Her father stared at him blankly, his mouth open. “Home invasion?” he choked out finally. “Gun? On Dee-Dee? I’ll kill that bastard!”
Deirdre shrugged. “No you won’t. Now sit down.” She pushed a chair toward him. Her father collapsed into it almost gratefully.
“Whether you ordered him or not, Craig damaged the Faro because he thought that was what you wanted.” She raised her chin. “You need to pay Tom for his trouble.”
Her father narrowed his eyes in a slightly crafty expression. “That can be negotiated.”
“Negotiated? For what?”
He darted a quick glance at Nando, Chico and Clem in the doorway. “Let me take you to lunch.”
“We can do lunch right here. Clem does one of the best lunches in town.”
“
The
best lunch,” Clem snapped, then shrugged. “Except possibly for Allie Maldonado. I’ll send Leon over with a couple of plates.” She turned back toward the Faro, jerking Nando and Chico along with her.
Tom pushed off from the counter. “Speaking of that, I need to go get set up for the lunch crowd.”
“I’ll be there in a little while.” Deirdre squeezed his arm as he passed her.
Tom smiled. “You can take noon off today. It’s been a big week.”
She leaned back against the counter, studying her father again. He still looked older than she remembered, but he’d picked up more color in his cheeks. She recognized that expression. He was into Dealing Mode.
“Okay, why won’t you just pay Tom what you owe him? Craig was down here as your representative even if he did overstep his orders.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind paying for the damages. But I always like to get something for my money. You know that.”
Deirdre gave him her driest smile. “And moral satisfaction isn’t enough?”
“Nope.”
“What would be enough?”
“I need you back in Houston.”
She shook her head. “Not negotiable. I like it here. I’ve got friends and family. And I’ve got my coffee roaster, or I’ll have it in a month or so.”
Her father leaned back in his chair, studying her. “Suppose you came back part-time. Just a couple of days a week?”
She shook her head again. “Wouldn’t work. I know the company, remember? You can’t get by with a part-time executive.”
Her father pushed a hand through his hair, grimacing. “Okay, here’s the thing, Dee-Dee. You remember Kaltenberg? The accountant?”
Deirdre nodded, warily.
“His work turned out to be as screwed up as you said it was. And now I need somebody to straighten it out. And you already know what the problems were so you’ve already got a head start. Anyway—” he sighed, “—what would you take to come back to work? As a consultant, say, or a contractor? Until we get this all taken care of?”
She grinned, feeling warmth spread down to her toes. “That might work. I can come back part-time as a consultant until my shop is ready to go, which I estimate will be around a month. In return, you will pay for all the repairs Tom needs in the Faro, and you will unfreeze my accounts to give me access to my own money. Which, by the way, was a really lousy thing to do since that money was mine to begin with.”
Her father shook his head, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I forgot all about that. Lost my temper, I guess.”
“I guess.” She narrowed her eyes. “And you will stay for dinner tonight to say hello to Docia and Aunt Reba, along with the rest of the family. And you will get to know Tom, who will make a much better son-in-law than Craig Dempsey in my humble opinion. And, of course, my opinion is the one that counts.”
Her father’s mouth dropped open again. “Son-in-law?” he croaked. “The bartender?”
“The bartender. The man I love. The best son-in-law you’re ever going to have.”
“You got that right.” Clem pushed through the front door, carrying a tray with two covered plates. “Sooner rather than later would be my guess. Of course, this will all be news to Tom, but he catches on fast.”
She placed the tray on the counter. “Tortilla soup, with gulf shrimp nachos. I would have brought wine, but Tom still hasn’t talked to the distributor, so you’ll have to make do with Shiner. Enjoy.” She grinned at Deirdre, winked at her father, and walked back out the door.
Her father stared after her blankly. “Who
are
these people?”
“My friends and co-workers.”
My Faro family.
Deirdre took the cover off the plates. The soup smelled of cumin and cilantro. Fat pink shrimp coated in shreds of melted cheese spilled over the edges of the corn tortillas. “Which reminds me, I need to get back to work. Bobby Sue can’t handle the lunch crowd we’re pulling in these days, no matter what Tom says. Eat up.”
She placed his plate in front of him, then twisted the top off the beer. When she looked up, her father was chewing on a nacho, his expression blissful. “Hot damn, Dee-Dee. Whoever that woman is, she sure can cook.”
Deirdre grimaced, gathering a nacho off her own plate. “Okay, that’s one more demand. My name is Deirdre, not Dee-Dee. If I’m going to be your hired gun, you need to at least use a name that doesn’t make people snicker.”
Her father was busily slurping up tortilla soup. “Anything you say, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Anything you say.”
Tom surveyed the beer garden, listening to Junior Bonner tune up. It seemed he’d seriously underestimated Junior’s following. Along with the tables they’d managed to rig up in the morning, they’d ended up dragging another half dozen from the main room to the outside. And people still stood around the edges.
The Steinbruners had given up the chairs around the pool table, acknowledging that they didn’t sit down that much anyway. Some of the drinkers had moved to the bar, and a lot of the usual customers from inside had moved outside. Grumpily maybe, but they’d moved nonetheless.
The Toleffsons took up an entire side of the garden. Cal and Docia sat with Deirdre’s father and a platinum-haired woman who had to be Docia’s mother. Considering the way the two of them muttered at each other all night long, she and Deirdre’s father were obviously sister and brother. Pete and Janie sat with Lars and Jess. They hadn’t brought any of the kids, but Tom could see it happening sometime in the future. Kids running around the beer garden while the band played had a nice feel to it. Maybe they could put in a sandbox in the corner.
Around nine, Erik Toleffson walked in with Morgan. Even out of uniform, he looked like a cop. Probably a real advantage in his line of work, although it did put a damper on a table of college kids down from Austin. Tom had already checked their IDs, but they still looked faintly nervous when Erik glanced their way.
Deirdre was working, although he’d told her to take the night off so that she could sit with her family. She’d ignored him quite pointedly. Every once in a while, he’d catch her father watching her, looking totally confused. Tom didn’t blame him. He found himself feeling the same way a lot around Deirdre these days.
Once Bonner started to play, almost everybody moved outside, so he and Chico transferred the remaining tables to the edge of the garden, while Harry served beer and mixed drinks at the outside bar.
Although calling it a bar was a stretch, given that it lacked everything most bars had, including a sink. He planned to call around about repairs on Monday, but Deirdre told him not to worry about it because the new bar would be even better than the old one. He’d asked her what she meant exactly, but she just shook her head and went back to grabbing beers out of the washtub. Tom figured he’d find out in time—he frequently seemed to be the last one to find stuff out these days. Right now he just enjoyed the view.
The Toleffsons were dancing around the edge of the bricked area on the far side of the garden. They took up a lot of room, but they seemed to be having a great time. Deirdre’s father had apparently invited his sister to dance at one point, but she’d given him a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone.
Deirdre dodged around them all, delivering beers and margaritas. Her father said something and she tossed him a look that was very similar to the one her aunt had given him earlier. Tom wondered how long they’d keep the man in the doghouse—not that he really cared.
Around eleven, the band swung into a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. Deirdre appeared in front of him, dropping her tray on the bar. “C’mon,” she said. “Dance with me.”
Tom wondered for a moment what he would have said a few weeks ago if she’d made a similar demand. Probably
Not right now.
But then again, maybe not. Maybe he’d always been ready to dance with her, from the first time he’d seen her in the doorway, with her terrible clothes and her absolute determination. He tossed his towel on the bar and took her into his arms.
Behind them the band swung into a slow waltz that he now recognized as “Midnight on the Water”, one of Bonner’s specialties. It wasn’t the kind of tune you usually did any crotch grinding to, but Tom didn’t mind. He rested his cheek against Deirdre’s hair, moving her slowly around the area beside the bar.
“I have a question,” he said finally.
“Mmmm?” She didn’t bother to open her eyes.
“If Dempsey had won the card game, would you have gone back to Houston?”
She opened her eyes a fraction, studying him. “Of course.”
Tom’s chest clenched tight again.
“But then I would have turned around the next day and come back. After I’d read my father the riot act.”
Tom grimaced. “Thanks for just taking another five years off my life expectancy.”
She grinned up at him. “I do need to go off to Houston for a few days over the next couple of weeks to save my father’s behind, but no way am I staying anywhere but here. After all, I’ve got a coffee roaster to open. And drinks to serve. And dinners to plan. We are going to have a dinner menu aren’t we? Clem’s raring to go.”
Tom gave her another quick turn around their corner of the garden. Things seemed to be happening very fast. Not that it bothered him all that much. Now that he’d given up being the Lone Ranger. “A dinner menu sounds like a plan.”
“And wine. We need to talk to Morgan. Maybe we can work a deal with Cedar Creek Winery to feature their varietals. Only they’re sort of expensive, so we may need to bring in some others, too. There’s a Wine and Food Festival in October so we can do some comparison shopping.”
“Right.” Tom detoured around a couple of senior citizens who were doing a pretty good job of whirling around the picnic tables.
Deirdre put her hands on his shoulders, smiling. “Face it, ace, you’re stuck with me. I’m not leaving. I’m in it for the long haul.”
Tom slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, believe me. You’re mine, Dee-Dee. As long as you want to be.”
“I want to be yours. I just don’t want to be Dee-Dee.”
“Okay, Deirdre,” he took a deep breath.
Go for it.
“I love you. How’s that?”
Her smile lit up the garden. “Perfect. And convenient since I love you too.”
Behind him he heard some raucous shouts from the general direction of the Toleffsons. They might have been directed at him and Deirdre, but maybe not. He didn’t bother to find out. He spun her around one more time, reveling in the warm night air, the rapidly improving band, and the sweet smell of beer from his very own bar. He shifted her slightly closer to his body, closing his eyes as he touched his cheek to her hair. She smelled even sweeter.
“I think you’ve got yourself a bartender, ma’am. Pretty much permanently.”
“Good.” She smiled up into his eyes. “Now let’s dance.”
About the Author
Meg Benjamin is the author of the Konigsburg series for Samhain Publishing:
Venus In Blue Jeans, Wedding Bell Blues, Be My Baby, Long Time Gone,
and now
Brand New Me
. Meg lives in Colorado with her DH and two rather large Maine coon kitties (well, partly Maine coon anyway). Her Web site is
www.MegBenjamin.com
. You can follow her on Facebook (
www.facebook.com/meg.benjamin1
), MySpace (
www.myspace.com/megbenjamin
), and Twitter (
www.twitter.com/megbenj1
). Meg loves to hear from readers—contact her at
[email protected]
.
Look for these titles by Meg Benjamin
Now Available:
Konigsburg, Texas
Venus in Blue Jeans
Wedding Bell Blues
Be My Baby
Long Time Gone
A future with the woman of his dreams is within his grasp…if the past will stay that way.
Long Time Gone
© 2010 Meg Benjamin
Konigsburg, Book 4
Erik Toleffson wasn’t looking to become Chief of Police. He’s got enough trouble trying to rebuild his relationship with his three brothers who, until just recently, ran the other way when he approached. He’s not the bully they grew up with, but bad memories are tough to overcome.
Morgan Barrett is as worn out as a vat full of crushed grape skins. She never planned to run Cedar Creek Winery, but there’s no one else to shoulder the load as her father recovers from an injury. All she needs is a little sleep. Just a five-minute nap in the booth at the Dew Drop Inn…if that guy across the bar would stop staring at her as if putting her head down on the table is a crime.
After Morgan yawns in Erik’s face, there’s nowhere to go but up. With time, though, their relationship warms like a perfectly blended Bordeaux. Until the shady mayor digs into Erik’s past and dredges up information that could drive a permanent wedge between him and his brothers—and sour any chance of a future with Morgan.
Warning: Contains hot sex with mango sherbet, crooked politicians, yuppy bikers, Bored Ducks, and a Maine Coon Cat with attitude.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Long Time Gone:
Technically, he was still on duty, assuming that the call forward worked on his cell, of course. A new way to get around not having enough people for night duty since it was Peavey’s day off. “I just wanted to check on you. To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect you to be awake.”
He’d hoped she would be, though.
Bingo
.