Chapter Three
Brady
Roy was waiting for me at the counter when I came out from the back, cleaner than I’d been but still smelling like I’d earned my keep.
He gave me a once-over, then nodded. “You did good work.”
“Thanks.”
He turned, popped open the register, and started pulling out bills. “Let’s see what I owe you.”
I leaned a hip against the counter. “You don’t owe me anything.”
He didn’t look up. “You put in a full day’s effort.”
“I did,” I agreed. “And I enjoyed it.”
That got his attention. He glanced up at me, then shut the register with a solid click. “You honestly don’t want anything?”
“I’m good.”
He studied me for a second, longer this time, like he was trying to decide what box to put me in and not finding one that fit. Then he huffed. “You rich or something?”
I smiled. “Or something.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head once, dismissing it. “If I thought you needed the money, I’d offer you a job.”
“If you say you need me back tomorrow, I’ll be here.”
He nodded. “Jimmy should be back, but I appreciate your help today.”
“Anytime.”
He jerked his chin toward the door. “My wife makes a green chili stew that’ll ruin you for anything else. Wouldn’t mind feeding you some if you’re around long enough,” he added. “Spicy enough to burn a hole in your soul. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“If I’m around long enough, I’ll take you up on that. Thanks!”
He snorted. “Good. I’ll give you my number so I can tell her when to make extra.”
I took it and added it to my contacts.
He pointed a finger at me. “But my daughters are off limits.”
“Understood,” I said with a chuckle. “Just the stew.”
That got the smallest hint of a grin out of him.
We shook hands. He held mine a second longer, then dropped it.
I nodded toward the garage. “I’d like to cover Mrs. Donnelly’s bill.”
“You don’t owe me anything for that,” he said immediately.
“I want to.”
“Tough.” He folded his arms. “You worked hard. That covers it.”
“At least let me—”
“No.” Not sharp. Just final. “We’re even.”
I held his gaze, then nodded once. “All right.”
Had I never spent time cleaning tables at Mabel’s restaurant, I would have wondered why he didn’t want my money. People like him weren’t stupid, they were proud. A man’s pride was worth more than anything money could buy.
“Good.”
Mrs. Donnelly was still in the lobby, settled into her chair with her book open, glasses low on her nose.
“Sorry, that took longer than expected,” I said.
She waved a hand like I’d just apologized for breathing. “Nonsense. I was right in the middle of a very spicy scene. If anything, your timing is what I object to.”
I laughed. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”
“You should,” she said, closing her book and standing. “A woman has needs.”
I looked away to hide my smile. No way did I want to imagine her enjoying anything other than knitting, nor was I someone who judged. I walked her out to her car, waited while she got in, and leaned against the door as she turned the key.
The engine started without hesitation.
She looked at me over the wheel. “Well. Look at that. You’re useful.”
“I’ve been told.”
She studied me for a second, then asked, “You got plans tonight?”
“Nothing I can’t move.”
“A few of us from the senior center—we play Scat on Wednesdays.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a roll of quarters, and gave it a small shake. “You’d need one of these.”
“What’s Scat?” I asked.
She made a face. “It’s a game of thirty-one. Fast. Competitive. Mildly cutthroat.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
“It is,” she said. Then her nose wrinkled. “But you should shower first.”
Considering how I’d spent the day, I wasn’t offended. “That’s fair.”
She nodded toward town. “Seven o’clock. Senior center. And don’t cry if you go home broke.”
“I’ll be there.”
“And one more thing.” She leaned in slightly. “Technically, gambling is against the rules, so if anyone official comes by, we’re just a group of law-abiding senior citizens enjoying each other’s company. Can you keep a secret?”
“Historically, pretty well,” I said.
She stared at me for a beat. “I’ll put you next to Kara. She talks enough for two people. You won’t have time to snitch.”
“That sounds like a solid plan.”
“See you tonight,” she said, then pulled away.
Back at the hotel, I took a quick shower.
As the hot water rinsed away the garage grime, my mind drifted straight back to Elise.
There was something about her . . . something both mysterious and .
. . uncertain. I smiled as I remembered how reluctant she’d been to end our exchange. I completely understood that feeling.
No ring.
Did she have someone in her life? My gut told me she wouldn’t have looked at me the way she had if she was with someone. Not that I knew anything about her, but I wanted to.
A short time later, dressed again, I was still mulling over why our brief encounter was lingering so vividly when my phone rang.
Evan.
“Hey,” I answered.
“Brady,” he said. “Just checking in. How are you doing out there?”
“Surprisingly well,” I said. “Spent the day working in a garage.”
There was a pause. “You . . . what?”
“Long story. I was hanging around at a coffee shop and started talking to some locals. Mrs. Donnelly’s car broke down and since I had the time . . .”
“Who?”
“An older woman I met today who needed a ride to the garage that was fixing her car.”
“And you thought why not put some time in as a mechanic while I’m there,” he said dryly.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “The guy who owns the place is named Roy. He’s invited me over for some stew. Says his wife makes it so spicy it’ll sear my soul. Can’t wait to taste that.”
“Have you uncovered anything useful?” he asked, tone shifting just enough.
“Not yet,” I said. “But I feel like I’m getting closer.”
“You said that about the last Steele family.”
“Hey,” I said, laughing. “They were great. I stand by that detour.”
“Brady.”
“I’m working it,” I said, still easy.
He exhaled. “You want me to come out there?”
“I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at the time. “Hey, I have to go. I have plans for tonight.”
“Plans?”
“Game night at the senior center.”
There was a beat of silence. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Evan, they gamble with quarters. How can I pass up experiencing that?”
“Just don’t forget why you’re there.”
“I won’t.” Another pause then I added, “Guess who else is here?”
“Do I want to know?”
“Elise.”
“Am I supposed to recognize the name?”
“No, but she has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever looked into.”
“Oh, God. Focus, Brady.”
Unbothered by his tone, I chuckled. “Trust my process.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here,” I said amicably before ending the call.
Maybe by then, if I was lucky, I’d have seen my mysterious Elise again. The memory of her standing in the garage doorway, sunlight catching her dark hair had haunted me all afternoon.
The senior center was already buzzing when I walked in.
Mrs. Donnelly spotted me immediately and waved me over to a long oval table. The place smelled like industrial cleaner and lavender. Considering the crowd, it was better than I’d expected.
“Look who showed up,” she announced with a clap.
When I approached the table, a hefty man with a long gray beard stood and shook my hand. “David.” His ball cap had a Proud Retired Veteran emblem on it.
“Nice to meet you, David.” I thanked him for his service even as he crushed my fingers together.
Man, I hope I’m that strong when I’m his age.
He smirked as if he could read my mind and sat down again.
Mrs. Donnelly motioned for an open chair next to the youngest woman there who still looked to be in her mid to late forties. “Brady, Kara saved you a seat next to her.”
I joined her with a smile. “Hi, Kara.”
“Don’t sit so close,” she said, scooting her chair a few inches from mine. “I get hot flashes and when I do my pits become waterfalls. If you have a strong sense of smell, sit somewhere else. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Oh,” I said because I didn’t know what else to say.
A well-dressed blonde who looked to be in her eighties if she was a day, but whose makeup was impeccably done, leaned across the table toward me.
“Welcome, Brady. I’m Jennifer. I keep telling Kara it’d be better to go on hormones than having to announce her potential unpredictable bodily functions or mood swings, but what do I know?
I’m just a woman who’s been there, done that, and chose better. ”
Another woman, this one similar in age, but with more tattoos than makeup chimed in, “Her body, her choice.” She reached across the table to shake my hand. “Name’s Gloria.”
Damned if her grip wasn’t as bone-crunching as David’s had been. What was Nevada putting in the water? Holy crap.
“I’m sure Brady didn’t join us to talk about menopause,” an adorable woman with blue hair that made her eyes look even more blue chimed in. “Hi, Brady. I’m Iris.”
I waved across the table to her. “Hey, Iris. What a beautiful name.”
She blushed, but smiled.
“Technically I’m in perimenopause,” Kara corrected. “And I thought we’d all agreed that we listen and don’t judge.”
“Oh, we judge,” Jennifer said with a twinkle in her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean we love each other less.”
As far as group philosophies went, it wasn’t the worst I’d heard.
Gloria leaned in again. “Did Donna tell you the rules?”
“Donna?” I looked over at the woman who’d invited me. “You mean Mrs. Donnelly?”
That got a general cackle from around the table.
“Donna,” Gloria teased, “are you seriously introducing yourself that way again?”
Mrs. Donnelly’s shoulders rolled back and her eyes narrowed. “I’m eighty-seven years old. I believe I’ve earned the right to be spoken to with a little respect.”
I met her gaze and winked, “Eighty-seven? I thought you were in your early sixties at the most. Now I know you really are out of my league.”
She blushed and preened. “Brady, don’t flirt with a woman who’s been with more men than you’ve had years on this earth.”
David groaned. “We did not have to go there.”
Jennifer laughed behind her hand.
Gloria let out a loud guffaw.