Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mac didn’t want to drive to Bisbee in the morning.
So many hours wasted on the road. On the job. On something that wasn’t what he wanted for his future.
The money would be good, though. He had to keep that in mind.
It was only going to be two more weeks of work according to the latest call he’d received from his old boss. Then the other project manager would be back on his feet and able to return to work, and Mac could come back home to Jackrabbit Junction and stay put. He’d already turned down a second consulting job offer, no longer needing the extra funds thanks to Claire agreeing to the idea of bringing Chester on board.
“I need a pitcher of lager, handsome.”
Speak of the devil—the sexy, toolbelt-wearing one; not the old bowlegged one who was flipping burgers back in the kitchen with Butch.
Claire sidled up to the bar, looking soft and entirely too tempting tonight with her hair loose, curling around her face and over her shoulders. She glanced around at the small crowd scattered throughout the place before turning her brown eyes his way.
“Looks like we might be able to leave early tonight,” she told him. “Let Kate and Butch close ’er up, so you can get some shuteye before hitting the road.”
Damn, he really wished he’d listened to her and tried to come up with a different solution before signing on for this Bisbee job. Right now, getting a root canal sounded better than leaving in the morning.
Mac grabbed an empty pitcher, taking it over to the taps. “Who wants to sleep when there’s a naked babe in my bed?”
One dark eyebrow raised. “Who are you sleeping with tonight, McStudly?”
“A long-legged brunette who looks hot in a toolbelt.”
“You’re sharing a bed with Luke?” she teased. “I’m not sure you’ll like his hairy legs, but he can get hot and sweaty with the best of us.”
“You’re adorable when you’re being obtuse.”
Her grin slipped a little, edged with a hint of melancholy. “I wish you didn’t have to leave already.”
“Two more weeks, Slugger.” He sounded more upbeat than he felt. “Then I’m all yours to tie up and torture.”
“Good. I’ll have the battery charger and nipple clamps at the ready.”
He sat the pitcher of beer on the bar in front of her. “No more electric shock therapy,” he said, playing along. “You crank the dial too far every time, and then I keep finding stray socks stuck to me all the next day.”
She laughed. “Fine, take the fun out of sex, why don’t you?”
He glanced over her shoulder at Kate, who was helping Mindy Lou deliver a couple of trays of sandwiches and fries to a table of young guys who looked like they’d spent the day playing in the dirt. Mac had a feeling they were part of that group of campers who’d pulled into the RV park this afternoon towing several mud-crusted four-wheelers.
“You have to promise me that you won’t do anything crazy with your sister if Sophy gets back to you with this surefire evidence of hers that supposedly proves Joe is alive.”
She took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. “I promise I’ll wait for you to join me on my next daring deed.”
“And I want you to call me as soon as you hear from Sophy.” He pulled Claire toward him, so she was leaning partway over the bar. “Even if I’m on the road or busy on the jobsite. Especially if Kate wants you to promise to not tell me.”
“Even if and especially.” She nodded, her gaze solemn. “I’ll call you.”
“And if I don’t answer, leave me a message about what Sophy said.” He hit her with a stern glare. “And don’t be cryptic.”
“Okay, I’ll be like Jess—long-winded and annoyingly detailed.” She lifted his hand to her lips, kissing the same knuckles she’d rubbed a moment ago, one at a time. “Thank you, Mac.”
He watched her lips as she delivered her appreciative kisses, wishing they were alone somewhere else so that she could continue thanking him all over. “For what?”
“For coming up with a good fix to our money problem with the brewery.” She finished with her kisses, lacing her fingers into his. “Something that keeps you at home.”
“You sure you don’t mind going into business with Chester?” he asked yet again, even though the verbal deal was pretty much set now and the papers would be drawn up this week.
“As sure as I can be at this point.” She glanced toward the order window. “I think this will be good for him and us. If anyone knows beer, it’s Chester. According to Gramps, the guy has great business sense. It’s his lady-sense that’s been broken since they returned from active duty.”
“I can relate on the malfunctioning lady-sense,” he joked.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Careful, or I’ll take my pliers and hammer to you. A little pinching and pounding will fix you and your lady-sense right up.”
“I love it when you work me over, Slugger.”
“You’re warped.”
“Then you should grind on me some, too.”
Her laughter made him homesick already, and he hadn’t even hit the road yet.
He snagged her by the shirt front. “Come here.”
She leaned over the bar, her focus on his mouth, apparently reading his mind. “Is this how it’s going to go when we take over the place and you have to run the bar during Gary’s days off?” she asked for his ears only. “You flirting with me every time I come to pick up an order, expecting kisses as payment?”
“Most definitely. And not only kisses. Other stuff, too.”
“Kisses are good. Other stuff is even better.” She angled closer and brushed her lips over his, soft and sweet, tasting like everything he wanted in life and more.
“Order up, lovebirds,” Chester hollered from the kitchen window.
Mac groaned, pulling away. “Get back to work, you saucy barmaid.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” she quipped.
“I will be later tonight.”
“Promises, promises.” With a wink, she headed off, pitcher of beer in hand.
Mac wiped down the taps, his mind shifting from Claire and their immediate future to The Shaft and his pipe dreams.
At the moment, Butch had four taps, using three of them for well-known brands. The craft beer Mac and Chester had tried out was bottled. But if they brewed in-house, they could use a couple of the taps for their own stock. Draft beer almost always tasted better than canned or bottled. Matter of fact, maybe they should look into adding some more taps, all for their own brews. With Chester coming on board, that would be doable financially.
“Hey, Mac,” Ronnie said, taking the place on the other side of the bar that Claire had vacated. “I need two bottles of Corona, one bottle of pale ale, and a root beer.”
Mac looked over at her, studying her. Her hair was messier than normal tonight, like she’d tried to corral a wind-blown mop with a couple of barrettes and a worn-out rubber band. On top of that, her eyes had dark half-circles under them, making her face appear borderline haunted, and her forehead was a tangled fence line of creases.
What the hell was going on with her?
“Mac.” Ronnie moved closer. “Stop thinking about brewing beer.”
“I wasn’t thinking about beer.”
“Then stop thinking about my sister in the raw.”
“I wasn’t thinking about …” Well, now he was.
“I need two bottles of—”
“I heard you the first time,” he interrupted, reaching into the mini fridges below the bar for the drinks.
She leaned her elbows on the bar, frowning at him. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”
“Nothing.” He sat the bottles on the bar.
More interestingly, what was wrong with her? Because she appeared to have gone off the rails recently and was heading for a cliff.
“You’re full of shit,” she said. “You keep staring off into outer space.” She made a spiral motion with her hand that made no sense to him. “Come on, Mac. Out with it.”
He shook his head. Maybe she’d picked up on his early onset of homesickness. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to drive clear to Bisbee tomorrow.” He set a small tray on the bar next to her, moving her drink order onto it. “I’d rather stick around and daydream about the brewery.” He smiled. “And your sister in the raw.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, and for a moment, the old Ronnie was there—cocky and teasing, sparking with verve. But then the dark clouds returned and she closed the shutters again. “It could be worse, you know.”
“That’s true. I could have to take your mother with me for the week.”
“Exactly.” She picked up the tray, hitting him with a smile that looked slippery, like she was having trouble holding it in place on her face. “Or you could have to bash someone over the head with a leg of lamb and leave him dead in a freezer.” She shrugged. “Six of one, half dozen of the other.”
Before he could fully process what Ronnie said, she took the tray of drinks and left.
He was still standing there almost a minute later, watching Ronnie deliver drinks and take another order, when Kate joined him at the bar.
“Hey Venus, you trying to catch flies?”
He frowned at her. “Venus?”
“Yeah, Venus. You’re standing there with your jaw hanging wide, like a Venus fly trap waiting for its prey.” She rolled her eyes. “Sheesh, Mac. You’re usually Johnny on the spot with this kind of stuff. What’s wrong with you tonight?”
“What’s wrong with me?” She should be focusing on what the hell was going on with Ronnie.
“Are you hard of hearing now, too?” Kate reached over the bar and grabbed the bottle of disinfectant and a clean rag from the stack next to it.
Now if Kate were to say something about a leg of lamb and a dead guy, Mac wouldn’t think twice.
No, that wasn’t true. He’d be three times as concerned, because she would probably be cooking up a plan to use one to cause the other.
Shoving aside his unease, he returned to cleaning the beer taps. “What do you need, Kate?” If she had a drink order, she’d have given it to him already.
“A favor.” The left side of her face twitched.
If Mac had blinked, he would’ve missed it.
“Is this going to be about Sophy or Joe or both of them?” He eyed her closely, watching for any more twitches or tics.
“No.” She was quick to answer. Maybe too quick?
“I’m all ears.”
She glanced around, and then scooted down the bar closer to him, leaning in. “Butch told me that according to his accountant, the paperwork for the sale of this place will be ready for signing by the end of the week.”
Mac nodded. Butch had informed him of the same thing, which was another reason he really didn’t want to leave. He and Claire needed to celebrate. Chester, too.
“I need you to distract Ronnie tonight.”
“I think she’s already distracted.”
“You noticed that, too?” Kate frowned toward her oldest sister. “Claire figures it’s probably due to her turning another year older tomorrow, inching closer to forty. But I don’t.”
The weight Ronnie was carrying seemed heavier than just another year of life under her belt, but some people really loathed birthdays.
“Why do I need to distract her and what’s that have to do with the sale of this place wrapping up?”
“The second has nothing to do with the first.” Another twitch, quick as a blink. But a twitch nonetheless.
“Then why did you …” Mac shook his head, frowning.
“Stay focused here, Mac.” Kate tapped her index finger on the bar. “We’re going to throw a little surprise pre-birthday party tonight. One without Mom.”
“Ah, isn’t that sweet,” he said, tongue in cheek. “You wanted to make sure I was here to party with you.”
“Yeah. That’s it.” She matched his tone. “But if anyone in particular asks, it has nothing to do with the fact that Mom keeps trying to have these big heart-to-heart therapy sessions with the three of us.”
“Or the fact that your mom doesn’t like Grady, Butch, or me very much?”
She smiled a little too wide. Somebody seemed to have wound her up too tight tonight. How long until she sprung a sprocket? “If it’s any consolation, my stepfather thinks you have a sweet pair of buns.”
Mac chuckled. “It’s too bad we couldn’t invite Manny to join tonight’s celebration without your mom finding out.”
“He’s the one who suggested we have a pre-birthday party. He’s keeping Mom busy elsewhere, so she doesn’t try to crash the party.”
Manny was a good man. A good crazy man, considering the fact that he’d married Claire’s mother without coercion of any sort.
“When do I need to begin this distraction?” Mac asked.
“Grady and Penny will be here in an hour. As soon as they show up, we’ll officially close the bar and start the party. I’ll give you a signal as soon as Penny texts me that they pulled into the parking lot. Then you convince Ronnie to join you in the office, so she doesn’t know they’re here, and we can set things up quick. Maybe tell her it’s a bookkeeping thing and make her run through some figures. She has numbers on the brain a lot these days. Too much, I’d say, considering the dark circles under her eyes.”
Mac didn’t think that the extra bookkeeping work was what had Ronnie looking like the sky was about to fall, but maybe tax season deadlines along with the FBI’s news about an increased risk of trouble were tag-teaming up on her. Those two problems would certainly toss Mac’s ability to sleep out the window.
“Will do,” he told Kate, wondering what figures he could have Ronnie double-check that would kill enough time.
“Penny made some kind of special pie for Ronnie.”
Just about any pie Penny made was good for Mac, special or not. That woman could give Betty Crocker a run for her money.
“I wonder what Grady is going to give her for a birthday gift,” Kate continued, staring in her sister’s direction. “After Ronnie caught him hanging out with his ex-wife yesterday morning, he’d better go big or stay home.”
Mac did a double-take. “What do you mean, she caught him with his ex?”
“You know, Ronnie went to his house and found Elizabeth and him together there.” She leaned closer. “And they weren’t having breakfast.”
“At his house?” What the hell? How come Mac was just hearing about this now?
“Jeez, Mac. You’re back to catching flies again.” Kate looked around suddenly, let out a squeak, and then turned back to Mac with wide eyes. And another twitch. “Here comes Ronnie. Play it cool for now, and I’ll give you a signal when it’s time.”
“What signal?”
“I’ll wink a couple of times.” She took off, saying something to Ronnie as she passed that made her older sister frown after her.
Mac frowned, too. With the way Kate’s face kept twitching, how in the hell was he going to tell if she was winking?