all day. How about a change of scenery? Follow me into town. We’ll grab a beer at the Ace in the Hole.” The no-frills saloon was the only bar inside the town limits.
At the Ace in the Hole, Carson had a longneck, played a little pool and talked business with Nate, who was always promoting investment opportunities in Rust Creek Falls. Nate wanted him to meet with some guy named Walker Jones who owned a number of day care centers all over the western states and was apparently on track to open a new day care in town—to cope with the recent baby boom, Carson assumed. Nate said Walker Jones might be willing to take on a silent partner or two.
“I’m in liquor and hospitality,” Carson reminded the other man. “I know nothing about child care centers.”
Nate shrugged. “Why not just meet with the guy? He’ll be in town in a couple of weeks.”
Carson should have said that he would be long gone by then. But he didn’t.
Because he was going nowhere—not until he absolutely had to. Not until he’d found a way to get Tessa to spend a little more time with him, not until he’d gotten his chance to make her see that LA was the right move for her. He really had a thing for her. And he just couldn’t walk away from that. Not until he was certain that it was never going anywhere.
Yeah, it didn’t make a lot of sense. He’d spent the last decade carefully avoiding anything remotely resembling an actual relationship with a woman and he’d planned on keeping it that way.
But then there was Tessa. Just the sight of her in her silly stork costume, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else than on that float holding Kayla’s baby...
One look at her and he’d known his plans were about to change.
He said, “I have meetings I can’t miss in LA the week of the twentieth. But if your guy is here before then, sure. Let’s have a drink at the Manor Bar, the three of us.”
Nate set down his beer. “I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, I’ve been meaning to ask...”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever happened with Homer Gilmore and that moonshine project of yours? You ever get him to meet with you?”
“I spoke with him briefly Monday night at the picnic.”
Nate chuckled. “That Homer. One of a kind. And judging by the look on your face, the moonshine project is on hold?”
“You could say that.”
“Don’t want to talk about it, huh?”
“You could say that, too.”
Nate got off his stool and clapped Carson on the shoulder. “Gotta tell you, Carson, I’m not surprised. Callie and I had a little of that wedding punch spiked by Homer last Fourth of July. I’m talking one small paper cupful each. It was a wild night for us—and that’s just what I can remember of it.”
“I hear you—believe me.”
Nate looked at him sideways. “You did try it, then?”
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