As if his thoughts had put up a Stephen Bat-Signal, the man in question walked into the bar a few minutes later, holding another note in his hand. Deep in concentration, Bethany’s brother almost walked right past Wes, but tripped to a halt before he could get too far.
“Wes. What are you doing here?”
“What’s it look like?”
Stephen settled into the stool beside Wes and ordered a Coke, smoothing his crinkled note out on the bar while he waited. “Is my sister giving you headaches?”
Wes held up a hand. “Let me stop you right there. I’m not here to gossip like a middle schooler.”
“Ah, you’re no fun.”
“Says the man who ordered a soda in a bar,” Wes drawled, bottle to his lips. “I see you’ve got another cryptic note from Kristin. What does this one say?”
“‘After every storm, there is a rainbow.’”
Lord, the woman was certifiable. “Let me ask you a question, man. Have you just come right out and asked her what the notes mean?”
“I can’t do that.” Stephen gaped at him like he’d just suggested they steal a cop car and do donuts in the town square. “She’ll be disappointed in me if I can’t figure it out on my own.”
“But you can’t.”
Stephen faced Wes on his stool. “One year, Kristin knitted me some socks for Christmas and I didn’t react with enough appreciation. I mean, they were socks. But she gave me the silent treatment straight through New Year’s.” He popped a straw into his Coke. “I finally figured out what was wrong. Turns out, they were exact replicas of my christening socks, right down to the little red crosses on the ankles.”
Wes knew he must look stupefied. He was. “How the hell did you figure that out?”
“My mother came over for dinner and saw them. Kristin had left them out on the mantel, but I was too naive to realize she was trying to give me a hint.” He nodded as if that explanation was completely normal. “Anyway, my mother knew right away and commented on the resemblance of the socks. So Kristin threw them in the fire.”
“What?”
Stephen leaned in. “She wanted me to figure it out.”
Was this Long Island or Mars? “That sounded like a horror film, but thank you, I guess.”
“Thank you?”
“Yeah,” Wes said, sipping his drink. “My own lady troubles don’t seem quite as daunting now.”
“I knew it.” Stephen wrapped smug lips around his straw. “Bethany ghosted you, didn’t she? Wasn’t sure how she’d manage it since you’re working together, but my sister is resourceful.”
Goddammit. Why had be mentioned trouble? The last thing he wanted to do was listen to Stephen talk a bunch of nonsense about Bethany. But he was also one beer deep, heartsick, and confused about what had actually happened between them. He’d been caught in a weak moment. “What do you mean, she ghosted me?”
“That’s her thing. She casts her line out into the water.” Stephen moved his Coke aside so he could mimic fishing. “The man bites. And then she throws the whole damn rod back into the ocean while the poor sucker is still attached.”
The back of his neck prickled ominously, but he scoffed. “How long have you been working on that metaphor?”
“It’s my mother’s, actually, and there’s more,” Stephen responded, squinting back down at his note. “So there’s the rod floating on the ocean, the man is hooked at the end, and Bethany stands on the boat blaming the fish.”
Wes’s entire life, he’d avoided any kind of long-term relationships. This right here was why. Stephen had clearly lost his fucking mind and what was to blame?
Love.
Marriage.
Sure, Stephen’s wife was a complete loony toon, but Wes would have been standing on the outside laughing at this manner of conversation a few months ago. He’d have ridiculed Stephen for letting himself get played like a fiddle. Now it wasn’t so funny. Because he was the hooked fish and if he closed his eyes, he could see Bethany standing at the bow of a ship, watching him sink.
Yeah, she’d caught him, that was for damn sure. He’d never imagined how much he would love having a hook through his lip, either. But this woman. This woman had made him earn her trust, her respect, her laughter. Each of those accomplishments made him feel more capable as a man. A potential partner for her. Someone who could not only be in a lasting relationship, but maybe even be good at it.
Was he just going to swim off now when they’d come so far?
No. He was going to jump back into the goddamn boat and throw the rod down at her feet. Let her know he wasn’t going anywhere. She’d caught herself a Texas man and he refused to sink like the chumps she’d dated before. More important, he was going to figure out why she continued to throw the fish out with the rod.
A crack of thunder sounded outside, as if the heavens approved of his new course of action, and rain began to pelt the windows of Grumpy Tom’s. The downpour sent the smokers scurrying inside using their jackets as shelter.
Damn.
The forecast didn’t call for rain. He’d checked as recently as this morning, to make sure there would be no bad weather causing them delays. Back when he’d been the foreman and he was paid to have contingency plans in place, anyway. He’d need to drive over to the jobsite and put some tarps on the roof.
With a sigh, he took out his wallet and signaled the bartender so he could settle up. “I need to get to the site,” he told Stephen. “Fired or not, I can’t let all that hard work go to waste.”
Stephen spit Coke onto the bar, earning a stony look from the sleepy barman. “She fired you?”
“Yup.”
“First of all, welcome back to the winning team,” Stephen said magnanimously. “Second, I don’t know why I’m surprised. This is classic Bethany.”
Wes flicked an irritated wrist, sending a twenty fluttering down onto the bar. “Have you ever asked Bethany why she pushes people away or do you just bitch and moan about it behind her back? Maybe there’s a good reason she does it. You ever thought of that?”
“You’re defending her?” Stephen sputtered. “She fired you!”
“I pushed her to it. It’s on me. And I don’t want back on your team.”
Stephen stayed silent a moment. “There’s obviously something going on between you two or she wouldn’t have pulled her parachute.”
Ire pinched his nerve endings. “Oh, fuck off with your metaphors. What is wrong with everyone in this town? No one can just say what’s on their minds?” Wes plucked the note up off the bar and tossed it into the air. “Your wife is pregnant, you moron.”
“She is?”
“Yes. And I’m sure he or she will grow up completely stable.”
To Wes’s shock and horror, Stephen launched off the stool and threw his arms around Wes’s shoulders, cry-laughing noisily. “I’m going to be a dad.”
Wes sighed and patted him on the back. “Congratulations.”
Finally, Stephen pulled back with moisture-filled eyes. A loud beep had Bethany’s brother disengaging to pull his cell from his front pocket, his rapturous expression turning to exasperation. “Just got a text from Bethany. She wants to know if a staple gun is waterproof.” He flicked a glance at Wes. “Sounds like she’s way ahead of you on the roof situation. You better go.”