I groan and glance out the window at the traffic on High Street. “I’m sorry, Jo. That’s terrible.”
“Thanks,” she says in a small voice, tapping her nail against the can. “I don’t think I can ever look at him again.”
“It’ll take some time, but it’ll probably get better.” I nod to her laptop. “What were you working on when I barged in on you?”
“Oh.” She blushes. “Just this idea I have. It’s probably stupid. I don’t know.” She shrugs it away, as if her idea isn’t worthy of air-time.
“I’d like to know, if you want to share.”
Her lips twist as she considers. “I guess you did come out here and start building something from scratch.”
I laugh and make a circling gesture with my hands above the table. “This is a safe place.”
Jo laughs. “Okay, fine.” She opens her notebook and shows me sketches of what appears to be some kind of ranch. “It’s a wilderness therapy camp. For troubled youth. There’s an old ranch on the outside of town that’s for sale. It hasn’t been a working ranch in a long time, and the couple who lived there are moving to a retirement home. I just thought…” She trails off, shrugging.
“I think this is amazing, Jo.”
She peeks at me nervously, but a proud smile tugs at her mouth. “Yeah?”
“Are you kidding? Yes, a thousand times over. I came here and started building a place for people to go shop, eat, and throw parties. You’re thinking of something that will help people who need it.Youngpeople. People who could one day be functioning members of society. That’s really special, Jo.”
“Thank you.” Her pleased smile warms my heart. She spends the next ten minutes telling me more about the wilderness therapy camp. We talk like old friends.
“Oh, geez,” Jo startles when she looks at her watch. “My shift starts soon.”
“Good timing,” I remark. Our wine is gone and the lemon bar has disappeared. If I run my tongue over the roof of my mouth, I can still taste its sweet, tart flavor.
Jo and I walk back to the hotel, since we’re both headed there anyway. She pulls her apron from her purse and ties it around her middle as we walk. We part ways with a hug in front of the restaurant.
For the next few hours, I return emails and look online at restaurant supply companies. I don’t look at my phone.
Wes isn’t to blame for what his mom did today, but it’s made me think. I promised Abby I knew what I was getting into, but do I really?
34
Wes
I frownat the phone in my hand, then slip it back into my pocket. Dakota has been missing in action all evening. It’s been a while since we spent a night apart, and I’m worried about her. As soon as dinner with my family is through, I’m going to get in my truck and drive to her hotel.
Five minutes later, I look at my phone again, checking to make sure my ringer is on and my volume is up.
“Wes, are you having fiancée troubles?” Warner, who is sitting across the dinner table from me, leans his chair back on two legs. We’re waiting for dinner to be ready and apparently Warner has chosen to pass the time by fucking with me.
“None of your concern,” I grunt.
This, of course, is the wrong thing to say to Warner. If he is fire, my response was kindling.
“Damn,” Warner says, snapping his fingers. “Just when I thought we were safe from Dickhead Wes. Better put my armor back on so I can be around you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter under my breath as my mom walks back into the room.
“No can do,” Warner says cheerfully.
“What’s going on?” She’s studying the salty look on my face.
Warner says, “Dakota isn’t responding to Wes and he’s pissy.”
A look crosses my mother’s face, but it’s hard to describe. Or maybe I can identify it, I just don’t expect to see it. It takes me four long seconds to call her out. “Why do you look guilty?”
