“I know it’s Bart,” Jerry said with a serious expression. “But I need this job. Okay?”
My lip quivered and tears flooded my eyes. “If you’re hurtin’ for money, we’ll figure something out, okay?”
“No,” he said solemnly. “I want this. I need you to be happy for me, okay?”
I nodded and hugged him, ignoring the fact that he smelled like sweat and damp earth. I couldn’t imagine Bart Drummond letting him into that fancy house on the side of the mountain, full of expensive furniture. Not smelling like this. The asshole had probably made him eat outside.
Jerry kissed my cheek, then pulled away from me. “I know you’re upset because you’ll be seein’ less of me, but I’ll still come see you.”
I nodded, swiping a stray tear from my cheek. “You better.” I sniffed, trying to collect myself. “What can I get you for dinner?”
He ordered meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Resisting the urge to suggest a side salad instead of the starch, I headed to the food counter with his order.
“What’s goin’ on with Jerry?” Ruth asked as she came back to pick up an order.
“He’s not going to be coming around as often. He got a promotion.”
“At the jobsite?” she asked in disbelief. “What’s that got to do with him comin’ in or not?”
“Because he’s going to be working for Bart Drummond himself. He’s giving Jerry the overseer job.”
“You’re kiddin’ me,” she said in a flat voice.
“I wish I were.”
She sucked in a breath as she studied Jerry from across the room. “What’s that old man up to?”
“You think he’s up to something too?” I asked.
She wrinkled her brow. “Of course he is. There’s no way Jerry’s qualified for that job.”
Was that Drummond’s plan? Put Jerry in a position that was over his head and make him feel like a failure? Use him to mess with me? Hurt him in retaliation for killing Carson?
Could I stand by and let any of that happen?
I really needed to speak to Marco.
We were busy for another hour, and I didn’t get a chance to talk to Max until after Jerry had eaten his meal and left.
“Did Jerry say when he was moving out?” I asked him when I finally got a chance. It stood to reason that Jerry would have to give him notice since Max ran the motel.
“Tomorrow.”
I gasped.
“Now we don’t know that my father’s up to anything sinister,” Max said with a sigh as he leaned his hand against the counter. “He often does hire people based on their work ethic.” The conflict in his eyes told me how much he was trying to convince himself.
“And do you truly believe that’s the case now?”
He swallowed and didn’t answer.
“We’ll never see him,” I said, my stomach churning.
“He said he’d drop by from time to time, but he seemed to think he’d be too busy to leave the property much.”
“You have to stop this, Max.”
He turned to me in surprise. “I can’t.”
“Then tell me why he’s doing this.”
“Because it’s a promotion,” he said in exasperation. “It’s more money than he’s ever made in his life, and he thinks he’ll be respected.”
I heard the doubt in his voice, and while I shared it, he’d misunderstood the question. “Not Jerry, Max. Your father.”
But he didn’t have an answer either.
Chapter Six
When I still hadn’t heard from Marco by ten, I started to get worried. I tallied up my tips and left Tiny’s share in Max’s office, then headed out the back door to my car, my pepper spray firmly in hand. I never went out the back door at night without it. I’d been caught off guard on a few occasions, and it wasn’t happening again. For a split second, my heart skipped a beat when I saw a figure leaning against the trunk of my car, his arms crossed over his chest, but then I saw Marco’s Explorer parked next to it.
Marco didn’t move when he saw me, just watched as I came closer. He always looked good in whatever he wore, whether it was his sheriff’s deputy uniform or the jeans and light gray T-shirt he had on now. His blond hair had been trimmed since we last saw each other, which made the separation feel longer. I hadn’t even realized he’d had an appointment. His eyes were glued on me and held a heat that had nothing to do with the summer evening.
I flushed with a heat of my own.
My heart skipped a beat for an entirely different reason this time. I’d missed this man more than I’d ever missed anyone besides my mother, and we’d only been apart less than a week. How long could we keep pretending we were just friends? It had worked for a few months, but it was getting harder and harder. The fact I hadn’t seen him made me wonder if Marco had finally hit a wall.
“Hey,” I said, as I approached him. I was yearning to reach out and touch him, but I kept my hands at my sides.
He shifted his weight, dropping his arms. The heat in his eyes dimmed, replaced with determination.
“Is everything okay? Why didn’t you come inside?” I asked, suddenly afraid to hear the answer. Had he grown tired of waiting for me to change my mind? Was he cutting me off out of self-preservation?
“I got off work late, so I decided I’d take a chance and drop by. Figured you’d get off at ten, so I just waited outside.”
A chill ran down my back. We hadn’t talked in days, and he had no idea the whole Molly debacle had finally come to a head.
“How’d you know I’d be getting off early?” I asked, then instantly regretted it. What was I doing? I was suspicious of practically everything—with just cause—but this was Marco. Would I ever be able to truly trust him? Was it fair to give in to my feelings if I didn’t?
He realized my concern and sat up straighter. “I saw your car in the parking lot during the lunch shift. You usually get off at ten when you work lunch.” His eyes narrowed. “Why were you working over lunch?”
I shook my head, still agitated, but mostly because I was disappointed in myself. “It doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you come in?”
“I needed to see you.”
That sounded ominous.
He cast a glance at the second floor above the tavern—Max’s apartment—which seemed to confirm my suspicions. “I thought about waiting for you at Hank’s, but I figured you could come over to my house so we could talk.”
Which meant he didn’t want Hank to hear either. Even more ominous. Did he have information to share with me about Pam?
“Yeah,” I said, running a hand over my head. I was tired, and while I kept clothes at Marco’s, I hadn’t told Hank I was staying over, which meant I’d need to head home after our chat. But I’d missed him so much, I’d drink five cups of coffee to wake up if need be. “It would be super helpful if this town had functional cell towers.”
He grimaced. “Be careful what you wish for.” I knew he was talking about the cell tower that was supposedly being installed at Bart’s resort, which would provide that section of the mountain with cell service. But it also ran the risk of putting my face on the internet, which meant my father might be able to find me. “You look tired. Do you want to do this tomorrow?”