I lifted my head. His gaze was half-lidded, but the spark in his irises was still there. He could go again. No, I wasn’t finished with him.
I would never be finished with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Teller
I stared out the new windows, then turned in a slow circle. The bar was almost done. I was proud as hell of the work we’d done, but I admired how dedicated Madison was. She didn’t give up, and I liked being by her side, helping her fulfill her plans and dreams. I hoped this was only the beginning.
The booths had been delivered. The benches and the tables were waiting to be installed. Cruz and Lane had said they’d help install those. Tenor and Tate had offered to get in on it. Then Myles, Gideon, and Jonah learned about our plans and decided to turn it into a guys’ night. I’d enjoy tonight, but I’d been having a good damn time every day.
The last couple of weeks had been domestic bliss. The bar had been installed, the security system, and the windows. I wasn’t needed at Flatlanders every day, so I was back to helping with baling and stacking hay and I kept more regular hours at the office.
If Madison wasn’t working, she spent some time here, cleaning and stocking. The storeroom was filled with paper towels, toilet paper, and various spirits she’d been ordering in. Sometime in the next two weeks, a plumber would install new tap lines and a soda fountain along the bar.
When she wasn’t here or at the nursing home, she was at my house, baking. I still got weekly cookies even though I preferred to taste the baker. She’d made bagels for Copper Summit too. They’d been a hit, as if I’d had any doubt. Then there were the cookies and cupcakes she’d made for the nursing home. Mama said the residents looked forward to events when Madison brought baked goods.
The guys would be here shortly. We’d waited for the weekend when Madison would be working. I wished she could do something fun with my sisters, but she’d had to switch shifts to get the wedding off.
Three pickups pulled up outside the bar. My brothers, brothers-in-law, and Cruz and Lane piled out and filed inside. I locked the door behind them.
Cruz whistled and spun in a slow circle like I’d just done. “Look at it. It’s a bar again.”
Madison’s comment about wanting to go to pastry school and open a bakery ran through my head. She didn’t want to operate a bar, catering to people getting tipsy and running their mouths. How much would she become a target of bad behavior?
How caveman would I turn if someone hurt her feelings?
But it was her decision, and as far as her plans went, it was solid. Cara, her real estate agent, hadn’t gotten an offer on the house, but only because she’d been a bulldog about property lines and what was actually included in the sale. Little details Sal had worked out with verbal agreements and handshake deals but hadn’t passed on to Madison, like the price she ought to sell it for. Cara was making it all official and it had added more time, but that’d be more money in Madison’s pocket.
Madison had balked at the two-and-a-half-million-dollar asking price, but she had the encouragement she needed. It was my mission to show her she deserved the best, and Ruby had been right about Cara. She’d fight for her clients and insult everyone else. There’d been a few lookers since Cara had made the listing public, but no solid offers.
Tate was behind the bar, the old distillery CEO in him unable to stay away from inspecting the bar and figuring out where Copper Summit products could go.
I walked toward the bar and propped my elbows on it. “I told Madison she needed to keep excluding our spirits. It’s Flatlanders’ signature move.”
He chuckled and nodded. “You’re right. She needs to. It’ll get the town talking. Enough people have witnessed you two together they’ll flock here to see if it’s true.”
I grinned. “That’s the plan. It’d make it even more gossip-worthy if the Baileys continued avoiding the place.” I’d love to be here, and maybe I’d hide in the office, but the absence of Baileys would maintain what Flatlanders was known for.
Lane took his ball cap off and set it on the bar. “Cruz and I are coming. We’ll be here opening night.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Cruz said. “Is she going to carry Foster House?”
“There’s a case already stocked,” Myles said. “I dropped it off last week as a bar-warming gift.”
Madison had balked at the gift, but Myles had only scoffed. Claimed they broke way more bottles than that in shipping. The cost was nothing. He was correct. The cost to people like us was nothing. To Madison, it was the difference between making her mother’s rent next month and eviction.
Having the Fosters here on opening night would be good. Madison would have support, and their presence would stoke the curiosity of the townsfolk further.
Jonah tapped a stack of big boxes with his cane. “You haven’t unpacked these yet?”
I had recommended Jonah’s woodwork for the stools. He would’ve poured a bar top, but she’d figured out the hefty discount he was giving her and refused, deciding to order polished wood seats from him instead. The boxes were a delivery from him. He’d ordered the stool supports Madison had chosen, made the seats, and assembled them.
“Let’s do it now.” I dug a pocketknife out and crossed to the stack. “We can have something to sit on.”
Tenor scratched his head and eyed the boxes dubiously. “You sure unbolted stools are the way to go? Isn’t that what Scooter used to destroy the place?”
“He used pool cues too.” Madison wanted to flaunt the chatter about those loose barstools. “But he’s not here to ruin it again.”
