Chapter 15 Kira #2
He crowded into me. “What’s to think about right now? All the reasons we shouldn’t work? That’s easy. How about thinking why we would?” He cupped my face. “Looking for a way in instead of out.”
I opened my mouth to reply and he settled his lips on mine. I curled my fingers into his shirt.
“Good luck with the interviews. I’ll find you later.” He went around my car toward his truck and gave me a smile as he climbed up. “Don’t look so worried, Sunshine.”
I got into my car. “Too bad it’s my default,” I said to no one.
My phone rang in my purse, thankfully giving me a reason to focus on anything but me and Ronan. I dug out my headphones as I turned on the car. Matilda was too old to have a Bluetooth hookup, and she wasn’t worth the upgrade.
Not like I could afford it anyway.
I tucked in my earbud as I answered. “Hey, Beck.”
“I’m at the Taproom.”
I hurriedly snapped my belt and looked over my shoulder as I backed up. “Shit, did we have a meeting today?”
Damn Viking waited until I put my car in drive to leave. I would not have a squishy moment about him being worried about me. Nope. I would not.
I followed his truck down the gravel path to Crescent Lake Road. He took a left and headed into Crescent Cove while I turned back toward Turnbull and the orchard.
“No. I just figured you’d be here. You’re here most mornings.”
“I got a late start.” Very late start that left a memory between my thighs that no shower could soothe. And I wasn’t really mad about it.
“No prob. It wasn’t anything important. We just haven’t checked in with one another much lately.”
Sorry, boss. I was too busy banging the new guy.
“How does tomorrow sound? If you can make time. I have interviews scheduled most of the afternoon, so I’m a little jammed.”
“Sure. I’ve got a light day tomorrow.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
“Everything all right, Key?”
“Yeah. Just…”
What? I was on track with my to-do list. Overwhelmed with the list itself, but I wasn’t behind. All my bullshit was personal. And while me and Beckett were best friends, we didn’t really talk about relationships.
Mostly because neither of us really had them.
Beck was married to the orchard, especially now that the brothers were trying to rebrand Happy Acres into a more modern Brothers Three direction.
“Just?”
I sighed. “I had a little incident with a patron at The Mason Jar last night and it blew out my night.”
“Is that right?” His voice was tight.
“Take it down a notch. It was nothing. The dude ended up in the drunk tank and I lost a few hours of work.”
“Key, you can’t keep working eleven jobs.” His voice was resigned, but I could hear the annoyance in there too.
“I’m down to two.” And while I knew it was unreasonable for me to take on anything else with everything I had on my plate for the taproom, having that cushion in my bank account—not to mention the tips for my drawer stash—made me feel more in control.
“I know this is kind of a delicate subject, but if I’m not paying you enough—”
“God, no. No, that’s not it. You know my situation.” My voice tightened. I hated talking money, but Beck was the only one who knew everything. Well, almost everything.
I had to have some privacy. My loans were my business. I clenched the wheel as I stopped at a red light.
“Kira, you aren’t your sister.”
I laughed harshly. “Tell that to the fourteen families she hurt.”
Fourteen families I had to pay back so my sister didn’t go to jail.
“Dammit. I’m sticking. We’ll talk when you get here. You must be almost here, you’re only ten minutes from the orchard.”
“I was running an errand this morning. I’m still fifteen minutes out.” To pick up my car for my version of a walk of shame. Even when I’d done the deed all at my own damn apartment.
Deed?
Ha.
Gold star fucking is what it had been.
“Look, Beck. I’m fine. It is what it is. You and your family never made me feel like a Webb, and that’s what matters. Period.”
“Kira Webb is amazing.”
My eyes burned. Damn him.
“Back atcha. Now go away so I can do my interviews.”
“Yeah, yeah. Won’t hear me complaining about that part. You are aces when it comes to schedules and hires.”
Much like Ronan, he didn’t want to deal with the logistics of staffing. I knew it was where I excelled even if it wasn’t the sexy part.
“While I have you, I wanted to let you know I’m interested in bringing in a name for the bar.”
“What kind of name?”
“She’s a flair artist.”
“Like the Vegas thing?”
“Yeah.” I could hear the skepticism in his voice, but I gave him the details as I did with Ronan. “I think she’ll give us a leg up with bringing in people too.”
“Do people in this area know what a flair artist is?”
“You’d be surprised what people watch on the internet.”
“You got me there. Hayes is always nattering at me about something he saw on one of the social media apps. Annoying as hell. Who has time for that shit?”
Knowing Beckett’s version of downtime was a beer and his guitar, I didn’t argue.
“It’ll eat into my—our—budget, but she’s also got a following. If we market it right, we can get some of the younger people in the doors, even when we don’t have a concert.”
He was quiet. Long enough that I opened my mouth to back out of the idea. “It’s an angle I didn’t think of. Exactly why I put you in charge of this.”
Now I was the quiet one and my eyes stung again. “Dammit, don’t get me emotional.”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t do that.”
I laughed and it was only marginally close to a sob. “I appreciate you trusting me.”
“Beyond my family, there’s no one I trust more, Key.”
And because he was Beckett, that was how he hung up. I tossed the headphones into my bag. I practically sagged in my seat when I realized I was already in town. I needed some coffee and some thinking time, dammit. First, an overwhelming Viking and then Beckett.
Far too much for one morning.
I pulled into a Starbucks and decided if any day was perfect for a splurge, it was today. With caffeine, I could do just about anything.
Now I just had to convince Lennon Hathaway that Central New York was special enough to get her to work for me.