Chapter 10 #2
He helped himself to a fork and put some of everything onto his plate, then relaxed onto a barstool. The first thing he tried was a tiny potato, and found her watching him, waiting. He popped the whole thing into his mouth.
“Well?”
“Salty,” he said.
“Yes! That’s the point. Most people dip them in melted butter, but I didn’t know how to manage that in a cooler.”
“They’re good just like they are. Like pre-sliced, pre-fried potato chips.”
“Dad made everything. I think that’s aged balsamic on the veggies. It’s thick and sweet.”
He tried everything. The Spanish rice had a twist of something that made it even better. Was it lime? “He’s a top-notch cook,” he said.
“You’re changing the subject. We were going to talk about Cadillac guy. What did Manny say? You did call him, didn’t you?”
“Right after I paid for the fire & flood insurance.” He had called Manny that morning, as he’d told her he would.
“He doesn’t know this Silver character. But I also asked about how the finances had worked before.
He said de Lorean’s guy took care of everything.
The bills got paid, and profits piled up. ”
“No shit.”
He shrugged. “I asked the bank to give me access to the account associated with the cantina. Sent them proof I bought the business. They’re reviewing my request and will get back to me.”
“And then what?” Lily asked.
“Then we hire an accountant to go through the transactions with a bullshit meter. Find out what, if anything, is goin’ on.”
“ Was going on,” she corrected. She’d eaten every bite of her food and dipped back in with her fork for another potato. “An accountant would be obligated to report anything that looked…fishy.”
“What are a few more crimes on my sperm-donor’s long list?” he asked. “Too bad he’s dead. He’ll never pay.”
She put her hand on his upper arm in a way that told him to listen up, to pay attention. “Manny’s an immigrant, Ethan.”
“I know, but he’s legal, and he didn’t know what de Lorean was up to. He’s got nothin’ to worry ab?—”
The look on her face, eyebrows up, chin down, made him break off mid-word and replay what he’d said. Then he said, “You’re right. It could be bad for him.”
“It could get him deported,” she said, blunt as always. “Or worse.”
“I’ll talk to Garrett,” he said. It occurred to him how often that phrase was his solution to a problem. Uncle Garrett always knew the right thing to do. “Until then, I wonder if you and Hy would consider stayin’ at the ranch?”
“But the guy who threatened me is dead.”
He nodded. “We’ve just established there’s always a bigger bad guy. And I don’t want to scare you, but Garrett says Angus Silver has an older brother. Nathan Silver.”
“And?”
“He’s as big a criminal as my old man was. And I was the last person to see his brother alive. It would be a lot easier to keep you safe at the Texas Brand. There’s always family around, and you can see anyone comin’ for a mile in every direction. We’ve got fences, gates, and guns.”
She closed her eyes and he wondered what she was thinking. But she said, “Yeah, sure, I’ll talk to Dad after we finish up here tonight.”
“So what did you have in mind for the afternoon? It’s too early to start surveilling the shed.” He finished his last bite, then gathered up all the dishes and headed around the bar and into the kitchen.
Lily followed. “Why? You have something in mind?”
“I thought we might pick paint colors for upstairs, then start prepping the room. Spackle the cracks and tape the trim,” he said as he put the dishes into the sink and turned on hot water. He’d left some basics around, so there was dish soap to squirt in.
Lily seemed to think about it, then said, “If I’m moving to the ranch tonight, I’m gonna need to pack a bag.
And you can handle paint prep without me,” she said.
Then she dove into her tool belt and pulled out a handful of paint-sample cards, each one striped in shades of color.
“I marked my favorites, but you’re the owner. ”
Lily spent the afternoon with her dad, packing up for a few days at the Texas Brand. She was sure it wouldn’t be longer than that.
It wasn’t yet dark when she headed back to Mad Bull’s Bend and pulled her car around onto the grass behind the cantina. She headed in through the rear door, which led to the kitchen. “Ethan?”
“Upstairs,” he called.
She headed upstairs, surprised to find blue painter’s tape bordering every bit of window trim and crown molding.
Ethan was on a ladder, carefully smoothing spackle over nail holes in the wall. He wore jeans and boots and a tight-fitting black T-shirt. She got stuck watching the flexing and relaxing of his biceps as he worked.
Her own T-shirt was tight, too. A lot of good it did, with her flannel over top. She took it off right then and there, dropped it over a tall bucket and said, “It’s warm up here. You’ve been busy.”
“Couldn’t help myself. This room has a perfect view of the shed, so I figured two birds, one stone.”
She looked around noting he’d taped her paint sample strips to the walls in several locations.
“Now that I’m up here, I’m liking that pale lavender,” she said. She untaped it from where it was and re-taped it to the spot where the light still hit. “Even prettier in the light.”
“That was my favorite, too,” he said.
“Maybe with a creamy trim?”
Ethan snatched a paint strip off the wall, moved it to the spot beside the lavender sample, and awaited her opinion.
“It’s a good look,” she said. “Peaceful, but feminine. You sure it’s not too girly for you?”
“I’m secure in my manhood.”
“Glad you’re secure about something ,” she muttered.
“What?”
“I said, you should be. Secure in your manhood, I mean. And in your decency, and in your talent.”
He ignored the direction she was trying to steer the conversation and changed the subject.
“Besides, after the opening, I won’t be here much anyhow.
This is really your space. But like I said, I like it, too.
” He pointed to a right angle he’d drawn on the floor, like he hadn’t just twisted the knife in her heart a little bit.
“That’s the bathroom. There’s already plumbing run to the spot, as if that was the plan to begin with, so that’ll save some money. ”
“Very cool.” She turned again toward the window, gazing down at the shed. “Have you seen any movement out there?”
“Not a bit,” he said.
“I wonder if you should move your truck around back.”
He shrugged. “He’s been sleeping out there with us in and out every day. I don’t think my truck’s fixin’ to deter him.”
She shrugged and turned away from the window to face him. “I brought a bedroll and an inflatable mattress. You?”
“I brought paint, rollers, and brushes,” he said. “And an extra pair of overalls. In case you came lookin’ pretty. You do look pretty, by the way.” He tossed her a pair of lightweight overalls, like a mechanic would pull on over his clothes.
“Thanks. Just make sure one of us is always watching the shed.” She unfolded the overalls, unzipped them, and stepped into them, sighing because her jeans and top were particularly cute and had been painstakingly chosen.
According to some article Maria had read and then conveyed at some laughing-til-their-bellies-hurt part of last night, she was supposed to douse something in her signature scent and then leave it somewhere to waft, so he’d be thinking about her even when she wasn’t there.
Since she didn’t have a signature scent, but always used the same shampoo and conditioner, she’d dabbed a little bit of them on a piece of gauze.
It was in a plastic bag in her tool apron where they’d stashed it last night, so she wouldn’t forget, and it would probably stay there, because it was a dumb idea.
It only took a couple of hours to get a coat of primer on the entire room, since Ethan had already done most of the prep.
It was gray and dull, but also fresh and new.
She stood in the center, turning in a circle, imagining furniture placement.
“One desk near each of the east-facing windows, you think?” As she spoke, she pointed, and then somehow lost her balance.
Ethan grabbed her quick. “Paint fumes,” he said. “You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good.”
He took his arms away and she immediately wished she’d said no. Then he went to open the windows. She went over to the one just to the right of the top of the stairs, braced her hands on the sill and leaned her face into the warm night air.
“The addition might block the view, if you go two stories with it.”
“I only want to go one-story, but with a tall ceiling,” he said. “We’ll keep the view in mind, though. Be a shame to ruin it.” He was at the other window, a few feet to her left, leaning on the sill just as she was. Every time she glanced his way, she found him looking at her, not the view.
“Could go two stories, though,” she said. “What couldn’t you do with all that extra space?”
He nodded slow. “Could put a handful of rooms in there.”
“Your theme is honky-tonk, not hotel. Your business model is a country bar and dance club, not an inn. Let’s not lose focus.”
He smiled at her. “You sound like my manager.”
“I am your manager.”
“I meant the music one. Angelo Barrone. Why are you so good at this?”
She shrugged. “I took a few electives in college, but I don’t think it’s that. It’s almost intuitive.”
“Your brother told me you were brilliant running that place where your dad cooked.”
She shrugged, turning back toward the view just as a shadow moved past the small paned window in the shed.
“Did you see that?” she whisper-barked.
“See what?” Ethan looked outside again, too.
“Someone’s in the shed. Come on.” She pivoted from the window, peeled off the overalls and paper shoe covers, and dropped them onto the floor of the freshly primed room. Then she ran down the stairs with Ethan right behind her, around behind the bar and through the kitchen to the back door.
“Wait!” Ethan called. “Jeeze, let me grab a weapon.”
She sent an over-the-shoulder scowl. “Sure we’ll shoot him for squatting in a vacant—” But she stopped when she saw the weapon he’d grabbed was a rolling pin.
She almost grinned, but there were more important things to do.
She grabbed a tenderizing hammer as she passed the utensil rack, just in case.
Ethan opened the back door. They tiptoed to the right side of the building from behind, toward the shed, then froze in their tracks when the motion-sensing spotlight came on from somewhere up high on the side of the cantina.
She hadn’t even realized it was there. It blazed directly onto the little garden shed, illuminating a surprised face in the shed window.
Then the shed door burst open, and a tall, bearded fellow exploded from it and ran full bore toward the road and right into the path of a pickup truck.