17. Aaron

17

AARON

Spotting the dog treats I bought in town yesterday, I grab the bag and head out the door. Mae is behind the front desk, and she’s just the person I’m hoping to see.

“How are you enjoying your stay?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye. “Your second time in Aqua Vista, if I’m not mistaken?”

I nod and shift uncomfortably. “The first was because my car needed work, and now it’s because I needed a little R and R.”

It’s not the whole truth, but she’ll probably hear about our sales offer eventually.

She smiles. “Well, it’s lovely to have you back.”

“Thanks.” I shift the bag to my other hand. “I heard you also run a dog rescue?”

It was Jack who mentioned it, but why bring him into the conversation? It would only prove my return visit was intentional for different reasons.

“Sure do. It’s out back.”

I glance through the window toward the mountains, wondering how she manages it all. “Well, I was at the bakery and decided to get some homemade cookies for them.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” She eyes the bag. “Want to hand them out yourself?”

“Sure!”

She says something to another employee behind the desk, then motions toward the back entrance. “Follow me.”

We head down a walkway toward a fenced-in field, where about a dozen dogs are roaming around, some playing, some sunning, others sleeping. They are a mix of sizes and breeds and seem perfectly content and well cared for. When we arrive at the gate, I notice the structure toward the back that must house them at night, along with two staff members rolling out the hose and large bowls, no doubt to offer them a water break.

“You ready for this? Not afraid of dogs?”

“Nope, I’m good.”

As soon as Mae opens the gate, the dogs’ tails begin wagging excitedly. As they rush toward us, I can only imagine how someone with a fear of dogs would feel as they surround us to bark, nuzzle, and vie for our attention.

It makes me smile as I bend forward to pet a retriever and a border collie. “Wow, this is impressive. Can’t wait to tell my mom about this place.”

Mae scritches the smallest dog under the chin. “Is she a dog lover?”

“Uh-huh. She’s always wanted to work with animals, but that idea fell to the wayside due to medical issues.”

Mae frowns. “Sorry to hear that. That’s how our little Charlie came to need us. His owner had grown too ill to care for him.”

While Mom’s asthma has grown persistently worse, she was never able to get her dog-walking business up and running. She volunteers at an animal rescue sometimes, alongside her job at a nursing home—the latter having taken its toll. I offered her my spare bedroom so she could retire early, but she refused. She may have her struggles, but she likes to be independent and keep busy.

I open my bag and break the treats into enough pieces so each dog can get one, and then we throw the ball with them for a while. I spend way more time there than anticipated because it feels so peaceful. I snap a few photos and a video and fire them off to my mom. She asks me all sorts of questions about them that Mae helps me answer. Maybe she’ll want to come someday for a visit. Not that we don’t have shelters in the city, but out here, it feels different. I can’t put my finger on exactly why.

Maybe because it doesn’t seem so overcrowded and anonymous. Mae knows each and every resident the dogs came from. “See the little black pug? Mr. Blake had to relocate in a hurry for a job, and his new apartment didn’t allow animals.”

“I’m surprised you don’t appeal to the residents of Aqua Vista to take them in.”

“That would not be a good idea. Some don’t do well with animals.”

“True enough. What about the McCoys?” I look away, embarrassed I asked, but I can’t help being curious.

“As far as I remember, they had a family dog who passed before the accident.”

My stomach constricts at the way she says accident reverently, like it needs to be mentioned delicately. I can understand why. No doubt it was a huge blow, not only to the McCoys but to the town.

“Not everyone is able or interested in the work involved in owning an animal.” She points to a dog mucking it up at the water hose. “That golden doodle was a puppy when he came here because a young family with four kids had too much on their plate.”

“It’s lucky they have you and this place.”

She nods. “How about you?”

“We had a cocker spaniel growing up.” I smile at the memory. “My mom now has a Yorkie, Minnie, and she takes her everywhere with her.” She even brings her to the nursing home to cheer up patients. “I’ve always felt I’m gone too many hours to care for an animal.” I hitch a shoulder. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

“I wish more people thought it through like you have.”

I stand and pat off the dirt. “Anyway, thanks for letting me hang out. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“I’ll head back inside with you.” I notice how she pops a piece of gum and wonder if she’s decided to give up smoking since the last time I was here.

When we get to the lobby, there’s a familiar figure waiting at the front desk.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I take Rocco’s arm and drag him away from Mae and her employee’s prying eyes.

“Wow, testy.” Rocco’s chuckle is hesitant, like maybe he had his doubts about showing up too but then somehow convinced himself it was a good idea. “I wanted to see this place for myself.”

“You wanted to check up on me,” I reply, trying not to sound so terse, but his visit has thrown me and seems a little underhanded. Why is he dead set on this one sale in particular? “I’ll be home on Sunday. You could’ve waited.”

“Maybe I also needed a weekend away,” he says, and I roll my eyes. Rocco rarely does anything without intent. “Anyway, I met your guy.”

“He’s not my guy.” I clench my teeth as I lead him to a bench in the lobby. “What did he say?”

“He knew who I was.”

“Well, duh. He’s smart, and you stick out like a sore thumb.”

He straightens the lapels of his jacket. “Suppose I do. Now come on, show me around. Or at least feed me. I’m famished.”

I reluctantly lead him up to my room, where he’s lucky there’s a second queen bed. He washes up and changes into jeans and a button-down shirt, but it does little to diminish his sales-guy look. It’s always been that way with him, whereas I need to try a bit harder. It was Rocco who suggested the nice suits and the decked-out BMW. He wasn’t wrong, but they never quite felt like me.

“There’s a place in town with good burgers,” I say as he follows me to my car. I purposely drive through the town center to show him the charm of it, though he doesn’t point anything out or even say much. I could’ve chosen a different place to eat than the Witching Hour, but I’m hoping to convey to Johnny that Rocco showing up wasn’t my idea. In turn, I hope he somehow gets the message to Jack.

Turns out I can deliver the sentiment myself because he and Frank are already there, sitting on barstools, with beers in front of them. And sure, a little part of me hoped that would be the case, so I guess I got lucky. But when I see Jack’s expression sour, I steer Rocco across the bar and toward two seats far enough away that Jack doesn’t think we’ve timed our arrival to accidentally-on-purpose bump into them.

“Hey, Aaron, what’ll you and your friend have?” Johnny asks, and I have no doubt Jack already told him who Rocco is.

Ever the confident businessman, Rocco introduces himself before we order drinks and food. To Johnny’s credit, he acts like he’s hearing about my business partner for the first time.

I try not to look at Jack across the bar, and it seems he’s having the same problem. My fault for not thinking through our seating arrangement.

Rocco and I make small talk while we sip our beers and wait for our burgers.

“It’s a nice little town,” Rocco says blandly, which tells me he’s not impressed. And I get it. I wasn’t either at first glance. “Not that it matters what I think. It’s all about that service station.”

I grit my teeth, ready to defend Aqua Vista, when Frank’s voice rings out. “Rocco, is it?”

“That’s right,” he replies as my eyes dart to Jack.

“I’m the mechanic at the service station. Was curious about the make and model of your ride. An LC?”

“An LX 600. It’s only a year old. Got a good deal,” he admits, like paying a little less than an exorbitant amount of money for a car is something to be proud of. Not that I can talk. “Sweet, right?”

“Definitely. Especially the…” I tune them out as I focus on Jack, who’s clenching his jaw between sips of his drink. I try to catch his eye, but he’s not having it. I sigh and tune into the last bit of their conversation. “Well, if you ever need any work done…”

“If we owned the station, we could keep you on—both of you, in fact,” Rocco responds, and I kick him under the stool. “What? It’s true, and we could bring in more business too.”

“Jesus Christ, stop,” Jack says, his voice wrought with frustration.

I can feel the other bar patrons staring.

“Excuse my asking, but what exactly is your holdup?” Rocco persists. “Maybe we could come to some sort of middle ground and?—”

“The answer would still be no.” Jack slaps some bills on the bar. “I’m outta here.”

I watch his legs eat up the distance to the door as Frank gives Johnny a look. I consider going after him, but knowing Jack, he won’t entertain a conversation.

I mouth sorry to Johnny, and he gives me a curt nod.

The conversation turns awkward, and once we’re finished eating, I’m ready to leave, so I fish out my wallet and set it on the bar top.

“Cashing out?” Johnny asks, his tone formal, as he removes our empty plates.

“Please,” I reply, then make a face at Rocco as he retrieves the bill.

“What did I do?” he asks quietly as I beat him to the punch and slide my card toward Johnny.

“They look after each other around here.” Once the bill is paid, I stand. “Let’s go.”

We say our goodbyes to Frank, who thumps me on the back in sympathy, and we drive back to the inn in virtual silence.

In the parking lot, I cut the engine. “Maybe next time, read the room. You’re not in San Jose. Things move differently around here.”

“Well, damn. I didn’t mean?—”

“I told you I had it handled. In fact, you do that to me a lot. I might not be as savvy as you, but I know when to back away from a business deal that’s about to sour. You should’ve left it alone.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he admits. In the end, it’s what makes him a likable guy. He can at least acknowledge when he’s wrong and normally tries to make up for it.

“What I don’t understand is why you seem overly invested in this business plan. What am I missing?”

He winces. “Since the housing market bubble burst, opportunities are drying up, and…well, we know how that goes.”

This business is fickle for sure, so you’re either riding a high or picking at scraps. “Still, we’re not hurting. We always make do, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I suppose I just worry because…Corrine’s got all these ideas about buying a new house and owning land, and she’s got some upscale tastes.” High maintenance is more like it when it comes to Corrine, but I don’t say that. “So I can’t help wondering if I’ll be able to provide her the kind of life she dreams of.”

“You give her plenty.” I scoff. “And life is about more than material things, isn’t it?”

He nods, but sometimes, I’m not sure he believes it. “I know I get a little overzealous about what seems like a kickass idea. The moment you mentioned the service station, it sounded almost too good to be true, so I thought we should jump on it.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll admit, I wasn’t as enthusiastic about it as you, but that was just a gut feeling about the owner.”

“And I should’ve listened.” He thumps my shoulder. “None of this would work without you keeping me in check. We may have different skill sets, but that’s what’s made our business a success.”

“I know.” I sigh. “Let’s head to the room. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

Once back inside, we change for bed, and Rocco says, “Maybe I’ll apologize before I leave town.”

“Not a bad idea,” I reply, sinking against my pillow.

“I’m beat,” he says around a yawn, and it only takes about five seconds after he cuts the lights before he’s out. Rocco snores softly while I lie there, staring at the ceiling.

After another few minutes go by, I can’t take it anymore. So I slide out of bed and, once dressed, tiptoe across the room and out to my car.

When I pull up to Jack’s house, I’m surprised to see him standing in his driveway near his truck.

I exit my car and approach him cautiously like he’s a tiger ready to pounce. “Are you going somewhere?”

“To the beach with my camera.” He jangles his keys. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither. I didn’t know Rocco was coming. No way I would’ve invited him.”

“That’s not what irked me. It’s just… He obviously still thinks there’s a chance I’ll sell the place.”

“It wasn’t me who gave him that impression.” I huff out a breath. “He can be persistent, which probably makes him a better businessman than me.”

“If you say so.” He makes a frustrated sound. “It certainly rubs me the wrong way. Or maybe I just don’t like all that slick sales-pitch stuff.”

“In his defense, you’re a tough nut to crack, Jack McCoy. No way I’d ever want to cross you again.”

It’s the first hint of a smile I see from him tonight, and it renders me speechless. The way his eyes are clear and bright and he lifts one eyebrow in amusement… He’s a beautiful man, and it’s hard to turn away.

“Anyway.” He clears his throat. “High tide is coming in, so I’m heading down there to get some shots of?—”

“Can I tag along?” I blurt out.

Our eyes meet and hold. “Suit yourself.”