“It’s a lovely addition to the store.” Abby moved to face the bare shelves again.
“The rest of it is a work in progress as you can tell.” Tess brushed her hands together.
Nothing to do now but start at the beginning and build from there. “Where should we begin?”
“I’ve been trying to plot out what I want to sell and where I want to put it in the store.” Tess removed a sticky note from an empty shelf and crumpled it up. “Like the sections in a library.”
Except a library often had books to put on those shelves and fill those sections. Abby walked behind the long checkout counter and peered inside the storeroom. Only more antiques and dust-covered boxes. “Where is your inventory?”
“It’s been more on an order-as-needed basis.” Tess wiped her hand over the top of a stool and sat down.
Translation: her cousin had no inventory. “How is that working out?”
“Customer orders are increasing.” Tess’s smile wavered.
Abby searched for her positive. Drawing a rainbow over your account balance doesn’t change it from zero, Abby. No, but it had dulled her despair. Besides, there was nothing wrong with optimism, despite what her ex and even Wes claimed. “What did Grandma and Grandpa sell?”
“A bit of everything, judging from the old ledgers I found.” Excitement showed on Tess’s face. She opened a cabinet and lifted a leather-bound book out. Her grip on the ledger was reverent. Her voice was soft and smooth. “These ledgers date all the way back to when the store opened in 1799. In the nineteenth century, they sold basinets and ran an apothecary. In the twentieth century, the store expanded to every type of dry good from silk to suspenders to hats and coffins. Penny candy, groceries and farming equipment were always staple items.”
Abby glanced at the ledger. “You mentioned there’s a grocery store nearby.”
“And a feed and tack store next to Ramsey’s auto shop.” Tess set her palm on the tattered ledger. “I don’t want to compete.”
Abby wandered down an aisle and read the note cards. “What have customers been ordering?”
“Everything from vintage cast-iron dinner bells to antique caster sets to hard-to-find fabric.” Tess set her elbow on the counter and rested her chin against her palm.
“Things they can’t find in the other stores in town, then.”
“And things other stores don’t have the time to source or locate,” Tess explained. “Especially when it’s not something sold in bulk, like caster sets or vintage lanterns.”
Abby wiped off the top of a barrel at the end of an aisle. “This looks ready for some of that penny candy.”
“Is that what you think this should become? A candy store?” Tess wrinkled her nose as if not convinced that should be the store’s direction.
“I think vintage candy is one item you could stock,” Abby offered. “Wait. Do you still make your own candy? I always said you could sell your candy creations.”
Abby had been in college when Tess had mailed Abby her first birthday candy tin. It had been filled with the most delicious homemade fudge and caramels. Every birthday since, Tess would send Abby another candy tin filled with a new variety she’d created. Last year had been the first year in over a decade that Abby hadn’t received Tess’s offering for her November birthday.
“That was just a silly hobby.” Tess shook her head, knocking her hair loose from behind her ear but not the lost look from her cloudy gaze. “Something I used to do for fun, but not anymore.”
Abby pressed her lips together rather than press her cousin. Tess’s candy had been some of the best she’d ever tasted. And Tess’s love for candy-making had been evident. Abby wondered why she’d given it up. Tess and her husband had had a whirlwind romance—meeting, getting engaged and eloping in under six months. In that time, Tess had quit her job as a librarian and had given up her candy-making hobby and who knew what else. Abby had assumed Tess and Eric had shared a once-in-a-lifetime love story. After all, that’s what her cousin had deserved. Abby began to wonder if there was more to the relationship than what Tess had described as a fairy-tale romance.
Abby refocused on the store, leaving her cousin and her secrets alone. “The place once sold basinets. What about making a section for infants and babies? You could offer home goods for every stage from infant to adult.”
Selfishly, Abby wanted that section for her own personal shopping. She had a baby on the way and no idea where to start.
“That’s it. It’ll be a home goods store.” Tess jumped from the stool, then frowned. “But is that too specific? It’s supposed to be a general store like it used to be.”
“Before we decide what it is,” Abby began, “maybe we need to clean the entire space and see what we have.”
“But I didn’t hire you to clean the store,” Tess said. “You’re supposed to run the cash register. Help customers and sit on the stool when you need to rest.”
“And I will do that.” One day sooner than later, she hoped. “But we have to clean first.”
Tess dropped back onto the stool, folded her arms on the counter and lowered her head. “There’s something you need to know.”
Abby walked to the other side of the counter and faced her cousin.
“And if you want to leave, I’ll understand.” Her voice was muffled.
“Are you selling the store?” Abby wouldn’t blame her. The entire space was a bit overwhelming, and overhauling it into a successful business was more than daunting. If Abby were in Tess’s shoes, she’d consider selling the place. Though that would leave them both with no place to go. And prove Wes right—Abby didn’t belong here.
“No.” Tess straightened and blinked. “No way. I’m not selling.”
Abby relaxed. She could still prove her cowboy and everyone else wrong.
“I invited you down here because I was lonely.” Tess reached across the counter and grabbed Abby’s hand. “I took advantage of your situation, and it was selfish and wrong. I wanted you here for me.”
“You didn’t take advantage of my situation,” Abby said. “I called you, remember?”
Abby had sat in her car after watching her boyfriend kiss another woman at the house Abby and her ex had shared for two years. The positive pregnancy results, printed on a paper from the doctor’s office, had been on the passenger seat beside her. All her excitement and hopes for their life together had evaporated like a fog.
She’d been lost and alone and scared.
Tess had been her first phone call.
“But I lied to you.” Tess squeezed Abby’s fingers. An urgency rushed into her words. “Abby, I cannot pay you to work here. I can’t pay myself. It’s not what I promised you.”
Abby covered their joined hands with her other hand. “Tess, you offered me a place to stay. A place to start over and rebuild my life.”
“What about the money?” Tess asked.
“We’ll figure everything out.” There really was no other choice.
Tess eyed her. “You aren’t mad?”
Abby shook her head.
Tess exhaled. “Does that mean you’re also not leaving?”
“Definitely not leaving,” Abby said. “We’re family. And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with right now.”
Tess rose and wiped her fingers through a layer of dust on the wall. “We really need to deep clean, don’t we?”
“We do.” Abby laughed.
“I’ll run to Five Star Grocery and get supplies.” Tess picked up her keys.
“Where can I find a cup of decaf coffee?” Abby asked. “I haven’t had a decent cup since I left Los Angeles County.”
“The Feisty Owl,” Tess said.
“Isn’t that a bar?” She’d seen the barnlike building across the street from the general store.
“Yup,” Tess said. “And they serve the b
est cup of coffee in town.”
Abby exited onto the wooden sidewalk and waited for Tess to lock the doors. “I shouldn’t be too long. And then we can begin.”
Abby checked the street for oncoming traffic. There wasn’t any kind of traffic on the quiet main street, not a car or pedestrian or horse. Her grandfather had never described Three Springs as a sleepy little town. He’d only ever talked about the kind and generous friends and constant flow of customers that had filled the store. Of course, it’d been decades since the store had closed. Towns changed.
Abby crossed the street. Her cousin might not know where to begin, but Abby knew exactly what she needed to do. She had to find another job. Quickly. One that came with a stable paycheck and the ability to help her cousin restore the general store.
Surely, she was qualified for something in Three Springs. Never mind her résumé was more of a series of starts and many more stops in various industries. She’d always begun a new job with high hopes and ended being told she wasn’t a good fit for the position.
She opened the heavy door to the Feisty Owl and paused. She’d expected it to be dark and dank with beer-stained, sticky floors and smoke-filled rooms. Instead, an open, airy space greeted her. One side of the room had sit-down dining and the other a massive bar and mechanical bull. One wall in the bar area was made entirely of glass, granting a view to the outdoor patio with a massive fireplace. A small stage and large dance floor in the far corner and dozens of high-top tables completed the bar scene.
Abby headed there.
An older gentleman tipped his worn brown cowboy hat at her from the far corner of the bar. “What brings you to the Owl? An early start on the evening’s happy hour, or something to recover from last night? We have cures for all.”
“A coffee craving,” Abby said. “My cousin told me I could find the best cup of coffee in town here.”
“Who’s your cousin?” His thick eyebrows pulled together as he studied her.
“Tess Palmer,” Abby answered.
“She’s a good egg.” A quick smile stretched across his weathered face. He rose and made his way around the bar, then reached out his hand. “Boone Bradley. Don’t call me Mr. I only answer to Boone these days. And you are?”
“Abby James.” Abby shook Boone’s hand: his grip was warm. There was something sturdy yet comforting about the older gentleman that reminded Abby of her grandfather. She liked Boone instantly. “Nice to meet you, Boone.”
He gestured to the empty bar stool beside him. “You’re the owner of that convertible at Trey’s shop.”
“That’s me.” Abby sat. “I didn’t know the car had been towed already.”
“We don’t like to keep friends waiting. I was coming over to the general store this afternoon to meet you. Now you saved me the trip.” Boone patted her arm, then hollered toward the swinging door marked Kitchen. “We got a customer out here.”
The barn-style door swung open, offering a glimpse into a modern kitchen with stainless-steel furnishings. Another cowboy-hat-wearing man stepped through the doorway. This one more than familiar. And unexpected. Abby’s mouth dropped open. “Wes?”
Wes blinked and pushed his hat up on his forehead. “Hey, Abby. What can I get you?”
Directions to the one place in town where she wouldn’t accidently run into Wes. Was there such a place?
Abby straightened and kept a hint of indifference in her voice. As for the spike to her heartbeat, she ignored that. “From cowboy to bartender. Any other talents you want to share with me?”
“I’m not sure if it’s a talent,” Boone offered. “But Wes here is...”
“Getting Abby’s order from her,” Wes finished for him.
“Decaf coffee.” And anything that might neutralize her reaction to seeing Wes again.
CHAPTER FOUR
WES SLOWED HIS truck in Boone’s wide driveway and parked beside a white four-door sedan. Boone hadn’t mentioned anyone visiting him this afternoon.
He’d driven Boone home last night after they’d ensured everything had been tidied thoroughly and the money was secure in the safe. Boone had created a checklist of six items for the bar’s closing procedure years ago and still insisted on making the final inspection every night. Boone believed the tone for the following day was determined by how the previous night ended.
And good days came to those who’d properly prepared the evening prior.
So far, Wes’s day had been good. And proceeding as he’d planned.
A sunrise ride on Dan along Old Copper Mill Road. The uneventful delivery of the rescue mare, an American paint horse, and her foal. A breakfast meeting with his head chef to plan the weekend menu and order supplies, followed by two uninterrupted hours in his office for paperwork and payroll. He’d had no surprise run-ins with a broken-down convertible or one eye-catching and all too intriguing blonde.
Not on his morning ride or at the bar. Wes had brewed a fresh pot of decaf coffee, just in case. He wondered if Abby would linger at the Owl like she had yesterday.
It wasn’t exactly that Abby had lingered. She’d left rather quickly after Wes had given her a large to-go cup of decaf. It was more that everything about her had lingered with Wes. From her bright smile to her soft laugh. To that spark within her gaze—the one that hinted at a woman with layers and depth. He had to press pause on his thoughts. In short, he had to stop thinking about Abby.
He had everything he needed for a full life. And one collision with a woman wasn’t going to make him reconsider. He’d avoided relationships during his active-duty days in the Navy. And now, he simply preferred his life just as it was. He was single, self-sufficient and satisfied.
Wes checked the Texas license plates on the sedan in Boone’s driveway and noted the dirt-coated white paint and mud-splattered tires. In contrast, the interior was clean, spotless and dull like the plain, basic amenities found in a rental car or even a business car.
Boone emerged from the stables and joined Wes in the driveway.
Wes pointed to the sedan. “Whose car is this?”
“The appraiser’s.” Boone frowned toward the ranch house. “Seems there’s been an offer to buy the property.”
“I didn’t know this place was for sale.” Wes crossed his arms over his chest.
Boone had been renting the ranch house and land ever since old man J.R. Dawson had passed away and his heirs had decided they wanted to keep the land in the family. J.R. had run his family’s leather- and shoe-repair shop next door to the Feisty Owl for years. J.R. had eventually closed his business, citing the changing times, and retired to spend his days on his ranch.
“Everything is for sale for the right price.” Boone’s tone was grim.
Even family loyalty could be bought. Wes understood that all too well. His only brother had proven that money had mattered more than blood ties. Wes knocked his anger at his brother aside and turned toward the stables. “Still, someone from the Dawson family should’ve informed you.”
“They did. Today in fact.” Boone handed an envelope to Wes. “Out of respect for my relationship with their grandfather, they’re giving me first right of refusal.”
Wes didn’t take the envelope. “And?”
“And I have a decision to make.” Boone folded the envelope and tucked it into the front pocket of his plaid shirt.
Wes wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and stopped walking to stare at Boone. “For how much?”
“That’s to be determined.” Boone hitched his thumb toward the house. “By him.”
Wes watched a reedy man come around the corner of the single-story ranch house. He held a clipboard and fumbled with an oversize tape measure. He wore wrinkle-free dress pants and a pale blue polo shirt. No sturdy work boots. No cowboy hat. And no reason to make Wes believe the man knew the first thing about a rancher’s life.
An attachment
to the land wouldn’t factor in the appraised value. Neither would a long-standing friendship with the former owner. Or Boone’s deep, unrelenting respect for all living things. None of it would matter once the appraiser dropped his figures onto his spreadsheet and pressed a button to calculate the current property value. “What happens if you can’t afford to buy it?”
“Then, the horses and I need to find a new home.” Boone’s voice was matter-of-fact.
Anger on Boone’s behalf surfaced. But emotions always crowded out reason and sound solutions. And they needed both right now. “What can I do?”
Boone leveled his gaze on Wes, steady and serious. The poker face that had won the old cowboy more hands at the card table than anyone else in the county was firmly in place. “Buy me out of the Feisty Owl and become full owner of the bar finally.”
Wes ground the toe of his boot into the dirt. Boone had been encouraging Wes to buy the bar for the past two years. But the Feisty Owl Bar and Grill was never supposed to be Wes’s inheritance or his legacy. That honor belonged to Boone’s grandson, Jake. Wes and Jake’s SEAL team had succeeded on their final mission—the target had been neutralized and detained. But their target had also collected three casualties, including Jake. “I can’t do that.”
“You’ve turned the place around. Made it profitable.” Boone eyed him with the same intensity he used to dissuade patrons from starting a barroom brawl. “Your heart is as much inside that place as mine is.”
Wes had come up with improvements to the historic bar and made what he considered sound business decisions.
That wasn’t heart.
Wes had taken over as bar manager one day after he’d informed Boone of his grandson’s death overseas. Ten days after Wes had returned to US soil as a decorated veteran and learned his own brother, Dylan, had sold the Tanner family ranch in Colorado and disappeared with the profits from the sale and Wes’s entire inheritance.
At the time, Wes had recognized the lost look in Boone’s dark gaze. It was the same despair and anguish he saw in his own reflection. Confused and adrift, Wes had accepted Boone’s offer to stay in the apartment behind the Feisty Owl and work at the bar until Wes decided on a direction for his future.
The Texas SEAL's Surprise--A Clean Romance Page 4
