Mitch watched Josh lean back in his chair, realizing his youngest brother had the relieved look of a man who’d just unburdened himself of a long-held, dark secret. Jesus, had any of them ever thought about whether Josh might want to go out and see some of the world? He was ashamed to admit he hadn’t.
But as happy as he was to know what was eating at his brother, Mitch felt a few sharp pangs of sorrow thinking about the lodge being sold. He didn’t get back to Whitford often and the town drove him nuts, but it was home. His real home, not just the apartment in the city he slept in between jobs. And now there was a good possibility the fourth generation of Kowalskis to own the property would be the last.
“So who’s going to talk to Grandmaison?” Josh asked, pulling the rough sketch of land boundaries across the table to get a better look at it.
Mitch grimaced. “I’ll do it. That way we’ll know right off from his reaction to me if this is even a possibility.”
Ryan laughed. “Who would have guessed sleeping with a girl when you were a teenager would come back to bite you in the ass?”
In this town, everything came back to bite you in the ass sooner or later.
*
Paige heard the low rumble of Mitch’s motorcycle in the distance and tried not to hope he turned in and parked in front of her trailer, but she was kidding herself. She wanted to see him and hadn’t thought about much except that fact all day, much to her customers’ dismay. White and wheat weren’t close enough when it was early in the morning—you had to get to work and you didn’t have time for the waitress to screw up your breakfast.
Wednesday and Thursday hadn’t been bad, but for some reason she’d really missed him today. Maybe it was because her body had gotten used to closing out the day with an orgasm or a few, or maybe she just missed his laugh. Either way, the rumble made her pulse quicken.
The bike turned in and she heard it come through the diner’s parking lot. Then, through the window, she watched him park it between her car and the house. While she appreciated the effort, it wasn’t much of a hiding place and this would be yet another nice, juicy tidbit for the town to chew on. And probably another phone call from Hailey.
He took off his helmet and then sat for a while on the bike, looking tired and frustrated. She moved away from the window to give him some privacy and it was at least a full minute before she heard him climbing the steps and the knock on the door.
When she opened it, the frustration and exhaustion were gone. His expression was clear and his lips were turned up in that charming smile of his. “Hey.”
“Hey, you,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.
“I’m going for a ride. Thought I’d see if you want to go.”
She had paperwork to do for the diner—the endless, mind-numbing task of tracking what they were using, what needed ordering, what they’d ordered too much of and so on. It was her least favorite part of owning the diner, but it was a necessary evil and she was already behind.
But, relaxed and inviting smile or not, Mitch had had a rough day and he’d come to her looking for company. The paperwork could wait. “I was just going to make a sandwich for dinner. Do you want one before we leave?”
“I could eat.”
“Do you like fried bologna sandwiches?” It was a little embarrassing to have to ask that, but she didn’t have a lot in the house.
He gave her a startled look she couldn’t begin to decipher. “Yes, I do.”
“Tomato and mayo?”
“Of course. Can I help?”
She laughed. “Thanks, but you already know the kitchen’s not really big enough for two. Grab a soda if you want and have a seat.”
Once he was sitting at the small kitchen table, she pulled out a pan and plopped a dollop of butter in it. While that heated, she scored a few slices of bologna and, once the butter was sizzling, dropped them into the pan. While they seared, she sliced a tomato and, after flipping the bologna, slathered mayo onto bread. A few minutes later she set two paper plates on the table, one with a single sandwich for her and one with two for him. After tossing a bag of potato chips into the center of the table, she sat as he took his first bite.
As he swallowed, he was giving her the strangest look. “Is it okay?”
“It’s perfect.” He gestured at his plate. “Who taught you to make a fried bologna sandwich like this?”
“I don’t know. I used to make them when I was a kid when my mom wasn’t around.”
“So it wasn’t Rose?”
She’d known he was in a weird mood, but now he was barely making sense. “I knew how to fry bologna long before I met Rose.”
“Along with the perfect thickness for the tomato slices and just the right amount of mayo?”
“If it doesn’t try to run down the side of your hand, it’s not good enough. Are you okay?”
He blinked at his sandwich, then seemed to shake off whatever was bothering him about it. “I guess. Dealing with some stuff. The lodge. Brother stuff.”
“Anything I can help with?” Probably not, but she asked anyway.
“I have to take a ride out and visit Ed Grandmaison. You can come with me. Maybe be a witness if he tries to kick my ass.”