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“You said he cut you off.”
“Completely uncalled for.” I think Todd’s been hiding from me ever since, pushing Dillon to man the counter and take out the trash. Or it could be the angry customers he’s hiding from. Everything isn’t about me. “Does Todd know this wasn’t for you?”
“I neglected to mention that part.”
“I see. Smuggled soup, then.”
“You’re opposed?”
“Absolutely not.” I try to ignore how my chest fills with warmth at his efforts. “What was your other reason for coming?”
He holds up a beige folder tucked under his arm. “I have a business proposal for your boss.”
Apprehension slides down my spine. “Another one?” Is Garrett coming back around for another attempt to buy Murphy’s so he can close it down?
“No. Not like that at all. The condos going in next door will need appliances. Everything. Washer, dryer, oven, range, refrigerator”—he points to the one he was inspecting—“and I’m hoping I can work out a contractor deal with you guys to supply them.”
“Us?” This was unexpected. “But you’re HG. You must have connections with the manufacturers. Why wouldn’t you go to them?” Or frankly, Home Depot or any other big chain that would give him a better rate given their buying power. And on that many appliances, the difference would be significant. “What are you up to?”
He snorts. “Suspicious much?”
“When it comes to you? Always.”
“I thought we were past this.”
“Why would you think that?” I steal a glance over my shoulder. Ned’s still handling Helen Oates. Just in case his hearing aid is dialed up, I lower my voice. “What? Just because we fucked around I’m suddenly going to trust you? Think you’re a good guy?”
“I am a good guy.” He sounds offended. “I spent all night helping you hide.”
“No, you’re just good at a few key things.” Very good.
He bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “It’s just a gesture of goodwill on behalf of HG to the surrounding community. Plus, I figured Ned might appreciate the business.”
Ned’s jaw will drop at this opportunity. He was just complaining the other day about profits. But the goodwill part … does Garrett think I’m a fool? “Let me guess, you buy all those appliances through Ned and then Ned—and by extension, me—can’t say anything bad about your project without looking like a giant hypocrite.”
A slow, smug smile unfurls on Garrett’s lips. “In your case, I think that ship has sailed, don’t you?”
“Au contraire. The ship is coming back around to pick me up. I warned you, what happened in New York stays there. Wait, is this why you were so nice to me? Was that a gesture of goodwill too?”
“This is business. You and me, we’re not business. We don’t have to play this game anymore.”
“There is no ‘you and me.’ And I’m not going to be a part of your community outreach program.” I can’t believe he thinks I’d fall for this!
The bell chimes as Helen Oates exits, whatever arrangement Ned made with her seemingly satisfactory. He moseys over, a curious look furrowing his brow. “I see the big developer is back. Is there something we can help you with today?” I don’t think Ned’s capable of kicking someone out of his store, but he isn’t his usual cheerful self with the greeting.
Garrett studies me another long moment before shifting his attention. “There is.” He holds up his folder. “I have a new proposition for you that I think you might be interested in.”
“Is that so.” Ned’s soft gray eyes flicker to the folder, studying it a moment, before they shift to me. “Are we going to like it?”
This decision is up to Ned. I can’t dictate how he runs his business. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take out the trash. Seems this place has become too welcoming for the rats,” I throw over my shoulder.
“Enjoy the soup!” Garrett hollers back.
Chapter Twenty
“LuAnne Phillips got caught doin’ the hokeypokey with the owner in the back of his paint store. If you know what I mean.” Dottie waggles her eyebrows as she brushes clippings off her six-year-old customer’s neck.
With Dottie, there’s only one thing it could ever mean. I know it, her boss Ann Margaret knows it, and by the disapproving scowl on the mother whose son is getting a haircut, she knows it too.
I laugh around the Tootsie Roll pop I fished out of the kids’ treat bowl. “It’s my favorite dance. Almost did it myself a few weekends ago.”
“You should be doin’ it every weekend at your age.” Dottie drags the black cape off her customer, shaking out the last of the trimmed hair. “Okay, Benny, you are all done, and boy, do you look handsome. You’re going to be a real lady-killer when you’re older. Go on and get yourself a lollipop.” She taps his nose before he hops down.
