“Next time, it’s your turn,” Stone whispered, kissing her shoulder.
“I’m gonna hold you to it.”
And she meant it.
Thirty-Three
Monday, February 12, 2024
The weekend passed in a blur.
For the first time since his conversation with his aunt and uncle, Stone didn’t spend all his time fretting over the business proposal. Instead, he spent the weekend running errands, spending time with his parents, and hanging out with Stevie and Nico.
He wouldn’t go so far as to say he’d established a routine, but he was falling into one that worked for him. Every now and then, he would find himself missing thego, go, gothat he’d felt on the ranch, but being back in Coyote Ridge gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t expected to find.
But it was a new week, and he had a list of things he needed to accomplish before he met with his aunt and uncle next weekend. The first was getting Braydon and Brendon to sign off on his proposal.
So here he was at Moonshiners, waiting for his twin cousins to arrive.
“Is it just me or is this place different than I remember?” Stone asked the bartender as he worked to fill drinks and orders. It wasn’t the first time he’d come in here since his return, but it was the first chance he’d had to ask someone about it.
“We gave it an overhaul. Moved the bar to the back and worked our way forward. Plus, we expanded the kitchen, added another bathroom. Increased occupancy to a hundred since we now serve food.”
Stone spun on his stool and scanned the room. “Is it bigger?”
“We added on. Really didn’t have a choice. Took me a while to convince Rafe it was a good thing.”
That was what was different, Stone figured. That and the configuration. Granted, Stone had only been to Moonshiners a few times over the years and only when family suggested it, but he’d frequented the place often before he left town when he was twenty-one.
He didn’t remember the walls being quite so … nice. The structure was still made of wood, but the interior walls were lacquered, with more lighting than he recalled. The bar was still the main focus, but it had been moved to the back of the room versus the side. They still had a couple of pool tables, a jukebox, and bar stools that were hard on the hind quarters.
“And Rafe’s got you workin’ here?” Stone asked when he turned around.
Stone remembered his dad mentioning that Mack had sold the place to his cousin Rafe.
“The things we do for wedded bliss,” the bartender said, holding out his hand. “Holt Callahan. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”
Stone shook his hand. “Stone Jameson.”
“One of my husband’s many cousins,” Holt noted, staring at him with a contemplative expression. “You’re the lone wolf who ventured out to rule the world from the back of a bull. Am I close?”
He snorted. “Tell me that’s not the rumor.”
Holt laughed. “Forgive me. I’m a writer. I tend to come up with my own version of events. But it’s not too far off, is it? You did win a few championships?”
“A few.” Stone took a drink from his beer. “But the bulls won in the long run.”
“You were injured, right?”
Stone nodded, but he didn’t elaborate.
The door opened, and a chorus of greetings erupted through the room. Stone peered over his shoulder to see Braydon and his identical twin brother, Brendon, walking in. At thirty-nine, they weren’t quite so identical anymore. Their features were the same—same nose, same eyebrow ridge, same blue-gray eyes—but not their haircuts or facial hair. Braydon’s hair was longer on top, styled with what looked like gel, his jaw clean-shaven, while Brendon’s hair was buzzed short, and he sported a beard.
“I’m gonna move this to a table,” Stone told Holt. “Can you keep my tab open and put theirs on mine?”
“Will do.”
Stone took his beer and went to greet his cousins.
