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“Nothing?”
Was she referring to herself or what they once had together?
“Nothing work-related.” He tried again to express himself. “I’m good at this, Frankie. Just like you’re good at cooking. And I’m convinced I can make a decent living. Also like you. We aren’t that different.”
“Why did you come back?” She not only returned her attention to him, she stared intently.
“To see you. Now that I finally have something to offer. I’m hoping you’ll...reconsider. Give me another chance.”
“You hurt me, Spence. A lot. You know I wanted to get married eventually and have a family. Yet you left. Again. I got the message loud and clear. You weren’t ready.”
He blew out a long, resigned breath. “I can’t tell you how many regrets I have.”
“I’m not sure I can trust you.”
“I’ve changed. I swear.” Even as the words left his mouth, he realized he’d said them before. “This time, it’s true.”
She hesitated. Well, at least she wasn’t telling him to get the hell out of Mustang Valley and never come back.
“I need time,” she finally said. “To think.”
“Sure. Sure.”
“I’m not the same person, either. A lot’s different.”
“I want to hear all about it.”
“Give me until tomorrow.” Though they weren’t quite done eating, she began putting food away. “Meet me at the café. Ten thirty sharp. We can talk before my shift starts at noon.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t be late,” she added.
He chuckled. “What? Is this a test?”
“As a matter of fact, it is.” She abruptly stood and sent him a look that left no doubt.
Chapter Three (#uead4fa66-b991-5a78-9c2e-25a73000103a)
Frankie sat at a booth in the café, waiting for Spence and staring at her phone. Swiping her finger across the screen, she read and reread the terms of her equity crowd-funding campaign. What had struck her as simple and straightforward when she started her campaign now appeared confusing.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined someone donating a thousand dollars, much less ten thousand. If she upheld the terms of her campaign, and accepted Spence’s money, he’d own 10 percent of her company. A company that, without him, was no more than a glorified hobby.
The thought staggered her. And scared her.
On the one hand, Spence offered her the chance to realize her long-held hope of owning her own business. On the other hand, the offer came with strings. Lots of them.
Groaning softly, she set her phone down, angry at herself for stalling. The big issue wasn’t her crowd-funding, it was telling—or not telling—Spence about their daughters, Paige and Sienna.
“You want a refill?”
Frankie glanced up to find her coworker brandishing a pot of coffee.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
She was already unnerved at the prospect of seeing Spence for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. More coffee would literally give her the shakes.
“I was going to ask you,” the young woman said, leaning closer. “Would it be all right if I took tomorrow off? I know it’s late notice, but Shelly Anne said she would swap days with me.”
Frankie shrugged. “I’m okay with it, but you’d better talk to Antonio. He has the final say.” She barely hid her frustration.
“Yeah. Hmm.” The young woman frowned. “What do you make of him?”
“He seems nice enough. I only spent about an hour with him. We’re supposed to work together on the inventory this afternoon.”
“He has no experience. You should have gotten the job,” the woman added in a hushed voice.
Frankie glanced at the pass-through window, where the top halves of Cook and Antonio could be seen, the two of them moving back and forth in front of the grill. Tia Maria had decided her nephew should train with Cook today, learning the ins and outs of how the kitchen functioned.
“It is what it is,” Frankie said. “But I appreciate the support.”
“What are you going to do?”
She thought again of Spence, her crowd-funding campaign and breaking the news to him that he was a father. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing. Maybe surprise everyone.”
A customer two booths over hailed the waitress. She lightly touched Frankie’s shoulder before murmuring, “See you later,” and hurrying away.
Frankie closed the open web page on her phone, simultaneously checking the time. Ten fifteen. She’d warned Spence not to be late. Would he take her seriously or, as usual, come dragging in when he felt like it?
She swore she could feel the stares of half the café’s customers boring into her. They’d probably heard Spence was back in town. Also that Tia Maria had hired her nephew. The customers no doubt wondered what she was doing here, sitting in a booth rather than waiting on them. Who came to their place of employment during their time off?
Someone preferring neutral territory to converse with the man who’d shaped her entire past and could conceivably alter her entire future.
“Hey, there, Frankie.”
Another interruption. This time from one of her sister Mel’s veterinarian clients.
“Hi. How you doing?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” The trim and athletic senior woman didn’t wait for an invitation and slipped into the booth across from Frankie. “I saw Spence this morning. He was at Powell Ranch. Did you know he’s back in town?”
“Yes.” She refused to say more.
“I overheard him chatting with the Powells about boarding a couple of horses.”
“Really?” Frankie didn’t let on he’d already told her this.
“He must be staying in town, then.”
“I...couldn’t say.”
Disappointment shone on the woman’s face. She’d obviously been hoping for more of a reaction from Frankie.
Unbelievably, the subject of their conversation breezed into the café, the glass door whooshing closed behind him.
“Great,” Frankie muttered under her breath. The one time Spence arrived promptly, and she had to be sitting with someone itching for a repeat-worthy moment. “I, um, hate to ask you to...”
What should she say? Please leave?
Of course, Spence spotted her immediately and came right over, returning the greetings given him from various old friends, but not stopping.
Frankie had barely caught her breath when he appeared at the table, grinning broadly, looking scrumptious and not at all fazed to find someone with her.
“Morning,” he addressed the woman. “We run into each other again.”
“Yes, we do.” Her glance traveled between him and Frankie. “I didn’t realize you were waiting for him.”
Frankie’s hands betrayed her, starting to tremble. She hid them beneath the table, cursing the coffee she’d drunk and knowing it wasn’t the cause.
“Am I late?” he asked.
“No. I just got here.” Did half an hour ago count as “just”?
“You ready?” He held out his hand.
What the heck was going on?
“If you don’t mind.” He turned his attention to the other woman, who stared at him with wide eyes. “Frankie and I don’t have much time.”
Frankie grimaced. As if tongues weren’t already wagging.
“Don’t let me hold you up.” The woman vacated the booth.
Frankie suddenly realized Spence was rescuing her from an uncomfortable situation. Not causing trouble. When had he become astute enough to read other people’s feelings, and thoughtful enough to respond?
“Uh, yes.” She tentatively accepted his hand and let him assist her from the booth. They started walking toward the door. “You can let go of me,” she whispered.
“Come on. Let’s really give them something to talk about.”
It wasn’t the stares bothering her. Not even close. What worried Frankie was that the instant she and Spence had touched, familiar sensations stirred inside her. And rather than resist, she’d savored them.
Outside, she reclaimed her hand. “Where are we going?” Her original intention had been to talk in the café.
“Let’s walk. I haven’t had a chance to check out the town since I got back.”
This time of year, mornings were cool enough to be outdoors. Within a few hours, however, the temperature would soar to the mideighties.
“As you can see,” Frankie said, “things are mostly the same.” At least walking provided an outlet for her nervous energy.
“I see the feed store has changed hands.”
“The owner sold the store after his assistant manager was involved in a series of horse thefts around the valley.”
“And your sister Mel helped catch the thieves. She’s marrying the deputy who headed up their capture, right?”
“She tell you that yesterday?”
“Actually, I heard about it last month when I was passing through town.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“The timing wasn’t right.”
Was it because he finally had money? Frankie had never cared that Spence wasn’t wealthy. She’d grown up in a modest home, but one filled with love. Though she’d lost her mother at a young age, her father had done his best to ensure his daughters’ happiness. She knew there were more important things in life than having a fat bank account.
They crossed the street at the corner and headed down the next block.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asked. “And for the record, I wasn’t late.”
No, he’d been early. “My catering business. I’m not sure you know, but a ten thousand dollar contribution entitles you to a 10 percent ownership and a share of the profits.”
“Sounds a little like my arrangement with Han Dover Fist. I own 15 percent of him and get a share of the profits.”
“Do you have a say in his management?” Frankie was genuinely curious.
“Not anymore. He’s retired from the track and living the life of a king at Cottonwood Farms. Quit a winner—that was my boss’s philosophy.” Spence indicated a group of boisterous riders tying their horses to a hitching rail beside the Poco Dinero Bar and Grill. “I see that practice hasn’t changed.”
“And likely never will as long as we’re a ranching community.”
At the next corner, Spence asked, “What are your plans for the catering business? Mel and Ronnie mentioned you’re just doing side jobs right now.”
It was a reasonable question, especially from a potential investor. Besides, Frankie would rather talk about her business than the girls.
“I’d like to buy a smoker. Commercial grade, I should say. All I have now are two small ones. More chafing dishes. And warming boxes to transport food. Then there’s advertising and promotion.”
For the next five minutes, she outlined her ideas. Spence made several intelligent comments that had her contemplating her answers.
“Sounds good,” he remarked when she was done.
“How involved would you expect to be?”
“Are you asking if I intend to stick around?” He flashed her the same happy grin he’d used back when they were dating, to lighten her mood or ease her worries.
“Honestly? Yes.” She kept her voice level.
His response was more important to her than she cared to admit.
“I suppose it depends a lot on you.”
