He pushed his glasses up. “And you know what she’s like when she’s passionate?”
She got a flush on her cheeks, and the more worked up she was, the farther down her neck it went. Those hazel eyes of hers spit fire, just like they had each time I had said her hated nickname. Only she didn’t hate it. Not when I said it. And that was what she disliked. Her blush told me so.
Tenor sat forward, his mouth dropping open. “You and Madison?”
“No.” I laughed. If Tenor had seen the way she’d leaped away from me, he’d chortle too. “I’ve just gotten to know her. She’s no-nonsense and she’s defensive as fuck, but there’s something she’d rather do in life. She’s never had a choice, but she does now. The bar is stripped down, but it’s got an office and bathrooms. It’s as close to a lump of clay as it can be.”
“So what would the obstacle be?” He scratched the back of his neck. “The two biggies for people are time and money.”
“She works long damn hours at the home, but she has a stretch off. If she wanted to open a bare-bones bar, she could do it before your wedding.”
“So it’s money.”
“She paid fifty grand for me.” And she’d said it was so she wouldn’t get screwed over. Had she worried about hemorrhaging cash for poorly done jobs? Or that she’d get overcharged? Most people worried about that, but they didn’t go and buy a bachelor to coordinate much of the work. “If she’d ask me for advice, I’d be able to help her better. Fuck, I’d be able to help at all.”
A slow grin spread across Tenor’s face. “She’s hurting your pride left and right.”
“No.” Yes, goddammit. I had so many damn ideas. We could talk budget, business strategy, and goals. Yet she kept me damn near in the dark. Did she even have a plan beyond Make It Flatlanders Again?
Tate pushed into the office. “Thought I’d catch you two. Scarlett’s been asking wedding questions and I don’t have answers.”
Tenor’s grin stayed in place. Mention of Ruby or his upcoming wedding tended to do that. I’d been the lone single Bailey for almost two years and I hadn’t gotten less envious of my stupidly happy youngest brother.
“Just show up,” Tenor said. “That’s all we’re asking.”
Tate’s mouth flattened into a line. “And you are clearly not married with kids yet. You can’t just show up, and Scarlett will sit out the end of the world if she doesn’t have clear instructions for who needs to wear what.”
Tenor and Ruby’s wedding was next month, but it was purported to be a low-key affair. Instead of having it at Mama’s place, they were doing it at Tenor’s house. I was wearing what I’d worn to the rest of my siblings’ weddings. They’d all been casual affairs at their homes or at Mama’s.
“Two o’clock.” Tenor hooked his fingers behind his head and reclined in his chair. “Church casual since I know Scarlett won’t feel comfortable sending kids to a wedding in jeans. Curly’s is catering so Mama doesn’t have to cook.”
“Mama wants to cook,” I said.
“I know, but then everyone will be rushing to help her with food. Ruby wants relaxed. She wants guilt-free.” His grin widened. “She only wants me.”
I didn’t bother holding back my groan. “Fuck, you’re pathetic.”
Tate slapped me on the back. “You will be too one day. Happens to all of us.”
It had happened to all of them. Every single one of my siblings. Even some of the fosters my parents had cared for over the years, like Myles. But the one time I’d been in love, my heart had gotten ripped out, and Madison had known before me.
“Teller’s pissy because Madison won’t stroke his big, thick ego.” Tenor’s eyes twinkled. Bastard.
Tate’s laugh boomed through the room. The packagers downstairs and across the building could probably hear him over the whirring of the equipment.
“You both suck,” I muttered. “I’m just trying to do the job she bought me for.”
“You want to do it likeyouwant it done,” Tenor pointed out again.
“Ah.” Tate’s shit-eating grin was still in place. “You’re not the boss over at Flatlanders.”
“It shouldn’t be Flatlanders,” I snapped. “They put a dress on ET, but he was still a wrinkled little bugger. Giving Flatlanders a facelift won’t help. People will show up wanting the dive bar. They’ll expect Allen to serve them and not give a fuck. Everyone’s going to expect mixed drinks that have only a drop of soda, but Allen moved to Washington. Madison is too smart to load her drinks up with the most expensive ingredient, so at the minimum, she’ll charge more. And that’ll piss people off from the start.”
I was breathing heavily after my rant.
Tate crossed his arms and studied me. Tenor had unhooked his hands from behind his head and leaned forward. They exchanged a look, then pinned both of their stares back on me, each with a brow raised.
“What?” My crankiness knew no bounds.
