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Shane chuckled. “You’d be right about that. But you know who she might listen to?”
Zeke gave him a blank stare.
“Her son. Thomas works for you, doesn’t he?”
All he could muster was a grunt. Pulling Tom aside and telling him to speak to Agatha on his account sounded even worse than speaking with Shane. At least Shane had the smarts to be discreet. Who knew what Tom might assume?
Zeke pulled away from the railing. “I’ll give it some thought. It might not even be an issue. I think she’s grown accustomed to having her own little retreat out in the wooded area.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me.” Shane smiled. “Oh, and since we’re discussing Agatha’s rebuild, I wanted to offer some funding—anonymously of course.”
“Of course.”
Shane held out his hand for Zeke to shake, and he accepted. “Thanks, Mr. Callahan.”
Zeke clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re family now. No need to be so formal.”
Another chuckle reverberated from his chest. “Perhaps in time. You’re still just as intimidating as the day I heard about you.” Shane headed inside, and Zeke lingered on the porch. Funny how quickly Zeke had grown accustomed to Agatha’s presence in the cabin and how tempted he was to call the motel and buy up all the rooms to prevent her from leaving.
He wouldn’t do that. But the thought still lingered in the back of his mind.
* * *
Zeke fingered the fancy fabric napkin at Shane’s restaurant. This was the first time he’d stayed at the country club for more than a few minutes and the only time he’d come to the restaurant.
From what he could tell, it stood up to the hype. Shane had done very well for himself. It wasn’t any wonder why Eloise loved working in the kitchen as well.
Charlotte’s voice echoed around him, and he glanced up to find her chatting away. She was soft-spoken but still a chatterbox, reminding him of the songbirds that woke him in the early morning hours.
Petite, with a small, upturned nose and dyed black hair, she could have been compared to a field mouse. Zeke was beginning to realize why Brielle had thought they’d hit it off. This woman, while not physically similar to his late wife, had some mannerisms like her. Evelyn didn’t talk nearly as much, but she blushed easily, and her laugh was infectious.
Charlotte was similar in those ways. She looked away, her cheeks burning. “I’m sorry. There I go rambling on again without giving you a chance to say two words. Tell me something about yourself. Your daughter mentioned that you have a profitable ranch and that your late wife passed when she was a little girl, but I’m afraid I don’t know much else.”
Why was it that when Zeke gazed at this woman, he found himself wanting to be with someone else—someone who wasn’t afraid to meet his eyes for longer than a few seconds?
“Zeke?”
He jumped, and her face came into focus.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, my apologies. I’m a bit distracted.”
“Oh? Is there something wrong?”
Zeke shook his head. “Not anymore. My neighbor—her house burned down a little over two months ago and I’m working with some of my men to get it rebuilt.”
Charlotte gasped. “Oh, gracious. I hope everyone got out okay.”
He nodded. “Yes, it’s mostly just property damage. We’re getting closer to finishing the basic stuff, and then we’ll move on to the more designer aspects.”
She reached across the table and touched his hand but pulled away just as quickly. “That’s so wonderful—you helping her, that is. I don’t know of many who would offer.” Her eyes dropped to her lap. “She must mean a lot to you.”
Zeke gave her a funny look—one she missed due to her intense focus on her hands that were now in her lap. “Why would you say that?”
Charlotte’s eyes flitted up to meet his and she smiled. “Just like I said. It’s not often that someone would help their neighbor just out of the goodness of their heart.”
“Well, my mother raised me right. I’m just going to assume you’re referring to the men of this generation.”
