Since most people didn’t order the house blush, he’d always assumed it was bad.
Settling into her seat more comfortably, Lana leaned on the counter. “Christmas in Moose Springs. This is a first for me.” Swirling his terrible excuse for a rosé in her glass, she glanced out the window. “Anything I should know?”
“About the holiday or about what toes not to step on?”
A pretty smile curved her lips. “Both.”
“The hotel you’re staying in is about to be stuffed to bursting. When the Christmas crowd flocks in, it’s standing room only up there.”
“It’s been a little crowded for my taste,” Lana said. “Although it’s always nice seeing everyone full of the holiday cheer. The decorations are fabulous.”
Rick glanced at his pitiful attempts to spruce the place up. A fake Charlie Brown Christmas tree on the end of the bar with beer cap ornaments wasn’t exactly high-end design. His ex had put it up the first year they’d opened, and Rick hadn’t been able to throw out that sparse excuse of a tree, no matter how many extra needles it lost every time he pulled it out.
Lana followed his glance toward the tree, then she smiled at him. “But I always did prefer holiday decor with meaning.”
An awkward silence fell between them, in which he tried and failed to think of something to say and she sat there, sipping her wine and not rescuing him.
“I make you very uncomfortable, don’t I?” Lana finally sighed. “Don’t worry. I won’t be long. I wasn’t ready to go back to the resort and face the pile of paperwork waiting for me. There’s too much to do back there and never enough hours in the day.”
“We probably should talk about the rent,” he said tightly. It was best, he supposed, to get it all out in the open. “I know the check I wrote this month isn’t enough, but the list of crap that keeps breaking down is ridiculous.”
“We don’t have to talk about that unless you want to. I actually came for a drink. I’d normally go to the Tourist Trap, but…”
“But Graham fell in love, and who knows where he’ll be?”
“Oh, I know exactly where he is.” Lana’s lips curved before she took another sip. “And I know they’re not interested in having any company right now.”
“There’s a nice bar at the resort.” Nicer than his anyway.
“Is that your way of asking me to leave?” She flashed that playful look of hers his way, and suddenly Rick realized something very important about Lana Montgomery. That breezy smile of hers, the one she used no matter what the situation? It was total bullshit.
There was a bottle of bourbon beneath the bar that was Rick’s private stash. He’d never opened it before because…well…it was pricy, and he hadn’t had any reason to.
The top was sealed in wax, dripped artfully down the neck. Instead of trying to pretend to be someone he wasn’t—someone used to bottles like these—Rick pulled his knife out of the leather case he kept clipped to his belt. It had been his father’s knife and his grandfather’s knife, passed down in the family since his grandfather had gotten it after coming home from World War II.
Once, Rick had assumed it would be his son’s knife. Then life had taught him a few lessons, and he’d set those assumptions aside. Today, it was the knife that scored a circle around a bottle of bourbon he hadn’t planned on opening. After popping the top off, Rick poured her a glass first, then a second for him.
“Thank you.” Manicured fingers lifted the drink. Lana sniffed delicately, as one was probably taught to do with alcohol. Rick didn’t know. He was more of a Bud Light kind of guy.
Rick took a drink and then started choking. This time, her breezy laugh was softer, throatier. Real.
“Some people cut this with water or add ice,” she told him before taking a sip. “It’s more of a slow drink than a…”
“Chug?”
“Yeah, you totally chugged it.”
Rick added a couple of ice cubes to his drink. He offered her the same, but Lana shook her head. It shouldn’t turn him on knowing she was sipping an alcohol that had made him choke, but there he was, trying his darnedest not to look at her lips touching the rim of the glass.
“I figured it’s better than the rosé. Still, probably not like what you’re used to.”
She hummed in a noncommittal fashion.
It took him a while to look up at her, and by then, she’d gone back to staring out the window.
“I promise I’m not half as bad as they think I am,” Lana told him, that bright, teasing smile back on her face as she absently played with the single string of miniature multicolor lights he’d taped along the bar. “Only a third as bad, sometimes a quarter.”
Such total bullshit. He’d hurt her feelings.
“Never thought you were.”
Four words that wouldn’t fix what he’d broke, but the sweet look she gave him almost made him think he’d been forgiven.
“Besides, I kept expecting you to come in here,” Rick said, giving her another opening to talk about the back rent. Another opening she didn’t take. Instead, she sipped her bourbon.
“This is really quite lovely.” Lana ran a thumb along the rim of the glass, her finger trembling lightly. Maybe she was cold?
Of course she was cold. The furnace in the place sucked.
“Any advice for me? Rumor has it that you’re no stranger to moose catching.”
Rick shook his head. “With that moose? Not a one. We’ve tried and failed to catch it every year.”
“Well, I’ve already started brainstorming. I think the key is to find the right lure. Just like with fishing, if you know what attracts it the most, even a Santa Moose can be snagged.”
“Just be careful out there. Fish aren’t over six feet tall, and they can’t kick your head off,” Rick said with a chuckle.
“I’m tougher than I look,” Lana promised with a little curve of her lips. “I’m betting I can pull this off.”
“If anyone could, my money’s on you,” Rick told her, leaning on the bar between them. She flushed in pleasure, which hadn’t been his intention, but Rick sure didn’t mind. “So what’s it like owning the town?”
Lana shook her head. “I don’t own the town. I’m simply a caretaker of some of the buildings for now. Speaking of which, you mentioned things are breaking.”
“Is this where you ask for the tour?”
“Are you offering?”
The last thing he wanted to do was take Lana around in the back, but Rick knew he didn’t have a choice.
So he showed her the modest kitchen, where he made and froze pizzas to cook for later. Everything was spotlessly clean…Rick had learned early that a clean kitchen was incredibly important in a business, but what he had was either run-down, breaking, or broken. Rick had stuck Post-it notes to everything based on priority of fixing. The freezer door that kept sticking was low priority. He could muscle it open as necessary.
The heater was shot, leaving a cold kitchen with space heaters positioned under sinks to keep the pipes from freezing. That was a little higher up the list but still not the worst of his troubles by a long shot.
“It’s not half this cold in the other room,” Lana said, shivering.
“The ducting is jacked up somewhere, but I’m too large to access it. I think an animal ripped it up. It stays cool enough not to need an air conditioner in the summer, or I grab a fan. It’s a waste of money to dump heat in here in the winters, so I use space heaters under the pipes. I shoved some insulating foam in the vents I could access to keep the air in the front room as much as possible. The fireplace out there helps a lot.”
“Foam in the ducting? Isn’t that a fire hazard?” She sounded concerned.
“I used the rubber kind, and I check it to make sure it doesn’t get too hot.”
“Didn’t you tell the previous owners?” When Rick shifted uncomfortably, Lana’s frown deepened. “Let me guess—they said any internal building issues were the tenant’s responsibility. The contracts they made you sign were ridiculous.”
Since Lana’s company had bought out those contracts, it was the same deal Rick had with her. And he would have stuffed his head in a snowbank before telling her he couldn’t afford to call a ducting company.
There was more. Windows that were old, leaking in water and leaking out heat, no matter how much caulk he used. A delivery ramp with a dangerously wobbly railing. Wiring for both indoor and outdoor lighting that he was slowly fixing as he had the time.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lana frowned, turning a circle as she took in the damage.
His silence must have spoken volumes, because this time, Lana failed to keep a professional expression. “I’m aware I’m not the most popular person in this town, but I’d be remiss to let one of my properties go into disrepair. Didn’t you get the memo?”
“We all got the memo.” Rick didn’t meet her eyes. “I guess I was hoping if I didn’t make waves, I might be able to catch up on rent before someone said anything.”
Rick knew he wasn’t the first person to admit they were struggling to make ends meet. However, it was humiliating to stand in front of her, jaw tight and gaze on the wall over her shoulder.
“I know.”
Rick’s eyes found hers. “You knew?”
“The Montgomery Group holds the leases, but I’m personally invested in what’s happening in this town. I know as much as I can about the businesses here, including the owners of those businesses.” Lana added, “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to unearth everyone’s deepest, darkest secrets.”
“You wouldn’t find much.” With a rueful look, Rick shook his head as he led her back to the front room. “In Moose Springs, we can’t keep anything secret if we wanted to. I’m guessing they all know what I had for breakfast this morning.”