Page 62 of Trouble Me
“You don’t sound as thrilled as I thought you would, Shane. Has there been a change in plans?” James sounded a bit perturbed at the thought of things changing without his knowledge. Shane normally liked James, but at this moment, he wanted to tell James to go fuck himself.
But that wouldn’t go over very well, would it? Especially since no one knew about the fact that he was sleeping with the owner of the property.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, but schooled his voice with the appropriate enthusiasm. “The news just caught me off guard after the call I received from Tim a little while ago.”
“Well,” James’s voice was laced with barely suppressed glee. “Are we moving forward?”
His chest ached and his stomach was slick with unease. Why was it so fucking hot in the car?
“Shane? Are you still there?”
“Just give me a minute,” Shane snapped, wiping a sweaty palm on his pants leg. “I need to think.”
James huffed. “What’s to think about? This is what you wanted. What’s the problem?”
Shane mentally counted to ten to keep the anger in his chest from unleashing. “James. I can’t think with you talking in my ear.” He glanced out the window to see them pull up to hangar. “Look, I’m about to board the plane. Let me call you when I land.”
“Shane, we need to move—”
“And we will, James. Just hang tight.” It was all Shane could do to keep from telling James to fuck off. But he just couldn’t do it.
James’s disappointment and frustration came through loud and clear when he sighed. “Fine. Call me later.”
For the next five hours on the plane ride back, Shane tried to sleep, but his mind was a tangled mess of worrying about his father and the situation with Emma, both professionally and personally. Although he was pretty certain that once she found out about the bank and her own employer trying to buy her house against her wishes, there would be no more personal.
When he landed, he was relieved to find Emma hadn’t surprised him again to drive him home. The woman was sharp and observant. She saw things that he didn’t think anyone else did, even when he didn’t want her to. He wanted to see her, he ached from missing her, but he needed to call James. And effectively put an end to whatever it was he and Emma had.
Shane sat in his truck, leather cold under his ass, and called James. As the line rang in his ear, his stomach churned and his chest tightened to aching. He blew out a breath to keep the nausea at bay.
“Shane, good to hear from you,” James said when he answered. “Are we moving forward?”
Were they moving forward?
Shane already knew the answer, even if it made him feel like he’d found the Ninth Circle of Hell. “Yes. Get the paperwork started.”
“Great, I’ll have the agreement to you Monday morning. Congratulations, Shane.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Shane hung up and tossed the phone on the seat beside him.
He needed a drink. It had been a while since he’d thrown back some shots. Going back to his big, empty cabin where the sheets smelled of Emma and all the sexy, naughty things they’d done there didn’t appeal to him. Driving through the downtown square of Madison Ridge, he noticed several cars parked in front of a building with a sign touting the Silver Moon Café. He made a quick right-hand turn into an open space just down from the front door.
The chalkboard sign in front of the door announced they had the coldest beer and hottest nachos in town. It was a charming little place made of whitewashed clapboard, with an upstairs patio he was sure had plenty of activity in the spring and summer. The muted sound of country music filtered out to the sidewalk.
Once inside, the noise level increased several notches and the smell of beer and fried foods wafted through the air. Groups of people gathered around various tables, laughing and talking, letting off steam from the week. Shane made his way to the bar through the throng, finding an unoccupied stool. One of the bartenders, dressed all in black, with tatted up arms, spiky hair and wire-rimmed glasses, placed a drink napkin in front of him. “Evening. What can I get ya?”
“Whiskey, neat.”
The younger man nodded once, pulling a tumbler out from under the bar before walking to the other end of the long bar that had seen better days.
As his server poured a whiskey neat and deftly fielded calls from less patient patrons and barmaids, Shane was impressed with his style. The winery was still staffing the bar in the restaurant and needed a strong leader who knew what he was doing.
A few moments later, a tumbler with two fingers of Tennessee whiskey, neat, slid in front of him.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Shane slid a business card across the bar. “I’m staffing my new winery nearby and I like how you work. If you’re interested in something different, give me a call.”
The guy looked down at the card and his eyes widened before looking back at Shane. “I’m Adam.” He stuck out his hand and Shane shook it. Strong and competent handshake. Good sign. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
