Cavanaugh Cowboy. Marie Ferrarella
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I can stay there?” Sully asked.
He knew that his great-uncle had said that the woman had extended the invitation, but Sully still had his doubts that the invitation had actually been tendered. He really didn’t want to impose if she didn’t want him staying at the ranch. After all, from start to finish, this had all been Seamus’s idea, not his.
“That’s what Seamus and I agreed on,” Miss Joan replied with an air of finality. And then her eyes bored into the young man before her. “Why, you change your mind about staying?”
“No, ma’—Miss Joan.” Sully caught himself at the last moment again. “It’s just that I am surprised,” he admitted.
“How so?” Miss Joan asked.
She was aware that not just her two waitresses, but almost everyone within the diner at this point was paying attention to this handsome, dark-haired young man with the liquid green eyes. That he was oblivious to the attention he was garnering spoke well of him.
“You don’t know me from Adam,” Sully replied. He was used to friendly people, but they all knew him. This situation was different.
“Maybe I don’t,” Miss Joan admitted. “But I know Seamus, and he wouldn’t send me someone who wasn’t trustworthy, even if that someone turned out to be a relative of his.” And that was that in her book. “You got any other doubts that you’re wrestling with that I can put to rest?”
A small hint of a smile curved the corners of Sully’s mouth. He shook his head. “None.”
“Okay, then,” Miss Joan declared. “Let’s get your order out of the way and then, while Angel makes it for you, you can tell me all about what that sly devil of a man is up to these days.”
Sully had a feeling that once he got back to Aurora, Seamus would ask him the same questions about Miss Joan. “Well, Uncle Seamus said to be sure to thank you for putting me up.”
Miss Joan waved a thin, slightly blue-veined hand dismissively.
“He already said that on the phone when he called. I’m interested in what he’d been doing for the last forty years before that phone call.” Then, because he didn’t begin to immediately answer, Miss Joan switched subjects like a rerouted runaway train and nodded at the menu she had placed in front of him. “Made up your mind yet?”
The woman jumped around from topic to topic like a frog landing on hot lily pads, Sully thought. But even though he’d been in her company for less than ten minutes, he knew better than to make that observation to her. So instead, he made his selection.
“I’ll have today’s special,” he told Miss Joan, pushing the menu to the side.
Miss Joan didn’t bother turning the menu around. Though it changed every day, she knew the selections by heart.
“Mandy,” she called over her shoulder, “tell Angel we need her special.” She fixed Sully with a look. “Rare, medium or well-done?”
He preferred rare, but he knew that to some cooks, that meant almost raw, so he went the safe route. “Medium.”
Miss Joan nodded, obviously approving his selection. “Good choice,” she pronounced. Glancing at the waitress she’d summoned, she saw that the young woman seemed rooted to the floor. Mandy was staring at Sully as if he was the most tempting ice cream sundae she had ever encountered. “Well, you heard the man, Mandy. Get a move on.”
Coming to, Mandy mumbled, “Yes, Miss Joan.” The brunette spun on her heel and made her way through the kitchen’s double doors.
Miss Joan didn’t bother suppressing the sigh that escaped her lips. There were times when the young women she took under her wing and into her employ could be a trial.
Turning back to Sully, she said, “All right, that gives us a little time to kill. Tell me what that old man’s been up to.”
The diner had slowly been filling up since he’d first walked in. Sully was aware of the way each and every one of the patrons who came in stared at him before they went to either a booth or one of the stools at the counter. But more than that, he was aware of their growing number.
“Don’t you have to see to your patrons?” he asked Miss Joan, hoping to redirect her attention toward something else.
The expression on Miss Joan’s face told him she knew exactly what he was up to. And she had an answer for that.
“I own this place, Sully. That means that I get to do what I want whenever I want—within reason. Since I’ve got two girls taking orders and bringing them back, plus a third girl coming in about fifteen minutes from now, that means that right now, I get to ask questions and find out what that old Romeo is doing these days.”
“Romeo?” Sully repeated incredulously.
He had been just about to take a sip of the coffee Miss Joan had poured for him, and now he was glad that he hadn’t. Otherwise he was certain that he would have wound up choking on it. Or, at the very least, spitting that coffee out in a spray and making unplanned, unwanted contact with the man he’d just glanced at sitting on his left.
“Your great-uncle,” Miss Joan clarified. “He might look like a harmless old man to you, but unless I miss my guess, there’s nothing harmless about him.” She fixed Sully with a deep, probing look. “Am I right?”
She had that right, Sully thought, recalling Seamus’s recent history. His great-uncle was more active than men half his age.
“Well, he gave retirement a try,” he told Miss Joan. “But then a few years back he showed up on Uncle Andrew’s doorstep one evening, saying that he just really wasn’t the retiring type and what he really wanted was to get back in the game.”
Miss Joan didn’t seem surprised by the revelation. Despite her earlier question, she had never envisioned Seamus Cavanaugh quietly sitting in a rocking chair, watching life passing him by.
“And did he?” she asked.
“Well, since he couldn’t get back into the police department because of his age, he decided to start up his own firm,” Sully told the older woman. “At first, it was going to be a detective agency, but he realized that that might require a lot of stealth, undercover work and although he really hated to admit it, he wasn’t as quick or as spry on his feet as he once was. Running a security firm suited his needs far better.”
Miss Joan’s deep, rich laugh echoed through the diner. “That sounds just like Seamus,” she said with something that sounded like affection. And then her tone shifted just a little as she asked Sully, “So what does his wife have to say about this newest undertaking of his?”
“Nothing,” Sully answered. He saw Miss Joan’s expertly drawn-in eyebrows rise in a silent query, so he answered her question before she asked it. “His wife died more than ten years ago. That’s what prompted him to pack up and go live in a retirement community to start with. But a few years into that, Uncle Seamus decided that kind of life was just too stagnant for him.”
“Humph,” Miss Joan reflected. “A retirement community would be too inert and soul killing for a man like Seamus,” she declared. She leaned in a little closer again. “So, how’s his firm doing? Really.”
His great-uncle had just taken on another operative and he was still turning away business. Sully had to admit that the man was happier than he’d seen him in a long while. But that was something for Seamus to share with Miss Joan on his own.
So Sully just replied, “Keeps him busy.”
Miss Joan nodded, thinking. “Maybe once you’ve sorted out whatever it is that brought you down here, Harry and I will invite Seamus to come on out for a visit.”
“Harry?” For a moment, Sully drew a blank. Was this someone in Forever, or from Seamus’s past?
“My husband,” Miss Joan clarified,