Fire Me Up (13 page)

Of course the guy had to go and make sense on top of it all. “I'm cool,” Adrian said, choosing his words with care. “It's just kind of complicated.”

Which was just
kind of
the biggest understatement he'd ever uttered. He'd resigned himself to not being able to help Teagan last night—how the hell could he stay out of trouble when she was up to her ears in it? But getting the image of the broken glass and slashed tire out of his head had been impossible, to the point that he'd gotten a grand total of three hours' worth of shitty sleep.

Walking away just felt wrong.

“Yeah,” Shane said, yanking him back down to the garage. “I've been there before. Life can twist you into double knots sometimes.”

Adrian snorted. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I'm pretty sure I do.” Shane laughed, although not with malice. “Everything you want to avoid starts staring you in the face, and no matter which way you turn, it's right there in front of you trying to shove you to the ground?”

What was this guy, a mind reader? “Sounds about right.”

“Yeah. I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you. Figuring out the big stuff sucks. But there is a little good news.”

Adrian waited for a second before asking, “Which is?”

Shane pegged him with a dark-eyed stare, and the guy's expression was so devoid of anything other than straight-up honesty, Adrian just listened.

“It might sound like a bunch of bullshit now—I sure as hell thought so when I first heard it—but most of the time, your answers are right in front of you. You've just got to look in the right place, and listen when you find 'em.”

Adrian dropped his chin in disappointment. What had he been expecting anyway? Still, Shane had been decent enough to try and help.

“I'll keep it in mind, but in the meantime, you can tell Bellamy and Carly I'm fine.” Adrian shifted to shake the guy's hand and at least thank him for his time, when his awareness caught up with what lay smack in his path of vision.

The tattoo on his right forearm glared back, as if it had been daring him to notice it all this time.

Vivere senza rimpianti.
He needed to live without regrets.

Adrian's head jerked up, his eyes zeroing in on the door. “I've got to go.” He stopped long enough to shake Shane's hand, but only just. Christ, this was crazy, but Adrian didn't care.

It was the first thing in months, hell, maybe
years,
that had actually felt right.

“Everything okay?” Shane watched him with a look that was equal parts question and understanding, but didn't argue as he followed Adrian to the door of the garage.

“Yeah, I just have something I've got to do. Thanks for all your help. I, ah . . . I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I'll keep you posted on the bike. And, Adrian?”

“Yeah?”

Shane lifted the corner of his mouth in a knowing smile. “Glad you figured it out.”

“Well, now. If you're here ta make sure I eat that awful slop again for breakfast, me and you may be havin' some words. But if a cup of coffee's what you're after, then you're in the right place.”

Teagan leaned against the doorframe of the cottage, grateful she still had the cover of her sunglasses to mask the shadows surely showing beneath her eyes. God, how she wished this were as easy as conning her father into eating a little low-fat yogurt.

“I'm not here for either, actually. You and I need to talk.” Well, at least her voice was relatively steady, unlike the rest of her. In the last eight hours, Teagan had alternated so many times between being furious with her father and terrified for his safety, it'd been a crap shoot as to what might come out.

He waved her into the cottage, closing the front door behind her with a smile. “So it looks as if we're havin' some words anyway, then.” Her father's eyes lost their trademark gleam as he registered her stony expression, and his graying brows creased inward over the streak of worry on his deeply lined face. “What's the matter?”

Oh hell. There was no point in prettying this up, and she'd never been much for beating around the bush, anyway. “Why didn't you tell me you needed money?”

Her father jerked to a stop halfway across the tiny living room. “I don't know what—”

“Spare me the runaround, Da. Lonnie Armstrong showed up at the bar last night.”

The words curdled her father's expression as he swore. “I told him to stay the hell away from the place.” The look on his face shifted like a delayed reaction, his already-grim expression going pale. “He didn't . . . if that rotten bastard so much as laid a finger on you, so help me God, I will—”

Teagan shook her head, quick to cut off his line of thought. “I'm fine. See?” She swept a quick gesture over herself before crossing her arms tight. No way was she letting him off the hook. “So why didn't you tell me?”

Her father paused. “Lonnie's business is with me. He said we'd keep it that way.”

Just like that, Teagan boiled over. “You used the bar for collateral on an illegal loan! His business is with all of us now. If you had just told me, I could've—”

“What?” The word came quietly, but with deadly precision. “What could you have done, hmm? Worked your fingers even harder? Focused even more of your life on your old man? It's no way ta live.”

“So what, you thought you could just borrow the money under the table and have that be that? That's no way to live either.”

“I didn't . . .” He broke off, his look of defeat ripping a hole through Teagan's chest. Her father drew in a breath, pulling himself to his full six feet even though it clearly took effort. “This isn't what I intended. At first it was just a little pick-me-up. The bills were gettin' harder ta pay, and it was only a few thousand. I tried ta borrow it against the bar like I did when we replaced the ovens a few years ago, but the bank said no. Too high risk in this economy, they said. As if I've not run the place at a profit for the last twenty years.”

Her father slashed an angry hand through the air, his pride on full display, but Teagan was still unconvinced. “So how does Lonnie factor in to all of this?” It wasn't as if scuzzy loan sharks were their regular clientele and Teagan had never even seen Lonnie before last night, despite having lived in Pine Mountain since childhood.

“Lou knew someone in Bealetown. Turned out ta be Lonnie's cousin. Lou said it was off the books, but easy. He'd borrowed from Lonnie in a pinch before, no harm done.”

Teagan hissed. No wonder the frickin' guy had tucked tail and run. “And none of this felt off to you?”

Her father stood firm on the living room floorboards. “Of course it did. I meant ta pay it back and be done. But business hasn't been what it used ta be. And then . . .”

“You got sick.” Oh God. How could she have not realized he'd been in such trouble?

“I got sick,” he said, his voice barely supporting the words before he halted them with a tight shake of his head. “Anyway, none of it matters now. I've got ta come back and make this right.”

“No.”

Her father's normally happy-go-lucky expression hardened to tempered steel, and damn it, she should've known he'd fight her on this. “I'll not have you in the place if Lonnie's about. He's . . . a nasty man.” Remorse flickered in her father's eyes, and Teagan's heart stuttered as she stepped forward to take his hand.

“I know, Da. I'm going to figure it out. We've got Brennan and Jesse, and . . .” Teagan caught herself with Adrian's name on her tongue, ready to roll off as if it belonged there, and the realization did nothing to slow her skittering pulse. “And we've been doing okay for the last couple of days.” She gave him the short-and-pretty version of how they'd stayed afloat with her in the kitchen and Brennan behind the bar. It got a little dicey when she admitted that Lou had taken the self-preservation path, but in the end, her father just shook his head.

“It wasn't supposed ta turn out this way, pretty girl. With you takin' care of me.” His face was pale, etched with deep lines from both age and worry. “This is all my doin'. I can't have ya in the bar if it's not safe.”

His concern was one Teagan had anticipated, and she was ready with her reply. “I can't have you there for the same reasons. Even without Lonnie, Dr. Riley said you're not well enough for the long shifts yet.”

She curled an arm around his frail frame and led him to the sofa, knowing he'd probably wanted to sit ages ago but his pride wouldn't let him make the move. “Look, I'm not entirely reckless. I get that it's not a schoolyard. But what Lonnie said makes sense. If he hangs around the bar, especially doing anything illegal, it'll draw attention to the place. And for now, he doesn't want that.”

“It's not worth the risk.” Her father shook his head, unyielding, but she pressed on, the revelation she'd had in the throes of the early-morning hours making its way forward.

“It won't be a risk, because we're going to fix this. Remember that street fair that Main Street Diner did last year, to raise money for the new expansion?”

Her father's brows knit together, framing the confusion on his face, and he pushed back against the time-faded sofa cushions. “What's that got ta do with anything?”

Teagan fixed him with a confident look, praying to God he wouldn't see how precarious the idea beneath it was.

This had to work, because truly, there was nothing else. And she couldn't fail him again.

“We're going to do the same thing, only bigger. Plenty of businesses organize special events to raise money. Some do it for charity, others for something specific, like the diner. And we're going to do it at the Double Shot.”

“I'm not lookin' for a handout,” her father growled, knotting his arms over his rigid chest to turn himself into a life-sized embodiment of the word
no
. But no way was she going to let that baseball fly. This was their ticket out of this mess, and she sure as hell meant to punch it.

“It's not a handout. Believe me, we're going to work for whatever we raise. I'm talking about hosting an event, like a party. Everyone who attends will pay to eat and drink and enjoy the entertainment, but no donations, no charity. Now that it's getting warmer out, the timing is perfect.”

Her father frowned. “We don't have the funds as it is. How're we goin' ta afford all of that?”

“Well, a lot of people owe you favors, for one, and now is the time to cash them in. Plus, I've got a little money saved. It's not much, but if we're smart about how we use it and we wrangle some really good deals on the food and beer, I think we can pull this off.”

“I'm not takin' yer money,” her father said, but Teagan shook her head, adamant.

“You have no choice, Da. Call it a loan if you like, but I'm not letting twenty-five years of hard work go down the drain. Trust me when I tell you, this is the only way.” She leaned in to squeeze his forearm, and oh God, even over the thick cotton of his sleeve, he felt so thin. “Let me take care of this, Da. Please. Let me take care of you so you don't lose the bar, or worse.”

For a second that felt more like an ice age, her father sat utterly silent next to her on the tiny sofa. Finally, he said, “There never was tellin' you no. Stubborn as ya are, you've probably got it half-planned by now. But know this. You'll be gettin' every penny back from me. I'm endin' up as even as when I started all of this, with everyone. You understand?”

Teagan exhaled, relief coursing through her hard enough to threaten her vision. “I understand.”

“So tell me, then. How d'ya plan to do this?”

Teagan scooped in the first deep breath she'd been able to take all morning. “The key is getting as many people to attend as possible for as little money as we can spend. Pine Mountain has a grapevine that could survive a nuclear blast. It's the best free advertising on the planet. We can start there to get the word out. Then we can work on our distributors and staff to see who's willing to cut us a deal on food and drinks in exchange for the advertising. Hopefully, all those favors you've done for people over the years will really pay off. It'll help us net a higher overall profit without asking for money straight out, the way a company would for charity.”

The preliminary research on how to maximize a fund-raising event had been the only good thing to come from Teagan's insomnia, but right now, it was worth its weight in gold. Especially since her father seemed to be on board with the idea.

“There are a few people I could call on who might be willing ta help,” he agreed. “I can make a list and start reachin' out. See what's what.”

“Okay. I'll work up a list of what we'll need and get it to you. Then you can work your contacts from here and we'll plan this thing together.”

“You mean ta let me help you, then?” Her father's russet-gray brows went up, but she met his surprise head-on.

“I might want to take care of you, but the Double Shot is your bar. Whatever you're well enough to do, you'll do. We're going to need every ounce of manpower we can get on this project.” Tempted as she was to get angry about her father's bad decisions, it would waste energy Teagan simply couldn't spare. But helping him take care of this mess didn't equate to him not being a part of the solution, either. After all, he'd gotten himself into this. “We've got a lot of work ahead of us, especially since we have to pull it together pretty fast. But for now, Lonnie wants to keep a low profile. The busier we are, the better the chances that he'll really stay out of our hair at the restaurant. And paying him back is the only way for us to turn this right-side up.”

“And what of you, pretty girl?” her father asked, looking at her with an equal blend of curiosity and sadness. “Are you right-side up, bein' in the kitchen, then?”

The question was so unexpected that it leveled her, the resulting surprise pushing the truth past her lips before she could cage it. “I've had some help from a friend.” Ah, damn it. Why couldn't she have just said
yes
and been done with it?

The weight of her father's stare was palpable, even though she couldn't meet his eyes. “Have you now? Anyone I know?”

Okay, at least this one she could answer with a straight face. “No. He just helped out until I got a handle on things, that's all. Made it better than I thought it would be. But now I'm good, and once we get this money part figured out, we can get you back on track. I'm okay in the kitchen, but I still don't want to be there forever.”

Teagan squeezed her father's hand, trying on a tiny smile. For a minute, she was certain the nudge toward humor wouldn't work, that he'd fight her in spite of his normally level demeanor, and damn it, she didn't want to argue with him.

On the contrary, all she wanted was to take care of the man, just like he'd taken care of her. And until now, she'd done a piss-poor job of it.

“I don't s'pose I should find it at all surprisin' that even your honey has a touch of vinegar in it. You've got yer head set on this, I can see, and it's a good plan.”

Relief saturated her chest, spilling out to cover the rest of her as she exhaled. “We'll plan it together, all of us. It'll work, Da. You won't be sorry.”

“Aye, but you may be. You're not to be in the bar alone, not even for a minute, and if Lonnie comes back, all this changes. I know you're grown, but you're still my girl. Are we clear, then?”

Teagan wanted to argue on principle—she could handle herself just fine. But the look on her father's face stopped the words in her throat.

If she wanted him to let her take care of him, she was going to have to return the favor.

“We're going to pay Lonnie the money before he even gets a chance to be dangerous. But until then, yes. Nobody's there alone, including me. I promise.”

 

 

Teagan sat back against the nuclear orange couch cushions in the office, trying as hard as she could to talk herself into setting foot in the kitchen completely unattended. She only had a few minutes before getting down there to start the necessary prep for the day, but the great, big slab of fear in her gut held her pinned in place.

She didn't want to go down there alone. Sure, Jesse and Caleb, the new guy on dishes, would be in the kitchen with her, and Brennan would run the bar and the front of the house with the waitstaff. That was all reassuring. But deep down, the thought of being one-on-one with the food, of getting up close and personal with the act of cooking without anyone to calm her down and keep her in line, scared the shit out of her.