Page 38 of The Cowboy's Redemption
She stopped him as they filed out of the boardroom.
“Could I speak with you for a moment?” she said.
Chapter Twelve
Levi
Ford and Levilingered under the awning that protected the glazed glass doors of the law office’s entrance. Rain bounced in wave-like sheets off the street. Levi tried to think of a neutral topic to discuss while he waited for Dana and a break in the downpour.
He had to raise his voice to be heard over the rain’s ransacking of the heavy awning overhead. “Lovely weather we’re having.”
Ford’s expression, a tossup between natural-born killer and sociopath on a good day, didn’t warm. “Why don’t we meet up at the taproom so we can talk business in private?”
A midafternoon during the week, when the Grand Master Brewery and Taproom, where Ford worked, was closed, would be perfect—both public and private. They had a lot to discuss, so why not start now?
“Great idea.” Levi spoke for Dana, too, since he was her ride.
By the time she emerged, Ford was gone.
The short drive to the taproom was quiet, except for the rain lashing the windshield and the overworked wipers, with Levi and Dana lost in their thoughts.
He didn’t need to ask what she’d wanted to speak to George about. She wanted Tanoa. But six months saddled with Levi and Ford? He doubted that very much. The business wasn’t worth the aggravation to her.
He didn’t know how to salvage this mess. He was the only one of the three who had any idea of what Otto’s breeding strategies were—of what made an Otto Hart horse such a desired commodity—and this was an unforeseen opportunity to preserve his friend’s legacy.
Otto might have cared little about any legacy of his living on, but he’d cared about his horses. A lot. He’d known Levi and Ford would care for them, too. That part made sense. But why bring Dana into the mix? Was it really because of Tanner, as Ford seemed to think?
Because it wasn’t what Levi thought. He suspected the old man was trying to give him a chance to win Dana over.
Dana, however, didn’t want to be won. She wasn’t trying to avoid Ford and Tate to spare them a constant reminder of the brother they’d lost. She was avoiding them because they were a constant reminder to her. Until she figured that out, there was no chance for him, because he was another reminder.
Which made him an idiot. He might be sleeping with his best friend’s former girlfriend, but she was sleeping with her former boyfriend’s best friend. He had no idea what was going on in her head about that, but since she’d given him no reason to believe she was interested in anything serious it wasn’t anything good.
He pulled into a narrow driveway that led to the back of the Grand Master Brewery and Taproom, where Ford said to meet him.
Hannah Tucker, formerly Brand, had chosen well when she’d bought the old dairy her brewery called home. The neighborhood consisted of starter homes large enough for the first baby or two, equally sized for middle-income retirees who were intent on downsizing. The taproom made a great place to spend an affordable evening playing board games, and on weekends, children were welcome. It had the real feel of a community drop-in.
Ford let them in through the rear entrance. The brewery part of the business smelled like fermented yeast and some kind of cleanser. Stainless steel tanks stretched to the ceiling. Hoses connected to drains in the wet concrete floor. Two pairs of rubber boots stood by the door to the taproom, one set Ford-sized, the other most likely Hannah’s.
Between the brewery and the taproom was a small, entry-like space with a third door. The third door led to an apartment above the taproom where Hannah once lived. She and Dallas often spent nights there when he was on call at the hospital’s overworked emergency department.
Levi liked the taproom. It was rustic and homey. Hannah’s oldest brother was a metalworks artist in Sweetheart, Montana, and he’d gifted her with an iron cowboy riding a bucking horse that hung from the rafters. Shelves were stacked high with all kinds of board games. Slab wooden tables with tall barstools jutted out of the walls. The center of the room held square, scattered tables with lower and sturdier chairs. An enormous glass wall fronted the street.
To their left, as they entered from the back of the room, was the bar. It held an assortment of taps. The front had a brass rail along the bottom so people could stand while they ordered but discouraged them from pulling up chairs. It was a workspace and Ford’s private domain.
“Grab a table,” Ford said. He lifted the hinged counter. “I don’t know about you two, but I need a drink. I have a new blonde on tap as well as two reds and a stout. The stout is particularly popular with the Wednesday night ladies’ taster crowd. It’s got a strong maple finish.”
Levi’s mother and sister had attended more than one of Hannah’s tasters. Everyone chipped in for costs and there was usually some sort of theme. It was like a book club, except with beer instead of wine, and they skipped the book part entirely.
“My mom likes the maple,” Levi told Dana, who’d remained silent so far. A beer might loosen her up. They’d all been blindsided by Otto, and he could use a drink, too.
They settled on three of the dark, creamy stouts. Ford served them in giant snifters that he’d filled to the top. Levi considered warning Dana as to how strong the beer was but decided against it. One wouldn’t hurt her.
Ford got straight to business. “I understand that Otto wanted to do the right thing by leaving you Tanner’s share, and I have no argument with that, but this doesn’t have to impact you or your rodeo schedule,” he said to Dana. “Levi and I can look after things. I’m not sure what Otto thought you could do to help, anyway.”
“Thank you,” Dana said.
Levi had to take a slow drink to keep his smile under control. She wasn’t thanking Ford for his thoughtfulness and understanding.
