Boone wasn’t supposed to leave Wes. Wes had been the one meant to leave. But the idea was that it would be fine. Boone living out his days on his ranch. Wes returning to Colorado to build his own legacy.
It was not supposed to be like this. Wes alone in a hospital. Hurting and helpless. He hadn’t been able to give his mother her last wish: to spend her final days at her own home on their family ranch. But he could do right by Boone. Ensure Boone was cared for properly in his own home like he wanted. Like he deserved.
That meant asking for help. Revealing his private family affairs. Admitting he’d failed his mom and his brother. He should’ve been able to locate his brother—his blood relative. Their roots were supposed to have been deep and permanent, not shallow and fragile. Not so easily severed and spurned.
Boone needed Wes. Boone had taken him in when Wes had been at his lowest point. He couldn’t fail the old cowboy now. Wes dropped into a chair and pulled out his cell phone. He scrolled through his contact list, hit the Call button for his former commander and pushed his pride aside.
Wes, after twenty minutes and having given his word to check in more often with his former commander, had a reliable reference: J&H Associates, based in San Francisco. He had even more than that: the name of the owner of the company, Brad Harrington, and his personal cell number. Brad was former FBI and now ran a private-investigation firm that operated worldwide. Wes’s commander had worked with Brad on several undisclosed cases. His commanding officer trusted and believed in Brad Harrington’s skills. He’d also dubbed Brad one of the good ones. That was enough for Wes.
Wes checked his watch, calculated the time on the West Coast and dialed Brad’s number. Within the hour, Brad had returned his phone call. Wes had forwarded the information he had on his brother to Brad. And then there was nothing left to do but wait. Wait for Brad to locate Dylan. Wait for the surgeon to finish operating on Boone’s heart.
Wes returned to his pacing. The only difference was that chill had finally receded to being almost bearable.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ABBY CHECKED HER PHONE—for the hundredth time in the last hour—and tossed it on her bed. No texts from Wes. No missed calls. No update on Boone. The last text she’d received, several hours ago, had been brief and to the point, informing her Boone was headed into immediate surgery. Abby slipped on a pale yellow jumper, adjusted the straps on her bare shoulders and added her tigereye necklace for luck.
She walked into the kitchen, grinned at Riley and Tess. The pair was playing cards at the small island. Abby twirled around. “Well, do I look like a bartender?”
Riley giggled, revealing her adorable dimples. “You look too pretty.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” Abby touched her necklace. “What’s wrong with looking pretty?”
“You might spill something on your nice clothes. That’s what Dad always tells me.” Riley picked up her cards and studied her hand like a seasoned card player. “But Grandma Ilene can wash your stuff like she does mine if you spill. I always do.”
“Riley makes a good point about spills. Maybe jeans would be better.” Tess glanced up from her cards, lifted her eyebrows at Riley and added, “Go fish.”
Abby left the duo to their card game and headed to her room to change. Ilene had driven Sam to the hospital, and Tess had agreed to babysit Riley. And Abby had agreed to bartend. A job she knew nothing about. She was going to have to fake it and run the trivia competition. Abby tugged her jumper off and pulled her jeans from her suitcase. She could do this. For Boone and for Wes.
Besides, it was nothing compared to what Boone and Wes were going through. Abby buttoned her jeans and added an off-the-shoulder flowy chiffon top with billowy three-quarter sleeves and a swirl of colors. She twisted her braids around her head, secured them with shiny clips and tucked her phone in her pocket. Her outfit approved, she hugged Riley and Tess, then walked to the Owl.
Abby stepped inside, waved to one of the waitresses and rounded the corner. Only to stop. A tall dark-haired cowboy with electric-blue eyes that matched his vibrant-blue-plaid shirt stood behind the bar as if he had every right to be there.
“Who are you?” Abby blurted, then pressed her hands against her cheeks. “Sorry. That was quite rude.”
“No offense taken. I’m Evan Bishop, Riley’s dad.” Evan grinned, revealing a twin set of dimples that matched his daughter’s. “I’m also Ilene’s only son and your assistant bartender tonight.”
Relief skimmed over Abby, dulling one of her worries. She’d been concerned about how she was going to manage the bar alone. “Well, you’re a welcome addition. Thanks for coming this evening.”
“You say that now, but I should warn you. I’m not my mom. I know absolutely nothing about how to make the drinks I usually am drinking.” Evan grabbed his mother’s apron from the hook and slipped the strap over his head. He tugged the apron into place and flashed his dimples again. “And I spill things. A lot.”
“Sounds like we’re going to get along great.” Abby laughed and stared at the stocked bar from the opposite side. There were multiple draft-beer handles and a soda sprayer with more buttons than a receptionist’s phone console. A variety of stainless-steel bar tools, including long spoons, shakers and strainers in every shape and size. All waited within easy reach. The bar mats were clean, and the rubber floor mats dry. Everything was ready, except Abby. Like Evan, she preferred to slide onto a stool, place her order and enjoy herself. “I think I might need a stool to reach most of these bottles.”
Evan opened the swinging door, stuck his head into the kitchen and greeted Nolan.
Several minutes later, Nolan appeared holding a step stool and a wide grin. “Will this work?”
“It’s perfect.” Abby took the stool and set it near the shelves on the back wall. “Now I can reach the bottles on the top.” There were a lot. She hadn’t known tequila came in so many types and flavors. As well as rum, vodka and gin. She studied the labels, the brands and a worn recipe book she found buried in a bottom drawer of odds and ends.
A commotion in the entryway startled her out of her crash course on alcohol offerings. Abby spun around and gaped at the men filing into the bar. The five cowboys looked like ladders—each one taller and broader than the next. Her stool height hardly brought her to their eye level. “Evan, who are they?”
“Sam Sloan’s grandsons.” Evan reached over the bar top and shook hands with the tallest of the men. “Abby, meet Carter Sloan and his brothers, Ryan, Grant, and the identical twins are Josh and Caleb.”
Each of the Sloan brothers stepped forward to shake Abby’s hand and introduce himself with equal parts wit and graciousness. Josh was the eldest of the twins. Caleb was the youngest of all of them and motioned to his brothers to explain they were all test runs on the way to Sloan perfection. Abby connected to the Sloan men immediately, much like she had to their grandfather, Sam.
“Abby, we’re yours for the night.” Carter wore a half grin and spread his arms wide. “Tell us where you want us.”
“Did your grandfather send you here because he didn’t think I could handle things?” Abby set her hands on her hips. Her tone was playful but skirted around serious. “Wait. It was Wes, wasn’t it?”
She’d assumed Wes’s hesitation on the phone earlier had been from his concern for Boone. Not his concern that Abby couldn’t manage the bar one night without him.
Carter laughed, a deep booming sound like his grandfather. And Abby liked him even more. “No one sent us down here, Abby. They didn’t have to. It’s just how things work in Three Springs.”
“Neighbors look out for neighbors.” Abby repeated Wes’s reason for offering to replace the electrical wiring at the general store for free. The town was built on people helping each other.
“And family looks out for family,” Carter explained. “And that’s what Boone and Wes are. They’re family.”<
br />
So straightforward. And honest. Was it that simple? Claiming someone as family made it so. She had Tess, but she’d never considered she could have more in Three Springs. Until now.
“What’s the plan?” Carter smacked his palms together. “Evan’s already got the apron on. Nice look by the way.”
“I need an emcee.” Abby pointed to the stage where the wireless microphone and trivia-night box waited. “For the trivia session.”
“Caleb and Josh, you guys are up.” Carter pointed at his twin brothers. “Try to keep it clean up there. This is a family establishment.”
The twins high-fived and headed toward the stage to test the wireless mic. Carter looked at his other brothers. “You guys get the mechanical bull. Stay off it until the customers have had a turn.”
One brother shoved the other and claimed the first test ride, then twisted to smile at Abby. She remembered he’d introduced himself as Ryan, the best-looking of the Sloan brothers. His grin was mischievous, and laughter brightened his gaze. The brother Ryan pushed was Grant. He’d claimed to be the smartest of the Sloan men. And as a soon-to-be-graduate from medical school, Abby gave it to him.
Ryan tugged on his ear. “That’s okay, isn’t it, Abby? If we take a test ride.”
“Sure.” Abby eyed the two brothers. “Whoever stays on the longest gets a free order of chicken supreme nachos. But you only get one ride before the customers arrive. Better make it a good one.”
Grant and Ryan walked to the mechanical bull ring. Carter considered Abby, then glanced at Evan. “I get it now.”
Evan laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been here five minutes, and I get it too.”
Abby stationed herself behind the bar. “Get what?”
“We get now why Wes has been avoiding our calls and declining our invites to fish, play poker and generally hang with the guys.” Evan stuffed a towel in his back pocket and shrugged at Abby’s arched brow. “It’s what Wes does. I should at least try to look like him behind the bar.”
Abby chuckled. “Why has Wes been avoiding you guys?”
“You.” Carter drummed his fingers on the bar top. “You’re the reason.”
Abby stared at Wes’s friend. Felt the heat splay from her neck to her cheeks. “I’m sure Wes has been busy with work and helping Boone at the ranch.”
Carter made a noncommittal noise. His one-sided grin tipped up into his perceptive gaze. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”
The twins called Carter’s name. He ambled off to check on his brothers.
Abby spun around, grabbed a cloth and scrubbed at the decades-old scratches and nicks no amount of polishing would ever remove. Carter was wrong. Wes hadn’t chosen to spend time with Abby over his friends. That would imply Abby and Wes were something more than friends. She refused to jump ahead. To read into what they were. Sure, they’d shared more than one time-stopping, heart-turning kiss. But that wasn’t enough to assume they were in a relationship.
Besides, this time she was focused. This time she wasn’t falling for the idea of what a relationship could be. Not to mention, she had a baby on board. She was part of a package deal now, and she couldn’t risk her baby getting hurt. If she fell in love and it wasn’t real, hers wouldn’t be the only heart broken.
Those kisses she’d shared with Wes were memories now. Moments stolen during a rain-soaked night. Nothing that would be repeated. Her heart put on notice, Abby wiped down the bar top and pulled out her cell phone. Wes hadn’t sent an update. That persistent worry churned through her, pushing its way to the front.
Carter joined her and lifted his eyebrows up and down. “I guess I’ll slip into Grandpa Sam’s stool and enjoy the evening from the sidelines.”
“I’m down a waitress tonight.” Nolan propped open the swinging door to the kitchen with his boot. “Carter, I need you to cover the patio.”
Carter ran his hand through his wavy dark brown hair that skimmed his collar. “I’m a master distiller now, Nolan. I’ve graduated.”
“I can cover the patio,” Abby offered. “Let Carter work behind the bar.”
“No way.” Nolan chuckled. “Carter and I bused these tables too many nights together in high school. Let him do the heavy lifting.”
“Want to bet I’m still the fastest server in here?” Carter leaned forward on the bar.
“Carter Sloan, it’s on tonight.” Violet Myers, one of the Owl’s most experienced waitresses stood at the end of the bar. She wore chunky platform boots and black-cat-frame eyeglasses and looked more than ready to take on anyone, including Carter, who towered over her by more than a foot.
“Violet, you still haven’t paid me from losing our bet over that dart game from last month.” Carter’s grin ruined his hard-nosed tone.
“Well, it’s double or nothing tonight.” Violet tossed her blond hair over her shoulder. “Unless you’re scared.”
“Game on,” Carter announced. “Nolan, I think we should sample the specials, since Wes and Boone aren’t here to give their final approval.”
“Wes already approved the menu.” Nolan retreated to the kitchen.
“Then, think about the customers,” Carter called to him. “When they ask about the food, I need to give them my honest opinion.”
“Carter Sloan, you’re relentless.” Violet shoved him through the doorway.
“I believe in doing a job to the best of my ability.” Carter tugged on Violet’s hair. “I know not everyone has the same high standards as me.”
“Do you hear yourself?” The door swung shut on their laughter.
The banter had distracted Abby. Muted her distress. She clasped her hands together and searched for a smile. Anything to prove she was confident and calm, not upset and nervous.
She wanted to know Boone was fine. Wanted to see Wes and know for herself he was fine. She wanted Wes there. Beside her. Where she could take his hand, offer him comfort or whatever he needed.
Sam and Ilene were with Wes. He wasn’t alone. That should give her solace, not more anguish. She was where she was supposed to be. At the Owl. Helping Wes like a friend would. The same as any of his other friends.
She had to focus on the Owl. Not on soothing Wes or being his person—the one he turned to first no matter what. Because that implied stronger feelings. Like ones from the heart. Those involved trust and love and...
Abby cut herself off and tethered her unwise thoughts. Something in her chest clenched.
She ignored it and glanced at Evan. Her words tumbled out. “What should we be doing? I can cut up more fruit. Wes always seems to be doing that. Check the amount of ice. Polish bottles. Wash glasses.” I can be more than Wes’s friend if he’ll let me. Abby clamped her teeth together.
Evan set his hand on her shoulder. His touch was gentle, his voice kind. “Boone’s going to be okay. You know that?”
Abby’s shoulders collapsed. She should be thinking about Boone. Not herself. Or her feelings for Wes. She could untangle those later. Or never. “Nothing stops the worry.”
Evan pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Let’s check. See if anyone texted an update yet.”
Abby slipped her phone out and stared at the blank screen. “Nothing. You?”
“Nothing.” Evan tapped her phone screen. “Text Wes.”
“I don’t want to bother him.” Abby squeezed her phone. Wes had more to think about than her.
“Tell Wes the power is out here,” Evan suggested. “He’ll call you right back.”
“That’s just wrong.” Abby frowned.
“But you want to hear his voice,” Evan pressed.
Maybe she wasn’t going to like having Evan behind the bar after all. She peered at Wes’s friend. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s sweet.” Evan squeezed her shoulder and held her gaze. “It’s about time Wes had someone who cared about him.”
&nbs
p; She did care about Wes. Nothing wrong with that. “Thanks.”
“You gonna text him or not?” Evan waved his phone in front of her. “Or I will.”
“Fine.” Except it wasn’t fine. She wasn’t certain what to say. What would be too much? Too revealing? Too heartfelt? She typed out a message and hit Send before she could rethink it.
“What’d you say?” Evan tried to grab her phone.
Abby jumped away and tucked her phone in her pocket. “That Evan is worried about you and Boone. And that he’s harassing me for an update every minute to see if I’ve heard anything. So could he please text back to save me from his hovering, bag-of-nerves friend.”
“Works for me.” Evan grinned, then sobered. “You’ll tell me when he texts back.”
“Absolutely.” The doors swung open, and Abby watched an excited crowd spill into the bar.
“Looks like the fun is about to begin.” Evan rubbed his hands together.
Abby welcomed the distraction and hoped she’d work herself into exhaustion. Then she’d collapse in her bed and be able to fall fast asleep. Before the worry and second-guessing could overtake her. Before sleep became a wish and the hours slowly ticked by. And her heart rediscovered its voice.
Twenty minutes into the evening, Abby decided nothing about her current situation was fun. It was nerve-racking and stressful. Evan filled multiple drink orders from Carter and the other servers. A horde hovered on the other side of the bar, elbowing each other to get to the front and snag her attention. One overly eager and burly but jovial gentleman picked up his petite cousin as if she weighed no more than a dollar and set her out of his way. Anger rushed through Abby.
“This isn’t working, Evan.” Abby set her hands on her hips and raised her voice. “Not at all.”
“What are you thinking?” Evan arranged three highball glasses on Violet’s serving tray.
Abby grabbed the stool and set it next to the bar. Then held her hand out to Evan. “Give me a hand up, will you?”
The Texas SEAL's Surprise--A Clean Romance Page 19
