Chapter Ten
Pat
There’s very little chance I’ll run into Lindy considering it’s nearing ten p.m. when James pulls up to the center of Sheet Cake. Then again, I never thought I’d see her in the first place. I definitely don’t know what she does with her nights. The idea of her being out now, maybe out with a guy or at a bar, makes my stomach dip. She did say she was single. I’ll hold onto that.
I like thinking of her home with Jo. Only, I want to insert myself into the equation too.
I halfway considered having James drive by her house, but I’m not going to pull a Romeo at the balcony thing. Or even a John Cusack with a boom box. It’s going to take something bigger. Lindy needs to see me as steady and serious—two things I’m not particularly known for. Which means I need to be a man who can stick around for the long haul. Not my strongest suit, but maybe I’ve just never had the right motivation.
Collin taps his window as we cross over the train tracks and into the town proper. “You were right, Patty.”
“Thank you,” I reply. Too quickly, as it turns out.
“This isn’t a town; it’s the start of a horror movie,” he finishes.
“I can see the, uh, charm. It’s got good bones,” Chase says, trying and failing to sound like he believes this.
“Bones like a skeleton,” Collin mutters. “As in, dead. Very, very dead.”
James says nothing, but his jaw is clenched tighter than a fist. I’m hunched over here in the back seat, wondering what I was thinking. What was Tank thinking? My doubts about this idea are multiplying faster than a flu virus.
James stops in the middle of the main intersection and throws the truck in park. Turning to face me with an aggressive amount of force, he says, “This? This is where you think we should move a brewery that’s in its infancy, just starting out?”
I can see his point.
But I can also see Tank’s vision. Sure, my thoughts are a little clouded by Lindy haze, but I don’t think that’s all this is. I glance up and down the empty streets again, considering, remembering what it looked like during the day.
“You won an award,” I say. “You’re not exactly in your infancy.”
James says nothing, still giving me that dark look.
Sighing, I point toward the hulking metal buildings at the end of the main drag. “Pull up there.”
His eyes flash, but James does as I ask. A minute later he’s parked at the curb, and we’re all climbing out of the truck and I’m leading them through the unlocked chain link fence. I turn, walking backwards like a tour guide as I lead them through the cement courtyard strewn with litter and knee-high weeds.
“Picture this.” I spread my arms wide. “Picnic tables. Lights strung overhead. A stage over there with live music.”
They’re tracking with me and not arguing, but only Chase is nodding along. Sometimes Boy Wonder comes in handy.
I tap one of the metal walls of the smaller warehouse structure. “There’d be a cutout here. A wooden counter for the bar. Dark Horse’s latest selections on tap. Food trucks over there.”
There’s a gravel parking lot on the backside and a space between it and this courtyard with enough room for a few food trucks.
I walk them toward the biggest building with attached grain elevators rising above it. “Production for the brewery will be housed here. Plenty of space to start small and grow. Best of all—zero rent, because this property is part of the town proper, currently owned by our Dad.”
Collin has his hands on his hips. “You think people will drive all the way out here from Austin for this? There are literally dozens of places in town they could go instead.”