Broken Road Café 1 - The Broken Road Café (8 page)

character, and about Randolph and Mays. That company was pretty white-bread, and he hadn’t heard anything to indicate any black market trading tied to the trucking company.

Just as he reached for his laptop, the phone rang again. Dan hit speaker, half-distracted by the bits Davonna relayed to him. “Dan O’Leary.”

“Angel. My client has decided to accept your generous offer. Congratulations, sweetheart. You are the proud owner of the Blue Moon!”

Dan gaped at the phone and couldn’t believe he’d let that slip his mind. It just reminded him how badly he needed to be away from the firm and all the bullshit. He did a fist pump and a little chair dance before clearing his throat. “Fantastic,” Dan drawled out. “I’d like to close as soon as possible. And Patsy, the houses I faxed you?”

“You can pick the keys up from me anytime this afternoon. All three houses are unoccupied, so you can look at them this evening when you get here. I’ll have them in an envelope with your name on it, taped to the door.”

“I owe you one, doll.” “I take Visa and Mastercard.” Dan laughed. “Do you know my secretary,

Charity?” “Love, with a name like that, she sounds like my
kinda people.” “Oh, she is, Patsy, she is. I’ll be up there before
six, I hope, depending on traffic. It’ll probably be late
so I may stay overnight. There a good hotel nearby?” “Check in at the Dew Drop Inn. I’d show you
there myself, but I do have a reputation to uphold as
Mayor, you know. And don’t you say a word. Just
mention my name and ask for the Patsy Suite.” “Holy Christ on a cracker. Are you shittin’ me?” Dan could hear her draw in a breath. “Sweetness,
I never kid about something like that. And I never,
what was the vulgarism you used,
shit
anyone.” “I’m sorry.” Dan wondered if he’d stepped over
the line. “
Bazinga
, as that lovely young man on that
television show says. But do tell Maryella to give you
the mayoral discount.” “Lady, you are too much.” “That must be why you like the men, darlin’.” Crossing his arms on the table, he laid his head
on them. “You win.” “I usually do,” she laughed, and something in his
chest relaxed. He could learn to love this woman. “I
have to run, baby, so see you tomorrow for breakfast
at the café. Nine sharp. Ta.” She might just be the death of him. * Traffic was a little heavier leaving the city than
he thought. It being a Friday night, that really didn’t
surprise him, and he was glad he’d packed a small
duffel bag. Jeans and tee shirts would do him the rest
of the weekend, and his shaving kit, and he could buy
anything else he needed. There would have to be a
drug store or a Wal-Mart somewhere. He got to Patsy’s office around six-thirty, and
grabbed the envelope off her door. Sending her a
quick text to let her know he was in town, he decided
to take advantage of the early evening sun and look at one or two of the houses before he checked in to the hotel. When he’d done the search on the MLS service, using Gary’s log in information—hey, he’d take what he could while he could—there were quite a few cabins available in the area. Most were rentals owned by investors, and had a minimum of two or three acres on the mountainside so that neighbors weren’t usually within view. While that sounded like heaven right now, he didn’t think he wanted to go from city
mouse to country mouse quite that soon. The first house was a split level ranch in an okay
neighborhood. Lots of bicycles on the laws, which
meant tons of kids. In fact, the house next door on the
right looked like the neighborhood hangout for the
under ten set. While he liked kids, having a
menagerie of the critters right up his ass made him
feel a little nauseous. One or two, yes.
Yours, Mine and
Ours
, no. The second house had potential. Set at the end of
a cul de sac, it was a single story brick, three
bedroom, two bath fixer upper. The location was nice, and the outside looked great. When he went inside, he saw some damage to the sheetrock in several rooms and carpet that looked like it had been chewed up, swallowed, then vomited back out. Patsy had left a note on the faxed copy—
Doll baby, you can get this one for a steal. Which is what the last owners got, fifteen to twenty for grand theft. It will clean up nicely, just like my Howard on Sunday’s when we go to services at the Methodist Church. I can line you up with a contractor, a plumber, and a HVAC guy (the lovely previous owners put kitty litter down the vents and concrete in the toilets, God love their little black hearts). If you don’t mind renting for a couple of months, it may be a good buy. Just wanted you
to know. XO Patsy.
Dan debated whether or not to hit the third
house before checking in, but with the fading light
decided to check in at the hotel first. He did mention
the mayoral rate, and the woman behind the desk
laughed and grabbed a key. “Ms. Patsy already
hooked you up, Mr. O’Leary. Room thirteen, outside and around the side, at the back. In case, you know,
you need to make a quick exit.” He stood there with his mouth open for a
moment, then reached for his wallet to pay for the
room. “Oh sweetheart, I was just playing with you.
And it’s on the house. Didn’t you know? Patsy and
her husband own the hotel.” “Well, of course they do.” What else could he
say? The room was actually quite nice. The quilt on
the bed was hand stitched, and the rocking chair in
the corner looked like an antique. No television, but
Dan didn’t plan on staying in the room long enough
to watch anything, and if he did, he had his e-reader
with him. He wanted to sleep when he got back from
looking at the third house and maybe grabbing some
dinner. The next day he planned to walk through the
main street area and browse the shops, try to get a
good feel for the town. That might help inform him
which house he wanted to buy. And then it would be
time to sleep again, and home on Sunday afternoon. He had to smile at himself. Even with trying to be
spontaneous, he was planning his day. At least, he
wasn’t plugging all the events into his day planner on
his phone. He had to cut himself some slack—he’d
only been a gentleman of leisure for less than a
month. It would come to him sooner or later.
Probably later
. Dan figured he’d better grab something to eat
while he still could. He wasn’t familiar enough with
the local fast food places and grocery stores, so he
stuck to what he knew and grabbed a to-go order
from the Blue Moon. While he sat waiting for his
burger and onion rings, he watched, just to see how
the flow of the evening went. There were a few
patrons at the counter, and two or three groups of
teenagers talking and sharing orders of chili fries. The
server, a woman who looked to be around forty,
smiled and joked with the kids as well as the older
folks sitting at the counter. The cook, a younger guy
Dan hadn’t met yet, laughed and yelled from the
kitchen. He closed his eyes. This would be his. He would
be part of this. He didn’t want to come in and change
things up, so he’d need to meet with everyone who
worked here. Try to alleviate all their fears, let them
know he would pay them their salaries while the
renovations were going on. With any luck, it would
only be a matter of weeks. What the hell did he know
though—maybe they could keep parts of the place
open while work was going on. The only kicker
would be the kitchen. Hard to serve food when the
appliances were being replaced, and— “Sir? Your order is up.” Shaken out of his thoughts, he had to smile. It
was nice to lose himself in something other than a
contract, or finding precedent for a legal defense.
“Sorry, just gathering wool I guess. Hey, tell me, how
do you like working here? Is this a good place?” He
handed over a twenty to pay for his meal. The woman he’d been watching—her name
badge read Amy—grinned widely and looked
around. “It’s a great place to work. The owners are good folks, and they trust a body to do their job. There’s enough traffic with the tourists to keep the place busy without killing us, and it’s not like some of those small towns you hear about where the people are leaving in droves. Those kids back there?” She pointed to the two four toppers with the groups of what looked like mid-teens. “I grew up here with most of their parents, and they’re good kids. They’ll probably go to college, and come back and work

computers or accounting or start up some new business. Not much crime, just the odd theft, or something. Usually by the tourists.”

Dan smiled and wondered if she realized how open she was being. Back in the city, a waitress would be pushing you out the door, trying to get her set-up done so she could get off her feet. Or just not looking to talk. He knew he was exaggerating and stereotyping—there were plenty of good people in Atlanta, and he’d always managed to find places in East Atlanta Village or Decatur or Clarkston, somewhere not downtown, where the work ethic was just a little different from those who worked downtown. Those were usually college kids in a hurry to get you served and out the door, or slick professionals who gave you a big smile, but it was about as deep as a puddle on the street.

Amy kept going. “My husband and I thought about moving to Atlanta when our daughter went off to school, but it’d be like…I don’t know, hon. I just like it here. Here in Blue Ridge and here at the Blue Moon.”

“I’ve heard rumors the place is for sale.” Dan wondered what the staff were thinking, if it had been broached with them that the place was already sold. They had to know it was for sale; that wasn’t a secret. But had Bill and Adele let them know it was a done deal?

Her smile fading just a tad, she shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, the potential new owner is some big wig lawyer out of Atlanta who doesn’t know diddly about running a restaurant. I think we’ll be okay as long as he doesn’t come in and try to change things up and make the place something it isn’t, you know? The thing about the Blue Moon”—Amy leaned over the counter and patted Dan’s arm—“is it isn’t the booths or the stove or the dumpster or the walk-in freezer. It’s the people who work here, and the people who come in here to eat. At the end of the day, what do most people remember about a good meal, hon?”

Realizing she really was asking him, Dan paused to think about it. “The food. And if the server took good care of them.”

“Got it in one, handsome. You know at McDonald’s you’re gonna get the same hamburger and fries in Opelika, Alabama, or Helena, Montana. That’s what makes them the big ol’ giant they are. But ask someone about the Blue Moon? They’ll tell you good country cooking, and God, that waitress named Amy or the waiter named Jake made me feel like nobody on the face of the earth was more important.” She grabbed a pot of coffee and a pitcher of Coke and went out to do refills. “You have a good night, darlin’.”

“You too, Amy.” Dan stopped, opened his wallet, and slid a hundred dollar bill under the glass of water he was drinking. He’d make sure she stayed, no matter what. Dan was beginning to think he’d have to reconsider his plans for the place. Sometimes, when it ain’t broke, you don’t fix it, as his daddy used to say.

Humming, he left the café and got in his car, anxious to see the last house on his list.
Chapter Nine

The GPS directions landed Dan in what appeared to be a solid middle class neighborhood. The houses were spaced apart nicely, and each one he saw as he drove slowly up and down the street a couple of times was nicely maintained. Pulling into the driveway at 245 Fountain Lane, he stopped the car and sat for a moment. The top was down, and he just…listened. The quiet had a feeling, a texture, and sound. It was peaceful, and he felt his heart skip a beat. This was nice. He could picture sitting here, a chair outside in the dark, being and enjoying.

Dan got out of the car, grabbed the keys and a flashlight he’d brought in case it was dark, and navigated his way to the front door and unlocked it. He automatically reached for the switch to turn the lights on, and was a little surprised when they didn’t work. Having considered it might happen, though, he made his way through the house, shining the large lantern type light he’d brought with him. He looked around the den and kitchen, then went down the hallway leading to what appeared to be the master bedroom, and he thought he heard a noise. Dan stopped and listened, but didn’t hear anything else so he shrugged and stepped through the door and shined his light around.

The room was…magnificent. Even with limited light, he could see the possibilities, how he wanted to set his bed up with his stereo. Some furniture was in place, to give buyers a perspective on the room, and he was grateful. This room had a skylight over the bed positioned against the wall, and another wall that was almost all glass overlooking the back yard. The stars and moon were out tonight, and the light was beautiful. Dan could imagine lying there listening to Linda Ronstadt or Jackson Browne, or snuggled in a wingback chair reading.

He stepped forward and just as he looked up, he was hit from behind and thrown on top of the bed, his arm yanked behind his back. Shocked, he hardly noticed as a handcuff locked down on his wrist and whoever was straddling him now tried to grab his other wrist. Oh, fuck no! Dan wasn’t a small man, and the adrenaline rush of being attacked gave him the strength to buck the stranger off his back and onto the bed. Dan was up and on him in a minute, grabbing the guy—yes, he was certain of that now—by the balls and squeezing.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The guy under him moaned, and Dan tightened his grip. “You better fucking have the key to these cuffs handy, or you and me, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“It’s you who’ll have the problem. Breaking and entering, assaulting a police officer, just off the top of my head.”

Dan’s blood went cold. No. Fucking. Way. It couldn’t be. “Chief Nick?”
The man grunted underneath him. “And you are? Hey, buddy, can you let go of my balls? I’d like to be able to use them again someday.”
His hand jerked away like it was burned. Dan sat back and hunted for the flashlight he’d dropped when he was attacked. Finding it on the floor beside the bed, he flicked it back on just in time to catch the big cop roll painfully over and sit, hands cupping his crotch. Part of him wanted to play Whack-A-Mole with the jerk, part wanted to help him, but the majority of him wanted to scream at him for attacking him in the dark.
Taking a deep breath, Dan moved over to sit beside the chief and shine the light between them, so it illuminated both their faces. Dan waited a long moment for the man to look over, and when he did, he saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Daniel O’Leary. What are you doing breaking into my neighbor’s house?”
Dan closed his eyes to calm his frazzled nerves, and to keep from exploding all over the guy. “If you’d bothered to ask, I’m here taking a look at a real estate listing. Your good mayor gave me the keys and told me it would be okay to look around, but evidently I’m supposed to make a fucking appointment with the chief of police.”
Something dark flashed in Nick’s eyes, and Dan almost leaned back away from him. “For your information, Mister O’Leary, I live next door, and when I saw lights in a house that’s supposed to be empty, the logical conclusion to draw, Slick, is that it’s being robbed. Now wouldn’t you agree?”
“No, as a matter of fact I wouldn’t, Mr. Oliver. I assume you’re off duty, so you’re no longer chief, and the logical thing to do would have been to call 9-1-1, or else yell hello, you moron.”
The two men moved closer together, almost but not quite yelling at each other.
“And your first response is to grab a man’s balls? That’s logical?”
Dan was right in Nick’s face, his brain on overdrive. He noticed the dark chocolate of Nick’s eyes, the tiny lines around his mouth. The way his moustache was trimmed so close, and how good the man smelled. Not thinking, he barked, “It is if you like dick, and you’ve been pushing that thing in my face since we met.”
The tension ratcheted up then, and the only sound was the short gasps of air both men sucked in. Dan wasn’t sure which man moved first, but suddenly their mouths were locked together, teeth clashing and tongues fighting. Dan was pushed onto his back, his mouth ravished and hands fighting against clothing. The lantern clattered to the floor, ignored. Dan’s buttons popped off his shirt, and suddenly he felt the hard, hairy chest of the cop against his smooth one. He groaned, and reached up to grab Nick’s ass, humping and rolling his hips to get friction against his straining cock.
Dan kicked his shoes off and worked a hand between the two of them to unzip his jeans and push them down. Nick seemed to catch on and his shorts and underwear were off and then he was helping