He shrugs. “We grew apart. No cheating, no screaming, just honestly grew apart. I’m okay. I’m good, actually. I need to be alone for a while and figure my life out.”
I remember the last time he said that. “You know, you don’t seem too upset about this break-up,” I say slowly. “Not like when a certain someone left town.”
“Don’t.” Ben’s face goes from his typical relaxed expression to fierce in an instant. “Mace, you know that topic is off-limits.”
“So is my best friend. Doesn’t mean I didn’t sleep with him last night.”
Ben laughs, and his eyes lose that hard look they get when I bring up his past with a certain woman he may or may not have ever gotten over.
I want my siblings to find their person. Whoever that is. And Ben worries me. He’s always so stoic, so logical. But I’ve seen him snap before. It was a long time ago, and now that I think about it?—
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose control.” I hold his gaze. “Except over one subject.”
“How many ways do I need to tell you that subject is not up for conversation?” He runs his hand down his face. “You’re nosy. I get it. And you can help out Riley and Free all you like. But your only brother’s love life is not an open book.”
I hold up my hands. “I know. I’m sorry for pushing. I just want you to be happy, Benny.”
“And I want the same for you, Mace. Subject change?”
“Please.”
He shows me what he’s been doing. “I’ve organized the bills. And we need to get all these onto the computer and out of the paper age. Seriously, don’t you think?”
I shrug. “It’s a bar. Not Wall Street.”
“It’s a business,” he says. “And we have to treat it that way.”
“Don’t you think I know it’s a business? I’ve been running this place since I was sixteen.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you’ve been pretty much carrying this place for all of us.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just honestly in a terrible mood. I’m tired and cranky. I’m truly so glad you’re working here. You’ll be far better at it than I am. Any other thoughts so far?”
“Well, for starters, it’s a Sunday morning, and there’s nobody here,” he says. “We could team up with Wild Ivy Ranch and offer brunch with mimosas.”
“That’s a great idea. Daddy isn’t working to grow the business. He’s just leaning on Jane’s ghost for his profits. She’s his cash cow. Without her, this place would be sunk.”
“Daddy sucks at the bottom line.” Ben points to a stack of papers in front of him. “Look at this: he had you order ninety-six bottles of the Pinot Noir. If he’d ordered a hundred, he would have saved a dollar per. Here’s another example.” Ben shows me the latest order of beer Daddy had me do. “Four hundred cases when five hundred is the break point to a much better margin. It’s a mess. I can’t believe you didn’t catch this, Mace.”
I sigh. “I’ve been so preoccupied. Honestly, I do try to catch Daddy’s errors, but I miss a lot. Running this saloon and chapel just isn’t my thing. I’ve tried to tell him.”
“When have you tried to tell him that?” Ben asks me.
“When…” I pause. “When he did the amended contract, I said something about setting a schedule to find a new manager. But I had already signed the original contract, you know, during that intervention we staged before one of his rehabs, and he never listens to me when I try to explain…”
“Because he doesn’t want to hire a stranger. He wants to keep it in the family.”
“That’s why I don’t push him more. I can’t. Getting him to stay sober has been a full-time job. It’s like I have two jobs, and that one always comes first, Ben.”
“I know. But somebody should say something.” He stands up and takes the papers back. “Because relying on a ghost to keep him afloat is a risky game to play. And eventually, he’s gonna lose.”
As he heads for the bar, I check my cell. Riley wants to meet me at the creek a half hour before the engagement party. I text her back sure, then curse myself for agreeing to meet with the one person in this world, other than Gigi, who can make me feel about two inches tall by her mere presence. Riley never seems overwhelmed, she never feels awkward, and she’s never embarrassed. She never seems to have any problems.
I drive home where I grab a sandwich and chips, and then shower and change for the party. I sit down at my laptop to write until I need to leave. I can barely concentrate on my novel because the feeling of Logan underneath me keeps my hormones dancing and my panties wet. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that when I finally finish a chapter, my ghost hero and heroine have been branded with red raindrop tattoos.
Oh, crap!
I’m not writing Ghost Love about my parents’ redemption! I’m writing about Logan and me getting a second chance as ghosts after blowing all our chances on earth.
