Chapter Two #3
“Duane handles routine operations when I’m not there. I do the books, ordering, staffing, maintenance, and anything he can’t solve without spending too much of my money.”
“Does that happen often?”
“He enjoys spending my money.”
“I heard that,” Duane would’ve said if he’d been within five miles.
Shay smiled around another bite. “How do you divide your time?”
“It depends on what needs doing. Ranch work starts early. I’m usually at Sin & Tonic before opening and there most nights. Duane covers when cattle, fencing, or weather rearrange my plans.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It’s work.”
“That wasn’t a complaint.”
“No.”
She surveyed the finished kitchen. “I like work when it leads somewhere.”
“This project is leading somewhere.”
“It needs to.”
She picked up a peach and turned it in her fingers.
I waited.
Shay exhaled. “My brothers work for the family company. Garrett’s president. Bobby handles commercial development. I handle Daddy’s calendar, events, correspondence, donors, and whatever emergency he invents before lunch.”
“You’re running his office.”
“I do almost everything except receive a title that suggests I do almost everything.”
She bit into the peach.
“You bought this with your own money?” I asked.
“My salary and savings.”
“That took planning.”
“I’m good at it.”
“You are.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “I know what this place should sell for. I know what I’ve spent and what I still have to spend. I built in contingencies.”
“You’ve found many?”
“Foundation repair took most of one. The old plumbing took another.”
“But you kept going.”
“I’d already bought it.”
“That isn’t why.”
She met my eyes across the counter.
“No,” she said. “It isn’t.”
She didn’t explain further, and I didn’t push.
Shay reached for a chip. “Did you always plan to run both businesses?”
“The ranch was always there. Sin & Tonic came later.”
“Why a bar?”
“The building was empty, and the town needed somewhere with decent music that stayed open past nine.”
“Mayor Luttrell disagrees with the second part.”
“He can go to bed whenever he wants.”
She laughed. “I almost said that yesterday.”
“You should have.”
“I was supposed to be diplomatic.”
“You told me he was wrong.”
“That was diplomatic by Luttrell standards.”
I took another drink of tea. “Fair.”
The feud had started before Shay and I could understand it. Copper Falls called it the Broken Handshake because Copper Falls named everything worth gossiping about.
I knew better than to pretend I understood the original argument.
“My father acts like Calhouns are a weather system he can’t control,” Shay said.
“Mine acts like Luttrells invented taxes.”
“Did they ever tell you what happened?”
“No.”
“Me either.”
That earned a quiet laugh from both of us.
“I’ve never understood why we’re supposed to inherit it,” she said.
“We’re not.”
Her expression softened. “That was easy.”
“It should be.”
She set down the peach pit and wiped her fingers on a napkin.
The kitchen had gone quiet again.
Shay stood to carry the empty wrappers to the trash. I gathered the glasses and followed her to the sink. The island and counter left plenty of room for two people, but she turned as I stepped past, bringing us nearer than either of us needed to be.
She tipped her face up.
Without the safety glasses, her eyes caught more amber than brown in the light. A faint streak of dust still crossed her cheek. I could’ve wiped it away with one thumb.
I didn’t.
Her breath slowed.
Mine didn’t.
“The list,” she said.
“What about it?”
“You said you remembered it.”
“I do.”
“All of it?”
“Most of it.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“Not for me.”
Shay’s lips parted. “Which item did you remember first?”
“Number six.”
She didn’t look away. The humor left her expression, exactly as it had when she’d told me the permit request was wrong.
“Why that one?” she asked.
“Because you wanted a man to listen.”
The pulse at the base of her throat beat faster.
I wanted to close the distance. I was hard, and the narrow space between us made it impossible to hide.
But the list had arrived by accident.
“Reading it doesn’t mean I assume you want any of those things from me,” I said.
“I know.”
“I’m not going to use it as permission.”
“I know that too.”
Her voice had gone quiet and direct.
I glanced at her mouth, then met her stare. “Good.”
Shay didn’t step away.
“The list was honest,” she said.
“All eight?” I asked.
“Yes.”
My forearms tensed.
She stood so close that one small movement would bring her against me. I waited.
Shay watched my mouth. She leaned forward slightly, then stopped with only a breath of space left between us.
Neither of us moved.
A long second passed.
Then Shay turned toward the built-in.
“The upper doors still need to be rehung,” she said.
Her voice wasn’t as steady as before.
“I saw them.”
“They’ll be easier with two people.”
“They will.”
She turned back to me. “Will you stay?”
The ranch still needed work. Duane expected me back at the bar before opening. Helping Mayor Luttrell’s daughter with a property her family didn’t know she owned could cause more trouble than any sensible man needed.
I stepped back to give her room and nodded toward the waiting cabinet doors.
“Show me what you need.”