“I told him thatyouwere the one who needed help,” she admitted sheepishly.
Colt blinked in surprise. “Me?”
Cassie nodded, biting her bottom lip.
“What kind of help?” he asked tentatively.
“Well…” Once again, her gaze darted to Luke, and Colt wondered just how big of a role his brother played in all of this. “I told Frank that you’re… a little aimless. And he’d be doing us a huge favor if he took you in and taught you a trade.”
“A trade?” Colt repeated, reality sinking in. “I suppose you mean like coffee roasting?”
“Yes,” Cassie confessed with an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But if you’d rather I tell him—”
“It’s fine.” Colt waved away her concern. “If that’s what it takes for him to agree to this whole thing, I’m cool with it.”
“Thank you, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to us.” Her voice thick with emotion, Cassie threw her arms around Colt’s neck, hugging him tightly.
“No problem,” he mumbled, awkwardly patting her back.
While he didn’t relish the idea of roasting coffee, it was good for Frank to have a purpose—something to focus on besides his ailing health.
Besides, in a way, Frankwasdoing him a favor by giving him a reason to stick around. While he’d never admit it—even to himself—Colt wasn’t ready to leave town quite yet.
Something about being a part of a community again compelled him to stay. Even though he knew it couldn’t last.
Not if he wanted to fulfill his father’s dying wish.
Chapter 4
Frank’s glower pinned Colt to the scuffed pine floorboards. He might be confined to a comfortable recliner, but he hadn’t lost the fight in his intense steel-gray eyes.
“So, you’re the rabble-rouser?” Frank’s thick, peppery eyebrows lowered even further.
Colt stiffened. Rabble-rouser seemed like a far cry from aimless. What exactly had Cassie told him?
“Colt Davis, sir. It’s nice to officially meet you.” Colt extended his hand, but as Frank’s menacing eyes narrowed into slits, he immediately retracted it, clearing his throat more loudly than he intended.
“I know who you are,” Frank growled. “You’re the nuisance who used to trespass on my land.”
Colt’s gaze darted to Luke and Cassie for backup. The ole curmudgeon had a pretty sharp memory for a man his age. And a sharp tongue, too.
“Why don’t I put on a pot of decaf?” Cassie cut in quickly, a tad more chipper than the situation warranted.
“Decaf is the devil’s brew,” Frank grumbled.
“Doctor’s orders,” Cassie quipped. “But if you promise to be civil, I’ll make half-caff.”
Frank mumbled again, but Cassie must have interpreted the unintelligible sound as compliance because she spun on her heel, a satisfied smile illuminating her features.
“I’ll help.” Luke shot an encouraging glance at Colt before disappearing down the hallway after his wife.
Left alone with Frank, Colt’s pulse spiked. He felt like a quarterback clutching the ball, deserted by his offensive linemen. His fight-or-flight instincts were finely honed to flight, but in this case, he stood his ground.
Frank lifted the hulking tome ofWar and Peacedraped over the arm of the recliner and focused his attention on the yellowed pages. Without glancing up, he gestured toward the worn leather sofa. “Have a seat. Unless you’re fond of that particular spot on the floor.”
Unsettled by Frank’s unexpected attempt at humor, Colt hesitated a moment before sinking into the plump cushions. Running a hand over the soft, supple upholstery—presumably broken in by age and frequent use—he surveyed his surroundings.
The classic bones of the farmhouse had to be over a hundred years old, and the sturdy structure had maintained its rustic charm. Thick, heavy drapes were drawn back, casting late afternoon sunlight across the dark, masculine furnishings. The only items not congruent with Frank’s gruff exterior were the gobs of floral arrangements sprouting from every nook and cranny.
