Tanner shook his head and flicked his eyes to Jake, who had shut the ledger and put it on Brett’s desk. They hadn’t gotten around to moving his things out of there yet, and Jake picked up a lumpy piece of iron, polished to a sheen. He turned it in his hand, studying it, then set it down. He ran his hands over the funny block-letter nameplate that was half buried under cattle magazines and pulled it out. It spelled outdadand each blocky, carved letter was painted a garish color of blue.
“Who made this?” he asked, flourishing it. “It’s cute.”
“Brady did,” Liz offered, when Tanner didn’t answer. “Apparently got blue Tremclad all over the front porch painting in the letters. Made it in shop class.”
Jake set it back down, letting out a breath and dusting his hands off. “You’re ready for me?”
She nodded, noticing Tanner was studiously avoiding them, his hands working the muscles on the back of his neck as he looked over some papers on his desk. “I’ll meet you in the truck, Jake. Need to talk to Tanner.”
Jake ducked out without another word.
“Having fun yet?” she asked gently, as Tanner swiveled his eyes up to her.
“He was trying to make me lose my cool. I know it,” he groaned, and sagged into his chair. “Why does he fucking care what I pay my men?”
“Because they’re his men right now, and for once, you have a fresh set of eyes on the books. Someone who knows how to run a business.” Liz chastised him.
Tanner sometimes didn’t realize how much of a dog in a manger he was. Jake might be temporary, but perhaps he could inject some fresh thinking into some of the business practices Tanner was happy to keep status quo from Brett’s way of doing things. How many times in the past had he and Brady complained that their father needed to modernize? Yet when push came to shove, Tanner would stick to tried and true instead of innovating. She loved him for his loyalty, but it also drove her mad when she wanted to do something new in the stables and would get turned down by both father and son. Maybe that would change now.
“He doesn’t know the first thing about ranching,” Tanner replied.
“Maybe, but he’s managed people. Bobby deserves a raise. You won’t keep him long unless you do. He’ll find a big cash-crop outfit to hop to, one where he can use that brain of his for something other than sitting on a tractor and punching cattle when you’re short a rider.”
“Don’t you start in on me too. I’ve had a long enough day as it is,” Tanner said peevishly, rubbing at his eyes and groaning. “This place is out of control already.”
“It’s been three days, Tan,” Liz snorted. “It’s not. You’re the one who feels adrift because you can’t control absolutely everything right now.”
“It’s our money, Lizzie. Without it, this place don’t run,” he threw back at her.
“I know,” she replied. “It’s temporary. Jake knows how important something like payroll is.”
Tanner groaned and sat up. “Yeah. All right. Pick up a roll of fence wire while you’re at it. Twelve-inch fixed knot. We’re low and we’re due to fix the front fence on the north hayfields.”
Liz nodded curtly. In-control-foreman Tanner was back, and conversation was over. She left him in the office to stew and gratefully stepped into the sunlight. Jake was slouched against her truck, hands in his jeans pockets, sunglasses on. He’d finger-combed his hair, and her mouth went dry.
Holy hell, that looked good leaning up against her truck.
“Boss man chew you out too?” he asked as she walked over.
She laughed and shook her head as she hefted herself into the truck. She grabbed her sunglasses and shoved them on, grinning as he much less gracefully flopped up into his seat and slammed his door.
“Ready, City Boy?” she joked, and turned the key.
“Don’t you start in on me too,” Jake groaned, but smiled when she put the truck in gear and they rolled out.
Chapter Nine
Jake thought Brightside looked exactly like a small town should as they parked by the post office. The entire street sundrenched, chrome on the cars beside them blindingly bright, canopies at the front of the stores faded. Jake had never seen a street wider than any avenue in New York with angled parking and old-time coin-fed meters painted a dull gray. If he suspended reality, he could be on a classic movie set, complete with a red and chrome facade on a diner, a department store with the side of the brick painted white over the old sign, and a grocer over on the corner, the front bristling with flowers and overflowing vegetable stands. A side street looked to have a salon, a bar, and a few smaller stores. He pictured classic convertibles and the cast ofGreasesitting up on the back seats.
The only downside was that, as he scanned, there wasn’t one coffee shop to be seen.
The drive in had been calming, full of small talk with Liz doling out trivia about Brightside. He wasn’t paying close attention, stealing glances at her as she drove instead. When she smiled, her entire face lit up, and if something he said was funny, she’d glance at him before she laughed. He liked the confident way she relaxed behind the wheel, one hand draped on the top, the other on the gearshift. He’d felt the sway of the trailer behind them when a gust had slapped at them on the road into town, but she didn’t even blink. She had expertly backed the entire thing between two vehicles as well, while Jake nervously eyeballed the mirror on the truck beside them, mere inches between them.
Chatting about the town helped alleviate the familiar ache from his childhood, the wood plaque that Brady had painted for their father on his dad’s desk stuck in his mind as they left the ranch. It was moments like that that he felt as if he had missed out. That hurt of not having a dad when it mattered most. Tanner and Brady, they’d grown up with that influence, benefited from his guidance, chafed under his discipline, but ultimately, had been given the chance to know their father, and it had shaped them.
He would’ve given anything to have that. It wasn’t as if his father had been dead. He had been here, just outside this apple-pie town, raising other sons.
Jake had been the one he didn’t want.
