a kid with her. So, PTA is off the table. But I wonder how she will survive here without that bullseye chain store.”
Staring in disbelief, my gaze bounces between them. “What are you two even saying?”
Tucker shrugs. “It’s a thing, apparently. White car versus black car. I think the saying is more SUV-related, but same shit. A black SUV usually means the person is messy and chaotic,” Tucker explains.
“And white SUV means they are always clean with their shit together,” Levi adds.
What in the world is wrong with these two ?
“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Which says a lot because half the shit out of both of your mouths is usually dumb.”
Tucker holds up his hands in defense. “Hey, I didn’t make it up.”
Standing there in shock, I have nothing more to say.
I’m definitely not planning on telling them the owner of the white Benz is my new neighbor. I don’t need to draw more attention to myself than necessary. Besides, I’m trying to avoid having any conversation with her if I can help it.
“You two have lost your minds,” my father chimes in, standing from the chair and throwing down a twenty-dollar bill. “Thank you for lunch. Come over for dinner one day, yeah?”
“Am I invited?” Tucker’s face lights up. “Please, say yes. Aunt Mary’s cooking is heaven-sent, and I’ll die if I don’t get it soon.”
My father laughs. “You’re welcome anytime. You know that.”
Tucker makes a fist and punches the air in success. “Uncle Gene is the shit.”
He and Levi go quiet as they scarf down the rest of their sandwiches. I’ve never seen them eat so fast in my life.
Looking down at his watch, Tucker jumps from the chair. “Shit, we’re going to be late. Our fifteen-minute break is over.”
“You only had a fifteen-minute break?” I ask, confused, looking down at my watch. “But you’ve been here for at least a half hour by now.”
“Yep. See ya, Griff.” And he’s out the door.
What…an interesting lunch crowd today.