What was the point of being rich if he couldn’t make Kaylee happy?
Mac Tolbert parked his truck on Main Street in Sunrise Bend, Wyoming. As his feet hit the pavement, he inhaled the crisp, autumn air. The downtown looked like it had been invaded by pumpkins and bales of straw. Soon they’d be replaced with Christmas lights and wreaths.
He strode toward the new storefront everyone around town was buzzing about. The window had fancy gold lettering that spelled out Brewed Awakening. After months without a coffee shop, the locals were ready for the grand opening next week. It had been a no-brainer for Mac to lease the building, including the apartment above, to Bridget Renna. Any friend of Sawyer Roth’s was a friend of his, and Bridget had plenty of experience managing a coffee shop in New York City.
Although they’d only met briefly at Sawyer’s wedding this summer, Mac had a favor to ask of Bridget, and he was more than willing to make it worth her while. He just prayed it would get his little sister, Kaylee, out of her funk.
“Mac! Oh, Mac!”
He turned to see who was calling his name and groaned when he recognized Dina Jones, the president of the high school’s athletic booster club, jogging toward him, waving wildly. She’d called and emailed him many times since July when his father had died in a small plane crash. It was no secret around these parts that Mac was now a multimillionaire.
Dad had owned an energy company in Texas, in addition to multiple side businesses and properties. To say he’d been wealthy was an understatement. After his father’s death, Mac had enlisted a top-notch team of lawyers to help him sell and consolidate all of the assets. Kaylee’s portion had been put into a trust. The ranch had been left solely to him in the will.
Mac was still stunned at the size of the fortune his father had left behind. He didn’t like to think about the fact it was now his. His relationship with his dad had been complicated.
“I’m glad I caught you.” Short of breath, Dina stopped in front of him. The insurance agent was in her late forties and had two strapping boys in high school. “Have you had a chance to think about the uniforms?”
“I’m going to need more time.” The words slipped off his tongue too easily. For weeks he’d been giving the same answer to everyone who approached him to donate to a worthy cause—he needed more time. Unfortunately, the more time that passed, the more frozen with indecision he became.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help them. He did. But every request made his chest feel like it was pressing through a meat grinder, and the sheer volume of petitions for aid had him longing to place a pallet of cash in the middle of town with the announcement, “Here, take it and leave me alone!”
“The booster club could really use your support,” Dina said. “Some of the football players are wearing pants two sizes too big. The elastic’s worn out on others. Last week the backside of Jake Hammond’s pants ripped during the game. You can imagine how embarrassed he was. Any amount you could spare would be a big help. And I hate to say it, but the bleachers have been a problem for years.”
“You mentioned that.” He stepped away from her. He’d heard all about the uniforms and the bleachers on more than one occasion. He didn’t have time to deal with this today. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”
“Oh, sure!” Dina beamed and walked in the other direction, briefly looking back to say, “You should stop by our next meeting. Think about it.”
He’d think about it, all right. In a year. Two. Maybe ten. He sighed and reached for the handle of the coffee shop. Locked.
Scooting sideways to stand in front of the window, he cupped his hands to peer inside. The lights were on, and Bridget stood at the counter, unpacking a box. He watched her for a moment. Dark brown hair fell just below her shoulders. She had a straight nose, high cheekbones and thick, well-groomed eyebrows.
The woman intrigued him. Yes, her features were striking, but it was her style that caught his attention. She wore a long-sleeved, body-hugging black shirt with form-fitting gray pants and a denim apron tied around her waist. A silver necklace adorned her neck. Low-heeled black ankle boots completed the outfit.
Simple. Appealing. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She glanced his way, and he backed up, feeling like he’d been caught spying on her. Heat rushed up his neck, but he pointed to the door, and she nodded. After she let him inside, Bridget locked the door again, then strolled to the counter and opened a cardboard box without so much as a hello.
He made his way over to the counter and took in the space, so different from the previous coffee shop. She’d painted the walls a cream color and had added pendant lighting over the counter. Strings of bare bulbs were draped across the ceiling and above the front window.
Wooden shelves lined the wall behind the counter where she’d stacked various white mugs and small plates. Glass jars full of coffee beans rested on an upper shelf. The former clunky wooden stools had been replaced by sleek metal ones, and small tables were strategically placed to create a wide aisle for people to wait in line.
It looked upscale yet comfortable. Not quite what he expected from the New York City transplant. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected.
“I paid my rent.” The slightest twinkle gleamed in her dark brown eyes, as rich as the coffee beans behind her.
“I know.” He pulled out a stool and sat, facing her, then looked around one more time. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thanks.” She took out a napkin dispenser from the box.
Mac wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know Bridget. Had no idea how to break the ice with her.
“You didn’t stop by to sit here watching me.” The nervous glance she gave him didn’t match her teasing tone. “What’s on your mind?”
Put like that...maybe he should just lay it out there. Mac didn’t want her to be uncomfortable on his account. A prickly sensation made his arm hair stand up. He wasn’t ready. “How are you settling in?”
“Fine.” She set two more dispensers on the counter, lining them up, and reached into the box for another.
“If you have any problems with the apartment, call—”
“Mr. Bingham, I know.” She nudged the last dispenser to be even with the others before turning her full attention to him. “His number is listed on the lease.”
That it was. He clenched his jaw. Why was this so difficult? Because he rarely, if ever, asked anyone for a favor. They always asked him for them.
“Have you hired all your employees?” he asked.
“I’m a one-man band.” Her white teeth flashed in a neat row as she smiled. Then she wiped her hands down her apron and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why?”
It was as good an opening as he was going to get.
“My sister—half sister, really—Kaylee—her name is Kaylee. She’s fifteen.” If he could slap the nervousness out of himself, he would. “She could use a job.”
Bridget didn’t say a word. The way her gaze focused made him even more twitchy than he already was.
But he pressed on. “Our dad died this summer. My stepmother—Kaylee’s mom—was with him in the small plane when it went down. Now Kaylee’s living with me, and I don’t know...the move from Texas, the loss of her parents...well, she’s not doing so great.”
“Define ‘not doing so great.’” Her expression softened, and the small crease between her eyebrows was enough for him to keep plodding on.
“She’s quiet. Not much of a social life. Misses school a lot.”
“Why?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “There are a lot of days it’s too hard for her.”
“You let her stay home?”
He nodded, feeling judged for some reason.
“If showing up for school’s too hard for her, having a job might be, too.”
She kind of had a point, but then again, she didn’t understand.
“Having something besides school would be good for her. It will get her out. Force her to think about something besides...” He straightened, thumping his knuckles on the counter. “Hire her, and I’ll knock off half your rent for the next six months.”
Her eyes grew round. She bent to place the dispensers on shelves below the counter. Mac craned his neck to watch her.
Her face popped up. “You and I have an agreement—a binding legal document—for me to rent this building. I don’t want anything to complicate it.”
“It wouldn’t complicate anything.”
She arched her eyebrows as she straightened. “I’m not that naive, and neither are you.”
Keeping his mouth shut, Mac ran his tongue over his front teeth. This was not going well. What was she getting at? Did she think he’d terminate her lease if she didn’t hire Kaylee?
He wasn’t that kind of guy.
He couldn’t remember the last time anyone would even consider the possibility he’d do them dirty like that.
Bridget gazed off in the distance. “Even if I wanted an employee, I probably wouldn’t hire her. If she can’t be bothered to go to school, I doubt she’d be bothered to come to work.”
Mac prepared to defend Kaylee, but what could he say? He was new to this guardian thing. Not once had it crossed his mind that he’d have to make decisions for a minor. In his thirty-two years, he’d never fallen in love or considered marriage—and he certainly hadn’t given any thought to having kids.
And here he was, responsible for his sister, clueless as to what she needed.
All he knew was he loved Kaylee and would do anything to make her happy again.
“Keep your discount,” Bridget said, shaking her head as if convincing herself. “I don’t want it.”
Bridget didn’t have time for Mac’s misguided attempts to help his sister. She also didn’t want to spend the money to hire someone right now, although having part-time help would be necessary soon. The grand opening of Brewed Awakening was on Monday, the first of November, only four days away.
Moving to Sunrise Bend and opening a coffee shop were two dreams she couldn’t quite believe were coming true. And she wanted to keep them alive as long as possible.
“You don’t know Kaylee.” Mac’s low voice was as smooth as the Kona blend she’d made for herself in a French press this morning. “She’s not spoiled. She’s shy and sweet and hurting.”
Shy. Sweet. Hurting.
Could have summed herself up at fifteen.
“I’m sure she’s all those things, and I’m sorry you both lost your parents. Or did I get that wrong? Is your mom still alive?”
He glanced down at his hands. “My mother died when I was five. Cancer.”
“Mine, too. Except it was a burst appendix when I was three.”
Her gaze met his, and the understanding and compassion flowing through his gunmetal gray eyes sent shockwaves to her core. Quickly, she looked away.
The one thing she’d promised herself before stepping foot in Sunrise Bend was to keep a low profile. She had too much riding on this move to let anything jeopardize it.
An ill-advised romance with any of the town’s single ranchers would be the opposite of keeping a low profile.
She didn’t know if she was capable of letting anyone get close to her, anyhow. It would mean allowing them to see the real her. Sure, she was doing fine now, but her past was embarrassing and ugly.
Thankfully, she did have one person who knew the real her. Her best friend, Sawyer Roth. For years he’d lived across the hall from her in New York City and told her tales of this town and his friends, including Mac Tolbert. And she’d hung on every word, enamored of the thought of church potlucks and miles of prairie with wild horses and looming mountains and all the other rural pleasures he talked about. Compared to the city, it had seemed so foreign, like it wasn’t real.
Then, a year ago, Sawyer had moved back to Wyoming. He’d returned to ranching, fallen in love, gotten married to Tess Malone, a local rancher’s daughter, and urged Bridget to come out and join him.
And so she did.
It was the scariest thing she’d ever done, and she’d had her share of scary times.
“I’m not asking for the world.” Mac opened his hands to reveal his palms. She’d almost forgotten he was there. “A couple of afternoons a week. You don’t even have to pay her. I will.”
Like she’d ever let that happen. She let out a skeptical snort. “Look, I don’t know how you do it around here, but if I’m the one benefiting from someone’s work, I’m the one who pays them.”
“Fine, so you’ll pay her.” His eyes flashed to silver as his lips kicked into a crooked grin.
“I see how you did that.” Bridget wagged her finger playfully. “No. I’m not hiring her. I’m not paying her. There are lots of businesses downtown.” She gestured to the door, then to the window. “Find her a job somewhere else.”
He let out a pitiful sigh. “No can do.”
“They won’t hire her, either?” She wasn’t surprised. Mac might think his sister was a ray of sunshine who could do no wrong, but she might be spoiled and using the tragedy of her parents’ death to get out of going to school.
Bridget cringed. What an awful thing to assume. When had she grown so harsh?
That’s not who you are, Bridge. Nip that kind of thinking in the bud right now. Keep seeing the best in people.
“I didn’t say that.” He glowered. “I don’t want her working late. You close at five. And the coffee shop is an easy walk from the high school, at least until she gets her driver’s license.”
His mention of a driver’s license riled up her tummy. Another thing she needed to deal with soon. If she was going to have a future in Sunrise Bend, she needed to be able to drive. She’d never be independent without her own car.
“You’re not used to the word no are you?” She grabbed the scissors on the counter and, in one motion, sliced through the packing tape, then folded the empty box flat.
“I don’t like to let people down.” Sincerity radiated from him.
Bridget couldn’t help studying the man. And she’d gotten an eyeful of the handsome rancher at Sawyer’s wedding this summer when she’d first met him. His wide shoulders stretched under an unzipped black jacket, and a faded gray T-shirt peeked out. His cheekbones, nose and chin were chiseled perfection. The short dark brown hair and hooded gray eyes confirmed her impression that this was a man who’d been blessed.
Good looks, good friends, good life.
He was wealthy, gorgeous...and didn’t even know he was acting a wee bit entitled.
He’d clearly grown up under sunshine.
She, on the other hand, had grown up under heavy storm clouds. A guy like Mac would never understand, let alone accept, a girl like her with a difficult past. He didn’t need to understand, though, because she wasn’t telling him.
What people didn’t know they couldn’t use against her.
“I meant that you don’t hear the word no very often.” She tilted her head and watched him.
“I don’t ask strangers for favors very often.”
“That makes two of us.”
His fingers flexed. “Look, this was Sawyer’s suggestion.”
“Don’t throw Sawyer at me.” Bridget narrowed her eyes. Mac wasn’t playing fair. She’d do anything for Sawyer. If it wasn’t for him, she didn’t know what would have become of her life.
“I didn’t mean...” He had the grace to look embarrassed. Unfortunately, that made her soften to his idea. Curling her fingers into her palms, she willed her weakness away.
“Play fair or don’t play at all,” she said. She would not cave. She’d learned how to stand on her own two feet at a young age and expected everyone else to do the same.
“Fair? You want to talk about playing fair? My sister is lost.” He stood, his expression turbulent. “She’s never been a social butterfly. This move has been tough on her, and I don’t know how to make it better. I’m trying. I really am. But I don’t know what to do. I thought...maybe...working here, being in town, being around another woman who’s new to the area...”
Shame hit her hard. Mac was obviously worried, and all she was doing was giving him a hard time.
He was a nice man. He seemed genuine.
But he was still her landlord.
And still way too attractive. And none of this changed the fact she needed to figure out how she could fit into this town without getting hurt.
“Please?” He held her gaze, and she could hear his slow exhalation as he waited for her response.
She waffled. When Bridget was sixteen, she’d been as lost and as helpless as a person could be. And God had sent Sawyer to help her. Maybe it was time to pass on the blessing.
“Have her stop by after school tomorrow.” Bridget looked down at her hands, then at him. “I’ll interview her.”
“Really?” His expression reminded her of the sun coming out after days of rain.
“I’m not making any promises. I’ll interview her. If I think she can handle the job, I’ll consider hiring her part-time. If I don’t think she’s up for it, I won’t hire her. And I meant what I said before—no discounts on rent, and I pay her wages.”
Mac thrust his right hand across the counter. “You’ve got it.”
She shook his hand, surprised at how good his warm, strong grip felt.
“If there’s anything I can do to help you...”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I haven’t hired her yet.”
“Yeah, but you’re giving her a chance.”
A chance. Just like Sawyer had given her.
“Thanks, Bridget.” Mac gave her a small wave and turned to leave. “Oh, and welcome to Sunrise Bend.”
When he left, the bell above the door clanged, and she slowly walked to the door and locked it, pausing to watch him get into his truck. Then she forced herself to grab another box from the storage room.
Welcome to Sunrise Bend. If she hired Kaylee, she’d be forced to pay wages she wasn’t sure she could afford. It all depended on how busy the store was. Even with no employees, her adventure in Wyoming might be short-lived. She had no idea if the town would like her coffee or if she could support herself here.
But she was willing to try.
If she kept her focus on what she knew—selling delicious coffee drinks in an inviting atmosphere—all the simple things she’d longed for when she’d listened to Sawyer’s stories would be available to her, too.
This was her chance to live the life of her dreams, and she wasn’t going to blow it.
“Good news,” Mac announced loudly, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook in the mudroom half an hour later. He made his way to the living room.
Kaylee, wearing black leggings and an oversize red sweatshirt, sat on the sectional and flipped through channels on the television. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she didn’t bother to look up when he sat on the other end of the couch.
“Brewed Awakening is looking for part-time help.” So he fibbed slightly. It was for a good cause. “The owner, Bridget Renna, wants to interview you tomorrow after school.”
“Why?” She held the remote out at arm’s length and gave him a sideways glance.
He hadn’t thought about her questioning him. A mistake on his part.
“Well, she’s new here and doesn’t know many people. I told her you’d stop by.”
She let out a long, slow sigh and let the remote fall on her lap. “I don’t feel good.”
Tension tightened his neck. Kaylee hadn’t been feeling good since the moment she’d moved in with him back in July. He’d been patient with her. He still was. But his patience was wearing thin.
“The interview won’t take long.”
She ignored him. “If my head hurts, I’m not going to school.”
“You can take a Tylenol.” He usually didn’t push back about her lingering headaches and stomachaches, but something had shifted inside him since asking Bridget to hire her. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with Kaylee. They’d chalked it up to stress. “Lots of people make it through work or school with a headache.”
“What if my stomach gets upset?” She faced him, her expression full of worry.
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Don’t joke.” Her hazel eyes closed briefly. “I’m serious, Mac.”
He reached over and covered her hand with his own. “I am, too. But you can’t miss any more school, Kay. I know sophomore year hasn’t been all it’s cracked up to be.”
Her shoulders slumped so much he was afraid her head would disappear into her neck like a turtle.
“I don’t know how to make coffee.” Those blinking eyes, full of insecurity, made his muscles tense.
“She’ll train you. And this is just an interview. She might not hire you.” Maybe he was pushing Kaylee too hard. It wasn’t as if Bridget even wanted to hire her. He could call the interview off.
Kaylee pressed the heel of her hand into her left temple. “Is she one of those rah-rah people? Like Mrs. Duvern? I can’t work for someone who expects me to smile constantly.”
“She’s not a rah-rah person. Bridget’s from New York City, and I think she would want you to be yourself.” But would she? Maybe he was wrong about that, too. What if Bridget hired Kaylee and put all kinds of unreasonable demands on her? Like smiling constantly?
Come on. Smiling at customers was not an unreasonable demand.
“New York City?” She brightened. “Mom and I went there last year.” It had been so long since he’d seen Kaylee look anything but insecure and miserable, he’d forgotten how pretty and full of life his sister could be. “We shopped at all these cool stores and went to museums and the Statue of Liberty. She said we would do all the touristy stuff since it was my first time.”
“I’ve never been there, myself.” He had no desire to go, either. He’d spent a good portion of his childhood being left in hotels with a nanny in various cities whenever Dad went on business trips. He couldn’t remember going to New York, though. As he’d grown older, he’d resented being taken out of school for his dad’s whims, especially since his father never spent any time with him on those trips.
Always closing a deal. That summed up his dad.
It was Kaylee’s turn to cover his hand. “Someday we’ll go, and I’ll show you around.”
“I’d like that.” For Kaylee he’d visit New York City, even if he didn’t really want to.
An easy silence stretched.
“Should I walk over there after school?” Frowning, she rubbed her lips together.
“I’ll pick you up and take you.”
“What should I wear?”
“What do you want to wear?” Over the past months, Mac had learned that giving advice about clothes was a no-win situation.
“I don’t know.” She looked down at her leggings. “This outfit is comfortable.”
Comfortable? It was one step above pajamas in his opinion.
“What about those jeans you wore a few weeks ago?” As soon as the words were out, he fought the urge to clap his hand over his mouth. Why had he said anything? He knew better than to break his rule about clothing advice. He braced himself for the worst.
“Those jeans don’t fit right.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself tightly.
And this was why he avoided talking about clothes. “They look good on you.”
“No, they don’t.” Her face pinched.
He didn’t know what to say. Kaylee couldn’t wear athletic clothing to the interview. He doubted Bridget would find it inspiring, and he’d already overstepped every boundary with the woman by asking her to take a chance on his sister. If Kaylee didn’t make a good impression, Bridget wouldn’t hire her.
And he really wouldn’t blame her.
“Hey, just wear something you wouldn’t wear to bed or to exercise in. Jeans and a sweater. Easy.”
She covered her face with her hands. “But what jeans? What sweater?”
He almost mentioned phoning a friend, but the one and only time he’d said those words, she’d burst into tears and told him they’d think she was weird. From his memories of high school, girls always talked on the phone about what they were wearing. Maybe things had changed since then.
“I’m calling Lydia.” Kaylee stood. “She probably knows what I should wear.”
“Yes, call Lydia,” he said, keeping his tone light. Lydia. Hmm...had she made a friend, finally? This was news to celebrate.
“If I don’t have anything to wear, you’ll have to tell the New York lady I won’t be there.”
Wasn’t happening. Kaylee would be there if it meant he had to buy her a new outfit himself.
Yeah, she’d be there.
He’d had to go way outside of his comfort zone to even ask Bridget for this favor. There was something about the woman that simultaneously drew him while intimidating him.
She seemed comfortable in her own skin. But guarded. She definitely didn’t want anything from him. Unlike most people around here.
Did Bridget see right through the wealthy-rancher, nice-guy persona everyone else in Sunrise Bend seemed to accept? Or did she see the side of him his father had disapproved of?
He lurched to his feet. He needed to set the table.
It didn’t really matter how Bridget viewed him. He just hoped his instincts were correct that an after-school job would help bust Kaylee out of her shell. He didn’t want her to have any more pain. The kid had had enough for a lifetime.