He shook his head. “It’s still work, but it has its points.” He gave her a lazy grin.
His eyes were the color of a hot summer sky. His short golden hair was mussed from his fingers. The lines around his eyes and mouth should have made him look old or tired. They didn’t. Deirdre felt the clenching sensation again, but this time it wasn’t in her chest.
Okay, enough.
More than enough. No way was she getting involved with her boss, no matter what Clem said. She pushed her glass back across the bar. “Thanks for the beer. I guess I’ll head home.”
He tossed the bar rag back on the counter behind him. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“You don’t need to do this.”
“And you don’t need to tell me that every time I do. Come on, it’s late.”
A slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the live oaks as they strolled up Main. “What will you do if it rains? You can’t stay out in the beer garden, can you?” she asked.
“It won’t. But if it does, we move the band inside where the pool tables are. Gets a little noisy, but it’s Saturday night in Konigsburg—nobody notices. Except the Steinbruners since the pool table will be gone.”
“Okay.” Friday night in Konigsburg looked pretty sedate, all in all. Most of the downtown windows were dark behind the street lights. “Are you from here?” she asked on impulse.
“From Konigsburg?” He shook his head. “Not hardly. I’m from Missouri. I’ve only been in Texas for a few years.”
“Where were you before Konigsburg?”
“Dallas.” Something about the way he said it told her the subject wasn’t open to further discussion.
“Oh.” She rummaged through her small stock of polite conversation, trying to think of something to say. “I’m from Houston.”
He nodded, as if that information were a little too obvious to be worth comment.
“How did you end up here?”
“Process of elimination.” He turned up Spicewood. “I wanted to settle down and open a bar. Konigsburg seemed promising. How about you?”
“I used to stay here with my aunt and uncle in the summers. It’s a place that had happy memories for me. Plus they need a coffee roaster, according to my research.”
Tom narrowed his eyes at her. “You did the marketing research?”
“Sure.” Deirdre shrugged. “It’s what I do. Or anyway what I used to do.” Back when her father had been willing to indulge her illusion that she was performing some necessary function at Brandenburg, Inc. “Did you think I’d hired someone else?”
“I guess I figured you just came up here and decided to open a coffee roaster. It’s the kind of thing people do around Konigsburg all the time.”
“That’s not a great way to go about it. You wouldn’t want to open up a store that nobody needs.”
He gave her another of those lazy grins. “I wouldn’t. A lot of other people do, though. Like old Ken Ferguson and his several hundred T-shirts.”
“Well at least we’re getting some good out of them. I mean, I am, anyway.”
“Oh I am, too. Believe me.”
Tom’s grin turned faintly sultry, and Deirdre felt her ears grow warm. She pulled her key out of her purse and fitted it into the lock of the outside door. “I’d better go up. Thanks for seeing me home. Again. You know you really don’t need…”
“Good night, Deirdre.” Tom grinned one last time, then turned and walked back up Spicewood toward Main.
The Friday night Toleffson poker game was running long. Long enough that Jess and Lars had already taken off with their kids in tow, and Docia was feeling vaguely guilty about not heading home with Rolf. Shouldn’t they gather up the baby and go to bed? She watched her husband lay down his hand, chortling.
Janie raised an eyebrow. “You want to go to sleep? I can put you in the same room with Rolf if you want. There’s a double bed in there. You could stay overnight with us and go home in the morning.”
Pete and Janie lived in a house that had once been a bed and breakfast. It came equipped with more bedrooms than any normal couple could ever use.
“Maybe they’ll quit after this hand.” Docia stifled a yawn.
Morgan, Erik’s wife, settled a little lower on the couch. “Not going to happen, Docia, trust me. Pete’s down by five dollars and Erik’s down by two. They’ll never let Cal quit now.”
“Oh well, I should take advantage of the company. You guys are about the only people I get to talk to these days besides Rolf’s sitter and Jess when she brings Jack over in the morning. The rest of the time it’s just customers.”
Janie reached for her Diet Coke. “Did you ever call that guy back who was in the shop a couple of days ago?”
“You mean Mr. Craig Dempsey?” Docia shook her head. “I checked with Mama. He’s the same one who talked to her. He’s after Deirdre, and I’ll be damned if I’ll help Uncle John clean up his mess.”
Morgan frowned. “He’s after your cousin? Shouldn’t you tell Erik about this?”
The three of them turned automatically to stare at Erik’s craggy profile frowning at the cards on the table. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, but he might as well have been—he looked like a cop no matter what he wore.
Docia shook her head. “He’s not stalking her or anything like that. He works for my uncle. My guess is Uncle John just wants to see if she’s ready to come home yet.”
“Do you think she is?”
“Nope.” Docia grinned. “I think she’s having a great time, although she may not be willing to admit it. Did I tell you she got a job waiting tables at the Faro? Mind you, this is the woman with an MBA from the McCombs School of Business.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “Oh my lord, the new barmaid at the Faro. She’s that girl. The one who started the riot.”
“Riot?” Janie shook her head. “What riot? I didn’t hear about any riot at the Faro.”
“Well maybe it wasn’t exactly a riot. More like a ruckus. I got it secondhand from Esteban Avrogado at the winery, who got it from his brother Nando. Some guys got grabby with her and Tom Ames threw them out of the place. Then Nando ended up throwing them in jail when they got rowdy at the Silver Spur.”
“Deirdre?” Docia managed to keep her voice down, barely. “Some guys tried to grope my cousin? The most sedate girl in Konigsburg? Besides, she’s not a barmaid, she’s a waitress.”
“She’s probably both,” Janie mused. “The Faro serves more booze than food, although I guess they’ve got a pretty good cook now from what I hear.”
“And your cousin may be sedate, but she’s developing quite a following. Nando says she’s a knockout.”
Docia sighed. “She is that. Always has been. But she’s never really believed it, so far as I can tell. And she’s always dressed like somebody from the IRS, so nobody else noticed it either. This is so far out of character for her I wonder if we’ve got her confused with somebody else.”
“Maybe working at the Faro will change her style.” Janie passed the pizza box around again. Docia ignored her conscience and took another slice.
“Maybe working for Tom Ames will change her style.” Morgan’s eyes took on a faraway look. “A man of mystery who’s a dead ringer for Steve McQueen. Sounds like the ideal job to me.”
Docia managed to catch the piece of pepperoni that threatened to slide off her slice. “What’s so mysterious about him? Other than how he’s managed to stay unattached after two years here. And I always thought he looked more like Daniel Craig than Steve McQueen.”
“According to Nando, nobody knows exactly how he got the Faro in the first place. It wasn’t even on the market, so far as anybody knew. Then all of a sudden here’s Tom Ames with the deed, taking over.”
“I remember that. Nobody knew Kip Berenger was even thinking of selling the Faro, even though he was running it into the ground.”
“Kip Berenger?” Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Related to Tolly? The guy who owns the Silver Spur?”
“His cousin. From what I hear, Tolly was really pissed, too. The Faro wasn’t supposed to be any competition to the Silver Spur, and as long as Kip was in charge it wasn’t.”
“You can say that again.” Janie licked cheese off her fingers. “Nobody went to the Faro unless they wanted to drink or fight. Or both. It’s really changed since Tom Ames took it over. But nobody knows where the money came from to get him started.”
“Does it matter?” Docia stifled another yawn. “The old Faro was a dump as I recall. Ames has turned the new one into a pretty nice place. Allie says his cook is a real up-and-comer.”
“It doesn’t matter, really. It’s just fun gossip.” Morgan pushed herself to her feet. “Erik, whether you’re winning or losing, it’s time to go home.”
Pete sighed, tossing his cards on the table. “This is what comes of allowing wives to come to poker night.”
“‘Allowing’ wives to come?” One corner of Erik’s mouth edged up. “I don’t know about you, Pete, but there’s no question of ‘allowing’ at our house.”
“Everyone is welcome to stay over.” Janie’s voice had a slightly acid quality. “We have loads of room. More than usual, in fact, since Pete’s going to be sleeping on the couch.” She headed toward the kitchen.
“Aw, Janie, come on. It was just a joke. A lousy, insensitive, sexist one. One that I already regret. Truce?” Pete trotted after her, grimacing.
“Come on, chief.” Morgan smiled down at Erik. “Let’s go home.”
Erik pushed himself up from the poker table, his smile spreading. “Let’s do that.” He put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her gently toward the front door.
“Newlyweds.” Cal sighed. “Suddenly I feel a hundred years old.”
“C’mon, gramps.” Docia grinned up at him. “Let’s grab the Rolfman and get ourselves down the road to the barn.”
Chapter Nine
Deirdre walked up Main, headed for the apartment and a quick shower. She’d spent the morning washing walls, and if she walked into the Faro in her current condition, she’d probably send customers running for the exit, let alone trying to wait tables there. She was also wearing her old comfortable jeans rather than her new uncomfortable ones, and she figured Clem or even Tom would make her go home and change even if she didn’t do it herself.
She paused for a moment, thinking. She hadn’t even known Tom Ames a month ago, but now he’d become
Tom
. She hadn’t owned a pair of tight jeans a month ago. She hadn’t known how to heft a tray loaded with beers a month ago. She hadn’t been on her way to realizing the dream she’d nursed for three years a month ago.
Times change. People change.
She found herself grinning.
Not bad, girl. Not bad at all.
“Deirdre?”
She recognized Docia’s voice even as she kicked herself for not hurrying along a little faster. She really didn’t have time for an extended conversation. Not if she was going to wash her hair, too. She forced a smile and turned back toward the bookstore. “Hi, Docia.”
“Hey.” Docia narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were waiting tables. The Faro must be rougher than I remembered.”
Deirdre glanced down at her dusty clothes and shook her head. “I’ve been working on the shop. And I need to get cleaned up for the lunch crowd.”
“Okay, let me walk with you.” Docia gave her a dazzling smile that did nothing to convince Deirdre she wasn’t being grilled. “How’s everything going?”
“Oh fine. I’m making some good tips. I should have enough to put a down payment on some stock soon.” She walked briskly toward the apartment door, hoping Docia would drop back.
Of course, since Docia was a few inches taller, her stride was more than long enough to keep up. “So you’re working lunch?”
“And the evenings. That’s when I get the best tips.”
“I didn’t know they did dinner at the Faro.”
Deirdre stopped at the door, turning back to look at her cousin and trying to keep the belligerence out of her voice. “Okay, Docia, I’m a barmaid, not a waitress. Is that a problem?”
Docia at least had manners enough to blush. “Of course not, Dee. I just didn’t realize you were doing it. Morgan said you had some trouble the other night.”
“It was nothing. Tom took care of it. It was over in a couple of minutes.” She pushed the door open and headed up the stairs.
Docia trailed after her. “Tom?”
“He’s my boss. He’s also a nice guy. He gave me a job when I had no experience and he’s letting me have the shop more or less on spec.” She held open the apartment door a little reluctantly and then immediately felt guilty. Docia was letting her live rent-free in a prime apartment. She was entitled to ask whatever she wanted.
Docia stepped inside, and stopped, her jaw dropping. “Dee, what happened to your furniture?”
Deirdre shrugged. “I don’t have any. The furniture I had in the condo in Houston belonged to Brandenburg, Inc.”
“But surely you had some at Uncle John’s house—your own bed at least. And I’ll bet Aunt Kathleen meant for you to have her breakfront and her dining room table. They came from her side of the family, as I recall. Irish workmanship and beautiful.”
Deirdre’s lips tightened as she fought back a grimace. “Somehow, I didn’t feel like asking Daddy to send them to me.”
“But…” Docia sank into one of the plastic lawn chairs Deirdre had been able to scrounge from the dollar store. “You don’t have anywhere to sit.”
“I’ve got those.” Deirdre gestured toward the chairs. “And I’m hardly ever here anyway. I’m either working at the Faro or working at the shop. I’ll worry about furniture later.”
Docia’s eyes narrowed. “What are you sleeping on?”
“My sleeping bag. And an air mattress. It’s okay.”
Docia pushed herself up and headed for the bedroom. “It’s not okay, Deirdre. Not by a long shot. We’ve got some extra furniture and so do the rest of the Toleffsons. To say nothing of Mama’s big barn of a place in San Antonio. We can outfit you.”
“No, Docia, honestly.” Deirdre wasn’t sure why she was fighting off this sudden attack of generosity. But she didn’t want to keep taking things from Docia and Aunt Reba, to keep being rescued. She started after Docia only to turn back as the doorbell sounded from the street door downstairs. “Just a minute,” she called down the staircase.
Two delivery men stood on the sidewalk outside her door. The truck parked behind them on the street had
Hempleman’s Discount Furniture
painted on the side. “You Deirdre Brandenburg?” one of the men asked.