“It’s Sagebrush,” he said, with a slight lift of one shoulder. “Don’t take it personal.”
“Hard not to when it’s my business.”
Brooks met my eyes and held them. “I’m sorry for havin’ ears.”
Rowan glanced between us with the mild curiosity of a man watching two dogs decide whether or not to fight. He seemed entirely unbothered by the possibility of either outcome.
Dolly arrived with my lunch and took the other two orders with the efficiency of someone who’d been feeding stubborn men for forty years. She topped off all three coffees without asking, gave Brooks a pointed look that I didn’t fully understand, and swept back toward the counter.
I pulled my plate toward me and picked up my fork. The meatloaf smelled incredible, which was deeply inconvenient given that I’d been planning to eat fast and leave.
“You thought about talkin’ to the bank?” Brooks said, not accusatory, just putting it out there.
“About what?”
“About refinancin’. Buyin’ some time while you figure out what you’re doin’ with the place.” He wrapped both hands around his mug and finally took a drink. “I know a guy over in Amarillo. He’s decent. Won’t jerk you around.”
I stabbed a piece of meatloaf. “I know what I’m doin’ with the place. I’m sellin’ it.”
“Mmhm,” Brooks said, in a tone that conveyed nothing and somehow everything.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’.” He looked out the window at the street, at the crew replacing the sign across the way. “Just that you’ve been here two or three weeks now and you’re still here.”
“Not because I want to be,” I replied.
Brooks nodded again, slow and measured. He had the maddening patience of a man who’d spent most of his life working alone and had learned that silence didn’t need to be filled. I’d forgotten that about him, or maybe I’d never known it. I hadn’t exactly given him much of a chance recently.
Rowan’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down at it, and something shifted in his expression. He went from relaxed to alert in about half a second.
“Sorry,” he said, already sliding out of the booth. “Give me just a second.”
He stepped away from the table, pressing the phone to his ear and moving toward the door. Brooks watched him go, then looked back at me.
“I wish you’d give him a chance,” Brooks said quietly. “He’s a good man. I’m lucky to have him.”
“I’m sure,” I said.
“You ought to give someone a chance around here,” he added. Not unkind, just honest. “Not everybody’s tryin’ to screw you over.”
I looked at him across the table. “You sound like someone else I know.”
“Smart person, sounds like.”
I snorted and went back to my meatloaf. Rowan reappeared at the edge of the table a minute later, sliding his phone into his shirt pocket. There was a new energy about him, focused and purposeful.
“I’ve got a heifer out on the Macready place,” he said, pulling his wallet out and tossing some bills on the table. “She’s been trying to calve for a few hours and nothing’s happening. I need to get out there.” He looked at me for a beat, then said something I wasn’t expecting. “You want to come?”
I blinked. “Me?”
“You’re a rancher,” he said simply. “Or you grew up on a ranch, anyway. I thought you might be interested. Beats sitting here and staring at Brooks for a half hour.” He glanced at Brooks, a big stupid grin on his face. “You’re welcome too, if you like.”
Brooks gave a small nod. “I’d like to eat my lunch. But thanks.”
Rowan was already reaching for his jacket on the hook at the end of the booth. He looked back at me, waiting, not pushing. Just leaving the door open.
I looked down at my plate. Half a piece of meatloaf and some mashed potatoes. I thought about Mike, how he’d told me that we’re allowed to just enjoy ourselves while we’re here. I was leaving Sagebrush, nothing would change that.Especiallynot Rowan. Besides, it might be entertaining to watch him struggle for an hour or two with a heifer. Maybe I’d even get a few laughs out of it.
