Page 9 of Fifty-Fifty

“All right. See ya, Noah. And don’t forget what I said. We need your grandpa’s money! If you wanna own Ink’d, then we need it. Quick.”

“Yeah.” I push the ‘end’ icon and toss my phone into the passenger seat.

If only I knew how to get it.

I don’t really know what Mr. Jenkins might’ve heard, but as soon as my phone is away from my ear, he steps forward and raps his knuckles against the window.

Hesitantly, I roll it down.

“Yeah?” I bark.

He jumps. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jamison. I, uh, was just wondering if you were plannin’ on stickin’ ‘round or…” his voice trails off, waiting for me to answer.

I scratch the day-old scruff on my chin before responding, “I don’t know yet... What do you think I should do?”

Mr. Jenkins tugs on the white collar of his button-up shirt as sweat beads on his forehead, though I doubt it has anything to do with the weather since it’s so cold out. “I would suggest you stay at the inn. See the work that goes into it and decide if you think it’s worth the trouble of sellin’ or not.”

“I’m sorry… the trouble of selling?”

“Well…” he chuckles, “you did meet Beau. You saw how important that inn is to her. I don’t see it changin’ anytime soon. To be honest, I don’t see it changin’ ever. But if you have any hope of gettin’ her on your side, then I’d suggest you give the inn a real try. Stick around for more than ten minutes. Find out what you really want. But it’s just a suggestion,” he finishes before stepping away from the driver’s side window and effectively ending our conversation.

I shove my truck back into gear. “Noted.” Then I drive away.

Chapter Five

Beau

I don’t do sitters. I ain’t ever needed one before. I haven’t ever been on a date since Mac’s daddy, and I’m not sure he even counts, either. But Mr. Jenkins suggested I find one for the meetin’ today, and I’m glad I was able to concentrate. Well, concentrate better than if Mac were around, anyway. Noah seemed to be a pretty big distraction, too, but I won’t be sayin’ that out loud. That’s for sure. I can still feel his eyes on me as I was leavin’. The way they lingered on all the right places that’ve been neglected for far too long.

I sigh as I swing the door open to Lover’s Landing. The familiar smell of warm coffee wraps around me like a comfy blanket.

Harold sees me first, wavin’ me over to an empty booth with crayons coverin’ the floor.

“Oh, no. She woke up?” I ask, stumbling over to the not-so-vacant table.

“Nah, but it’s all right, darlin’. She’s been a doll the whole time. Just colorin’ and drinkin’ chocolate milk.” He motions to her dinosaur sippy cup with a smile on his face.

Harold’s always been a sucker for children, so I ain’t surprised he’s so easy goin’ about it.

I’d put Mac to sleep in a Pack n’ Play in the breakroom before the meeting. I didn’t know who else to ask. Harold and Betty are my surrogates in a sense. Takin’ me in like a stray cat off the side of the road when I was younger. I worked at Lover’s Landing ‘til I had Mac. And that’s when Jay offered the position at the inn. I couldn’t continue workin’ as a barista with a baby on my hip, no matter how accommodatin’ Harold and Betty were. It was the perfect solution. I could answer phones and clean rooms with Mac in tow and no one was the wiser. It was goin’ great, too. Until Jay got sick, and I started takin’ on his duties, too.

It was a hard year. Jay was in so much pain. The inn started slippin’. I was just spread so thin, ya know? And then he died, leavin’ me alone to pick up the pieces. And that’s exactly what I plan on doin’. It just takes a bit of time. That’s all.

A customer grabs Harold’s attention, leavin’ me alone with Mac, who’s very interested in a red crayon right now. Apparently she didn’t stay asleep long. Lil’ shit.

“I’ll be right back,” Harold tosses over his shoulder before chattin’ with Jaxon Scott, one of the town’s cops, while fillin’ his cup of coffee.

I watch their interaction for about two seconds, then slide into the booth next to Mac.

Her curly, brown hair looks like a little rat’s nest on the back of her head, confirmin’ her restless sleep. Starin’ up at me, she gives me a big toothy grin before jabberin’ on about the pictures on her colorin’ page. I smile in return while givin’ her a tight squeeze.

We stay that way for a few minutes when Harold approaches me with a fresh cup of coffee.

“How’d it go?” he asks, his weathered brows crinklin’ in the center as he assesses me.

I shrug, not knowin’ what to say.

“That good, huh?”

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