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Wilder’s house was beautiful.
It was brand new with all the fancy upgrades and was freakin’ huge. The kitchen and living room had vaulted ceilings, and the foyer led the way to either the kitchen or a grand staircase.
It was amazing and fit Wilder perfectly.
At least, it seemed like it did.
“Ah, crap.” Wilder opened the oven and frowned. “I thought I had the oven on, but it’s ice cold.” He pulled out a tray of chicken and biscuits and set it on the stovetop.
“Well,” I laughed, “It’s good that Chicken Biscuit is still good even when it’s cold.” I grabbed a leg from the tray and ripped off a huge bite with my teeth. “Mm,” I sighed. “Still delicious.”
“I did not take you as someone to rip into the chicken with your fingers, Shelby Lyn,” he laughed.
I grabbed another leg and held it to his lips. “Come on,” I laughed. “You haven’t lived unless you’ve eaten cold chicken in the middle of your kitchen. We’re breaking in your new house.”
He took a big bite and licked his lips. “You are right; even cold, it's good.”
I nodded to the tray. “Why don’t you just put that on the kitchen table, and I’ll grab the beer?”
“It should be cold beer and hot chicken, but I think cold beer and cold chicken will be just as good.” He grabbed the tray of chicken, and I hooked the six-pack of beer.
“Oh,” he called. “There is also a bottle of wine in the fridge if you want that.”
I opened the fridge and was surprised to see nothing in it besides a bottle of wine, another bucket of chicken, and half a gallon of milk. “Uh,” I chuckled. “How long have you been living here?” I grabbed the bottle of wine and bumped the fridge shut with my hip.
“Almost a couple of weeks now?” He set the tray down and waited until I sat to sit.
He grabbed a bottle of beer and studied the label.
“That’s from a local brewery. They opened up about five years ago, and they’ve sort of taken off in the area,” I explained.
Wilder nodded and popped the top. He took a sip and looked at the label again. “Luke Smith?” he asked.
I grabbed a biscuit and pried it open. “Uh, yeah. He graduated two years behind us.”
“I remember him.” Wilder took another sip and huffed. “That is pretty damn good. I haven’t had a good beer like that for years.”
“What?” I laughed. “Are you trying to tell me that the city doesn’t have any good beer?”
Wilder shook his head and grabbed a thigh. “Not like that. And if it did, they would probably charge fifteen bucks a bottle. You wouldn’t even want t know how much a simple beer is in the city.”
“Four bucks?” I asked.
Wilder pointed his thumb up. “Think higher, Shelby Lyn, and then add a couple of bucks.”
“That’s crazy,” I laughed. “I would buy a six-pack at the store and drink at home.”
“That is what I did most of the time, though I didn’t really have much time to drink.”
“And why is that?” I asked. Wilder said we had a lot to talk about, so we were going to talk. Sure, the price of beer wasn’t exactly important, but it felt comfortable talking to Wilder, even about beer.
“I worked a lot. On most, I worked an average of sixty hours a week.”
“That sounds like my busy Christmas time. I swear I start going cross-eyed and see rolls of ribbon in my sleep.”
“Aren’t you busy all of the time?” Wilder asked. “From what I hear, you make wreaths for any occasion around here.”
“Well,” I laughed, “You are not wrong, but Christmas does happen to be the busiest for me.” Not by much, but it was. “Especially since I just got this new client who has a massive house I need to decorate.”
Wilder shook his head and chuckled. “I bet they’re not demanding at all, though.”
I shrugged and ripped off a piece of chicken. I placed it on my biscuit and licked my fingers. “So far, they aren’t, though they just threw money at me as if it didn’t matter.”
“Pretentious,” Wilder grumbled. “You should have charged them more.”
I took a bite of my chicken biscuit sandwich and shrugged. “I did.”
A deep rumble of laughter sounded from Wilder. He shook his head and smiled wide. “Or you finally started charging what you’re worth, Shelby Lyn.”
I shrugged and picked a crumb off my shirt. “Perhaps.” I grabbed a napkin and dropped the crumb on it. “Could we maybe talk about something less serious?”
“Such as?” he asked.
“Why did you have a meeting with Charlie and his dad today?”
Wilder sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “You know, I did forget how fast gossip moves around Adams.”
“People knew I fell in Flo and Del’s shrubs before I got to my next client, Wilder. You really think you having a meeting with Charlie and his dad isn’t going to hit the gossip mill?” As much as I hated the gossip, for the most part, it wasn’t a bad thing. Very rarely was there mean or nasty gossip. It really just was everyone knowing what was going around town.
“Well, I did meet with Charlie and his dad today.”
“And how did that go?” I asked.
“Are you asking for your own information or for the gossip mill?” he chuckled.
I tipped my head to the side. “Missy has probably supplied all the details to the mill. I tend to keep most things to myself.”
“And how did Missy find out everything?” he asked.
“She’s hooking up with Charlie. She likes the way he smells.”
Wilder held up his hands. “I don’t think I want to know anything more about that.”
I giggled and sat back. “So, for my own personal knowledge, why did you have a meeting with Charlie and his dad?”
“I’m thinking of getting into the chicken and biscuit business. Word is Chicken King might be moving in, and I don’t want that to happen. If Charlie and his dad step up their advertising game, we can get people coming to Adams for chicken. We all know how good their chicken and biscuits are. Mr. Beek is retiring soon, and Charlie plans on taking over the business. I offered my services and expertise to them if I could buy into the business. Charlie would keep the controlling shares, but I would be a part of the business.”
“You’d do that?” Everyone had heard the Chicken King rumor, but we all hoped it wasn’t true. “Can you persuade Chicken King to build elsewhere?”
Wilder shrugged. “I can’t guarantee that, but even if they do decide to build in Adams, I can help Charlie to make sure Chicken Biscuit is still around for years to come.”
“What did Charlie and his dad say?”
Wilder shrugged. “It was our first meeting, but they seemed open to it. I think it helps that I am from Adams, not someone coming in just looking to make a buck.”
“Missy kind of mentioned that tonight. She called Ryan Marks an outsider when I was getting ready.”
“I’ve heard of him.” Wilder took a sip of his beer. “He doesn’t seem like a bad guy. I think with the town shutting him out, he seems like a villain when I think he’s just trying to run his business.”
“Which means he’s going to have to get the people of Adams to help him. I told Missy the same thing.”
Wilder winked at me. “Great minds think alike, Shelby Lyn.”
It was nice that Wilder and I saw things the same way. I like the small-town feel of Adams, but I knew the town would die if we didn’t get some new blood pumping through it.
I finished my biscuit and reached for the bottle of wine. “Do you have a doohickey?”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, babe. I might have a couple of doohickies.” He stood and moved into the kitchen. He opened a few drawers and pulled out the doohickey I was talking about. “Corkscrew?” he asked.
I tapped my nose. “Ding, ding, that is the doohickey I was talking about because I couldn’t remember what it was called. My next guess would have been squiggle.”
Wilder grabbed a wine glass from the cabinet and opened the bottle of wine. “Not much of a beer drinker?” he asked. He filled a glass and set it in front of me.
I shook my head and took a sip. “No, but I support Luke by buying a couple of six-packs monthly for my dad.”
“And does he return the favor by buying a wreath from you?”
I tipped my head to the side. “His wife does. They bought a farm on the outskirts of town, and every Christmas, she orders a ten-foot wreath to hang on their silo.”
Wilder whistled and sat back down. “Jesus. Ten-foot wreath? That sounds huge.”
I laughed and took another sip of wine. “It is. I have to construct it at their farm, and Luke uses a lift to get it up there. It takes a whole day to get it done. Once it’s up, it’s a sight to see.”
“Jesus, Shelby Lyn. Your wreaths are pretty amazing. I’ll have to get you to decorate the barn, too. I bet Blake will like the festiveness.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Though I don’t think we will need one that big.”
“Blake?” I asked. It would be great to put a wreath on Wilder’s barn in the back, but I was more interested in who Blake was.
“He worked for me in Chicago. He’s moving to Adams to help me out,” he explained.
I tipped my head to the side. “Help you with what?”
Wilder shrugged and bit his biscuit. “I have a few ideas of things I’d like to happen in Adams. Blake is going to help.”
I wanted to know more, but it didn’t seem Wilder wanted to tell me anything more. “Well, that’s nice you made a friend in the city who is willing to move here and help you.” I cleared my throat. “Does he know that Adams is a bit left behind in time?”
Wilder chuckled. “I have told him numerous times that Adams is nothing like Chicago. And I will probably tell him a couple of more times before he actually moves.”
“That would be a good idea,” I agreed.
“So,” Wilder sighed. “What else have you been up to these past nine years?”
“Um, not a whole lot. I’m sure you have lots of stories from your time in the city.”
“I can tell you the first time I rode the subway; I was scarred for life.”
I sat back in my chair and smiled. “This sounds like a story I’d love to hear.”
And he told me.
He also told me about his office building, the people he worked with, and how small his apartment was, but he liked it.
Wilder Presley told me all about his life in the city, and I ate up every word.
Wilder Presley was back, and I spent the night in his kitchen with him without a care in the world.
*
