“Oh, uh, no worries. Things were a little complicated.”
Wolf nods. “Love always is.” He pins his gaze on James. “Heard you’re thinking of opening a brewery here.”
James’s eyes bore into mine. “Did you, now?”
“You know small towns and rumors. Anyway, if I can be of any assistance, let me know. I’ve got some experience in that area, as you know.”
I’d hardly call Backwoods Bar experience, but hey. It’s a peace offering of sorts. “I thought Sheeters were against the Grahams,” I say.
Wolf rocks back on his heels, grinning. “I guess I like defying expectations. Y’all have a good day, now.”
The Bobs leave not long after, and James raises one eyebrow.
“Those are the Bobs,” I explain.
James snorts. “Of course they are. And that was the guy from the bar and jail. His brother is the suit who keeps trying to shut things down.”
“You know your Sheeters! Ten points for you, James.” He spins his knife on the table, watching me closely. “What?” I ask.
“You’ve really set down roots here. I wasn’t sure how much of this was for real.”
I can’t help but bristle at his tone. Or maybe I’m being defensive because I wasn’t fully honest with my family about the marriage to Lindy. “I got married, Jamie. I’m here to stay.” Or until Lindy kicks me out if she decides she doesn’t need or want me.
“And it wasn’t the first time. With your other marriage, you jumped out just as quickly as you jumped in. Forgive me for seeing a pattern.”
“This is different.”
“So you’ve said.”
James adds nothing, just giving me a typical James look. Could be disinterested. Could be bored. Could be constipated.
I sigh. “Look. I know how y’all feel about me. Pat, the flake. Pat, the guy who makes quick decisions he can’t stick with, then jumps to the next thing.”
“That’s not how I see you,” James says, and when I scoff, he holds up both hands. “Fine—some of it is how I saw you. And now you do seem different. Like maybe you were only restless because you hadn’t found the right place or the right person. I guess my question is—does Lindy feel the same way?”
I go stock-still. Like I’m a baby fawn hiding in the grass and a big, bad wolf just walked into my clearing, sniffing around. “Why would you ask that?”
“Call it a gut hunch. She didn’t look happy on your wedding day. She didn’t have on a real dress. What woman excited about her wedding can’t rustle up some kind of fancy, memorable dress?”
“We only had a few days to plan,” I protest.
“Women are resourceful. I’m not saying she would have found her Say Yes to the Dress perfect wedding dress or whatever, just that it didn’t seem like a priority. None of it did. Also, I know you. A courthouse wedding? That smells like …” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right. Something’s up.”
This is just like that night in his garage where James stared me into telling the truth about Lindy. His piercing gaze chips away at my resolve not to tell him everything. This time, I won’t crack. I’m relieved when Mari drops off our plates, giving me a moment to regroup.
“You’re not telling me everything.” James takes a bite of his breakfast taco and groans, his eyes rolling back, taking his grumpiness with them. “This is—wow.”
I butter my waffle, making sure to hit every square. “Just think—if you move Dark Horse to Sheet Cake, you can eat here every day.”