“You’d want one of my pictures?”
“Sure would. I’d be happy to pay for it, too.”
“Absolutely not. What sort of mood are you looking for? What colors?”
“That’s up to you. I don’t have a color scheme and the dark green comforter would go with anything. But as for the mood…how about something that reflects our…um…recent activities?”
Her eyes widened.
“That’s what your other ones reminded me of, so I thought—”
“They did?”
“Judging from your reaction, that wasn’t your intent.”
“Certainly not consciously!” Her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink.
“Then maybe it’s just me. I was looking at them Saturday morning, after we’d…”
“Right.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll never look at them the same way again.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I guess not.” She took a sip of her juice. “Okay. I’ll see what I come up with.”
“Great.”
“What time do you have to be back at the GG?”
“Not for a couple of hours. I’m sure you have work to do.”
“Yep.”
The conversation wasn’t heading in the direction he’d hoped. Looked like he’d have to broach the subject if she wasn’t going to. “Listen, I think we—”
“Here we go!” Sheri arrived with a heavily loaded tray.
“Wow.” Roxanne smoothed her napkin in her lap. “Looks delicious.”
“Ira does a good job. That’s my husband. He’s the cook.”
“Everything looks perfect. Please thank him for me.”
“I will. I’ll be back with more coffee in a little bit.”
The food smelled great and Michael was hungry, but he reached over and put his hand on Roxanne’s arm as she picked up her fork. “Before you dig in, I—”
“What?” Her expression was wary.
“I thought you might bring this up, but you haven’t, so I will. Where do we stand?”
“Oh.” She sighed. “I didn’t bring it up because we’ve been having such a good time. I didn’t want to spoil it.”
His gut clenched. “So you’re still planning on pulling back, slowing down?” God help him, he wasn’t sure he could.
“No.”
“No?”
“It’s impossible, now. My theory was wrong. You’re great and I’m…” She swallowed. “I’m hooked.”
“You thought saying that would ruin the mood? My insides are doing cartwheels.” He paused. “But you look sad. What’s up with that?”
“I really like you. I think we had a shot.”
“Had? Why say it like that? I really like you, too, and I think we have a shot.”
“Very doubtful. It’s far more likely that we’ll flame out. Maybe it’ll last a couple of weeks if we’re lucky. We might even stretch it out to a month. But then it will be over. And that’s why I’m sad.”
He took a deep breath. “I can tell you really believe that.”
“I do.”
He’d better tread carefully. She wasn’t going to change her mind overnight. “The thing is, I don’t.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I think you’re wrong. Again.”
“I hope so.”
“You are. You’ll see.” Altering her perception wouldn’t be easy, but he could do it. All he needed was time and the luck of the Irish.
Chapter Twelve
Michael didn’t believe her. Discussing the subject hadn’t ruined his mood and that was a blessing. He was his usual optimistic self and she treasured his cheerful attitude.
She planned to treasure everything about him, even after the good times ended. She’d begin by enjoying the lovely breakfast he’d bought her. “I vote we start eating before this wonderful food gets cold.”
“I’m for that.” He picked up his fork and dug in. “The GG does an amazing job with lunch and dinner, but the diner’s the place for breakfast.”
“Ever thought about adding breakfast at the GG?”
“Not seriously. When all is said and done, it’s an old-fashioned saloon. The character of the place doesn’t lend itself to breakfast, whereas this diner is more like a chuck wagon. Breakfast fits with that concept. With a saloon, not so much.”
She smiled. “You’ve analyzed this thoroughly, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s so important for the GG to stay in character. Bryce and I debated the issue of adding those drinks that Tansy loves making, because they’re more big-city than small town. But folks get a kick out of them and she has fun, so we’ll keep them for now.”
She finished a bite of the best waffle she’d ever tasted. “I think the drinks are fun.” She smiled. “I certainly had fun with mine.”
“I think we both did.” That special gleam was back in his eyes, the one that meant he was thinking about sex.
So was she, but that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.
He picked up his coffee. “Do you still want to go to the movies in Bozeman tonight?”
“Seems kind of silly, now. I haven’t looked at what’s playing.”
“And you’re behind on your work.”
“Unfortunately.” She took a forkful of scrambled eggs and paused. “Quite a bit behind, actually.”
“So am I. Got more work to do on the website.” He sighed. “Ironic. You just gave me the green light and we both need to work.”
“If you’re anything like me, you’ll feel better once you’re caught up.”
“Yes, ma’am. How long do you think you’ll need to finish your current project?”
She smiled. “Now that I’m motivated instead of frustrated, it should go faster. But I probably need the rest of the day and possibly tonight, too. It’s tough to estimate.”
“I’m sure. How about texting me when you’re done?”
“I can’t predict when that’ll be.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You could be asleep.”
“I’ll put the phone by my pillow.” The gleam in his eyes intensified. “I don’t care what time it is. Text me.”
Desire flared, hot and urgent. “Okay.”
He held her gaze. Then he put down his coffee and tossed his napkin on the table. “Let’s get a box for the rest of this. I still have an hour before—”
“No.” She drew a quick breath. “We’re going to finish our meal and then you’re going to drop me off at my truck.”
“That’s not what your eyes are saying.”
“Involuntary reaction. My mouth is saying we both have work to do. Pay attention to my mouth.”
“I would love to.”
Damn, he was compelling. “That’s not what I meant. Eat your breakfast, please.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.” Putting his napkin in his lap and picking up his fork, he tucked into the rest of his meal. “I’ve been thinking of what else people might want to order with the logo on it. Beer mugs seems like a no-brainer. Maybe glassware, too.”
“What about the mugs and glasses you use on site? Would you replace what you have?”
“Pricey. But if they paid extra for a drink served in a logo glass....”
“Instant souvenir. And imprinted coasters might not run you too much.”
“I’ll check with Bryce on that. What about putting the logo on barbeque aprons? I can see guys wearing those when they cook on the grill.”
“I can, too. And what about sweatshirts?”
“Sure.”
“Maybe even sleepwear.”
He frowned. “Sleepwear?”
“You know. Pajamas. Sleep shirts.”
“Ah. I guess some people might want that.”
“Not you?”
“Too restrictive.”
“I see.” Back in sexual territory again. That was fast.
He gazed at her. “Do you wear sleep shirts?”
“Sometimes.”
“Lacy nightgowns?”<
br />
She squirmed on the seat. “Could we please change the topic?”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“Something boring.”
He looked amused. “Sorry. I don’t do boring if I can help it.”
“Then let’s just eat.”
They finished the meal quickly after that, but the ride back to the GG tested her resolve. Such close confines. So much tempting masculinity only inches away.
He didn’t speak, but he didn’t have to. She was aroused by the flex of his thighs as he pressed on the truck’s pedals, the curve of his fingers over the steering wheel, the flutter of his eyelashes, the rhythm of his breath.
He cleared his throat. “So I’m supposed to pull up next to your truck and let you out. Is that the idea?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Without kissing you goodbye?”
“Yes, please.”
“That doesn’t seem right.” He put on his blinker and turned into the parking lot. “I think it breaks some sort of morning-after rule.”
“You’re making that up.”
“No, I’m not. They’re unspoken rules, but I’m sure they exist in our tribal memory.”
“Good grief. Now I know for sure you’ve been smooching the Blarney Stone.”
“I have, in fact. We took a family trip to Ireland when I was fifteen.” He parked next to her truck and turned off the engine.
“I knew it.” She reached for the door handle. “Well, Michael Murphy, I’ll be seeing—”
“Let’s not be hasty, lass.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She glanced over her shoulder.
He’d nudged back his hat and his green eyes sparkled. “Nay, ‘tis for my sake. Give us a wee kiss afore you leave.”
“I suppose you think I’ll be charmed by that brogue.”
He smiled. “Sure and you are, lass. I can see it in your bonny eyes.”
“Michael…”
“Just a wee kiss. I’ll not be touching you and taking liberties, which would be unfair under the circumstances.”
“You’ve got that right.” She scooted around to face him. “Come closer, you crazy Irishman.”
“Ah, ‘tis generous you be, lass.” He leaned toward her.
Holding his face in both hands, she kissed him gently on the mouth. He returned her kiss with the same light pressure. True to his word, he didn’t touch her.
She drew back and basked in the warmth of his gaze. She wished she could stay, but not so she could roll around in bed with him. Instead she’d take his hand and invite him to go for a walk. She’d ask about Ireland and find out what kind of boy he’d been at fifteen.
But she had work to do, and so did he. “I’ll text you.”
“Please.”
She climbed out of the truck and got into hers. When she looked in his direction, he was looking back, still smiling. She started the engine, gave him a wave, and backed out of the parking space. Time to throw herself into her project. The sooner she did that, the sooner she could see Michael again.
* * *
Michael leaned back against the headrest and stared out the windshield. He was doing his damnedest to keep his interaction with Roxanne light and breezy. His Irish brogue routine had worked, but if it hadn’t, he would have had to let her go without that kiss.
Everything in him had rebelled against letting her leave without kissing her goodbye. Silly? Maybe. But it had been important to him, a gesture that signified they were creating something meaningful, whether she believed that or not.
Bryce drove up next to him and glanced over.
Michael opened his door and got out. Caught woolgathering. That was okay. He wanted to let Bryce know that he and Roxanne were officially seeing each other. He wanted to let the entire town know, but he’d start with Bryce.
After giving him a warm handshake, he walked beside him toward the entrance. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it back this morning.”
“It was a challenge getting up at five after performing last night, but I wanted to get here before we opened.”
“I understand.” Michael looked forward to the day when Bryce could leave without worrying about his beloved bar. That day hadn’t arrived yet. “How was Jackson Hole?”
“Amazing. Nicole was in top form and the crowd responded to her. I loved seeing it.”
“How’d they like your new songs?”
“Loved ‘em, which was gratifying. But they really ramped it up when Nicole invited them to participate and sing along with old favorites.”
“I know what you mean.” Michael used his key to unlock the front door. “Nicole has a gift for encouraging audience participation.”
“She sure does, although it wears her out. She was exhausted, so she’s home sleeping, since the salon is closed on Mondays.” He walked into the bar. “Looks like you kept the place in shape while I was gone.”
“I did my best. How did Jimi Hendrix react to the separation?”
Bryce laughed. “He was a little sulky, but when I think of what that cat was like when I first met him, we’ve made great strides. He tolerated being fed by someone other than Nicole or me. That’s huge.”
“It bodes well for future out-of-town gigs.”
“Yep. The resort already asked us to book another appearance. We promised to let them know.”
Michael followed him into the office. “That brings up another subject. Last night was dead.” Except for the hours he’d spent with Roxanne.
Bryce leaned against the edge of the desk. “Are you saying we need to find musicians to fill in when we’re gone?”
“Exactly. I’d like to see live music in here every night, although you might not agree.”
“Every night, huh?” Bryce had the defining trait of all the McGavins, eyes that had become known as McGavin blue. He focused them on Michael. “That’s a commitment. Once folks expect it, we have to make sure they’re not disappointed.”
“True, but then we’d have a bigger pool to draw from when you and Nicole leave town. I’m sure they’re around. We just have to find them.”
“You’re the expert at throwing out that net and reeling them in. If you get the prospects, I’ll handle the auditions.”
“So you’re on board with live music seven nights a week?”
“If it doesn’t break the bank.”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.” He hesitated. “I have another proposal, but I can wait until you’re back in the groove.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“That logo could go on plenty of things besides a t-shirt. Sure, we can offer other items through the website, but what if customers could buy them here?”
“You’d need to display it and we don’t have room.”
“We would if we added on a little shop. People could come in the front door, go left to the bar or turn right into a cozy retail space we’d call the GG Country Store.”
Bryce regarded him for several moments without saying anything. “Sometimes you scare the hell out of me, Murphy.”
“Sorry. Don’t mean to.”
“Don’t be sorry. I think you’re brilliant. But you’re always about three moves ahead of me on the chessboard. Give me a minute while I catch up.”
“It’s mostly about the logo stuff, but it’s also—”
“Hang on.” Bryce held up a hand. “I’m still processing. So coffee and beer mugs, but what else?”
“Barbeque aprons.”
Bryce laughed. “Of course.”
“And your music.”
“Why? They can get it digitally.”
“We’d sell autographed vinyl editions.”
“Hm. That might work. Have you mentioned any of this to Luke?”
“Not yet. I planned to make an appointment with him this week but I wanted to run the idea past you first.”
“Let me talk to Nicole about it, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
“Is that why you were sitting in your truck
like a zombie? You were plotting how to present all this to me?”
“No. I was thinking about Roxanne.”
“Oh, really?”
“Things have progressed and we’re…involved.”
Bryce studied him. “Pardon me for saying so, but you seem conflicted about that.”
“I’m not, but she is. She’s convinced that we’re barreling down the track toward a massive train wreck.”
“I can understand her reaction. You’re a fast mover and that can be intimidating.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want to be.”
“Except that’s you, Michael. You reach out and grasp the future while most of us are muddling our way through the present. If she sticks around, she’ll get used to your style and be cool with it.”
“That’s the tricky part, getting her to stick around.”
“You seem very motivated, buddy.” Bryce clapped him on the shoulder. “I have every confidence you’ll figure it out.”
Chapter Thirteen
The huge breakfast kept Roxanne fueled until dinnertime, when hunger forced her to take a break and warm up some leftover lasagna. Finishing her work was the top priority. Ingrid had texted to ask which movie she’d chosen to see with Michael. She’d texted back Plan scrapped. Barreling through to make deadline.
All true as far as it went. She’d touch base with Ingrid tomorrow. Maybe they could go over to the GG tomorrow night and have the kind of fun evening they’d missed out on before.
She pulled the serving of lasagna out of the toaster oven, put it on a plate and carried it to her computer desk. Her ringing phone startled her and she almost dropped the plate. Most everyone texted her.
Wes’s ringtone. Guilt slammed her in the gut. She’d put off responding to his texts and they’d piled up. No wonder he was calling.
She grabbed the phone. “Wes! I’m so sorry. I should have gotten back to you.”
“No worries, sis.” His tone was casual. “How’s it going?”
She wasn’t fooled by his easy-going manner. Something was up. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Never better. But when you didn’t respond to my texts, I—”
“I apologize. I’ve been swamped.”
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