she’d forced her father and brother to play nice, threatening to celebrate Tessa’s first Christmas without them if they couldn’t get along. But now the holidays were over and so, too, was the father-son ceasefire.
“I’m sorry,” Sky said. “Obviously Dad’s going to need some time to accept that the hotel is more than a whim to you…assuming it is more than a whim.”
He scowled at the implication. “You think I’d invest all my money—and a fair amount of our grandparents’—on a whim?”
“Maybe not,” she allowed.
“Not to mention that the whole town will benefit from the reopening of the hotel,” he assured her.
“Everyone except the owner of the Dusty Boots,” she remarked dryly.
“No doubt there’s a specific type of clientele that will still opt to pay the hourly rate at the budget motel.”
Sky chuckled at that. “No doubt,” she agreed. “And in addition to being an opportunity for the community, the hotel is an opportunity for you to finally escape the ranch you’ve hated since—”
“I’ve been thinking the hotel should have a bar,” Liam said, deliberately cutting his sister off. “It would be nice to have a place to grab a beer without being psychoanalyzed by the bartender.”
“A bar isn’t a bad idea,” she said. “A restaurant would be even better.”
“Have you been talking to Grams?”
“Occasionally, since she happens to be my grandmother, too. But yes, she told me about The Home Station.”
He shook his head. “We don’t have a restaurant, only a solarium where we’re going to serve breakfast. I don’t know where she got it in her head that we should offer an upscale dining option, but you shouldn’t encourage her.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Sky mused.
“It’s not happening,” he assured her.
Then a movement in the corner of his eye snagged his attention and he turned his head for a better view of the waitress delivering a tray of drinks to a nearby table. His gaze skimmed slowly up her long, slender legs to a nicely rounded bottom, trim waist and—
Sky interrupted his perusal by reaching across the bar to dab at the corner of his mouth with a cocktail napkin, as if he was drooling. He swatted her hand away and resumed his perusal.
Between the ranch and the inn, he’d had little time for anything else since the wedding his sister had referred to—and even less interest. But somehow, after months had passed without anyone snagging his attention, he’d felt his body unexpectedly stir in response to two different women in the same day. Obviously it was a sign that he needed to readjust his priorities and find the time—and a willing woman—to help him end this unintended period of celibacy.
Then the waitress turned from the table, and his jaw nearly dropped. Because the female he’d been eyeing wasn’t different at all—she was Macy Clayton.
“You didn’t know she worked here?” Sky guessed, her tone tinged with amusement.
Liam shook his head. “This job wasn’t on her résumé.”
“She’s only been here a couple weeks. Or maybe I should say back here, because apparently she worked for Duke when she was in high school.”
“Is she a good waitress?”
“Why? Do you want to hire her to work in your restaurant?” his sister teased.
“There is no restaurant,” he said firmly. “And I’m asking you because you have an opinion about everything.”
“Then I’ll tell you that she’s got great people skills. She’s friendly without being flirty, and she knows when and how to placate an unhappy customer but she’s not a pushover. Definite management material.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said dryly.
“And I’ll go put in your food order.”
“I haven’t told you what I want.”
“Steak sandwich with mushrooms, onions and pepper jack cheese with fries.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” he admitted.
With a smug smile, she turned toward the kitchen.
And he shifted his attention back to the waitress who’d caught his eye. “Macy.”
She pivoted, her eyes widening with surprise and recognition. “Mr. Gilmore.”
“Liam,” he reminded her.
“Liam,” she echoed dutifully.
“You didn’t mention that you had a job here.”
“It’s a temporary gig,” she said, then smiled. “Just until I start my job at the Stagecoach Inn.”
He couldn’t help but smile back. “Confident, aren’t you?”
“Qualified,” she clarified.
“So why is a former assistant to the manager of a Las Vegas hotel working at a bar and grill in Haven?”
“I needed a job and Duke needed a waitress.”
It sounded like a simple enough explanation, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing a major piece of the puzzle that was Macy Clayton. And though he knew he was treading dangerously close to a line that should not be crossed, he was intrigued enough by the woman to want to know more.
“I didn’t give you a tour of the hotel today,” he noted.
“And I was so hoping for one,” she confessed.
“Stop by tomorrow, if you want,” he said. “As long as I haven’t had a kid dropped in my lap, I should be free to show you around.”
“I want,” she immediately agreed. “Anytime in particular?”
“Whenever it’s convenient for you.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He watched her move away, making her way toward a table of six that had just sat down. Regulars, he guessed, as they didn’t seem to need to look at the menus that were tucked beneath the tray of condiments on the table.
“It’s my fault,” Sky lamented, as she set a plate of food and his cutlery on the bar in front of him.
“What’s your fault?” he asked.
“I should have realized that saying Macy wasn’t your type would compel you to prove otherwise.”
“Maybe you should tell me why you’re so sure she’s not my type,” he suggested, lifting his sandwich from the plate.
“And maybe you should trust me for once,” his sister countered.
His gaze shifted to Macy again. “Yeah, I’m having a little trouble with that.”
“Then keep in mind that she’s going to be working for you.”
He wanted to argue that point, but after interviewing three other candidates for the job, he’d been forced to acknowledge that none of them was even remotely qualified.
Darren, currently a bouncer at a honky-tonk bar in Elko, was looking for a day job so he could go to night school. When Liam, simply out of curiosity, asked him why he wasn’t choosing to study during the day and continuing to work nights, it was immediately apparent that Darren hadn’t considered the possibility—an oversight that didn’t bode well for success in his future studies.
Felix’s