I blew out another hard breath. So much damage. Scott had taken a pool cue to the mirror and bottles behind the bar. The booze had all evaporated, but the caramel scent of whiskey grew stronger the closer I got.
At least there wasn’t Copper Summit bourbon in the mix. Scott had disliked Teller, just like our parents had hated all the Baileys, and since the Baileys owned and operated the rustic and wildly successful bourbon distillery outside of town, that meant Flatlanders didn’t carry the stuff.
I could change that and send my mom into a rage. My dad might even come back to haunt me. I didn’t want more trouble. I had enough of a mess here. Scott had taken a sledgehammer to the bar and countertop. Tables were destroyed, their parts littered around the main area. Booths had been shredded, and splintered wood was everywhere. Broken glass from the light fixtures and glassware mingled with the wood shards.
“The bones of the place are good,” I muttered to myself. A new mantra to keep an anxiety attack at bay.
I scratched the side of my head. I knew where to start, but the whole thing was overwhelming. I needed money, and this would require a financial sink first, a lot of work, and a ton of energy.
I was also on the night shift at the nursing home.
Dread pushed into my throat, closing off my air supply. So much work. I didn’t know the first thing about remodeling a bar, but when it had been open, this place had paid for Mom’s stay at Cliffside Nursing Home. My wages working there certainly wouldn’t.
There was a knock on the door. A large shadow blocked the window. Another nosy lookie-loo? I threaded through the debris and stopped at the window.
I barked out a yelp just as Teller squinted in. His eyes widened when he saw me.
“Jesus, Teller!” My heart was racing for a completely different reason now. He couldn’t be here. Scott would roll over in his grave if he knew a Bailey was rubbernecking the remains of his precious baby.
Teller grinned and held up a grocery bag.
“What is that?” I called. Why would I want whatever he had?
He put a hand to his ear. He couldn’t hear me through the glass. I hesitated and glanced at the door. I’d have to open it, and then he’d see clearly. But he was already shading his eyes and trying to look in.
Wasn’t I used to being a sideshow in this town?
Resigned, I flipped the deadbolts and cracked it open. “What are?—”
“I got candy.” He brandished the bag again.
“Candy?”
“Don’t worry, no Tootsie Rolls or Blow Pops.”
My stomach woke up at the thought of candy. “I don’t need it.” Not from him.
“No one needs candy.”
I bristled as my mom’s words tracked through my head.Don’t eat that shit. You’re a big girl already.“Are you judging me?”
His lips formed a troubled line. “For what?” He seemed sincerely confused. Before I could speak, he lifted his gaze over my shoulder and his eyes widened. “Shit. Scooter really did a number on the place.”
I crossed my arms and tried to block his view, but he was half a head taller than me. “You can take the candy with you.”
His brow was furrowed as he scanned the mess at my back. “Structural damage even?”
“Just to the bar counter and shelving.” I hadn’t meant to answer him.
His gaze dropped back to me and warmth infused my veins. I tried to stay cool toward him, but I’d been out in the cold for so long.
“The bar counter is pretty important for a bar.”
“Oh my god, I would’ve never known without your wisdom. Thanks for stopping by, but it’s unnecessary.” I tried to shut the door.
He put a big hand on the surface. “Will you quit getting upset at everything that comes out of my mouth?”
“Will you quit saying shit to upset me?”
