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But the new Casey, the Home Casey, wasn’t about to let another incident get in the way of his relationship with Dev. Assuming there was a relationship.
There could be. Casey was sure of it. If only the infuriating man would listen.
Ty moved to Casey’s side as the Lexus disappeared around the corner again. “You recognize that guy?”
Casey sighed. “Unfortunately.”
Ty regarded him, head tilted to one side. “Does he have anything to do with the incident?”
“He is the incident, and he has no business here.” Casey straightened his shoulders and shot what he hoped was a confident smile at Ty, Kenny, and Val. “So I guess it’s up to me to find out why he seems to be casing the joint.”
Ty caught Casey’s arm as he was about to walk out the door. “You know what? Screw that guy.”
Casey shuddered. “No thank you.”
“I mean ignore him. Let him putter around town as long as he likes. You need to talk to Dev.”
“I can’t. I have to go feed my sourdough starter.”
Ty glared at him. “Is that the baker’s version of Sorry, can’t go out with you tonight. I’ve got to wash my hair?”
Casey rolled his eyes. “No. It’s actually a thing. Sylvia’s adding a few recipes to my curriculum, and first up is rustic sourdough bread. But apparently to make sourdough bread, you need a starter, and starters need feeding on a regular basis or they die.”
“Kind of like relationships?” Ty said with a wry smile.
“Yeah.” Casey glared out the window, where Bradley was making another pass. “Although some non-relationships simply refuse to die.” He smiled at Ty. “I promise I’ll talk to him, assuming I can find him.”
“I’ll nail his shoes to the floor for you.” Ty’s eyebrows bunched in thought. “I know you’re tied up with your classes all day, but the best time to catch him is mid-afternoon. He’s usually in his office at Harrison House then, wrestling with the accounting for the town and the estate.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Casey sighed. “After the starter’s little snack, I’ve got to tackle duck with apricot chutney, so I suspect today will be a washout.” In more ways than one.
Maybe if Casey set off the fire alarm again, it would at least catch Dev’s attention. But he didn’t want this hoped-for relationship to be based on arson.
“Yeah, and I expect he’ll jet out of the office before five and head into Merrilton, same as he’s done for the last couple of days,” Ty said. “Tomorrow maybe?”
“Tomorrow.” He waved at Val and Kenny. “See you later. And, Ty? Thanks again for the kitten therapy.”
“Any time, buddy. Any time.”
Casey slipped out the door. He stood on the porch for a moment and focused on taking calming breaths.
It didn’t work.
Fine. Borderline murderous rage was probably better for facing Bradley, anyway. He marched down the porch steps and waited at the curb, arms crossed, foot tapping.
And waited. And waited. And waited. After ten minutes, Casey finally gave up. Confronting Bradley would have to wait.
He had a sourdough starter to feed.
Dev peered at the invoice for the library roof repair. It couldn’t be that much, could it? They only had to replace about a dozen shingles. He sighed and keyed in the amount, wincing as the red number at the bottom of the screen grew enough to gain a comma.
“Damn it, Garlan,” he growled. “Why the hell did you have to die?”
Immediately, guilt washed through him, turning him hollow. Because of course Garlan hadn’t intended to be in the path of that semi when it skidded on the ice. His death and Grandfather’s had been an accident, nothing more, and certainly hadn’t been some conspiracy to derail Dev’s life, too.
He’d never been as close to Garlan as he had been with Ty or even Kenny and Mitch, who weren’t blood relations, because Garlan was a decade older. Half a generation removed from them.
The Maintenance—DO NOT SKIP entry popped up as pending in the automatic payments again, and Dev cursed under his breath, wishing that somewhere in that half a generation, Garlan had learned to make better notes about estate finances.
