“Daughters. They’re both girls. Although I’ve been told that sometimes the techs make mistakes,” he added.
She couldn’t help but laugh at the obvious hopefulness in his tone. “Sometimes they do,” she agreed. “And sometimes expectant mothers get cranky when they have to wait too long for their food, so I’ll get this order in for you right away.”
“Thanks,” Connor said.
Aside from being freaked out by the idea of two girls, it was obvious to Macy that the deputy was looking forward to the family he was going to have with his wife. And as she made her way to the kitchen, Macy found herself envying Regan that.
It was what she’d always wanted—not just a child, but a husband who was her partner in every aspect of life and a father for her children.
She’d given up on that dream and opted to go it alone. And though she wouldn’t give up her babies for anything in the world, there were moments when she regretted that she hadn’t been able to give them more.
A family.
* * *
It was almost eight o’clock when Liam left the inn. His booted feet pounded on the recently stained wooden slats of the porch that wrapped around three sides of the building. In the spring, there would be an assortment of benches and chairs to entice guests to rest and relax, interspersed with enormous pots of flowers to provide both privacy and color. But now there was only a light dusting of snow on the steps and the rail.
It had been snowing when Kate came back after court to pick up her daughter, he recalled. He’d noted the flakes melting in his sister’s hair and on the shoulders of her coat when she walked into his office—while he was meeting with another applicant for the manager’s job. He’d pretended to be annoyed by the interruption, but the truth was, he’d been grateful for an excuse to cut the interview short.
Having left his gloves in the truck earlier, he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket now and hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind as he considered his next move. He had an apartment on the third level, so that he’d be onsite overnight if his guests needed anything. But since there were no guests to worry about just yet, he’d postponed his move to continue helping with morning chores at the Circle G. If he was smart, he’d head back to the ranch, grab a bite to eat and hit the hay for a few hours before he had to be up again to help with those chores. Apparently he wasn’t very smart, because he turned toward Diggers’ instead.
The double doors opened into an enclosed foyer and two other doorways—one clearly marked Bar and the other designated Grill. Once inside, patrons could easily move from one side to the other as there was only a partial wall dividing the two sections, but the division ensured a more family-friendly entrance to the restaurant side. The interior was rustic: the floors were unpainted, weathered wood slats, scuffed and scarred from the pounding of countless pairs of boots; framed newspaper headlines trumpeting the discovery of gold and silver hung on the walls alongside tools of the mining trade—coils of rope, shovels, pickaxes, hammers and chisels.
“You look like you’ve had a long day,” Skylar remarked when he straddled a stool at the bar. The regular bartender at the town’s favorite watering hole was also a master’s candidate in psychology—and Liam’s younger sister.
“You have no idea.”
“So tell me about it,” she suggested, already tipping a glass beneath the tap bearing the label of his favorite brew.
“You heard that Andrew took a job in California?”
“I did,” she confirmed.
“Well, that leaves me without a manager three weeks before opening,” he told her.
“Macy Clayton,” she said without hesitation, and set the pint glass on a paper coaster in front of him.
He shook his head. “Not you, too.”
Sky’s brows disappeared beneath her bangs. “Too?”
“Kate mentioned her name earlier,” he explained.
“Maybe because Macy’s the only person in Haven who has the kind of experience you need.”
“How does everyone seem to know so much about her?” he wondered aloud.
“It’s Haven,” his sister pointed out unnecessarily. “Everyone knows everything about everyone in this town—unless they’ve been living under a rock...or buried in the details of a property renovation.”
“Well, I interviewed her today,” he admitted, and lifted his glass to his mouth.
“And?” she prompted.
“And...she’s got the kind of experience I need,” he agreed.
Sky set a bowl of mixed nuts on the bar beside his glass. “So why haven’t you hired her?”
He nibbled on a cashew. “I don’t know.”
“You’re attracted to her,” Sky guessed.
He scowled, not because it was untrue but because he was uncomfortable with the accuracy of his sister’s insights. “Where is that coming from?”
“The fact that I know you. And the fact that she’s an attractive woman, but not at all your type,” she cautioned.
“You’ve always said I don’t have a type,” he reminded her.
“You might not show any preference between blondes, brunettes and redheads, but since your one failed attempt at a grown-up relationship—”
“I’ve had several grown-up relationships,” he interjected.
“I’m not talking about sex,” she said dryly. “I’m talking about meaningful interactions that happen with your clothes on.”
“Now you’ve lost me.”
She sighed. “And that’s Isabella’s fault. When you were with her, you actually seemed to be growing into a mature and responsible human being. But since she broke your heart—”
“She didn’t break my heart,” he denied.
“—you’ve been all about having a good time,” she continued, ignoring his interruption. “And Macy is all about responsibility.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had a good time,” he lamented.
“At Carrie and Matt’s wedding—with Heather,” she surmised.
“Oh, yeah.” He smiled. “That was a good time.” Until Heather decided that one night meant they were back together again. “It was also seven months ago.”
“Working for a living really sucks, huh?” she teased.
“You know I’m not just putting in a few hours at the hotel every day. I’m helping out at the ranch every morning, too.”
“Why is that?” she prompted, because she got her kicks out of digging into other people’s psyches and prying into their motivations. “You’ve made no secret of the fact that you want a life away from the ranch, but you keep going back.”
“Because there are chores that need to be done.”
“You don’t think there are enough hands to manage without you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Okay, so maybe I don’t want the old man to forget that he’s got two sons.”
“He’s not going to forget you,” Sky assured him. “He’s also not going to get over being pissed off any quicker just because you’re mucking out stalls every morning.”
“I know. But at least when I’m there, he has to talk to me.”
His sister’s sigh was filled with exasperation. “He’s reverted to the silent treatment again?”
“He’s barely spoken a dozen words to me since January 2,” Liam confided. Because the holidays had officially ended then and, with them, the détente Katelyn had imposed on her family. During the period of eight days between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day, she’d forced her father and brother to play nice, threatening to celebrate Tessa’s first Christmas without them if they couldn’t get along. But now the holidays were over and so, too, was the father-son ceasefire.
“I’m sorry,” Sky said. “Obviously Dad’s going to need some time to accept that the hotel is more than a whim to you...assuming it is more than a whim.”
“Maybe not,” she allowed.
“Not to mention that the whole town will benefit from the reopening of the hotel,” he assured her.
“Everyone except the owner of the Dusty Boots,” she remarked dryly.
“No doubt there’s a specific type of clientele that will still opt to pay the hourly rate at the budget motel.”
Sky chuckled at that. “No doubt,” she agreed. “And in addition to being an opportunity for the community, the hotel is an opportunity for you to finally escape the ranch you’ve hated since—”
“I’ve been thinking the hotel should have a bar,” Liam said, deliberately cutting his sister off. “It would be nice to have a place to grab a beer without being psychoanalyzed by the bartender.”
“A bar isn’t a bad idea,” she said. “A restaurant would be even better.”
“Have you been talking to Grams?”
“Occasionally, since she happens to be my grandmother, too. But yes, she told me about The Home Station.”
He shook his head. “We don’t have a restaurant, only a solarium where we’re going to serve breakfast. I don’t know where she got it in her head that we should offer an upscale dining option, but you shouldn’t encourage her.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Sky mused.
“It’s not happening,” he assured her.
Then a movement in the corner of his eye snagged his attention and he turned his head for a better view of the waitress delivering a tray of drinks to a nearby table. His gaze skimmed slowly up her long, slender legs to a nicely rounded bottom, trim waist and—
Sky interrupted his perusal by reaching across the bar to dab at the corner of his mouth with a cocktail napkin, as if he was drooling. He swatted her hand away and resumed his perusal.
Between the ranch and the inn, he’d had little time for anything else since the wedding his sister had referred to—and even less interest. But somehow, after months had passed without anyone snagging his attention, he’d felt his body unexpectedly stir in response to two different women in the same day. Obviously it was a sign that he needed to readjust his priorities and find the time—and a willing woman—to help him end this unintended period of celibacy.
Then the waitress turned from the table, and his jaw nearly dropped. Because the female he’d been eyeing wasn’t different at all—she was Macy Clayton.
Chapter Three
“You didn’t know she worked here?” Sky guessed, her tone tinged with amusement.
Liam shook his head. “This job wasn’t on her résumé.”
“She’s only been here a couple weeks. Or maybe I should say back here, because apparently she worked for Duke when she was in high school.”
“Is she a good waitress?”
“Why? Do you want to hire her to work in your restaurant?” his sister teased.
“There is no restaurant,” he said firmly. “And I’m asking you because you have an opinion about everything.”
“Then I’ll tell you that she’s got great people skills. She’s friendly without being flirty, and she knows when and how to placate an unhappy customer but she’s not a pushover. Definite management material.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly.
“And I’ll go put in your food order.”
“I haven’t told you what I want.”
“Steak sandwich with mushrooms, onions and pepper jack cheese with fries.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” he admitted.
With a smug smile, she turned toward the kitchen.
And he shifted his attention back to the waitress who’d caught his eye. “Macy.”
She pivoted, her eyes widening with surprise and recognition. “Mr. Gilmore.”
“Liam,” he reminded her.
“Liam,” she echoed dutifully.
“You didn’t mention that you had a job here.”
“It’s a temporary gig,” she said, then smiled. “Just until I start my job at the Stagecoach Inn.”
He couldn’t help but smile back. “Confident, aren’t you?”
“Qualified,” she clarified.
“So why is a former assistant to the manager of a Las Vegas hotel working at a bar and grill in Haven?”
“I needed a job and Duke needed a waitress.”
It sounded like a simple enough explanation, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing a major piece of the puzzle that was Macy Clayton. And though he knew he was treading dangerously close to a line that should not be crossed, he was intrigued enough by the woman to want to know more.
“I didn’t give you a tour of the hotel today,” he noted.
“And I was so hoping for one,” she confessed.
“Stop by tomorrow, if you want,” he said. “As long as I haven’t had a kid dropped in my lap, I should be free to show you around.”
“I want,” she immediately agreed. “Anytime in particular?”
“Whenever it’s convenient for you.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He watched her move away, making her way toward a table of six that had just sat down. Regulars, he guessed, as they didn’t seem to need to look at the menus that were tucked beneath the tray of condiments on the table.
“It’s my fault,” Sky lamented, as she set a plate of food and his cutlery on the bar in front of him.
“What’s your fault?” he asked.
“I should have realized that saying Macy wasn’t your type would compel you to prove otherwise.”
“Maybe you should tell me why you’re so sure she’s not my type,” he suggested, lifting his sandwich from the plate.
“And maybe you should trust me for once,” his sister countered.
His gaze shifted to Macy again. “Yeah, I’m having a little trouble with that.”
“Then keep in mind that she’s going to be working for you.”
He wanted to argue that point, but after interviewing three other candidates for the job, he’d been forced to acknowledge that none of them was even remotely qualified.
Darren, currently a bouncer at a honky-tonk bar in Elko, was looking for a day job so he could go to night school. When Liam, simply out of curiosity, asked him why he wasn’t choosing to study during the day and continuing to work nights, it was immediately apparent that Darren hadn’t considered the possibility—an oversight that didn’t bode well for success in his future studies.
Felix’s résumé indicated that he was already college educated and had a master’s degree in English literature. Unfortunately, he had absolutely no experience in the hospitality business and even less interest. During the interview, he confided that service industries were tedious and boring and acknowledged that he’d only applied for the job because employment opportunities in the town were limited.
And then there was Lissa, a college dropout who claimed that her life experience made her uniquely qualified for the job. When Liam asked her to give him an example, she explained that she’d lived with her in-laws for eighteen months without killing either of them—though she confessed that she’d given the idea more than a passing thought on a few occasions.
Which meant that, for the sake of the business, there really was only one choice for Liam to make.
He was going to have to hire Macy Clayton.
As he chewed on his sandwich, he accepted that whether she was or wasn’t his type, hiring Macy Clayton would definitely put her off-limits for any romantic overtures.
And that was a damn shame.
* * *
Macy showed up just as the delivery truck was pulling away from the inn the following afternoon. Liam had kept himself busy directing the unloading and placement o
f the furniture so that he could pretend he wasn’t watching and waiting for her to arrive for the promised tour of the property. At the same time, he reassured himself that his response to her couldn’t possibly have been as powerful as he remembered.
Then he saw her, and the awareness hit him again, like a sucker punch in the gut.
It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, though she was undoubtedly that. Even dressed casually, as she was today, in slim-fitting jeans and a cowl-neck sweater beneath a charcoal-grey wool coat belted at her waist, she was stunning. But he’d crossed paths with plenty of attractive women in his twenty-nine years without ever experiencing such an immediate and intense reaction, and he couldn’t deny that it worried him a little.
“Good timing,” he said, in lieu of a greeting as she walked up the steps.
“Was that the delivery truck just leaving?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I recognized the logo,” she said. “You’re obviously a man of exquisite taste.”
“Garrett Furniture has a great collection of pieces that coordinate without being exactly the same,” he told her. “The idea is that every room will offer the same level of luxury but in a distinctly individual setting, so that guests who enjoyed their stay in the Doc Holliday Suite might want to come back to experience the Charles Goodnight Suite—or upgrade to the Wild Bill Getaway Suite.”
“Are all of the rooms named after famous people?”
“They are,” he confirmed. “It was my grandmother’s idea, and she did the research, from Annie Oakley to Wild Bill. Interesting details about their lives are engraved on plaques in each room—but instead of telling you about them, why don’t I show you?”
“Sounds good to me.” She reached toward the door before he could, but instead of grasping the handle, her fingers traced the outline of the raised panel on which was carved an intricate and detailed image of a horse-drawn stagecoach. “This is amazing.”
“The previous owner wanted to acknowledge the building’s origins,” Liam told her. “There’s a series of paintings in the library—original oils by local artists—that also pay tribute to the town’s history.”
Claiming the Cowboy's Heart Page 3