Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(87)

With Brie and Joey in charge of the house during the day, making sure Mel had everything she needed and was getting plenty of rest, Jack was able to spend a few hours at the bar in the afternoon. Then he could take dinner home to his wife.

He didn’t get a lot done at the bar. He didn’t dare go on supply runs, it would take him too far from Virgin River. But he added up receipts and inventoried, finding, unsurprisingly, the bar ran just fine under the watchful care of Paige and Preacher.

In that little space of time after lunch was finished, and before the dinner crowd began to drift in, when the bar was typically very quiet, often deserted, an old familiar ghost in his Shady Brady wandered in. Jack had had some traffic with this guy in the past; some good, some not so good. He was a known illegal grower from somewhere around the mountains and Jack had refused to take his money once because it stank of freshly cut marijuana. But he’d materialized out of nowhere one night when Paige was in danger and saved her life.

He came up to the bar and for once made actual eye contact with Jack. A first. “Hey,” he said somberly. “How’s the family?”

“Getting by,” Jack said.

“Heineken and Beam,” he said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Over the man’s shoulder, Jack saw Mike come into the bar. He stopped short, obviously recognizing their friend from the broad expanse of his back and the familiar hat. Jack looked back at his customer. “We’ve been over this,” Jack said. “You know what kind of money doesn’t work in this bar and I’m not comping you. I’m in no mood.”

Mike sat up at the bar, just one stool separating him from the stranger. “I got that, Jack. I’ll have a beer. Take care of my friend here.” Mike pulled out a few bills. “It’s my pleasure.”

“You sure about that?” Jack asked Mike.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Jack set them up with drinks, then went back down the bar to where his trusty clipboard with inventory sheets waited. There was no conversation between Mike and the Shady Brady. Just silent, serious drinking.

Paige came into the bar carrying a fresh stack of towels. She recognized the man, was paralyzed for a moment, then gave him a very slight nod before escaping back into the kitchen. Mike half expected to see Preacher right away, but nothing more happened. Then there was a low, rumbled comment from the man next to him. “Things worked out then,” he said, having noticed the obvious pregnancy.

Mike chuckled in spite of himself. “Oh, yeah. Just fine.” He looked at the man and lifted a brow. “Once more on that boilermaker?”

“Nah. I don’t want to put you out.”

“Jack,” Mike called. “Fix up my friend here.”

Though Jack scowled disapprovingly, he served the whiskey and refreshed the beer. It was a strange situation—Jack appreciated the help the man had given them in an emergency, but he wanted nothing to do with growers. They were trouble. And he wouldn’t have their money in his till. He went back to his clipboard and counting, leaving the men to finish their drinks.

It wasn’t long before the stranger scraped back his stool to stand up. He looked at Mike and tipped the brim of his hat.

Mike pulled a hand out of his jacket pocket, put something on the bar and slid it toward him, turning his black eyes up at the standing man. He took away his hand and there, on the bar, was a padlock.

Shady Brady glanced over his shoulder toward Jack, finding him occupied with counting bottles beneath the bar. He slid the padlock off the bar and into his pocket. “Thanks for the drinks,” he said to Mike.

“Hey. Don’t worry about it. Even a private sort of guy like you should catch a break sometimes, huh?” He jutted his chin toward Jack. “He’s not real flexible.” Then Mike looked back into his beer.

For the first time ever, Shady Brady gave a quick, short grin. He touched the brim of his hat again, though no one was watching him. Then he quit the bar.

Mike smiled into his beer. There, he was thinking. Mike knew and Shady Brady knew he knew. Something about him was iffy—but not all bad. Their business was done. At least for now.





Fourteen




Once the Haggerty family had been told a wedding was imminent, Paul called Joe. “How are those plans coming for Preacher and Mike?”

“Close to ready for you, buddy,” Joe said.

“Maybe you could sketch up another house and we could talk about design…”

“Yeah? What you got?” Joe asked.

Paul took a breath. “You’ll never believe it,” he said. “It didn’t go the way we thought it would. Vanni—she didn’t let me down easy. Turns out I was a little slow, which shouldn’t surprise you. We’re getting married.”

“Whoa! You serious?”

“Why wait?” Paul said. “It’s not like we need time to get to know each other.”

“But what about that little problem we talked about?”

“It turns out, it’s not my problem after all. And Vanni—God, man. She’s been just wonderful about everything—me taking so long to come clean, having a serious complication to work out, everything. We’re gonna get it done before Tom leaves for boot camp in two weeks. I thought maybe, if you had some plans lying around, it might be a good time to visit Virgin River. And if the plans work for your clients—I could stay right here and build.”