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“Yeah, he’s eclectic, for sure. Do you have ketchup?”
Ramie produced a glass bottle, then moved down the bar to help someone, giving Michael a moment to try his burger. Perfect medium, nicely seasoned, basic toppings, but still half the price of a similar burger he’d have gotten at a nice place in Austin. He glanced around the Roost while he ate, so he didn’t get grease on his phone. Some of the tables held couples, some single folks, but a few had clusters of young people. Seemed odd for so early in the day, barely five o’clock, but he had no clue about the social scene for young people here anymore. And sometimes it took Michael a moment to realize he wasn’t in the “young people” category anymore at forty-one. He certainly wasn’t old by any means.
Some days he felt that way, though. Old and worn, like a used-up sneaker that needed to be pitched before the sole fell off.
He was about halfway through his meal when the front door opening let in a blast of sunlight, followed by Ramie saying, “Hey, Woods, you’re in a bit early for a drink.”
Michael pivoted on his stool. A tall blond man in a brown jacket and boots stepped inside and headed right for the bar. He leaned right over it and kissed Ramie’s cheek, and Michael would bet his last penny that this was Brand Woods.
“I need one after today,” Woods said. “Beer, please.”
Ramie poured him one in a tall glass, and Michael tried not to be obvious about his eavesdropping. If this really was Brand, then he could be Michael’s future boss. If Michael applied. Ranching wasn’t really his thing anymore, but until the damned house sold, Michael needed cash.
“What’s got you all tied up in honda knots?” Ramie asked as she delivered the beer to Brand.
“The new vendor for our organic beef I had to see today,” Brand said after taking a long gulp of his beer. “Frank Archer over at the Grove Point CSA.”
Michael wasn’t familiar with the man’s name or that particular CSA, so it had probably popped up in the twenty or so years since he’d last been in Weston. Curious, he shoved a fry into his mouth and kept listening. Maybe eavesdropping was rude, but Brand was only one stool down and not speaking too softly.
“Ouch,” Ramie said. “How’d that go?”
“The whole meeting was shockingly professional, considering Frank’s kid tried to kill my boyfriend.”
Surprise jolted down Michael’s spine. This had to be the story Josiah had told him about Hugo and his stepbrother and the stabbing a few months ago. Just thinking Josiah’s name made him smile, and he kind of wanted to text Josiah about what he was hearing. But they weren’t friends, not really.
Not yet.
“Well, good on you for keeping your temper,” Ramie said. “Did you get the contract?”
“I did. Frank agreed to sell ground beef and a few steak cuts in their store. If things go well, he’ll add the ground beef to one of the monthly membership boxes. It’s still local, but it’s the expansion we’re looking for.”
“That’s great news. You’ve worked so hard on the transition from regular beef to organic, grass-fed, and this is a fantastic new step, especially with how popular Grove Point has gotten this last year or so.”
“Yeah. It’s definitely a deal with the devil, but I’ll do anything I can to keep the ranch going.”
“I know you will. Be back.” She moved on to help a customer. The place was starting to get busier as it inched into the dinnertime hour, and Michael spotted two new waitresses out on the floor, tending to patrons.
Michael was pretty full from his supper and had tipped back the last of his second Old Fashioned, so he figured why the hell not and slid onto the vacant stool between himself and Brand. “You’re Brand Woods,” he said in his friendliest-without-flirting tone.
Brand met his gaze, expression both wary and curious. “I am. You seem familiar but I can’t remember when we’ve met.”
“Michael Pearce. Elmer’s my father. I was a few years older than your brother Colt.”
“Right.” Brand held out his hand and gave Michael’s a firm shake. “You resemble your father. Don’t think I’ve seen you around since I was a teenager.”
“Because I haven’t been. But I’m sure you heard about my dad’s stroke. I came back to town to help him out for a while.”
“I’m sure he appreciates that. Elmer’s a good man.” Something flickered in Brand’s eyes. “Welcome back to town, Michael.”
“Thanks.” He swallowed his pride and said the words before he chickened out. “Listen, this morning I overheard your brother Remington at the diner, and he said your ranch was a bit short-staffed right now. I haven’t been in the life in about two decades, but I do know ranching and cattle, and I need a job.”
For someone who’d been independently wealthy for nearly half his life, admitting those final four words hurt his pride like a stab to the face. But those words were also very true. He’d come to Weston to help his father, not become a financial burden, especially with the slow housing market in Austin. Plus, Michael couldn’t afford to patronize the diner three times a day, so the house needed groceries.
“I’ve got very vague memories of Elmer having cattle when I was small,” Brand said. “Same with a lot of folks around the county. We’ve got a link on our website for employment. Upload your résumé and I’m sure my dad will give you a call. We’re getting by, but it never hurts to have that extra pair of hands, especially with Dad slowing down. He really shouldn’t be out rustling as often as he is.”
“I’ll do that, thank you.”
“Out of curiosity, what have you been doin’ since you left Weston?”
