When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek #1)(73)
Author: Brenda Novak

“I don’t think so.” Simon tried to recall the conversation they’d had with Callie and Matt at dinner last night. They’d mentioned the house, certainly. But when they parted, Matt had clapped him on the back and told him how great it was to have dinner with him. Simon didn’t think Matt would turn around and call the press. And Callie would never do anything to make Gail unhappy. She was as protective as Gail’s own family. Maybe more so.

“You’re right. Those kids and Gail go way back,” Martin said. “You can trust every last one of ’em.”

“Even Sophia?”

“Maybe not Sophia. Gail’s never been too fond of her.”

Smiling at Martin’s blatant honesty, Simon added a splash of cream to his coffee. “She’s been quite friendly. She brought us an apple pie the other night.”

“Really?” He sounded more interested than Simon would’ve expected. “Did you bring the leftovers?”

Martin was probably joking, but with him it wasn’t easy to tell. “No, but we will,” Simon promised.

Gail’s father dropped bread in the toaster and cracked some eggs in the pan. Then he motioned to a chair halfway around the table. “The Gold Country Gazette’s right there if you want to read the paper.”

Now that he wasn’t likely to see some terrible picture of himself doing Lord knew what, Simon thought he might. “This is local?” he asked as he retrieved it.

“It is. A weekly. They’d probably love to interview you. Maybe you’ll be interested now the news is out that you’re here. They always do a big spread on Matt Stinson.”

“Well, I have to outdo Matt.”

Gail’s father actually grinned at this. “What do you have planned for today?”

Simon replied over the sizzle of eggs. “I thought I’d head over to the hardware store, see if they have the tools I’m going to need to do some remodeling. Then I’ve got to be at the house. Our furniture is due to arrive sometime after ten but before noon.”

“What’s Gail going to do?”

The comforting smells of a home-cooked breakfast rose to Simon’s nostrils as he leafed through the paper. Sure enough, there was a big picture of Matt, along with an update on his knee. “When I got out of bed, she mumbled something about needing time on the computer to take care of a few details at Big Hit. It’ll be easier for her to do that here, so she’ll drive me and then come back.”

“I can take you if you like.”

Simon lowered the paper. “You don’t mind stopping by the hardware store?”

“Not at all. I’ve got a few things I should pick up myself.”

“Okay. Then I’ll call her when the furniture arrives. She’ll want some input on how we arrange it.”

“Input?” Martin said dryly.

Simon was starting to like Gail’s father. “Euphemistically speaking.”

“If that means she’ll need to tell you exactly where to put every single piece, then you’ve got the right idea.”

Simon chuckled. “As far as I’m concerned, that’s her prerogative. I’m not feeling any burning need to place the sofa.” He trusted Gail enough to let her make much more important decisions, and he liked that.

Martin flipped the eggs. “I’m glad you two are staying here in town for a while, but I’m surprised she’s willing to take so much time off work.”

Simon set the small paper aside. “We were just married. Some people would call that a honeymoon.”

“A three-month honeymoon? Maybe in your world, but not in Gail’s. She loves the PR business. And she’s done a damn fine job with that company of hers.”

Setting his coffee on its saucer, Simon leaned back. Martin was so proud of his daughter. And he had every reason to be. “That’s true.”

When the toast popped up, Simon got to his feet. He was planning to put some in for himself, but Martin waved for him to sit down again. “I’ve got it.”

A couple of minutes later, Gail’s father sat a plate of three eggs, over easy, and two pieces of toast in front of him.

“Probably not as good as you’re used to eating,” he said, “but at least you won’t go hungry.”

Actually, the food tasted better than any Simon had eaten in a long time. But he knew the difference wasn’t in the cooking. This meal told him that Martin was willing to give him a chance. All Simon had to do was prove he deserved it.

* * *

Gail paused on the landing near Simon’s father’s room. She knew Simon wouldn’t approve of her coming to the B and B. In fact, he’d be angry if he learned. But she wasn’t about to let anyone get in the way of what they were hoping to accomplish. Even his father.

Especially his father.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to number six, the room number Sally at the front desk had given her, and knocked.

There was no response. Had Tex left town? She doubted they’d be that lucky. More likely he’d gotten up early and gone to the coffee shop or Just Like Mom’s.

She knocked again—and this time she heard movement.

“Later, for God’s sake!” he yelled, and something—a pillow?—hit the door, making it rattle. “What kind of place is this?”

Tex thought she was one of the maids. Briefly, she was tempted to leave it that way and scoot. Clearly, he was in no mood to be bothered. She didn’t want to tangle with him, and she didn’t want him to disturb the other guests, but she had something to say and she doubted she’d get another opportunity to say it—not without Simon around.

Calling on all her nerve, she rapped at the door again. “Mr. O’Neal? Could I talk to you, please?”

Silence met her request. Then he said, “Who is it?”

His voice had lost its gruff edge. The question held curiosity instead.

“Gail DeMarco, er, O’Neal.” She wasn’t sure whether or not to use Simon’s name. It would bring her quite a bit of clout, especially where her business was concerned. But knowing it was only borrowed for a couple of years made her feel like a cheat. And there didn’t seem to be much point here in Whiskey Creek. “Your daughter-in-law.”

“You don’t say.” A creak suggested he was getting up. She heard the bolt slide back, then the door opened and Tex peered out at her with red-rimmed eyes. “You’re here alone? Where’s Simon?”