by Gina Ardito
“Win her back? You mean, she dumped him? Already?” Tiny laid the pen on the bar and shot his attention to Drew again. “Maybe I shouldn’t sign this then. She might not like it.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Drew slammed the key on the bartop. “I’m not doing this to win her back.”
“You’re not?” Tiny flipped his stubby fingers through the pages. “Well, then, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought, Garwood.”
“Can we get this over with, please?”
To his relief, Tiny picked up the pen again. This time, with lots of flourish, he signed where Rosa indicated on each page. Once he finished, she stamped and signed the forms as notary.
“I’ll get these over to Town Hall,” she said while gathering the pages and stuffing them into a Pendaflex folder.
“Thank you,” Drew said to them both as he shoved his extra house key into his pocket.
Once Rosa was gone and on her way, Tiny slid a shot glass full of amber liquid near Drew’s hand. “Here.” He filled a second filled glass and held it toward Drew in mock salute. “To Bo.”
What the hell. It was after noon, and he’d probably need the artificial fortitude for the next battle anyway. He grabbed the shot, clinked the glass against Tiny’s, and echoed the sentiment. “To Bo.” He slugged the whiskey, grimaced, and got to his feet. “Thanks, Tiny. I’ll be in touch.”
“Not if I get in touch with you first. I gotta get my money’s worth.” Tiny broke into a series of guffaws that followed Drew as he headed out of the Shack.
Drew ran a hand over the prickled hairs on his nape, yanked open the door, and then flipped his hand to shade his eyes from the harsh sunlight. He raced to his car, climbed inside, and drove out of the parking lot.
Hours later, armed with the copies of the legal documents Rosa had filed earlier with the town clerk, he pulled to a stop outside his brother’s house. The familiar pickup stood parked on the grass—alone, with no other vehicles in sight. Good. This confrontation was between the Garwood brothers and no one else.
He picked his way over the dirt to the front porch. When he pounded his fist on the door, Wade’s voice bellowed from inside.
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’. Don’t break down the door, dammit.”
The thud of boots sounded from inside, growing louder as Wade got closer, until the door opened on a yank and a growl. “Whaddya—oh, Drew. It’s you. Come on in.” He was shirtless and scratched his bloated, hairy belly while stepping back to make room for Drew to enter his living room.
“No, thanks, I can’t stay. I just wanted to give you a copy of this.” He slapped the papers into the hand Wade wasn’t using on his abdomen.
The belly-scratching stopped. “What’s this?”
“The end of the road for you. Read it. Consult a lawyer, if you don’t understand it—just not me. I’m out.” Without waiting for a reply, he walked away.
Chapter 16
Bo was head-first in the Lauter tun when a thunderous gong resounded in her ears. She jerked back as the noise echoed from the far wall to bounce toward her again. Only one of her idiot brothers would dare pound on the stainless steel tank to get her attention. When she discovered which one, she’d kill him.
“Up and at ‘em, Bo!”
Crap. Dad.
She climbed out to see his grinning face, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Dad, these tuns aren’t like whiskey barrels, you know. They amplify sound.”
“So?”
“So, you can’t pound on the outside to get my attention.” To illustrate her point, she rubbed her fingers over her ear canal as if trying to stop an incessant ringing. “I’ll wind up deaf.”
His smile never dimmed. “Come outside.”
“I’m working. Give me fifteen minutes to finish up.”
He took her hand and pulled her away. “Unh-unh. Now.”
“Daaaad!”
“Don’t ‘Daaaad!’ me. Just come outside.”
She swiped a sleeve across her forehead and felt the wet grime that had settled into her pores. “Can I at least wash my face first?”
“No need. You’re only gonna perspire more out there. It’s hotter than Hades today. I don’t know how people live with this weather year-round.”
Then go home. The words danced on her tongue, but she clamped her lips shut to keep them from spilling out. She was trying Mal’s method of showing her dad she was taking care of herself. She allowed him to put some money in her account. She attended her first yoga class, and yesterday, she’d left the brewery to visit the Malloy ranch for Sunday supper with Abby and Cooper, Abby’s sisters and a few other guests, including Loretta and Jackson’s daughter, Nona, and her husband, Travis. The food was delicious, the company delightful, and Bo found herself promising to return next Sunday.
“Quit daydreaming, Bo. Come on. We’ve got a surprise for you.”
A surprise? “I hate surprises,” she murmured.
“You’ll like this one. Come on.”
“Can we come, too?” Ian asked with typical New York snark.
“Sure. You can all come,” her dad replied and clapped while raising his voice to carry through the brewery. “Hey, everybody, take five. Come on outside and see the surprise we got for your boss.”
She would’ve loved to tell him he didn’t have the authority to tell her employees to take a break, but no one told Malcolm Sheehan, Sr. what he could and could not do—especially not his children. “I hate surprises,” she repeated instead.
Laughing, Dad took her by the elbow and steered her toward the back door that led to the rear parking lot. Her faithful crew followed, buzzing with curiosity.
Outside, once her vision adjusted to the harsh midday sunlight, she spotted her brothers lined up arm-in-arm, wearing those smug grins that always added up to trouble for her. She slowed her pace to a crawl and kept her gaze flitting in every direction, waiting for…she wasn’t sure what. Knowing them, the “surprise” could take the form of a clown parade to intensify that specific phobia of hers, a spray of icy water from a garden hose to her face, or a sudden downpour of glitter and confetti that would require half a dozen showers to remove from her skin and hair. Growing up, every day was a cavalcade of dumb pranks, fart noises, and gross jokes.
“Come on, Bo,” Seamus shouted. “Don’t be scared.”
Laughter erupted around her, but she ignored the scoffs to keep an eye out for the trap. “Prove it.” She placed her hands together, palms out, then spread them wide apart. “Break up the chain of brotherly love and let me see what you’re hiding.”
The quartet broke ranks, leaving her to stare at a tarp-covered, oddly-shaped mound, roughly the size of a small pony. If that thing neighed, she was outta here. “Okay, so, what have you got there?” she asked, tilting her head to get a peek beneath the tarp.
“Close your eyes,” Quinn sing-songed.
She stamped her foot. “Are you kidding?”
A chorus of “Close your eyes!” rang out from the onlookers.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” On a sigh, she did as they demanded. “Happy now?”
“That depends,” Patrick chimed in.
“On what?”
A broad hand clamped her shoulder and squeezed. Dad. “On how you react.” A rustle in the air reached her ears, and he added, “Okay, open your eyes.”
When her vision cleared again, she spotted the red Yamaha R1, cleaned up and shining in its own parking space marked “Reserved.” Around her, her crew and family cheered. Her gaze connected with Mal, Jr.’s, and he winked at her.
“The owner of a fine establishment like this shouldn’t be dependent on other people for rides every day,” Dad said. “The boys and I decided to help you out as a special congratulations on a successful grand opening.”
On top of the seat sat a festively-wrapped box. Her well-meaning asshole brother tossed it to her. “Here. You’ll need this.”
She managed to catch the box and tear off the paper decorated with filled beer steins fl
oating against a baby blue background to find a plain cardboard box. A sleek black helmet sat nestled inside, and she laughed up into her father’s face. “Dad.”
Dad patted the top of the helmet. “You’ve got a good, strong head—for business and for life. Let’s keep it that way. I’m damn proud of you, Bo. Damn proud.”
As speeches went, it wasn’t warm and gushy. Then again, neither was her father. More important, though was the fact he said he was proud of her—out loud for everyone to hear. She couldn’t receive higher praise.
She threw herself into his brawny hug. “I love you, too, Dad.”
He chuckled. “Let’s see if you still feel that way when you hear the ground rules.”
She pulled back and quirked a brow at him. “Ground rules?”
“If Ian, Mitch or anyone else catches you on that beast without the headgear, you’re back to begging for rides.”
Another gift with strings attached. “Of course.” All part of the Malcolm Sheehan security package—a thought that didn’t irk so much now. He was proud of her.
She scanned the happy crowd of onlookers and wished, for the thousandth time today, that Drew was here with her. Weird how, even though she was surrounded by family and friends, she still needed that one person who shared her happiness in a more personal way.
For the rest of the day, she stewed more over Drew’s loss than her father’s praise. Had she been wrong to give him up? She’d judged him harshly because of his brother’s actions, much like her so-called friends in New York had harshly judged her for Rob’s crimes. Did that make her Drew’s “so-called” girlfriend? And could she bounce back from that title to become a true girlfriend? Did she want to?
She had no answer for the first two questions, but since her heart warmed at the mere memory of his face, his voice, his touch, the answer to the third question became crystal clear.
“Now,” she said to herself, “what the hell am I going to do about it?”
****
For several days, she went through the motions at work and at home. After about a week of obsessing over Drew, she sat at her desk, reviewing the encouraging first month’s sales report and felt…numb. While her business flourished, her personal life had stagnated. Oh, sure. She still had yoga classes and the occasional Sunday supper at the Malloy ranch, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough without Drew. What good was success, happy days, sad days, eating, if she didn’t have someone to share it all with?
Funny thing. When she was married to Rob, she’d never noticed they rarely shared the events of their days, their thoughts, or quiet moments. It took meeting Drew to show her what had truly been missing in her life. And she’d thrown it all away! Because of his stupid, greedy brother, who had nothing to do with whatever she and Drew had found together.
Dropping her head atop her arms on the desk, she muttered, “I’m an idiot.”
“If you’re waiting for someone to argue with you,” an amused voice said from behind her, “I could go out and find a stranger who might be willing—if you pay him enough.”
She looked up and offered Mitch a sad smile. “That’s not necessary. What I need is for reality to slap me in the face. Close the door and have a seat.” She gestured to the empty chair on the other side of her desk.
“Am I supposed to be reality in this scenario?”
“Sure. Unless you’d rather go out and find a stranger who’ll work for free.”
“Nah. I relish the opportunity to slap you in the face.” He sat and leaned back in the chair, arms folded behind his head. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. So, what did you do now that self-brands you an idiot?”
“Drew.”
He nodded. “Ah. Old news.”
“Not that old,” she snapped. Worry crept through her, and she voiced her anxiety aloud. “Is it? Oh, God, do you think it’s too late?”
“For what?”
“To get him back. To tell him I was wrong.”
“You? Wrong?” He clutched a hand to his chest. “How can this be?”
Her lips twisted in a sneer. “Ha, ha.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she rubbed her fingertips across her lids before Mitch noticed, but she miscalculated how closely he watched her.
“Careful,” he admonished. “Someone might think you care.”
She slammed her fist on the desk. “Dammit, Mitch. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”
He flinched at her outburst. So did she. “Wow. Sorry.” His expression grew somber. “Look, Bo, I am your best friend, and you’re mine. But I’m the last person you should take advice from when it comes to love and romance.”
“Why? Because you’re gay?”
“No. Because I suck at it.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t be half as bad at it as I am. Or my brothers. Between us, we Sheehans have had twelve marriages, all but my mom and dad’s ending in ugly divorces. Of course, none of the others was as ugly as mine. At least their breakups didn’t end up on the front page of the New York Post.”
Mitch bounced his index finger and smirked. “I’m pretty sure that episode with Seamus and the redhead—what was her name? Filene?”
“Fiona,” she corrected.
“Right. Their very physical breakup in the Russian Tea Room hit ‘Page Six.’”
She frowned. “You’re only proving my point, Mitch.”
“Okay, so here’s the thing. Do you remember the day you called to offer me the job of starting up Empire?”
“Yeah, sure. You were the first person I contacted. I didn’t want to work with anyone else on this project. You’re the best.”
He held up a hand. “I’m not fishing for compliments, Bo. I’m reminding you for a specific reason: you saved my life that day.”
“Yeah, well, you saved mine, too.”
“No. You literally saved my life. For the record, I let the love of my life get away a long time ago, and if I look like I’m doing okay, it’s because I majored in dramatic arts in college. You wanna know why I was available to drop everything and come to Texas when you asked? Because the day you called, I had a bottle of anti-depressants in my hand and considered swallowing the entire bottleful to see if I could finally find peace.”
She took in the solemn tone, the earnestness in his eyes. My God, he’s serious. “You never told me.”
He studied his perfectly manicured fingernails. “You never asked.”
Those three words punched her in the gut. What kind of friend was she? How could she have not seen his pain? Exactly how self-absorbed was she? All these years, she’d never put it together. She always assumed he was too busy for a dating life. It never occurred to her…
“I’m sorry. I…never thought about you in…that way. Romantically, I mean.”
His smile was unenthusiastic, but genuine. “I know what you mean, Bo. You don’t have to apologize. You and I never discussed our private lives, not in detail. We were always about the beer.”
“Jeez, that sounds pitiful.”
“Stop beating yourself up over it. You never told me what Rob put you through, either, you know. I think because, deep down, we were afraid to be less than what the other thought we were. The funny thing is our friendship is built on stronger stuff than we gave ourselves credit for. So, going forward, maybe we’ll both be better at the whole ‘friends’ thing. For now, it doesn’t matter. I love you for the stubborn, bossy, frustrating woman you’ve always been. You love me for being your wisest, most supportive friend. The rest is incidental.” He took her hand and squeezed. “You may not have known it ‘til now, but you really did save my life the day you called. And as your wisest, most supportive friend, I’m going to save yours now. Get your ass where it needs to be so you can talk to Drew.”
Doubts assailed her. “I don’t know. His brother…” She shook her head.
“Ask yourself one question, and be honest. Do you love Drew? If he didn’t have a brother, or if his brother wasn’t in any way involved in the sabotage here, would you hav
e let Drew go?”
She grimaced. “Those are some mighty big ifs, Mitch.”
“Shut up and answer. From your gut.”
“I can’t. I can’t separate the two.”
“Yes, you can. Close your eyes.” When she complied, he ordered, “Think back to when you first realized you missed him and wanted to be with him. What was your initial reaction?”
She pictured him in her head and tension ebbed away. “That I wanted him in my life—for better or worse—as long as possible. I didn’t know how it happened. The idea kinda snuck up on me.”
“So, what’s different now?” The anxiety returned with a vengeance. She wanted to shout out Wade’s name, but Mitch stopped her before she could purse her lips around the W. “And I don’t want to hear about his brother. What’s changed about Drew?”
Her eyes shot open again. “His br—”
“Unh-unh-unh.” He flicked his index finger back and forth. “What did I say? What’s different about Drew? Outside of his brother’s crime?”
She considered the question, allowing her brain to catch up to her heart’s foregone conclusion. “Nothing.”
“Go to him, Bo. Tell him you love him. God knows why, but he loves you, too. Do you have any idea how extraordinary that is? How rare? You can’t take love for granted.”
“Maybe…”
“No maybe.” He reached across her desk, grabbed her yellow sticky note pad and a pen, and scribbled something on the top page. “I happen to know which hotel he’s staying in in Austin. Tomorrow, take that shiny new bike of yours and go for a nice, long drive. See where you end up.” He pushed the pad back toward her, got to his feet, and with a final mock salute in her direction, walked out of her office to return to the brewery floor.
Chapter 17
At the end of the night, Bo sent the staff home with her thanks.
Once everyone else disappeared, Mitch lingered at the door, uncertainty stamped on his features. “You sure you don’t need me to stick around?”
