“It depends on how fast you eat.”
“Don’t tempt me, sunshine.” He kissed the top of her head and took the box. “Let’s eat in the bar. Hopefully the delivery I’m waiting on will show up while we’re eating, so afterward I can sneak you upstairs for a quickie before you head back to the trenches.”
Willow balanced on the tips of her steel-toed boots and smooched his chin. “You have the best ideas.”
Soon as she’d divided the food, Blake straddled her across his lap and kissed her thoroughly. “Mmm. That’s what I was hungry for. It’s been forever since I tasted your sweet kisses.”
“Forever? It’s been four hours since you kissed me good-bye.”
“Like I said. Forever.” Then Blake kissed her again.
Willow sighed. “You’re heating me up while the food’s getting cold.”
“That’s how it should be.” But he set her on her own chair.
Blake wiped his mouth and spun to face her. “What are you doin’ tonight?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“I know you have to work early tomorrow, and it’d be late, but could I come by your place tonight after the bar closes?”
“Sure. What’s going on?”
Blake smoothed back the hair that’d fallen from her ponytail. “We need to talk about some stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Like…what happens when Dave comes back.”
Her stomach did a little flip.
“And some other stuff that I don’t want to talk about here, okay?”
“Okay.”
He tucked into his sandwich. She stared into her soup, her appetite completely gone.
Willow thought she’d be prepared for the “it’s been fun” speech, but she now realized she didn’t want him to go.
Maybe he doesn’t have to.
Before she lost her nerve, she blurted, “If you need a job when you’re done working for Dave, you can come to work for me.”
His mouth dropped open.
“You’ve done construction and we’re always looking for reliable workers, especially carpenters, and you might not be working with me, but I’m sure we could find some way to put your skills to use.”
“Willow. That’s not—”
She put her fingers over his lips. “Just think about it, okay?”
The back door slammed. But it wasn’t a delivery person pushing a handcart full of beer through the doorway. It was Dave LeRoy. Holding a duffel bag and looking annoyed.
“Dave? What the hell? You were supposed to be gone another couple days.”
“Nice to see you too.”
“Something go wrong?”
“Might say that. The fishing sucked. Gloria was being a first-class b—” he glanced at Willow and amended, “—baby, and I decided enough was enough.”
“What happened?”
“We broke up.”
“Aw man, that sucks.”
“Tell me about it. So I tucked my tail between my legs and slunk home like the whipped dog I am. You’re off the hook.”
Would Blake just up and leave now that Dave was back?
Dave dropped the duffel bag. “The hook comment would’ve been funnier if my fishing trip hadn’t gone in the crapper.”
“Isn’t a crapper a fish?” Blake asked.
“That’d be a crappie. Which also describes my mood.”
“Why don’t you head on upstairs? I’ve got it covered down here.”
“Nah. I’m wired.” Dave wandered behind the bar, helping himself to a glass of Sprite. He frowned at Willow. “I didn’t think this was your kind of place.”
She froze. Would Blake tell Dave what’d happened in his bar in his absence?
Then Dave looked back and forth between Blake and Willow. “You two know each other?”
“Startin’ to. Maybe you oughta—”
“I get it.” A huge smile bloomed on Dave’s face. “You’re cozying up to the competition, West. Smart.”
“Competition?” Willow repeated.
Blake went board stiff next to her.
“Sure. Blake’s a helluva carpenter. His skills have been wasted working part-time for his cousins. Now that his years as a sheep rancher are over, I’m trying to talk him into remodeling this place. Putting in a kitchen so I can serve bar food. Then he could hang out his shingle, so to speak.”
“Dave—”
“You’re a sheep rancher?” Willow said incredulously.
Dave laughed. “Now why am I not surprised you kept that to yourself?” He confided in Willow, “Bet he didn’t tell you he and his dad just sold their spread for a pile of money?”
“No. He neglected to mention that.” She spun toward Blake. “So you’re not ‘between jobs’? You’re not really a bartender?”
“I am a bartender, Will,” Blake said softly. He looked at her. “Does it matter?”
“It does if you’re a carpenter with unlimited funds, pretending to be a bartender, so you can get the lowdown on what it’d take to compete with us.”
“A little competition would do Gregory Construction some good,” Dave said.
“Shut up,” Willow and Blake snapped simultaneously.
“I’m just sayin’…” Dave put up his hands. “It’s obvious you two have some things to talk about.” He disappeared into the back.
Things started to click into place. Blake asking her specific details about their business. Their main focus. How many guys worked for them. She was amazed he hadn’t suggested she patch the wall, not to lessen the amount she owed for bar damage, but so he could ascertain her skill level.
Infuriated, she jumped to her feet. “You totally played me.”
“How do you figure?”
“Getting me to talk about my job.”
“And that means I have ulterior motives? Because I’m interested in your life?”
“Darn right it does. When you haven’t been honest with me about yours.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Are you having a good laugh about me asking you to come to work for us? Cozying up to the owner? Was that your plan from the start?”
Blake smacked his hands on the counter. “When you barged in here I had no idea who you were besides a confrontational drunk who also happened to be Miss Firecracker. The local beauty queen, not the local carpenter.”
“You slept with me under false pretenses!”
“What was false about it? That I think you’re sexy, smart, funny and sweet? That you look as hot in a toolbelt as you do in a pageant sash? That I like spendin’ time with you in and out of bed?” His eyes glittered. “Lemme tell you something, sunshine, there was nothin’ false about my cock getting hard every time I saw you or touched you.”
“That is not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“You lied about being between jobs.”
“I am between jobs.”
“You didn’t tell me you had money.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not used to having money. Or maybe I kept it quiet because I’d like a woman to be attracted to me—not to my bank account.”
“You know I’m not like that!”
“And you know I am not a liar.” Blake sighed. “Look, I’ve gotten used to women pretending to like me for other reasons. Hoping I’ll introduce them to my good lookin’ wild McKay cousins. Or because they expect I’ll sneak them free drinks. Or sweet-talk me into doin’ their home repairs for nothin’.
“The reason I didn’t tell you about the years I spent a sheep rancher? That’s not who I am, anymore than Miss Firecracker is who you are. It’s afforded me some opportunities. Just like the title did for you. So I didn’t lie. I was a carpenter. I was a sheepherder. But right now? I am just a bartender.”
Her stomach clenched at his defeated tone.
Blake slid from the stool. “I didn’t play you. I don’t have plans to ruin your business by being in your bed. I am a decent guy who is tired of defending my livelihood at every turn to people who d
on’t judge me as hard as I judge myself, no matter if I’m herding sheep, or nailing trim, or making drinks. I’m tired of explaining myself. I thought I didn’t have to with you. I thought you were the first woman who saw me—the real me—who looked beyond labels, because you defy every one that’s ever been put on you.”
He wouldn’t even look at her.
“Was I wrong, Willow?”
Dave poked his head around the corner. “Blake. Phone.”
Blake sighed and started to walk away.
Don’t go.
Willow stared after him. Confused. Heartsick. And feeling the unwelcome urge to cry.
Talk to him.
Forget him. He’s leaving anyway.
She exited through the front door at a dead run and didn’t look back.
Blake raced out the service entrance only to see gravel flying as Willow roared off in her truck.
“Fuck!”
He flipped open his cell phone to call her, to demand she get her ass back here so they could talk this out, when he realized he didn’t have her cell phone number.
“Fuck.”
“Standing in the parking lot and swearing at the memory of her tailgate ain’t gonna do you any good, West.”
Blake slumped against the building. “Think I don’t know that, Dave?” He glanced over at his friend. “Perfect timing, by the way.”
Dave laughed. “I sincerely hope you aren’t blaming your stupidity on me.”
“It might’ve been easier if I’d had the chance…shit. I had lots of chances. I didn’t take any of ’em. I totally fucked this up.”
“Yep.”
“Thanks for the support.”
“Anytime. So you and Willow Gregory, huh?”
“I don’t wanna talk about her.”
Dave handed him a bottle of water. “Okay. Then can I ask you something else?”
No.
“Why the big secret about being a sheep rancher? Why’ve you always been embarrassed about it?”
“Maybe it’s all the jokes. ‘Wyoming. Where men are men and sheep are nervous.’ Or maybe it’s because the rest of my family, on both the West and McKay side, are cattle ranchers. Successful ranchers and we’ve always struggled. Or maybe it’s because my brother bailed on the ranch as soon as he could and left me with no choice but to stay on and help Dad.”
“You could’ve left.”
Blake shook his head. “We barely scraped by most years, so no way could he afford to hire help if I left. What was I supposed to do? Act like the sheep business he’d devoted his life to wasn’t good enough for me? Act ungrateful?”
But weren’t you doing that by hiding how you’ve spent the majority of your life?
“No. But instead you made yourself miserable?”
“I didn’t hate working on the ranch. Not like Nick. It was just what I did, kinda like washing bar glasses. It’s not exciting, but you just do it anyway without thinking about it because it needs done.”
“Okay. I get that. So was it the same ‘I don’t wanna be ungrateful’ story when you learned carpentry?”
“Sort of.” He cracked the lid on the water bottle and took a long drink. “Except I’d bet a hundred bucks that my cousins Chet and Remy only offered to teach me because they felt sorry for me.”
“Why?”
“After Nick left, they thought I’d gotten trapped in a life I hadn’t chosen.”
“Weren’t you?”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way until I started working for them. So yeah, the upside was I learned a new skill set, but I got the impression they felt they were doing me a favor, ya know?”
“I hear ya. But again, you were too nice a guy to say no when they asked you for help?”
“Pretty much.”
Dave sighed. “You ever done anything you’ve wanted to do job-wise? Without worrying about whether your decision will hurt a family member’s feelings? Or without being embarrassed about what you’re doing?”
“The only job I’ve ever gotten on my own was at the Rusty Spur. I like tending bar. I’m good at it.”
“I wouldn’t have asked you to watch my place if I didn’t know that.”
“Thanks.”
A bout of silence stretched between them.
“Look, I wasn’t blowing smoke the night I talked about expanding LeRoy’s. With the storefront next door empty, I could add on a kitchen. Probably start out serving bar food and see how that goes.”
“I imagine it’ll go over well.”
Dave tossed his empty water bottle in the recycling bin and jammed his hands in his pockets. “I know you’re struggling to find a place to land after your dad’s stroke. So I just wanna throw it out there that if you’re interested, sincerely interested, not just being ‘Blake the nice guy’ to your old buddy Dave, but looking to make a permanent change in your life, well, I’d like to talk seriously about a partnership.”
That surprised Blake. “Why?”
“I had nothing but time to think on the way back from Jackson Hole. I realized that Gloria was right about a lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Like I don’t have a life outside of the bar. Makes it worse since I live upstairs and I can’t seem to get away from it. I need to. Soon.” He squinted at the horizon. “We both work too damn hard, Blake. Be nice to share the workload.”
“That is true.”
Dave turned and grinned. “And the profits.”
“Yeah, you do have the beginnings of a goldmine here.” Blake pushed up from the wall. “I appreciate the offer. Can I crash at your place and keep pouring drafts for the next couple days while I’m considering it?”
“Absolutely.” He hesitated. “Now can I say something about Willow?”
“Have at it.”
“She’s a door slammer. She gets pissed, she slams the door and she stomps away. Once she cools off, she’ll come back around.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“You’ve got an entire bar to drown your sorrows in.” Dave slapped him on the back. “Come on. You’re off the clock. Lemme buy you a drink.”
“Deal.”
Willow drove aimlessly. She passed by Mandy’s house, but something—probably pride—stopped her from pulling in and pouring her heart out.
At that moment, Willow realized she’d been so focused on her job that she hadn’t maintained many female friendships. Her best buddy, Cerise, had married a soldier and they were stationed in Germany. Sure, they kept in touch via email, but it wasn’t the same as meeting in person and gorging on ice cream or margaritas.
The guys Willow worked with were…well, guys. Good guys, but none of them would appreciate her spilling her guts. Not even over a beer. Not even if she was buying the beer.
Willow could call her mother. She’d be secretly thrilled to hear her daughter finally had man troubles. Despite their polar opposite personalities, Willow got along great with her, which meant Mom would know immediately something was wrong. Which meant her dad would know. Which meant Dad would threaten to take action. Which was never a good thing.
You had a good thing with Blake.
Up until I found out he lied.
He didn’t lie. He just didn’t tell you everything.
He should have.
Since when do you have to know every little thing about someone within four days?
That thought jarred her. She’d never expected that before.
Besides, hadn’t Blake said he needed to talk to you?
Crap. She’d forgotten that too.
What if he’d meant to tell you about his past?
Fine. But why was he embarrassed about raising sheep?
Why were you embarrassed about being Miss Firecracker?
Touché.
Especially since you told Blake right after you met that part of your life was over and didn’t matter.
Hadn’t Blake just said the same thing?
That’s not who I am, anymore than Miss Firecracker is who you ar
e.
Her heart nearly stopped. What if she’d made a big deal…out of nothing? What if she was looking for an excuse to break it off with him first because she knew Blake was leaving? What if she broke it off in a manner that hurt him? So there was no chance she’d be hurt in return? And if she ended it when she was ticked off about something he’d done, it’d be easier to handle anger than sorrow.
Wouldn’t it?
No.
On no. Oh no no no. Had she just made a big mistake?
Blake was a good man. Truthfully, he was the nicest, most decent, honest, hardworking, thoughtful, sweet, caring, loving man she’d ever met.
Didn’t you secretly believe the man was too good to be true?
Yes.
You don’t deserve him.
Which didn’t matter now because she probably lost him.
That’s when the tears came. A flood so intense she had to pull over on the side of the road.
About five minutes into her crying jag, her cell phone pealed, “Who’s Your Daddy?” Willow debated on answering it, but her father would keep calling until she picked up. He was perverse that way. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and hit talk. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, baby girl.”
“When did you and Mom get back?”
“About an hour ago.”
“How’s Jackie?”
“Jackson is fine. He missed you. He says hey.”
“I miss him too. I wish I could’ve gone to meet his new football coach, but someone had to hold down the fort, right?”
“Speaking of…I stopped over at the Stone jobsite. The guys said you’ve been gone since before noon. You run into problems?”
“No.”
“Huh. You sound funny. Is everything all right?”
No. Willow directed her anger and frustration at her father. “Maybe I sound funny because my dad is checking up on me first thing. Did you think I was slacking while you’re gone?”
“Hell no. I just talked to the guys—”
“I work hard in this company, day in, day out, and if I want to take a long lunch or time to clear my head, I don’t appreciate the guys tattling on me to you like I’m some juvenile delinquent—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a damn minute, Willow. I trust you and you damn well know it. The guys mentioned it ’cause they’re worried about you. They said you showed up late yesterday morning too. You never do shit like this.”
Miss Firecracker: Wild West Boys, Book 2 Page 10