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“I’m so glad we went for a hike today,” I said sarcastically. “You know I love these reporter-like questions.”
“You said ‘wine-drinking.’ There are a lot of ways to describe someone, and that’s pretty specific.”
“Oh geez.”
“So spit it out, mister. You can pull that mysterious man shit on other people, but not me. Full disclosure.”
Sisters. Sighing, I grabbed a hold of a tree to get up a tricky bit. Damn, this was steeper than I remembered. Kudos to Jess for kicking the mountain’s ass.
“Full disclosure? She may be too good for me.”
“Bullshit.”
“Figured you’d say that.”
“Because of the restaurant thing? Has to be. Because otherwise, you think you’re God’s gift to earth.”
“You make me sound like some pompous asshole.”
“I mean, if the shoe fits.”
I said nothing to that. It was getting harder to talk anyway. For the next twenty minutes or so, we didn’t talk but instead navigated the path to the top. It was a short, steep hike but, like I remembered, worth it. What a view.
“Look at that,” Jess said, the clear sky giving us a perfect view of the mountain range. It might not be as spectacular as some higher peaks, but these rolling hills told a story. They’d been here for a long, long time.
“Stunning,” I agreed.
“She’s not too good for you. So, knock it off, figure your shit out, and don’t ruin a good thing if she’s really this paradigm of womanhood like she seems to be.”
Figure your shit out. Not so easily done.
“Zoe was talking to the owner of a local bar last night,” I said. “He and his dad own half the town. Nice guy. Really like him a lot. Owen was one of the first people I met in Kitchi Falls. Anyway, I guess he’s having a baby and is looking to take a step back. Works at the bar a lot but also owns the general store on Main Street.”
“So, what does that mean?”
“I dunno. Might be looking for someone to manage the place.”
“Would you want to do that? Manage a bar?”
I’d been thinking about that all morning. “I actually thought about getting a loan for a bar instead of a restaurant. I think it fits me better. But a new one opened up just down the street from KC’s Taphouse, Owen’s bar. It’s a little different, kind of like a honky-tonk, but still. The town’s not that big.”
“So, maybe this is the perfect answer?”
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally. He wanted a manager. Or maybe. . .
“Jess, we have to head back. I need to make a call.”
Without waiting for my sister, I started back down the path.
“Nate? Where’s the fire?”
“No fire,” I called back. “Just have to get down to make a call.”
“To who?”
I nearly slid down some gravel but wasn’t going to let up. It was like for the first time since I’d come back, outside of the bedroom with Zoe, a fire had been lit under my ass. My heart pounded, the idea crystalizing with every step I took.
“You’re a genius, Jess.”
