“Are you gonna sell the bar?”
He exhaled heavily. “I don’t know right now.”
She nodded, but he could see the disappointment on her face. Mack would have to talk to any potential buyers, let them know she was the best damn waitress he’d ever had. Hopefully, they’d keep her on long after he was gone.
“Good night,” she said softly before getting into her car.
Mack waited for the POS to start up, which it finally did. As she drove out of the lot, he made his way back to the porch, watched until her taillights faded in the distance. As he was turning to head back inside, a pair of headlights came from the opposite direction, then angled toward him. Thanks to the sodium lamp that lit the parking lot, he knew it was one of Coyote Ridge’s finest. Probably Dwayne coming to check in, make sure all was quiet now that Mack had closed up for the night.
Hoping the deputy would take a wave as a sufficient response, Mack offered one, then turned to head inside.
The crunch of gravel beneath tires ceased, the night going silent when the engine turned off.
Great.
“Wait up,” the voice called from behind him.
Swallowing hard, Mack pivoted around, glared at Jeff, who was dropping his feet to the ground as he exited the vehicle. With a resigned sigh, Mack watched the man sauntering toward him, not a care in the world.
“What’re you doin’ here?” Mack asked, doing his best not to peer around to ensure no one was lurking. Paranoid was not a good look for him.
Jeff didn’t respond, but he did open the door and step back so Mack could go inside.
“We’re closed,” Mack told him, though he knew the sheriff was aware of that.
Without another word, Jeff took the key ring from Mack’s hand, locked the doors from the inside, then passed them back.
Mack wanted to be pissed at the guy, but he couldn’t muster the energy. Every single night since their encounter at Alluring Indulgence Resort on Christmas Day—twenty-three days ago—Jeff had been making his late-night appearances. Granted, he’d always come to Mack’s house, not the bar, so he couldn’t begin to guess why he’d done so tonight.
“I’ve got shit to do,” he told Jeff.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Confused and, yes, a bit frustrated, Mack sighed. He headed back to the bar, tucked the keys away, and went to work finishing up his nightly process. Restock the fridge, wipe down the bar, replace the empty kegs, slip any unwashed glassware into the dishwasher. Once he was done with that, he could sweep and mop the floor and be ready to open the doors for business tonight.
While Mack worked through his checklist, Jeff proceeded to flip the chairs up onto the tables, clearing the floor. Mack watched him as he tossed a couple of empties into the trash can as he went.
“Why’re you here?” he finally asked, needing to know what Jeff’s intentions were.
“To see you.” Jeff didn’t bother looking his way.
“You know this isn’t smart,” he told him.
Jeff paused, turned to face him. “Is it true?”
Mack frowned, hand paused with a wineglass he was about to put on the rack behind him. “What?”
“Are you sellin’ the bar?”
For fuck’s sake.
“So you are?”
Mack set the glass in its appropriate place, then turned back to look at Jeff. “Yeah. I’m sellin’.”
Seemingly surprised by his admission, Jeff started toward him. “Why?”
“Makes sense, don’t you think? When I’m livin’ in Austin, won’t need it anymore.”
