And now it was a living breathing thing. A place that was just mine, not The Gregory Brothers.
I stepped from my Jeep that was older than dirt, and smiled at the sight of Mayor Carson, arms folded but smiling broadly. “Ryan Gregory. Good to see you.” He extended a hand to me and I accepted it with a grin of my own.
“Still weird that you’re the mayor, but it’s good to see you too, Chase.” I still remembered him as my girlfriend’s pipsqueak little brother with his nose stuck in a book.
“It’s my third term, Ryan, about time you got used to it. Especially now that you’re a business owner.” He nodded over his shoulder to the brick building with Dark Horse scrawled across the front, complete with a Stetson wearing stallion as the logo, even though I was no damn cowboy.
“Third term, huh? Good for you.”
Chase rolled his eyes. “You donated to my campaign, Ryan.”
“Me? Can’t be true.” I shrugged it off because the kid was good at his job. I didn’t spend much time in Carson Creek these days, but the gossip still managed to reach me.
“How’s it feel to be back in town? You’ve been gone a while this time.”
I nodded, acknowledging the truth of his words. “Been too long if you ask me, but this tour is major for us.” After so long in the game, it was a gift to be so popular, to adjust to the digital age of music and streaming, after two decades in the business. “Feels strange, but good to be back, which pretty much sums up life in Carson Creek.” It was always an odd mix of relief to be someplace familiar, and anxiety about being around people who knew everything about you.
Chase laughed and shook his head. “A sentiment I understand completely.” He clapped me on the back and there it was, that sense of relief that came whenever Chase was kind to me. Civil. His sister hadn’t forgiven me for leaving to pursue my dreams. Still.
“I’m excited to come back for an extended stay once the tour is over, though.”
The sound of heels clacking behind me drew my attention to Margo Blanchard-Devereaux, the owner of The Old Country House, the business and the actual house. She wore a pale pink suit with matching heels, walking at a fast clip as if she was always in a hurry.
“Ryan. Mayor. Sorry I’m late, I had a panicking bride to deal with.” Type A to the core, Margot smoothed over her pristine clothes and hair with a sigh. “Good to have you back, Ryan.”
“Temporarily,” I added with a smile for an old friend.
She flashed a proud smile, the one I’d gotten used to over the years as the whole town took pride in the success of the wild Gregory brothers. “How’s the tour going? I read somewhere that the last two weeks sold out in just minutes.”
“Yeah, the crowds have been amazing.” It’s not that I was uncomfortable talking about my work, my songs and music, but touring was part of the job. Enjoyable for the fans who came to hear the live version, to sing along and have a good time. Ticket sales was for the studio to worry about.
The conversation fell flat, and Margot, never one to endure awkward silences, clapped her hands briskly. “I’m excited to see the inside of this place. Your assistant has been very tight-lipped,” she added with a frown. “Very.”
I laughed. “Devon is efficient and loyal.” My assistant didn’t do anything he didn’t want to unless it was about protecting my image and privacy, and I’d given explicit instructions that I wanted to see the finished product first.
“Yes, well, he is that,” she added haughtily and looked up at the restaurant sign with a frown. “I still wish you would have chosen a different name. One that’s more customer friendly.”
I sighed, wondering if the built-in business would be worth the hassle of Margot’s constant needling. The woman had to have everything her way or she fell apart, but this was my baby. My business. “I can always find another location so you won’t have to see such an eyesore, Margot.”
She blinked in shock, eyes growing round at my harsh words because everyone in town went out of their way to be polite, even when it wasn’t warranted. Recovering quickly, Margot brushed off my words with a smile. “Just some friendly advice.”
“From your long tenure in the restaurant business?”
Margot was saved from scrambling for an explanation when the doors of Dark Horse opened and Devon appeared, with a welcoming smile for everyone except Margot. “Looks like we have a crowd.” His questioning gaze slid to mine, and I knew he was wondering if this group counted as me laying eyes on the restaurant first.
“It’s fine,” I assured him with a sigh. I wanted time to look at the place on my own, to give it a thorough examination so I could sit with it, figure out if it was what I wanted for my first foray into real world investments. “Input is always welcome. So is word of mouth promotions,” I added with a grin.