He’d tried not to think about the book cover he’d seen. Tried to push the image of the tatted guy out of his mind. But looking down at those lush lips that didn’t need gloss or lipstick to make them tempting as hell, he couldn’t think of anything else. Had it been another whim to choose the book? Or did Tully have a thing for muscled, tatted men?
Just the thought made him want to strip off his shirt and flex.
Which was ridiculous . . . and dangerous.
While he was in town, neither he nor his siblings needed to have a run-in with the law. Especially if that run-in consisted of fulfilling Tully’s deepest, darkest fantasies.
He stepped back . . . way back. “Well, I should get to work.” He held up the rolled blueprints. “Thanks again.”
She nodded. “If you have any questions, you can call me.”
“I’m sure I can figure it out . . . I do read, after all.”
She flashed her dimple again. This time, just for him, and his stomach took a dip. “Okay. Well, I’ll be seeing you around.”
Not if he could help it. He wasn’t sure what this little bit of a deputy made him feel, but he did know it wasn’t good for either one of them.
“Yeah, see you around.” He watched as she climbed into the car and backed out. He was still watching when his siblings came up beside him.
“What was that all about?” Dawson asked.
“She brought us architectural blueprints for Honky Tonk Heaven. She did them for a college class she took. I guess Mama helped her with them.”
“Mama helped a college kid with homework?” Poppy laughed. “Doubtful. She didn’t even know we had homework, let alone ever helped us with it.”
“She would have if it had been about Honky Tonk Heaven.” Huck took the blueprints from Jaxon and unrolled them. His eyes widened. “These are damn good. Everything is where it should be, from the bathrooms to the dance floor, from the long bar to the spot where the old jukebox sat.”
Poppy studied the blueprint over Huck’s shoulder. “Tully the Tattler did these? Why?”
Jaxon looked back at the burned-out building. “Beats the hell out of me. Obviously, she sees something in the dancehall we’re totally missing.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
After dropping off the blueprints, Tully tried her best to stay away from Honky Tonk Heaven. She tried to keep her mind on her work and not think about what was happening inside the clapboard walls.
It wasn’t easy. Especially when the entire town was buzzing with the news of the Hennessys only having three months to reopen the bar or it would go to some undisclosed person. The townsfolk loved a good mystery as much as they loved a good rumor. They were taking bets at Mickey’s Gas Station on who that person was and if the Hennessys would be able to complete the task they’d been given and keep that person, or persons, from getting the bar.
The majority of folks thought they’d fail.
“Those Hennessys are better at destroying than building.”
“I give those ornery rascals a month and they’ll call it quits . . . just like they quit their poor old mama.”
“They might get it built in time, but it takes a lot of help to reopen a bar. I can’t see anyone in town wanting to help those demons after all the trouble they caused.”
No one, but Tully.
She wanted to help return the bar to its former glory in a bad way.
Every morning when she stopped at Grounds For Divorce for her morning latte and donuts, she got to hear about the progress being made at Honky Tonk Heaven. It was pure torture. She would spend the rest of the day with unanswered questions buzzing around in her head.
When they were clearing out the building of rubble, had they salvaged everything they could from the wreckage? Or had they just thrown away precious pieces of the dancehall’s history because they had a little soot on them? Now that they were replacing walls, were they sticking to the original floor plan—her and Rosie’s plan—or were they just throwing up walls willy-nilly?
The thought of changing Honky Tonk Heaven in any way just broke Tully’s heart. And after a week of all the gossip and wondering, her willpower completely deserted her. She had to see what was going on at Honky Tonk Heaven for herself or die of curiosity.
Of course, she waited until late at night when there was no chance of running into the Hennessys. And before she pulled into the football field-sized parking lot, she made sure it was empty and there was no sign of a classic turquoise and white pick up. Once in the parking lot, she pulled around back so anyone who did happen to be driving past this late at night wouldn’t see her patrol car.
She’d just as soon news of her being there didn’t get back to the Hennessys.
