Katie had mixed feelings about that. She’d practically grown up at the lodge, so she didn’t want to see it go under. And it had been her mother’s home since Katie went off to college and it didn’t make sense for Rose to have her own place anymore. They were turning things around, which was good. Whether they hired a manager or sold the place, she knew her mom would be taken care of.
But, in either scenario, the endgame was Josh leaving Whitford. As the youngest, he’d seen his older brothers and sister all go off to live their own lives and, by the time it was his turn, he’d been unable to leave his dad to run the place alone. Then Frank had passed away and everybody had just assumed Josh would go on taking care of business. He wanted out and the day was coming when he’d get his wish. Katie didn’t want to think about that.
Josh pulled off his Patriots ball cap and pushed his dark hair back before settling the hat back on his head. He’d need a trim soon, she thought, and she had mixed feelings about that, too. On one hand, she knew what it felt like to run her fingers through his hair. On the other…she knew what it felt like to run her fingers through his hair. It could be excruciating, touching him like that—especially when he made that little moaning sound if she washed his hair before cutting it—but she couldn’t deny herself the pleasure. Plus, there was nowhere else to go but the beauty parlor, and sending Josh there would be too cruel a thing to do to her best friend.
“What the hell are you doing?” Josh yelled, sitting forward on the couch as if he could physically intimidate the television into taking back whatever had set him off. His voice was almost drowned out by the other guys shouting, and Katie realized she’d been so busy mooning over the side of Josh’s head, she’d missed the kickoff. Damn.
She grabbed a handful of chips and forced herself to focus on the replay. If she got caught making googly-eyes at Josh in this crowd, she’d never hear the end of it.
*
After almost fumbling the ball during the first kickoff return, the Patriots got their act together and Josh relaxed against the superior cushions of Max’s couch, wishing he could afford furniture like this for the lodge. Someday he was going to get a straight answer from the guy about what he did for a living. It wasn’t easy to keep a secret in Whitford, but Max Crawford managed.
But if anybody would know, it would be Fran. And if Fran knew, Rosie would know, which would mean Katie might know.
When Max went into the kitchen at the start of halftime, Josh slapped Katie’s leg. “Hey, does Rose know what Max does to earn couch and television money?”
He’d kept his voice low, so she had to lean closer to him to answer him in the same tone. “Nobody knows. It’s no secret he doesn’t go anywhere on a regular basis, so I guess he works in his basement.”
“It’s quite a lock he’s got on the door.” Had a security keypad and everything.
“So nobody can find the bodies.”
Josh snorted and shook his head. “It’s weird that he’s lived here, what…five years? And nobody knows what he does?”
“Has anybody actually asked him outright? I haven’t.”
She usually got her information the normal way—from Fran, her mom or from keeping her ears open and her mouth closed while the old bucks chatted in the barbershop. But Josh didn’t get out quite as much, and Fran didn’t share gossip with him as much as she did with other women.
“I did once,” he said. “He changed the subject and didn’t even try to make it smooth.”
“I bet I can find out before you do.”
That perked him up and he turned his body so he was fully facing her. “Whaddya got, Davis?”
“If I find out how he makes his money before you do, I’ll cut your hair free for six months.”
He snorted. “Lame. Winner washes the other’s vehicle once a month for a year.”
She hesitated, but he’d expected that. It was a half-hour drive to the car wash and twelve bucks down the drain, but Katie never backed down from a bet. “Car wash when it’s cold, but hand wash and wax from May through August?”
“Done.” He stuck out his hand, then pulled it back before she could shake it. “Wait. I have a condition.”
“Admitting it’s the first step.”
“Funny, smart-ass. The condition is no using feminine wiles.”
She laughed, which made everybody in the room stop talking for a few seconds. Katie had a great laugh. “Feminine wiles? What are you, eighty?”
“Call it whatever you want, but no flirting or making kissy faces or letting him look down your shirt to get information out of him.”
“How do you see that going, exactly? ‘Hey, Max, if you tell me what your job is, I’ll let you see my boobs’? You’re a moron.”
“That’s the deal.”
“Fine.” She shook on it.
Josh loved a good challenge. Gathering up their empties and a couple of used paper plates off the table, he headed for the kitchen to restock.
Max was leaning against the counter, cell phone to his ear, and Josh shoved the stuff into the garbage can as quietly as he could. Then he opened the fridge, looking for a couple bottles of water.