“So,” Clayton continued, “about the Redheart. What’s happening with it?”
Kellen looked at her and gave a nod, seeming to defer to her to comment, which Drea didn’t know if she should take as him being gracious or as some type of trap on his behalf. She knew she shouldn’t be so suspicious, but couldn’t help it. Seeming to sense her caution, he spoke up. “Since I’m lagging behind in the initial talks for the theater, I’ll let Drea here tell you. It would seem she and my grandmother have come up with quite the plan.”
Drea nodded. “Quite, huh? Don’t gush now, Suit. I wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle.”
He shot her a quick side-eye, but instead of speaking stuffed his mouth with a bite of corn bread.
Drea looked to Clayton and smiled. She could’ve imagined it, but no, she felt Kellen stiffen even more beside her. “I wouldn’t describe the renovations as quite,” she said, “but more in lines of a grand restoration. Something that is much needed to bring the Redheart up to the standards of today and push it forward into the future. Actually, it’s only a tiny bit of me involved. I’m purely there making suggestions, really.”
Kellen coughed and Drea immediately leaned over and gave him a hard smack in the middle of his back, not breaking stride in her conversation. “Like I was say-ing, I’m pretty much just there to bring form to Mrs. Betty’s vision. We want to update all that is in sore need of updating: the concession and lobby area, carpeting, the screen possibly, and probably the screening equipment.”
“All that?” Clayton asked, astonishment in his voice. “Geez, when we were last there the old girl looked good to me.”
“That’s what I say,” Kellen said from Drea’s side, and she shot him a look.
“Honey, you’re not helping any,” Liv interjected out of the corner of her mouth. Her voice was light, but still Drea was thankful for the bit of sisterly solidarity.
She gave Liv a slight nod before continuing. “Plus, we’d like to add in party and craft rooms where there is space, to make the theater not just a stop-by place but more of a community destination. I think an addition of an out-back mini amphitheater may do just that. It will be great for small, outdoor community plays. A different and more artistic venue than, say, the school auditorium.”
She watched as Liv’s eyes lit up; she could tell her sister was seeing her vision, and even Clayton nodded in agreement. She looked over and the rest of their eyes followed suit to see Kellen looking poker faced, stoic. You couldn’t tell if he was holding an ace-high straight or pair of fours. Not that it mattered; Drea knew his intentions.
But it was Clayton who would speak again, making her wonder if he knew what Kellen was brewing. “You’re right, that is quite the endeavor, Kellen, and I can tell you’re a little hesitant. But it all sounds terrific for the community. It would be a shame to see the Redheart close. It’s sad how many of the local businesses already have left and moved out of town just to be closer to the multiplex at the mall. Not that I don’t get their reasoning, but if there was a wonderful gathering spot right here in Sugar Lake, just maybe we could keep more of the small town feel we’ve come to love right here. I for one miss the old businesses that have left, and if we had more top local amenities in town besides just the country club, we’d be able to keep more tax dollars right here in Sugar Lake proper.”
She could tell Kellen wanted to say something but was hesitant, but then Liv chimed in teasingly, “Says the honey-harvesting beekeeping firefighter.” She reached a hand out and stroked at Clayton’s clearly freshly-shaven-for-their-date chin, and goodness help him, Drea might send her next kick in this grown man’s direction, as her sister brought a blush to his deep brown cheeks.
She pulled a face, and shifted her gaze. With nowhere to go but the wall or in the Suit’s direction, their eyes locked. He swallowed and so did she. Quickly, she turned her attention to Liv and Clayton, and noticed the two of them were like two spectators at a show they didn’t order tickets for.
“Seriously, neither of you are lovesick teens anymore. It’s not cute.”
They both laughed as Shelby came with the food. “Okay, no more of that,” Drea said. “This is serious business time. None of that funny stuff that will go and have me losing my appetite.”
“As if you would,” Liv chimed back.
Eh, she was right. Not even the Suit could get her off course in this moment. They were about to enter barbecue lovers’ nirvana and she was ready for the full-on experience. Ribs and chicken, mac and cheese, the type with the perfect ratio of cheese to mac so that you weren’t too little or too much in one direction or another. At Jolie’s, magically, though condiments were on the table, she’d never reached for salt or pepper; everything was perfectly seasoned. The only thing she’d ever seen patrons do was play around with which hot sauce to add to the perfectly seasoned meat: Trappey’s, Red Hot, or Tabasco for the purists.
Even though the Suit was beside her, Drea quickly forgot about his nearness, her awkwardness, and focused all her attention on the plate of ribs and chicken in front of her.
* * *
Boots could eat and Kellen found he enjoyed watching her do so. Unlike any of his other dates, though this was clearly not a date, watching her gave him a sense of total relaxation. Like he didn’t have to be on. Whenever he was out with other women, be it for business or pleasure—and let’s face it both seemed interchangeable—it felt like either he or both of them were on a job interview. You must order the right thing, eat the proper way, drink the precise amount in order to leave the perfect impression. There was none of that with Drea. It was refreshing to see how she didn’t put on some sort of show for him, though why would she want to with the way he’d been acting toward her? Kellen paused at that thought and looked at her, smiling as she tipped her tongue out and licked an errant bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth.
He snorted to himself as he looked back at his own plate and she laughed at something her sister had said. Yeah, why would she put on a show for him? He was definitely not her type and she, with her free spirit, not his. A man like him could never be open enough for a woman like her.
But for now they were stuck together. At least until this project or his deal or both were done, Kellen thought in between delicious bites of rib, slaw, and macaroni. Though he wouldn’t want to share with his grandmother and admit defeat, he was surprised at how the evening was evolving. So far Clayton was turning out to be good company. Though they weren’t the best of friends growing up, he was an all right guy. Besides, he wasn’t the worst back in their school days. Unlike some of the rest, he’d let him be himself and to himself. Which was all he’d wanted out of his years in Sugar Lake after coming here after his parents died. Not a jock, or a nerd, or a drama kid. Just himself without any forced-on extras or pushed upon friends.
So, Kellen guessed he shouldn’t be surprised Clayton turned out cool and interesting with his side honey business and a nice woman on his arm. If anyone deserved that he supposed Clayton did. It was nice to see how excited he was when he talked about his business and its possible future growth. Even more exciting than that was the clear faith Drea’s sister had in him and his dreams, and the way he supported her and her future at Goode ’N Sweet too.
Kellen spared a quick glance Boots’ way. And he was thankful to Clayton for being here and keeping the conversation going. It kept him from having to talk. All he had to do was nod and chew. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why his grandma thought this dinner was a good idea. The fact that she and Miss Joyce went to Pentagon-level strategy sessions to make sure this little foursome dinner happened after he’d shown his reluctance at the bakery that morning spoke to how much they must have wanted it.
And he knew what happened when his grandmother wanted something. Mountains. Moved. He was amazed at how much he’d completely underestimated the craftiness of his grandmother.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t know she was shrewd; growing up with her he knew the woman, but in
all his years he’d mostly seen her as sweet, kindly, loving, and mainly a bit of a flibbertigibbet, for lack of a better word, but it was one she used often to describe herself, saying she liked the way it rolled off her tongue in the most unexpected way. At times he thought, as he took his first bite in way too long of Jolie’s delicious ribs, maybe his grandmother liked being unexpected. He slid another glance toward Boots—she was laughing and chewing despite him next to her and their awkward start to the evening. He chewed as he thought. She too, like his grandmother, was quite unexpected.
Just then, right as they were so very close to finishing their meal and he was almost in the clear of getting out of there having fulfilled his obligation for the night, there was their server, Shelby, with what he couldn’t quite call a smile. She gave them a nod as she held another pitcher of beer and Joy Juice, saying it was compliments of none other than Caleb Morris. Which, judging by the expression on Clayton’s face, surprised him just as much as it did Kellen.
“Fantastic! I wasn’t quite ready to call it a night anyway,” Liv said.
At that, Clayton’s mood seemed to shift, and he turned to Liv. “Oh really? Don’t you have pies with your name on them in the morning?”
She waved a hand, then shrugged. “There are always pies with my name on them. But we’re out now and the night is still young.”
Clayton raised a brow. “Does that mean I might get you on the bull again?”
Kellen almost laughed seeing Boots’ sister’s expression turn to horror. “You wish! No way.”
“As if. You know there’s no way she’s doing that again. Once was enough to get her man. I’d say the bull did its job.”
“Hardly!” Liv protested.
“What do you mean hardly? I’m here, aren’t I? Saved the damsel from the terrible steed and all that.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “You really are pushing it, Clayton Morris. You act like I was in distress or as if I needed saving. It was just a little mechanical bull and it’s not as if, in the nearly year since I’ve been here, I’ve heard or seen any such proof of you being some expert rider.”
Clayton opened his mouth, then Kellen noticed he smartly closed it again.
Drea started to laugh before taking a rib in hand again as her sister turned her way. “What are you laughing about? It wasn’t as if you were so hot on the bull either.”
“Well,” Drea started, using her waving hands for punctuation, “I made it a good five seconds or more than you tw—” and before the end of the expected two the rib slipped from her hand, landing with a splat and sending sauce splattering onto Kellen’s cheek, his glasses, and the collar of his shirt.
Seriously?
He looked over at her, pulling off his glasses and wiping them with his napkin, but of course, he only made the sauce smudges worse. Smooth, Kel. Very smooth.
“Did you just really?” he said, looking into her surprised eyes.
Boots gave him an embarrassed grimace that had a dangerous hint at a smile on the end of it as she reached a hand out toward his face. As her thumb stroked his cheek and made its way forward, slipping to the corner of his mouth, Kellen jumped back, not from fear of her, no, it was from the immediate zing of electricity that went from his mouth to his chest, taking him unceremoniously over the edge of the small booth’s bench and onto the floor. Wham!
And that’s where he was, solidly on his ass when Griffin Nash walked over and looked down at him. As if the likes of Griffin Nash should ever be looking down at him or him looking up at Griffin Nash from this particular angle.
“Gee, I sure hadn’t had you pegged as one who couldn’t handle your beer, Mr. Kilborn. But then again you have been spending a lot of time in the city,” Griffin said.
Kellen’s eyes shot back up. Wait just a minute, did he . . . just? Kellen attempted to get up gracefully, but that was darn near impossible from where he was, with one leg on the bench, the other under the table. Drea came scrambling over the top of him, her lithe body wiggling up his leg. Jeez, Boots, who does these types of things ?
“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to give him a hand before noticing that her own hands still had a good amount of barbecue sauce on them as she pulled back. Kellen shook his head. It was a smiling Clayton who eventually came to his rescue, though he was sure his reputation was forever sullied having to be rescued at all. He’d just leave it there, on the floor of Jolie’s with the discarded peanut hulls to be swept up later that night.
He gave a nod to Clayton and slid a side-eye to Griffin. “Don’t worry about what I can handle, Mr. Nash. I’ve got everything under control.” Kellen turned to the table and wiped his hands as best he could, looking over at Olivia, not trusting himself to look at Boots just yet. He still felt the sting where she had touched him on the corner of his mouth. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and clean up quick and I’ll be back in a moment. Sorry for the ”—he looked at Drea, catching the apology in her eyes though he swore it was hidden behind the fact that she was holding back a peal of laughter—“disturbance.”
Kellen tried hard to hold on to what little bit of cool he had left as he made his way to the men’s room. Everything in him said to make a beeline out the front door, turn right, get in his car, and drive the heck home. He’d had his fill and then some of being cordial. But as he cleared up the trail of red sauce from the side of his cheek and in vain tried to get rid of the stain from the collar of his shirt, the image of Griffin, with his perfect teeth and bulging muscles and leering eyes, came to his mind. Then it hit him. The way she’d instinctively moved away from him in the theater. It was probably nothing, but there was no way he was heading home before making sure that Boots had found her way home first. Kellen let out a breath. What a ridiculous thought. He only just met the woman days ago. It was clear from the interaction at the theater earlier that she and Griffin Nash had a history. If he’d not come into town, and this old theater thing hadn’t started, what difference would it make, him bringing her home tonight or not? Kellen’s frown went deeper. None. It wouldn’t make a bit of difference, just like it shouldn’t make any difference now. It wasn’t like he had anything going on with her. It wasn’t like she needed him interfering with any part of her life. He shrugged and headed back out to say his good-byes to Clayton and Olivia and head home.
On the way out he locked eyes with Caleb Morris. He hadn’t seen the older Morris brother in a long time. He’d been kind enough to stop by the viewing and pay his respects to his grandmother, give Kellen a quick handshake, but, as per his usual reclusive way, like a ghost he was gone. Not that Kellen blamed him for not wanting to hang around for the gathering of mourners with tall tales of the Henry Kilborn they knew and loved. Hell, not even Kellen wanted to be there for that, so there was no way he expected the reclusive Morris brother to stay on. No, the only place one saw Caleb Morris, if he was to be seen, was during his shift at Jolie’s, where he was known to be a man of few words who knew how to pour a good drink. Beyond that, there was nothing much more to know.
A big difference from the popular, all-star reputation Caleb had had when they were kids looking up to him in high school, Kellen thought, taking a quick glimpse at Caleb’s prosthetic limb. But that was high school, when they were children, so they’d best leave those things behind as the saying went.
He reached into his pocket to leave Caleb a tip when the bearded vet held up said hand. “Now, don’t go starting, Kilborn. It was just a pitcher of beer. No need flashing your money this way. It’s not going to impress me.”
Kellen pulled a face, then shook his head. “I was just going to leave a tip. But fine, and who said anything about impressing anybody?”
Caleb shrugged, then laughed. “Okay then. I was just stopping you before you went and made a mistake. A gift is a gift. You rich folks sometimes have a hard time accepting when others are just being nice.”
Oh, there you go. “I was accepting it. This is me. Coming by to say hi and thanks for the round.”
/> Caleb gave him what he supposed would pass for a smile up in the woods where he hid out. “Well, you’re welcome. I must admit I was surprised to see you come in here. It’s not like Jolie’s is your type of place. I’d think the country club is more up to your dating standards.”
Kellen felt a huff coming on, but held it back. “Who says I’m on a date? I’m just hanging out.”
Caleb nodded, distracted by a couple of girls who came in; they were young, early twenties probably, and all full of smiles and waves his way as they took a perch at a round table with a view of the bar. He gave them a quick nod.
“Looks like you have it pretty good here,” Kellen said.
“It’s a job,” Caleb replied in a noncommittal way, then added, “So Drea Goode, huh?”
Kellen frowned. “Huh?”
Caleb smiled. “Oh, those Goode girls. And you’re seriously saying you’re not on a date?”
“No,” Kellen spoke up quickly. “I’m not. She’s doing some work for my grandmother at the theater, so we’re essentially on a project together.”
Caleb nodded as Kellen’s frown went deeper. What, did Boots have admirers all over Sugar Lake? Suddenly Caleb put up his hands. “Oh no, I wasn’t thinking anything, not that it would matter to you. I was just wondering about old Griff there, saddling over into your spot.”
Zeroing in on their booth, Kellen turned so fast that for a moment he thought he’d given himself whiplash. Where were Clayton and Olivia? Why was their side empty and why was wrench-head Griffin Nash wedged into his spot, sitting way too close to Boots and right over his leftover ribs, no less!
“But since you’re just working together, I guess it doesn’t matter. . . .” he heard Caleb say as he started to walk toward the booth mumbling something about thanks and catching up soon.
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