“Good.”
As they approach the front door, there’s a rustling in the bushes next to the trash cans. Solomon freezes and then shifts, putting himself in front of Tessie.
She digs her nails into the hard meat of his shoulder. “Oh my God, it’s a bear, isn’t it?” she squeals as the commotion gets louder.
He wants to tell her she’s wrong. But he can’t.
Fuck.
Howler’s words about bears in the area send a hot rush of panic sweeping through him.
With a whip-quick hand, Solomon grabs Tessie—one hand on her back, the other just beneath her ass—and lifts her into the air. Pushes her toward the ladder on the side of the silo. “Climb,” he orders. “Now.”
“I don’t climb ladders,” she shrieks, palming his shoulders. “Solomon, put me down. I can run to the car.”
“You can’t run,” he grouches. “Not in heels, Tess. What did I goddamn tell you—”
The bush explodes.
Tessie shrieks, a flurry of blond hair, as she climbs down his body like a wildcat.
Solomon lunges in front of her, only to be hit by a slobbering fool of a hound dog.
“Christ,” he exhales. Relief nearly knocks him over.
Peggy gives a woof, and Solomon drops into a crouch, running his hands over her long ears and droopy jowls.
“Hey, girl,” he says, giving a grunt of affection as his heartbeat resumes its normal rhythm. Hell, he missed his damn dog.
From behind him comes the sound of Tessie’s laughter. Hands on her stomach, she’s doubled over. “Oh my God. It’s your dog.”
“Great first impression,” he tells Peggy drolly.
Tessie giggles. “She was coming to attack me. So vicious.” She dips down and ruffles the hound’s ears. Peggy, enjoying the pet, puts a paw on Tessie’s thigh and tries to climb directly onto her lap, but Solomon puts a hand out, bracing the small of her back so the dog doesn’t knock her over.
“Oh, she’s so sweet.”
Solomon’s heart wrenches as Tessie dips her head to kiss Peggy’s inky black nose.
Another rustle, and then Howler’s stomping out from the back of the building, trash bag in hands.
He stops and gawks at the scene, then says, “’Bout damn time you got your ass back home.”
Solomon pushes up to standing. “I’m back. Now you can stop bitching.” He holds a hand out to Tessie, helping her stand, then tugs her close.
The bright grin on Howler’s face drops off when he sees her. Solomon waits for his friend to say hello, frowning when he doesn’t. Howler’s attention drifts to her stomach, then back to Solomon. “Brought Goldilocks back, huh?”
Tessie arches a brow at the nickname but says nothing. With a flip of her silky blond hair, she pushes past Howler and into the bar. Peggy trots in after her, already in love. Solomon doesn’t blame her.
Wincing, he follows them in. Tessie’s tiny standing in the circular space. Bright and sunny up against the dark dankness of the bar. She considers the room, cocking her blond head, lips pursed and gaze narrowed.
She sees what Solomon sees.
Chipped bar top. A blinking neon sign. Two missing floorboards. The wood stove on the fritz.
Hands clasped on her belly, Tessie spins, smiles bright at Howler. “Solomon says you make a mean mocktail.”
Howler crosses his arms. “Soda taps are broken.”
“Okaaay,” Tessie drawls. Her confused eyes dart to Solomon. “I’m going to scope out the kitchen.”
Solomon frowns. It’s not like Howler to be so tight-lipped. A goddamn asshole, if he had to call it. Luckily, Tessie’s a pro, used to dealing with pricks like Atlas, and she lets the slight roll off her.
“What the fuck’s your problem?” Solomon asks, voice low so Tessie doesn’t overhear. “You’re acting like a dick.”
“Nothing,” Howler snaps. Then he huffs. “Dude, I thought you were gonna go down there, figure your shit out, and come home. Not bring her back.”
“She’s not a fucking pizza,” Solomon snaps.
Howler snorts. “What’s she gonna do, move here?”
Solomon clears the knot in his throat. “We haven’t talked about it.”
“Haven’t talked about it. . .” Howler mutters. “Well, you better, man. Soon too. She looks ready to pop.”
Sobering, Solomon scrubs a palm down his face, his chest tight with worry. With reality. Maybe he was a selfish bastard asking Tessie to come back with him, but he learned his lesson with Serena.
Don’t let her walk away. Go after her.
Tessie comes out of the kitchen, poking a finger at a stuffed squirrel holding a tip jar. “This really says taxidermy chic, doesn’t it?”
“No judgment,” Solomon calls out as she smirks at the nudie calendar behind the bar.
“I’m not judging. I’m observing with a critical eye.”
Turning her attention to Howler, she asks, “What time do you open?”
Howler bristles. “We’re open now.”
“Doesn’t look like it.” She runs a finger over the dusty bar top, causing Howler’s scowl to deepen. “What’s your budget for the remodel?”
“We have a healthy budget.”
Solomon smothers a smile, watching Tessie go toe to toe with his friend.
She walks out from behind the bar, then, stopping in front of them, she jerks a shoulder to the back corner of the room. “What are you planning to do with the space?”
Howler shoots Solomon a look of annoyance. “The space?”
“Just go with it,” Solomon says.
An exasperated sigh. “Fine. Thought we’d make it more in line with what other popular bars are doing. Maybe add a pool table.”
Tessie snorts.
Howler stiffens, his expression surly. “Think you could do better?”
Solomon’s rubbing his brow, a headache already brewing. “Don’t. Do not start with her.”
Tessie draws herself up like it’s a challenge. “Actually, I could.” Done talking to Howler, she spears Solomon with a look. “This space could be spectacular.” She flings an arm out. “I see wall-to-wall booths. Dark booths. The jukebox stays. Add mood lighting. Maybe a floor-to-ceiling window? Oh! Garage doors!” Stopping in the middle of the bar, she flings her arms out like she can hug the space around her.
Solomon nods. “It’s a great space. We planned to do a lot of the work ourselves to keep costs down.”
Eyes alight, Tessie lifts her brows. “I could do it.”
He’s already shaking his head. The last fucking thing he wants is Tessie on a ladder. Tessie hauling large objects around. Tessie smashing the shit out of sheetrock with a ten-pound mallet when she’s seven months pregnant.
It’s bad enough she’s been on an eight-hour flight, stuck in the car for three hours. She needs to be home at his place, her heels off, resting.
“No,” he says. “Hell no.”
“Yes, Solomon. Hell yes.” She grabs his arm, shakes it, and dances in place. “Please. Let me help you. I can order everything through my suppliers at cost. All you have to do is Hulk it around with your big muscles.”
He opens his mouth to say no, but he can’t. Because there it is. On her face. She’s hooked. Pantone colors already flying around in that gorgeous head of hers.
“Fine, damn it,” he growls, both amused and annoyed at how fast she’s gotten him to cave.
She squeals and presses a kiss to his bearded cheek.
Christ. Is this what his fucking future looks like? Tying himself up in knots, tripping all over to give her everything she wants? Jesus. He’s a mess.
Still, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her in Chinook.
Howler shoots him a scathing look of betrayal. “It’s my bar,” he grouches.
“Our bar,” Solomon shoots back.
“Oh, sure, you pull that card after seven damn years.”
Eyes glittering with excitement, Tessie runs her hands lovingly down the brick wall. “We could Pantone the shit out of this.”
“What the fuck’s a Pantone?” Howler mutters, tearing a bothered hand through his sandy-blond hair. “You ain’t painting that brick. It’s an institution.”