Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(51)

“You look and sound irritated.” Beau inspected me. “Is it ’cause Charlotte lied? About why she wanted the job?”

“No.” I reached for a pretzel. We hadn’t ordered food, but I wasn’t hungry. “I’m not irritated with her.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” I said, and that was the truth. I wasn’t irritated with Charlotte. I was irritated with myself for liking everything about her to the point of not being able to concentrate. I was also irritated at how suddenly all this had occurred. How could everything be hunky-dory last week and now I was a fucking mess?

Beau leaned an elbow on the bar and rubbed his chin, surprising me by asking, “Did you ever find out why she doesn’t like you? Was it due to Kevin and Carli?”

“Uh, no. We talked about Kevin. She’s not upset with me about that. Turns out Charlotte left him weeks before he ran off. They weren’t even living together at the time.”

“Huh. Then why was she always avoiding you?” He hit my shoulder lightly. “You should ask her before her last day.”

“What? Why? What’s the point? It’s not like I’ll be seeing her again.” I kept my voice painstakingly disinterested.

“Yeah, you will.”

I frowned. “I will?”

“Charlotte and her kids are coming over more often to the homestead, sticking around for family dinners. She and Sienna seem to be hitting it off, and their kids are about the same age. You’ll be seeing her a lot.”

Well, shiiiiiit . . .?

I couldn’t decide whether I loved this news or hated it. Probably both. My pragmatic side, the logical part focused on self-preservation and maintaining sanity, hated it. Every other part of me, especially my subversive and masochistic impulses, loved it.

When my complicated silence persisted, Beau continued, “When she’s over at the house, y’all are going to need to get along.”

“We get along,” I hedged, rubbing the back of my neck and once more recalling how much of an asshole I’d been to her last night. “We mostly get along,” I amended.

“No, y’all don’t. Before she worked at The Pony, she’d cross the street whenever she saw you in town. I’ve watched her do it for years, even before Kevin left. And if everything is working out for the best, you’re not upset about her lying to you, and you two get along as you say, why do you still look and sound so irritated now? You should clear the air with her, once and for all.”

“I’m not irritated,” I insisted again. “I’m—I’m tired.” And confused. And preoccupied by thoughts of a woman who is so entirely out of my reach, she might as well be the secret to time travel.

Or . . . you could sell that damn club and become respectable. I grimaced, only 50% hating the idea. But selling the club wouldn’t solve the other problem. Even if I was respectable, Charlotte couldn’t stand me, and I deserved her ire.

“You’re tired?” His eyes swept over me.

“Yeah. And, you know, dreading this week.” I rubbed my forehead, my brain groggy from lack of sleep and two beers. I would ask Beau to drive me home.

“Why? What’s happening this week?”

“I’m training the new bartender—he starts tomorrow, early. Then I’m offering the job to Hannah, which means I’ll need to fill her spot on the schedule. Auditioning new dancers, making sure the one selected is a good fit with the rest of the team, orientation—it always takes forever.”

“Hannah can audition her own replacement, though. And Charlotte can train Hannah before her two weeks is up, right?”

“That’s true.” I swallowed the remainder of my beer, wincing at the reminder of Charlotte’s impending departure from the club. How was I supposed to manage this already cumbersome preoccupation if I’d be seeing her for family dinners at the Winstons’? “Also, I got two hen parties,” I went on. “One on Monday and one on Tuesday.”

Beau let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of chickens, back-to-back. And before the fall?”

“The weddings are in the fall, but all those spots were booked. These two decided to hold their bachelorette parties early rather than go somewhere else.”

Beau’s face scrunched up. It was his thinking face. “Fred passing away, Charlotte starting as your new bookkeeper and then quitting less than two weeks later, interviewing for and hiring a new bartender, Hannah moving from contractor to employee, training the new bartender, training Hannah, the new finance system to learn, and two bachelorette parties before the season starts. Hank”—he gave me a commiserating once-over—“that’s a lot of changes for you all at once.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing as how you don’t do well with change, it seems like a lot all at once. I’m guessing that’s why you look so irritated.”

I reared back a smidge. “What do you mean I ‘don’t do well with change’? I do fine with change.”

He chuckled. “Come on, Hank. You know you don’t like disruption, even the good kind. You hate surprises. You like your schedules, you thrive on knowing what to expect.”

“You make me sound like an old fuddy-duddy.”

Beau’s smile widened and his eyes did that stupid sparkly thing. This usually meant I’d accidentally said something funny and he was laughing at me. I gritted my teeth.