Making It Right
Page 9
“Excuse me?”
“I heard you came to Castle Creek to patch things up with your father. But he doesn’t want you here, does he? When we met at the bar you said you were staying at the motel because your family didn’t have room for you. That was a lie.”
Somehow Kerry managed not to flinch. She raised her chin. “You’re right. He doesn’t want me here. I plan to change his mind, but that doesn’t have anything to do with last night.”
“Yeah, it does, because now you two have something in common. Me.”
It took a moment for the penny to drop. Then her jaw followed suit. “You think I pretended I didn’t have my key so you’d have to let me in? How on earth was I supposed to know you had a spare?”
“Don’t even,” he bit out. “You didn’t have to know. I own a hardware store. Of course I can open a damned lock.”
“It was almost midnight. I wouldn’t have knocked on your door at midnight. And anyway, I couldn’t know for sure you even knew my dad.”
“But you thought about it.”
That she couldn’t deny. “Last night was not about my father,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Maybe not. But it wasn’t about me, either, was it? You just needed to get laid.”
“Apparently you did, too.” Kerry grimaced. Since Gil was one of her father’s buds, his resentment made perfect sense. Unlike this cold, sharp loss she felt, as if ice cubes were stacked in her stomach. “None of this matters,” she said tersely. “I don’t care what you think of me. We were never going to see each other again, anyway.”
“Except at the grocery store or the bank or the frickin’ diner.”
“You know what? I lied. I do care what you think about me. I do care that people look at me like I’m a host for some deadly, disfiguring plague. And yes, I realize that’s my own fault.”
“Good for you. Listen. I came to tell you your little plan is a bust. I will not defend you to your father.”
“Do you plan to tell him you had sex with me?”
“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. “So that’s what this is. A shakedown.” The sound that scraped from his throat was probably supposed to be a laugh. “I’m seriously considering canceling my satellite TV so I can afford insurance for my pickup and you want to blackmail me? You’ll be lucky to get enough to buy a cup of coffee.”
Hurt swelled her throat and she could barely squeeze out a response. “I have no intention of telling my father anything. Go home, Gil Cooper. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. It’s better if we leave it that way.”
He hesitated, then with a curt nod swung away. She couldn’t watch him go. Instead she kept her eyes down as she trudged up the stairs, marveling at how just a few minutes ago she’d intended to run them. Now if it weren’t for the banister and the siren call of hot water and ice cream, she’d still be frozen at the bottom.
She stepped onto the landing, reached into her pocket and froze. Damn it.
She still had his key.
* * *
GIL’S BRAIN HAD refused to shut off, so it was no wonder he hadn’t managed much sleep. He’d rolled out of bed before sunrise, descended the outside stairs at a sedate pace (because, just in case) and hit the pavement for a run.
And he hated running almost as much as he hated knowing Seth was right. He did need the exercise. He hadn’t hurled, but he’d struggled like a maniac to breathe without gagging. He shouldn’t have let his increasing concern for the hardware store throw him off his game. He knew better. The more stress you were under, the higher the benefit of exercise.
No more slacking. Now that Seth had finally gotten him off his ass again, he’d get back into his routine and stay there.
He paid no attention to the little voice inside that wondered slyly if it wasn’t someone a hell of a lot prettier than Seth who deserved the credit.
His run blessedly over, Gil showered away the sweat. His legs trembled the entire time. He’d seriously considered hosing himself off out back so he wouldn’t have to climb the stairs back up to the second floor.
Maybe instead of working out more, what he needed was an elevator.
Ten minutes later he zipped up his jeans and grabbed a shirt. Barefoot, he strode to the kitchen. The shower had felt good, but it hadn’t done a thing to dispel the fog in his brain. His troublemaking neurotransmitters were playing keep-away with his nerve impulses—how the hell was he supposed to get anything done when his postsynaptic potential was being held hostage?
What he needed was coffee.
But when he pulled the shiny red bag from the freezer, he couldn’t help remembering the fridge in Eugenia’s apartment, and all that he and Kerry had done against it.
Damn it, she didn’t look like a felon. She didn’t even look capable of telling a lie. Had she really done what she’d been convicted of?
Hell. He drummed his fingers on the counter as the rich smell of his favorite brew started to kick neurotransmitter ass. He had no idea who she was or what she’d done, yet here he was, trying to find excuses for her. And based on what, an hour’s conversation across a bar top? They certainly hadn’t talked much in bed.
So what if she had a sweet smile with one adorable off-kilter tooth? And a killer body and a fun sense of humor?
So what if she’d gotten his Monty Python joke?
Get a grip.
So he’d had a moment with a girl in a bar, only to find out she wasn’t a nice person. Nice people didn’t swindle. Harris had never gone into detail about what had landed his daughter behind bars, but he’d dropped enough hints for the poker posse to know it involved other people’s money.
Gil already had enough money drama in his life, thank you very much.
What the hell was Snoozy thinking, trusting her with the bar? Yeah, it was only for three weeks, but it didn’t take long to build a nice bottom line skimming cash. Gil should know.
Maybe that’s why the sheriff had stopped by. To make sure she knew someone would be keeping an eye on her.
Not that Gil cared one way or another. Harris trusted his daughter as much as Gil trusted his brother. ’Nuff said.
He grabbed his Cap’n Crunch mug from the sink and filled it with brew. Thank God he hadn’t talked himself into giving up coffee. He’d never manage without it.
It took him a whole two sips to register that the thumping sound he thought was his kick-started heart was actually someone at the door to the hardware store.
“They know we don’t open for another hour,” he said idly to the Cap’n.
Bang, bang, bang.
Gil exhaled. Well, he could use a distraction. Some breakfast, too. Maybe he could shame whoever was at the door into picking him up some pancakes from the diner.
But when he got downstairs he realized he was out of luck. Audrey Tweedy stood on the other side of the glass, nose pressed to the pane. If he asked her to pick up pancakes, she’d only lecture him on the superiority of protein and bring him back a couple dozen sausage links instead.
He grabbed an apple from the bowl by the register, just to be ornery.
When Gil turned the lock, Audrey bustled into the store and tugged at the hem of her long-sleeved top, which matched the avocado halves hanging from her ears. “Mighty nice of you to open up early for me.”
“No problem,” he said drily.
Audrey slapped her hands on her hips and watched Gil take a bite of apple. “You and I need to talk.” When her cell started blaring the theme to Rawhide, she plucked it out of her big green purse and held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” She strode down the nearest aisle to answer her call.
Gil scrubbed a hand over his face and turned toward the staircase. Coffee. He needed his coffee. The cowbell over the door clanged again. Damn. Maybe all he needed to do to improve his bottom line was change h
is hours.
He turned to greet another early bird customer and froze.
The woman responsible for his lack of sleep two nights in a row walked toward him, her smile tentative. With her light blue dress and prim sweater, her hair a shiny tumble past her shoulders, she looked more like a kindergarten teacher than a bartender.
Or a thief.
CHAPTER SIX
GIL RESENTED THE hell out of Harris’s daughter being in his store. And he wasn’t in the mood to hide it.
He pointed with the hand that held the apple. “What are you doing here?”
She faltered over his flinty tone. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Not interested.”
As he turned away, he bit into the apple. It took him a second to realize the specks he was seeing were bits of apple juice on his glasses. He tugged a cleaning cloth free of his back pocket.
Kerry appeared before him. “I made a bad decision.”
“By trying to blackmail me? Yeah, you did.”
“By spending the night with you. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
Briskly he cleaned his glasses. “Which position in particular? We tried so many.”
She rolled her eyes. “Can we call a truce? I don’t want any of this to affect Snoozy’s business.”
“You mean you don’t want to lose your job.”
“No, I don’t, and can you blame me? Not only do I need the money, but Eugenia got that job for me. I can’t let her down.”
He slid his glasses back into place. “Maybe you should have thought of that two nights ago.”
Even as her cheeks paled, she lifted her chin. “You’re right. I should have.”
Damn it. “Okay, that wasn’t fair. I knew you were having second thoughts and I talked you out of them. Yeah, I’m pissed, but the blame’s as much mine as it is yours.”
Her gaze remained steady. “And you won’t hold any of this against Eugenia?”
“Why should I?”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Good.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m interested in a truce.” He turned away with every intention of taking the stairs two at a time to get to his coffee.
She blocked him. “You don’t believe in second chances?”
“Harris said he gave you several.”
“He did.” She looked down, then turned her attention to her purse and poked around at the contents. When she looked up again, her eyes were overly bright.
Nice try, lady.
She held out a familiar length of braided plastic. “I forgot to give you your key last night.”
Gil accepted the key. He refused to feel bad about it. He exhaled.
Okay, so he felt bad about it.
She backed toward the door. “Just FYI, if I’m behind the bar the next time you’re there, I won’t make it weird for you. No garlic powder in your beer, or anything like that.”
“Good to know.” But he wouldn’t be back. Not while there was any chance she’d be there.
She’d almost reached the door when Audrey bustled out of the fasteners aisle. Gil exhaled. Fabulous. Frickin’ fabulous.
“I’m ready,” Audrey announced, her half avocados swinging wildly.
“What for?” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Kerry lingering at the door, no doubt fascinated by the older lady’s taste in jewelry.
“To hear your idea.” Audrey snapped her fingers in his face. “Pay attention, young Cooper. You and Seth promised you’d come up with the ultimate gift for my man.”
He blanched. “We never used the word ultimate.”
Her defeated expression shamed him. “Do you have any ideas at all? Or am I going to have to go with those roofing nails?”
“I’m sorry, Aud. I know it’s no excuse, but I forgot.”
Kerry approached, wearing the professional smile that had been such a turn-on for Gil two nights earlier. “I know this is none of my business,” she said, “but are you talking about a bridegroom gift for Snoozy?”
Audrey perked up. “Yes. And you are?”
“Snoozy hired me to look after the bar while you two are on your honeymoon. I’m Kerry Endicott.”
Gil frowned. Endicott instead of Briggs? Hadn’t Harris told them she was divorced?
Does it matter, asshole?
“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Audrey Tweedy. Thank you for helping us out.” Audrey thrust a Slim Jim into Kerry’s hands. “I’m more of a Guinness gal myself, but Snoozy talked up your margarita so much, I’m determined to try one. Now, what were you saying about a gift idea?”
Expression dazed, Kerry tucked the Slim Jim into her purse. “I don’t know Snoozy well, but he does talk about you all the time. He gets this little half smile, like he has a lovely secret.”
“He does,” Gil said. “He’s getting ready to raise his prices.”
Audrey elbowed his ribs with enough force to push him off balance. He stumbled two steps sideways into a rack of paint chips, and an entire row hit the floor with a muted slap.
“You should talk,” Audrey said. “Last week your topsoil was fifty cents cheaper.”
Gil righted himself, removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have things to do. You two can handle this gift thing without me.”
* * *
KERRY’S STOMACH WAS a churning mass of acid. She’d intended to apologize, ask for a cease-fire and make herself scarce. Now she’d managed to insert herself in Gil’s personal business and he’d resent her even more.
It was official. His interest in her had crumbled under the weight of her mistakes.
“You stay right where you are,” Audrey said to Gil. “We might need your input.” Her schoolteacher scowl relaxed as she turned back to Kerry. “Let’s get back on track. Tell us your idea, dear.”
Kerry inhaled. “It’s a little unorthodox,” she began.
Eyes trained on the fruits the size of golf balls hanging from Audrey’s ears, Gil snorted. The old woman jabbed him again and the next sound he made was more of a wheeze.
Kerry barely resisted the urge to offer Audrey a high five. “Snoozy doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d be happy with the standard engraved watch, or a power tool he already owns, or even a personalized bobblehead.”
Gil perked up. “Might want to rethink the bobblehead.”
Kerry ignored him. “So I got to wondering about what he values most. Next to you, of course.”
“The bar.” Audrey nodded faster but her gelled hair stayed in firm, spiky place. “Which is why I was considering getting him new stools. With leather seats.” When Kerry hesitated, she plucked at her lower lip. “A foosball table?”
Gil opened his mouth but Kerry stepped in front of him before he could utter the “hell, yeah” she figured was coming.
“I was thinking more along the lines of something for Mitzi,” she said.
“You know my intended better than you think you do,” Audrey said drily.
“The other night he was complaining about a backache. Apparently he’s been carting Mitzi up and down the stairs so she can soak in the tub?”
“She does love a bubble bath.”
Kerry smiled hesitantly. “What do you think about installing a tub in her pen? Then she could soak whenever she wanted to.”
Audrey clapped her hands. “I love it! And my beloved could spend more time carrying me to the bath.”
“TMI, Aud.” Gil scratched the back of his shoulder. “Joe and I could manage that. We’d have to punch a few holes in the wall, run some pipe, but yeah. Totally doable.”
Audrey scrunched her forehead. “Think you could do it before the wedding?”
“Uh...how about before you get back from your honeymoon?”
Kerry blinked, and glanced over at Gil. Big mistake, since the half horror, half fascination on his face almost had her laughing out loud. Until he caught her eye and shut down.
Right. Because she was persona non grata.
Audrey pawed through her big green purse and handed each of them a can of Vienna sausages. “Be well,” she said, and bustled toward the exit. The clang of the cowbell signaled her departure. In the silence that followed, Kerry and Gil looked everywhere but at each other.
Kerry was the first to crack. “That purse, um...sure would be a handy thing to take to a picnic.”
“Her purse is the picnic. Bet she even has a blanket stashed in there.” With a frown, Gil retrieved his half-eaten apple from a shelf that held a colorful array of flowerpots. “Aud and her crew are known for being prepared. At least we didn’t have Mayor Hazel in here handing out her special brand of treats.”
“What does she hand out?”
“Never mind.”
Kerry huffed a puny laugh. “Since your neck is turning as red as that fire extinguisher over there, I’m guessing it has something to do with sex or menstruation. So which is it? Condoms, or tampons?”
“Condoms,” he muttered.
“Wait. Mayor Hazel. I have heard of her. Snoozy mentioned she volunteered to run the bar for him.”
“If he’d taken her up on it, the place would be a strip joint by now.”
“That’s basically what Eugenia said.”
Another awkward silence descended.
Kerry stuffed the can of sausages in her purse.
The cowbell jangled. Holy Hannah, how could Gil put up with that racket all day? Two older women entered the store, one with a phone to her ear, the other wearing a dust-covered sweatshirt and protective goggles around her neck, as if she’d stopped mid-DIY.
“Damn it,” Gil muttered. “Why does everyone have to touch the glass?”