Page 19 of Hard to Love
She cut her eyes toward the sky and gave a little head shake. “Let me guess, you’ve got one special dinner menu and killer pancakes for the morning after.”
“I can do those too, but my specialties are chile rellenos, shrimp scampi, and traditional flan. I also make a pretty mean menudo.”
“You were reeling me in up until the menudo.”
“It’s an acquired taste among non-Latinos.”
“So who taught you—your mom?”
Most of that thigh-loosening smile disappeared. “She was an amazing cook.”
“Was? I thought you said she lived in Georgia.”
“Don’t see her much.”
The idea of being out of touch with her family was so foreign to Greer, she didn’t know what to say. “Did you have a falling out?”
“Something like that.” By this time, they were driving past the middle school, and Alex asked, “Have much trouble around here?”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Kids getting together and doing stuff they shouldn’t.”
She inclined her head in the sprawling brick building’s direction. “Those kids are still having sleepovers and playing with Nerf guns, but I’m sure the high schoolers have their share of secret parties down by the river.”
Silence filled the car until Alex said, “So tell me about more about this risk you’re thinking of taking.”
Greer took the turn down Beulah Caldwell Road heading to her dad’s place. “Well, I haven’t thought it all the way through yet, but I’m playing with an idea. I run a small artists’ co-op now, but I’m considering something much bigger. Lots of different artisans, crafting their wares in a way that visitors can observe the process.”
“Painters?”
“Way more than that. Painters, sculptors, book makers, woodworkers, the best I can get my hands on. It would be amazing if I could recruit a graffiti artist, someone like that Jefe Mejor from San Antonio everyone’s been talking about lately. People would love watching that kind of unbridled creativity.”
“A lot of artists requires a lot of space. And that sounds like a big investment.” His dry tone made it clear he didn’t think her picnic included a fully loaded basket.
“Haven’t you ever done something risky because it could change your whole life?”
He turned to look at her, his dark eyes serious. “What do you think I’m doing by making this trip to Prophecy?”
Something told her Alex’s bid for PBC’s leather tooling work wasn’t his only risk. He was too buttoned up, too intense for all that broodiness to be about a contract. One that could help his career, sure. But she had a feeling this man’s work was only one small square in a much more complicated pattern. “Well, we’re a fairly decisive bunch. You finish those designs and you’ll have your answer soonenough.”
After that, Alex was silent, and Greer tried to respect that he had no interest in chatting more. Within a few minutes, they were at the south end of her dad’s—no, now Cal’s and hers—fifty acres. She pulled into the turnoff and hopped out of the car to unlock the pipe gate. The chain clanged against the metal as she let it fall.
When she’d pulled through and continued to drive down the rutted track, Alex said, “Aren’t you going to lock it again?”
“We don’t have many security issues out here in the country.”
The old barn sat with its broad side facing the road, and Greer parked near the huge double doors. The structure was a typical Texas Hill Country barn made of weathered wood and topped by a metal roof. It had been a while since she’d come this close to it.
Cal kept mentioning he needed to get out here and do some work on the property, but Greer put him off every time. That wasn’t fair of her. Just because she was having a hard time facing her dad’s things shouldn’t give her an excuse to neglect them.
The barn was still standing tall, but the maroon paint was flaking, and one of the doors sagged. Thankfully, though, the roof showed no signs of rust, and Greer blew out a breath of relief.
The structure was still solid, but it needed some TLC.
Alex, on the other hand, was staring at the barn with a tight mouth and squinty eyes.
“It’s a barn,” she snapped, her guilt over neglecting her dad’s property rearing its head again. “Did you expect the Taj Mahal?”
