“Same goes, Ace Thompson.” She slammed the door shut. “Same goes.”
ACE WALKED INTO the empty flour mill and looked around the open space. He had a cramp in his right hand that signified his ownership of the place, and he’d signed his name so many times that morning his signature had started to look like it wasn’t even made of letters anymore.
But now it was official. The old mill that had been standing empty for years, a ghost waiting to be brought back to life. He stood, looking around at a whole lot of square feet of potential, and expense. The roof had a steep pitch, a mezzanine floor overlooking the vast, empty room. The large picture windows gave a stunning view of the steel-gray Pacific ocean and white-capped waves.
He’d gotten a killer deal on the place considering the location. Of course, it had been a killer deal since the building itself was little more than a gutted corpse lying on the beach. A giant-ass beached whale.
Call him Ishmael, and shit.
But he could see beyond all that. The bar did well enough that he could afford this investment. He could afford to expand. It was a strange thing, committing to that. Committing to moving forward. To really admitting that his life was in Copper Ridge now. That he owned bars. Or, in this case, a brewery.
He checked his watch. Jack Monaghan was supposed to be here any minute, along with Eli Garrett. Ace had the money to put into this place, but he’d really like to kick it off with some investors.
The more interest he had from the community, the better off he’d be.
Buying his current bar had been more of a sure thing. Ted, the old owner, was retiring and that was going to leave a hole. Someone had been needed to step into that hole and fill it with booze.
Ace had been happy to oblige.
But this would be a new place in an old town. Another change to a landscape that had been pretty damn stagnant until recent years. And he had no idea if this was a change that would take, or if it would just get washed away with the next tide.
He turned a circle, his footsteps echoing off the high ceiling. It was easy for him to picture the place filled with chairs. Tables, the brewing equipment in the back. He was getting pretty good at making his own microbrews, and they were popular on tap over at his bar. He had done everything he could to test the venture and make sure it would be something that at least had a fighting chance. But like anything else it was impossible to guarantee.
Business ventures went to hell all the time. Business ventures. Careers. Marriage.
At least, that was his experience.
Still, he was starting to get itchy. He wanted more. Needed more. This was more.
He heard the door open behind him and he turned around just as Jack and Eli walked into the room.
“You made it.”
“Yep.” Jack paused, running his hand over one of the support beams. “I’m always interested in an investment opportunity. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not actually a dumbass.”
“I know you aren’t,” Ace said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “That’s why I asked you to come out.”
Of all the people in Copper Ridge, Ace had had the most contact post-high school with Jack. It still hadn’t been much, but back when Ace was riding pro in the rodeo, he and Jack had crossed paths on a couple of occasions. Ace rode saddle bronc, and Jack had been a bull rider, but they’d made time for a beer or two on a few occasions.
But Ace had quit long before Jack, settling down in Texas for good, or so he’d imagined at the time.
Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Ultimately, Ace had made his way back to Copper Ridge permanently before Jack had to.
But he’d always gotten a sense that there was a lot more to the other man than he liked to let on. He related to that in some ways.
“I like a good investment, too,” Eli said, moving deeper into the space. “But no one really doubts that.”
Jack laughed. “That’s for damn sure. We’re all pretty sure you have the word responsibility tattooed on your ass.”
“I don’t,” Eli said. “I don’t have any tattoos.”
“Of course not,” Jack said.
“So,” Ace said, eager to get things moving along. “This is the place. I plan on having a full restaurant menu, and a brewing facility. I’ll be serving my own microbrews. Which I will also be selling over at the bar.”
“Sounds like a great plan to me,” Eli said. “What kind of food are you talking about?”
“More than hamburgers. I’m thinking we can get a good assortment of seafood. I’ve already been talking to Ryan Masters about him supplying the restaurant with his catch of the day.” Ace was pleased that this new venture gave him opportunity to work with local businesses. Ryan was the kind of guy Ace liked to do business with. Hardworking. Brought himself up from nothing. A guy very unlike the West family. Who he had no call to be thinking about now. “Not too fancy or anything but you know...the type of microbrew pub stuff that hipsters lose their minds over.”
“Great idea, man,” Jack said. “I’m in.”
“That’s it?” Ace asked. “You don’t want to see any credentials, or spreadsheets, or anything.”
“I wouldn’t understand them if you showed them to me,” Jack said. “I’m smart with my money. By which I mean I pay someone else to manage it.”
“Well, sounds smart to me,” Ace said.
“I’m in, too,” Eli said. “I was telling Sadie all about it last night, and she was pretty excited. She would have come today if she had been able to get out of taking a group of people down to go whale watching. But this is exactly the kind of thing that’s going to help bolster her business with the bed-and-breakfast, too. Tourism is really up and coming here, and I think we need more places like this.”
“I’m surprised, Sheriff, that you’d want to invest in a place that encourages drinking.”
“It’s expensive drinking. Microbrews are pricey, right?” Eli asked.
“I guess so,” he said.
“I like that. The cheaper the beer, the more people drink. Bring in some of that fancy-ass stuff and people have to think really hard before they go trying to get hammered on it.”
Ace laughed. “True enough.”
“Hey, before we head out,” Jack said. “I did have a favor I wanted to ask you.”
Oh, there was that other shoe dropping. Ace should have known it wouldn’t be that simple. “What favor?”
“It’s about Sierra West.”
Ace thought back to last night, to the verbal sparring with that pretty blonde, who was a lot less pretty when she was running her mouth. “What about her?”
“She’s going through some stuff. You could probably tell by her behavior last night.”
“Not really. I run a bar. Her behavior seems run-of-the-mill to me. Actually, she was pretty tame. And I don’t know her from a barnacle on the bottom of a fishing boat.”
“Just trust me, she’s going through some stuff. She kind of had a falling-out with her old man.”
“Is that so?”
She’d said that all of her drama was over a man. He supposed that counted. It