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Chapter One
October. Almost five months since he’d returned to Midland, Texas, from Afghanistan after a suicide bomber dropped a building on him and some buddies. Tanner Logan swallowed hard. What the hell were so many people doing at the Lost Weekend Bar’s open mic night on a Wednesday? He considered leaving, hell should have the moment he walked in and saw the crowd, but as he was up that option had passed.
His hand tightened around his guitar neck as he took the stage. He needed this. The only time guilt demons and his pain left Tanner alone was when he sang or played his guitar. There was something about singing in front of folks that produced an energy in him, like a drug. After receiving his final divorce decree today, damn he needed that high, the peace only music provided.
“Evenin’ folks. I’m Tanner Logan. I’m gonna sing “Beers and Sunshine” by Darius Rucker.” He didn’t say more. Didn’t need to. Since returning to Midland, he hadn’t socialized much, mainly because speculation about what he’d experienced in Afghanistan, talk of his injuries, and reasons for his divorce had circled around town faster than coyotes around a calf they’d cut from the herd.
He closed his eyes and strummed the guitar strings, the intro’s strong thum, thum rhythm washing over him. His mind drifted back to his summers in high school, soothing him as he sang the upbeat song. Everything and everyone faded away as the song transported him. Darius was right. The only BS anyone needed was beers and sunshine.
When Tanner finished, applause drowned out the fading guitar cords. Stepping off the stage and out of the bright lights, faces in the crowd came back into view. His throat tightened. People stared, ones who wanted to know intimate details of his life that weren’t their business. People who’d labeled him a hero. People who no longer saw him as a person.
Once back at his table, he placed his guitar in the case on the floor beside his table.
“Mind if I join you?”
Tanner turned to see a beautiful woman with olive skin and coffee-colored eyes dressed in jeans and a low-cut red sweater that left little of her voluptuous assets to the imagination. It took him a few seconds to recognize her as an old high school classmate, Kaylee Johnson.
The need to know his body still worked, that his ex-wife hadn’t emasculated him, spiraled through Tanner. Along with that came the craving for the solace a man could only find in a woman’s arms by connecting with her on an intimate level. He stood, pulled out the chair for her to sit, and smiled. “I’d like that.”
“I’ve been hoping I’d run into you so we could catch up,” Kaylee said.
Sure, she said that in the bar’s dim light and seated to his right. But if she could see him clearly, would she stick around or toss out an excuse to leave?
Dismissing the disturbing thought, he turned to Kaylee. “Can I buy you a drink?” After she nodded, Tanner flagged down his server, Shannon. The young woman approached from his left, all smiles.
“What can I getcha?” she asked Kaylee.
“I’ll have a sex on the beach.”
Okay. Was that a hint? Hell if he knew. But with the drink she chose…
“Can I get you another Shiner Bock?” The server turned to Tanner. The smile on her face froze, and her eyes widened before her gaze focused on the table.
Yup, there it was. The fear, pity, or revulsion he’d seen more than a time or two from women when they noticed the scars on his neck and jawline. That was on the rare occasions he’d ventured out. He barely got the words to tell her he’d like another beer, before she scurried off to get their drinks.
Hopefully he’d have better luck with Kaylee. Not knowing what else to say to her, he said, “What’ve you been up to since high school?”
“I work for Marino Realty. I was in the office until six months ago when I got my Realtor license.”
“Do like your job?” Damn, he was out of practice at this, but what did he expect on his first day as a single man?
As she rattled on about the ups, downs and competitiveness of the housing market, his mind wandered. He’d expected returning home to be tough. Having a building dropped on a man, then waking up in a world of pain from burns he’d received, and learning a friend was dead, messed with a man’s head.
What he hadn’t expected was his wife filing for divorce after he’d been home barely a month.
Shannon arriving with their drinks interrupted his thoughts and Kaylee’s monologue. Once the waitress left, Kaylee said, “You may not know this, but I always had a crush on you in high school, but you couldn’t see anyone but Vanessa.”
Why the hell would she bring up his ex? The woman he’d been with since he started dating at fifteen. The only woman he’d made love to and planned on spending his life with. He lifted the beer bottle to his lips and took a long drink.
“But even if you two hadn’t been together,” Kaylee said pulling Tanner’s attention back to her, “you wouldn’t have noticed me because you were the star athlete, prom king, and valedictorian, while I was an average student and a band geek.”
The past, especially his high school glory days and failed marriage, was the last thing he wanted to discuss. Unfortunately, as he discovered when he arrived at the Lost Weekend Bar from the way folks bombarded him with questions, most folks in Midland felt different.
Shoving those thoughts aside, he smiled at the woman sitting beside him. “I’m seeing you now, Kaylee. That’s what matters.”
“I think Vanessa was crazy to let you go.” Kaylee licked her lips and leaned toward him, giving him a good view of her cleavage.
Her subtle offer should be a wet dream come true for any man, but certainly for one who’d been celibate for almost a year. He waited for desire to light him up, for his body to come to life. But instead of a wildfire burning through him like drought-stricken Texas brush, a candle flame flickered inside him.
Damn. Okay. Plan B. He’d fake it until it felt real. “How about we go somewhere quieter to talk more?”
“What a great—”
“Hey, Tanner, I thought it was you.”
Recognizing the voice as belonging to an old high school football teammate, Tanner braced for the conversation to come and plastered a smile on his face. “Good to see you, Joel.”
The clink of dishes, boisterous conversation, and the group of female friends massacring the latest Taylor Swift hit on the stage swirled around Tanner, mixing into an overwhelming wall of sound.
“I want to buy our big war hero a drink,” Joel said.
Despite the noise, his old friend’s words hammered into Tanner like gunfire. War hero. Hardly.
“Maybe another time,” Tanner said.
“Tanner and I were about to leave,” Kaylee said.
“Oh, come on. You two can stay a while longer,” Joel said as he pulled a chair up to their table and sat. “Suicide bomber. That’s rough. How’d a terrorist get the jump on y’all?”
How many times had Tanner dealt with similar insensitive, stupid questions or leading comments tonight thinly disguised with concern? Since he’d quit counting fifteen minutes after he arrived, he couldn’t guess.
He resisted the urge to rub his temples. While the action might ease the pressure in his head, it would attract more attention. Instead, he forced air in and out of his lungs, to keep the weight on his chest from crushing them. “I was lucky. A lot of soldiers weren’t. Some died.”
Like his friend Landon Connell.
“I heard you’d got burned pretty good,” Joel continued.
Kaylee’s hand squeezed Tanner’s arm, drawing his attention to her. “Come on Joel. Obviously, the gossips got it wrong since he looks fabulous.”
A bitter tang coated his tongue and slid down his throat. He hated the innuendos the worst of all. Ones designed to get him to confirm or deny the comment. Gazing at Kaylee, her eyes that had flared with desire moments ago now shone bright with curiosity.
He jerked away. His patience shattered, he cursed himself for his stupidity in coming tonight as he dug money out of his wallet and tossed bills on the table to cover the drinks.
His anger taking control, he decided to hell with fighting everyone’s curiosity. He shoved his chair back with such force it clattered to the floor. As he stood, Tanner called for everyone’s attention. Silence descended on the bar as all eyes focused on him. “I’m done with the rumors. You want to know what happened? Here you go. The terrorists used a sick kid to distract our man at the front door allowing the bomber to sneak inside.”
The gazes of those around him burned into Tanner as painfully as the wood had that day while the details burst out of him. Suicide bomber. The building collapsed. Him and two buddies injured. Another killed. “I heard my friends screaming for help. It took longer to recognize some of the screams were mine.”
He slid to his left to stand directly under an overhead light. Another wave of anger detonated inside him. Tendrils as hot, searing, and damaging as the flames he’d fought that day tore through Tanner. “You want to know about my injuries? My scars? Here.”
He tore open his button-down, long-sleeved shirt revealing the burns on his chest. Buttons pinged as they bounced across the floor. His gaze moved around the room, locking eyes with anyone who still had the nerve to face him. Sweat trickled down his back. “Everyone take a good, long look. Any questions?” A few shook their heads in response. The rest averted their gaze. Everyone remained quiet. “Good.”
He turned to Kaylee, allowing her to see the left side of his face and his bare chest. She gasped and clutched her purse against her chest as a shield. “Guess you’ve changed your mind about us catching up,” Tanner said.
“No, it’s not—” She paused. “I’m in shock. It’s a lot to take in. That’s all. I had no idea…” She paused again, her posture rigid, her face pale. She swallowed hard. “Considering all this maybe we should take a rain check. Call me and we’ll set a date to get together.”
“Sure,” Tanner mumbled, though they both knew he never would.
Damn, he was glad to be done with trying to hide the truth and fearing folks’ reactions.
His shirt flapping against his skin, Tanner worked his way through the maze of tables toward the front door. Thankfully people cleared a path. No one looked in his direction or had the balls to talk to him.
Once outside he inhaled deeply. As he headed toward the parking lot and his truck, his phone rang. After retrieving his cell from his back pocket, he saw his younger sister, Everleigh’s name and shook his head. He kept hoping to make it through one day without Everleigh or his mom checking on him, but no luck for that happening today.
“Did you simply forget or purposely blow off dinner with Mom and Dad tonight?” Everleigh said after he answered.
“Damn.”
“I’ll take that as you genuinely forgot. Not that it makes any difference to Mom, who is about to send out a search party, by the way.”
Tanner sighed and rolled his shoulder, trying to ease the knots bunched up there. He loved his mom, but she’d gone off the deep end worrying about him and her well-meaning kindness only made his situation worse. “Tell her I got a flat or something, but I should be there in fifteen minutes. And if you could pry her off the ceiling and calm her down before I get there, that would be great.”
“How am I going to do that without access to major tranquilizers? I’m not a miracle worker.”
“Sure, you are,” Tanner said.
“That is such a pile of bullshit.”
“But you’ll try anyway?”
“You’re going to owe me big for this favor,” Everleigh said.
“You got it. See you soon.”
Two hours later after yet another uncomfortable dinner with his mother watching him as if he’d disintegrate in front of her, Tanner arrived home. Home? He laughed at that thought as he stepped inside the sleek modern corporate apartment. The stark white décor accented with turquoise pillows and carefully selected glassware showcased his ex’s tastes.
One flash in time, the moment the building crashed down on him and his buddies, cost Tanner everything—a good friend, his wife, the home they shared, and his job in said now ex’s family business. He just hadn’t known it at the time.
The day his ex-wife filed for divorce, her father, the CEO of Sotzen Petroleum Group called Tanner into his office. When he closed his eyes, the scene replayed in his head. The office had been designed to impress. With its oversized, dark leather couch and chairs it made any man under six two appear small. On the walls framed photos showcased the company’s history from its inception to today’s status as Midland’s largest employer. His father-in-law Mason, normally an easygoing good old boy, sat behind his massive cherry desk, wearing a suit and tie instead of his customary navy slacks and button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Figuring an important meeting the reason for the suit, Tanner hadn’t been concerned. When he greeted the man, who’d become like a second dad to him, and Mason failed to look him in the eye, Tanner knew he was in serious trouble.
“Sorry, Tanner. This isn’t easy because I think of you as the son I never had, but now that you and Vanessa are getting divorced, she’s uneasy around you. I’ve got to do what’s best for my daughter and frankly, best for everyone and the company.”
Tanner sat frozen in the chair opposite Mason, knowing the man was waiting for him to say he understood and would pack up his office today. No way in hell would he make it easy for Mason.
The older man cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. “I’ll write you a glowing recommendation, give you triple what we usually do for severance, and let you stay in the corporate apartment for as long as you need.”
Pulling away from the memory, Tanner stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of Maker’s Mark, and took a long drink. The whiskey burned when it hit his stomach, but then the liquid’s warmth spread outward.
Bottle in hand, Tanner stalked into the living room and stretched out on the couch. Until tonight, he’d never understood how twenty-two veterans a day could commit suicide.
His gaze locked on the painting by Maureen Claffy entitled Archangel Gabriel hanging above the couch. Despite Texas being a community property state, the painting, a graduation gift from his godmother, his clothes and his money from the house sale had been all he took from his marriage.
Never one to ooh and aah over art, Tanner found it odd how the image eased the tightness in his chest and calmed him. Vital turquoise lines radiated outward from the center of the painting in a cross-like shape. Yellow shown through in smaller bursts as if light radiated outward. He waited for the band constricting his chest to loosen. Where was the calm, strength, and hope he normally felt gazing at the image?
“You’re an angel. Excuse me. An archangel. What’s the answer to my problems?”
Quit looking in a bottle and call Boone.
The words reminded him that when he’d ended his call with his sister, he noticed Boone had left a message. Tanner smiled thinking of the man who reminded him of his own grandfather, who owned the small ranch outside Midland before his parents. Both men possessed a down-home wisdom mixed with strength and humor. He’d lost his grandfather three months into his first deployment. Getting to know Boone during his last one when the small town of Service, Texas, adopted his unit, had helped ease his grief.
They’d talked about their life in the military. Tanner had shared his plans to work in his father-in-law’s oil company once he left the army. Boone talked about his restaurant, The True-Blue Bar and Grill, how business had decreased in the last few years, and bounced ideas around about how to improve sales.
And Boone had talked about his granddaughter, Reese, sharing stories of her childhood and them working together. According to him, his granddaughter could power most of east Texas with her beaming smile and was a “ray of sunshine” to everyone around her.
Tanner grabbed his phone and listened to Boone’s message. Call me. I need a favor.
He gazed at the painting again. Call Boone. Don’t waste the gift Landon gave you.
Landon. Tanner massaged the corded muscles in his neck as he thought of his big goofy friend who’d given his life to save the rest of them. His sacrifice deserved better than Tanner drinking himself into oblivion in a futile attempt to forget.
Plus, Tanner owed Boone. After the bombing, his friend’s letters and reminders that if Tanner gave up, the terrorist won kept him going. When Boone answered, Tanner said, “What’s the favor?”
“A couple weeks ago when I offered to sell you part of the restaurant, it was because you needed a fresh start.”
When Boone first brought up the idea, Tanner had laughed off the comment. Then his friend insisted he was serious. While Tanner agreed he needed a new start and especially a job, he wasn’t sure jumping from supply chain management working for an oil company to owning a restaurant was the answer.
“Now I’m asking because I need you to partner with Reese so I can retire,” Boone continued.
“It’s ’bout time you retired. Not that you can’t do the job, but as hard as you’ve worked, it’s time you do all those things you’ve talked about like getting that RV to visit those national parks and old army buddies.”
“That and spending the day fishing does sound mighty fine.”
“You don’t need me, Boone. Not when Reese has a degree in food service management and has been your manager for years.”
“Sure, she could run the place by herself, but she’d work herself into the ground doing it.”
But after the disaster at the Lost Weekend and the tense family dinner Tanner wondered if fate was telling him something. “I gotta admit the idea doesn’t sound as crazy tonight.”
In fact, getting away from the memories of the life he’d planned with his ex, his mom’s overwhelming fear, and Midland in general sounded pretty darn good.
“Then get here to Service,” Boone said. “A former military man won’t find a better place for a fresh start than here. With all the veterans living in town and those who come to Horses for Heroes for therapy, you’ll blend right in.”
“Hold on there. Why would you trust your life’s work to someone with no food service experience?”
“I wouldn’t if I didn’t think you had what it takes,” Boone said, his voice ringing with confidence. “Your purchasing and other supply chain management skills are assets. Pair that with Reese’s hands-on day-to-day knowledge and you two are set.”
The thought made sense to Tanner. That meant the question became if he wanted to own a restaurant. His right thumb massaged the still red, new skin on his left wrist.
“Running a restaurant comes down to hiring good people who respect folks, treating them right and making good food at a fair price,” Boone continued. “You gotta make sure you’re bringing in more money than you spend. The tricky part is what we’re going through right now with income dropping.”
“But we know what’s causing the drop in sales.” Through their discussions, he and Boone realized the additional competition in town meant The True-Blue needed to attract younger, more social customers who’d stay longer, and spend more money.
“I’ve been up-front with you about the shape of my business. It won’t be easy to turn the place around, but it’ll be good for you.” Boone paused. “You need something to occupy your time and your mind to keep you from giving up.”
“I haven’t—”
“I’m not buying what you’re selling. I hear it in your voice. I’m worried about you, son.”
Tanner couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t worried about himself. Whether he’d thought about owning a restaurant didn’t matter. If The True-Blue would challenge him, end his damn job search where he had to creatively explain why he’d left his last job, and get him the hell away from Midland, he was all in.
“This will give you a new start, and help Reese have a life outside of The True-Blue, which she won’t have without a business partner.”
Tanner thought back over what Boone told him about his granddaughter. She’d hung around the restaurant from age five until she was put on the payroll at sixteen. After college, she returned to help her grandfather, now a widower, run the restaurant. Boone claimed without Reese he wouldn’t have survived his overwhelming grief.
“She might hide behind sarcasm and insist she doesn’t need anyone because she can do everything on her own, but she’s got a soft heart. She worries about how business decisions affect folks. How they’ll hurt or upset someone. Some of the decisions about staff, the menu, and the restaurant itself could be tough for Reese.”
His hand gripping the phone had started tingling so Tanner switched hands. “I want to help you, but I tried working in a family business, remember? It didn’t turn out well.”
No one other than Boone knew the truth about Tanner being fired.
“This will be different. First, you and Vanessa were a couple before you worked together. You were also her daddy’s employee. With the restaurant, you and Reese will start off as partners. You’d own 50 percent. Same as Reese. That situation’s as different an animal as a bull is from a horse.”
“You got a point there.” He and Reese would be equals. They could set expectations and boundaries to keep their personal lives separate from work. But what if they disagreed on tough issues?
Glancing at the painting, he imagined the colors had grown brighter. He blinked. What was with the optical illusion?
Grab the blessing you’ve been given for a fresh start and be thankful.
“What’s Reese say about this?”
Silence greeting his question told him she wasn’t on board with the sale. That detail changed everything. Talk about a no-win situation. “Reese isn’t on board with you selling. You should’ve told me that first.”
Boone chuckled. “If I’d done that, you would’ve said no straight outta the gate.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Bless my granddaughter’s heart, she refuses to see I’m too old to be running the restaurant. She still sees me like she did when I was fifty.”
“You have talked to her, right?”
“When I bring up retiring, she darts off faster than a chicken when the farmer grabs the axe.”
“If she isn’t on board with this, it’s a deal breaker, Boone.”
“I need to slow down. It’s time. Maybe past time.”
Tanner’s chest tightened with apprehension. He’d heard Boone mad, joking, frustrated, and tired. But tonight, he sounded different. Through their conversation, his friend’s voice had remained tight, and at times, tinged with fear. Concern rippled through Tanner. He’d learned to read the older man well enough to know something else was up.
At Boone’s age, health issues could crop up. Some like arthritis or diabetes, more manageable than others. More serious issues like heart problems, dementia, and cancer ran through Tanner’s mind.
“What else is going on here? Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I need you to do this for me.” His friend’s quiet plea told Tanner all he needed to know.
“I need to wrap up a couple things here.” Starting with figuring out how to break his plans to his folks, or rather his mom. “If you talk to Reese and she’s okay with our partnership, then I’ll pack my stuff, and see you Sunday.”
End of Excerpt
