Savage in a Stetson (Crossroads #4) - Em Petrova Page 0,4
a comforting letter to the family of the loved one who died at the nursing home.
She climbed behind the wheel and drove through Crossroads. Her own rental home sat on the other side of town, and she rolled over the big bridge, past Antonio’s Pizzeria and the Crossroads Confection Connection. As she drove by, she imagined she smelled the delicious goodies inside—cakes and cookies and hand-churned ice cream on homemade waffle cones.
She swung her head right and left, taking in the town. She passed the church, spotting a couple old sedans parked out front. That would be the old church ladies who traveled in a pack to visit the nursing home weekly. Jada turned her gaze away.
It landed on the barbecue joint. The big black and white sign had a smaller sign beneath it.
BUSINESS FOR SALE
She drove past the restaurant with the quaint colorful umbrellas and outdoor seating. How many good memories did she have at this place? Snacks after high school cheerleading. On the odd date during her college years. Stopping with her family to grab some barbecue to take on a picnic.
She whipped her pickup into the next parking lot and turned around. She bumped onto the street again and then parked in front of the FOR SALE sign. She sat there staring at the lettering for a moment.
She jumped out and walked up to the takeout window.
“What can I get you, hon?” the clerk asked.
“Is your owner in? I’d like to ask about the business.”
Her heart took off at a crazy erratic beat as she heard the request she made. Was she seriously considering—
A man appeared outside the building. She’d seen Mortimer Brown before. Crossroads was pretty small, after all. But she’d never spoken to the man.
“Hi. Miss Ellis, is it?”
She nodded.
“My employee said you wanted to ask about the business.”
“Yes.” Her mouth dried out. “It’s for sale?”
He smiled. “It’s been a long run for me, but it’s time to start the next chapter of my life. My wife and I bought a house in Florida, and we’d like to make it our permanent residence. Your parents are down there, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they moved a few years ago.” Did she really intend to inquire after his business? “What does the sale involve? Besides the property.”
“You lookin’ to make a career switch?” Mortimer eyed her in her nurse’s scrubs from under the ballcap he was recognized by.
“Considering it.” She straightened her shoulders. Why not? She didn’t have anything to lose.
“You get the property, the equipment, everything you see here, plus the secret recipes. I’m sure the employees will stay on.”
“What’s the asking price?”
He named an amount that had her knees threatening to buckle. She raised her hand to brush her hair over her shoulder.
“Would you consider a lease-purchase agreement? I’ll make monthly payments to you? We could draw something up with the lawyer.”
Mortimer gave a small shake of his head. For a moment, her heart fell. Obviously he’d deny her offer. Anything but a sale would be an inconvenience to him.
He gave her a pointed look. “You’re one determined woman, I’ll say that for you. Do you know what you’d be getting into owning a restaurant?”
She met his eyes. “It can’t be as difficult as caring for sick and infirm human beings. At least not as rough on the soul.”
He compressed his lips. “I’m sure you’re right. Okay, why don’t you come inside my office and we’ll discuss some ideas before we take it to the table?”
* * * * *
When Dominick Cole was seven years old, he had a dog who chewed up his cowboy boots.
Before he discovered the evidence, the dog slinked into his bedroom, head down and tail tucked between his legs. At the time, oblivious as to why his pet was behaving this way, Dom had given him pets and love until the dog smiled at him again.
After he found the chewed, destroyed leather, he couldn’t bring himself to scold the dog for its wrongdoing.
He was the dog in this case.
Dragging his pride behind him, he returned to Crossroads. He hadn’t faced his grandfather in too long. When Dom broke the news to him that he was leaving town to rodeo again, this round in the big-time, he’d seen for himself the devastation his words wrought.
Before his eyes, Grandpa seemed to diminish and age. He might suffer from Alzheimer’s, but Dom knew he’d recall his grandson going against his wishes and leaving Crossroads.
Seated behind the wheel of his truck, he pushed out a sigh