13
MAVERICK
BAD BLOOD
“Happy birthday, man.” I slap Jesse’s shoulder and shove the bottle of booze I bought him on the shopping trip with Taylor toward him in a grand gesture. We’ve been working together all day but saved the gifts until we can relax.
Jesse takes the Copperworks Single Malt and studies the label, nodding with appreciation. “The good stuff.”
“Only the best for my brother.”
His expression switches to intense, the way it always does when we have a rare moment of acknowledging each other’s role in our lives.
“How many years has it been?” he asks gruffly.
“Too fucking many, as illustrated by this.” I grab his chin, the salt and pepper running through his beard more evident than it’s ever been.
“Trying to tell me I’m an old man?” He laughs as I withdraw my hand and shove it into my pocket. “You’re not that far behind me, don”t forget.”
I rub my own clean-shaven and as yet unlined face. “Far enough.”
He snorts and rests the bottle on the desk. Clint has his own gift for Jesse: a framed picture of the house, taken in black and white.
“Happy birthday, man.” He claps him on the back in a manly bro-hug. Jesse studies the picture, eying Clint with surprise. It’s a thoughtful present. More thoughtful than mine. With all the friction between them since Taylor arrived, I wondered if he’d even bother, but that’s stupid. We’re friends until the end and no woman will ever come between us.
Taylor appears in the doorway with a muffin on a plate complete with a flaming candle. Her outfit is one I selected for her, and she’s used lipgloss and mascara, too, her beauty radiating with confidence. “Ready to sing?”
We all belt out a surprisingly tuneful and harmonized version of the Happy Birthday song. Jesse blows out the candle, grinning like a freakishly hairy toddler.
We’re all dressed up and ready for the guests to arrive. Taylor’s been busy since this morning, and as much as we wanted to stay and help, we’ve been dragged out to every corner of this ranch to deal with a ridiculous assortment of issues.
“Where is everyone?” a voice calls out from the kitchen. It’s Beth, Jesse’s sister.
“We’re coming,” Jesse replies, already striding for the door.
Clint takes Taylor’s hand, and we all follow Jesse.
Tonight will be interesting. Where Barb and Mitch took our explanation of Taylor’s presence at the ranch at face value, Beth won’t be so easy to dupe. She’s sharp as a razor and naturally suspicious. Barb likes to see the best in people, but Beth has a tendency to look for the worst. Jesse welcomed me warmly, Beth took over a year to treat me like family, and when Clint started working here, she hated him. It’s like she could smell the sourness of his past lingering on him. Only when he proved himself to be loyal did she let up and give him a chance.
Taylor’s a woman, and Beth is even more suspicious of the motives of the female sex. It’s part of the reason why Clint was the one to marry Taylor officially. Beth would have raged if Jesse had risked the ranch on a woman he had bought at an auction. I made a vow to myself long ago that I’d never get married. Watching my parents tear each other apart soured that idea before I ever had a romantic feeling.
Jesse embraces his sister and shakes Duncan’s hand. His brother-in-law is practically part of the furniture around here. He’s been dating Beth since they were twelve. He’s easygoing, whereas she’s a tough nut. Between them, they make one well-balanced person.
“There she is,” Duncan says warmly, reaching out to take Taylor’s hand. He pulls her close to kiss her on the cheek, earning a warning glance from his wife.
“I’m Taylor.”
Beth holds out a hand to shake, her eyes raking over Taylor’s outfit, taking in her hair and face, offering a tight smile.
“This is Beth, my sister,” Jesse says. “Duncan, Beth’s husband. And these terrors are my niece and nephew, Katherine and Holt.”
“Sweet names,” Taylor says, squatting until she’s the level of the children. “I’ve made a chocolate birthday cake,” she whispers conspiratorially. “Will you help Uncle Jesse blow out his candles?”
They both nod and then hide behind Duncan’s legs, shy of a new person.
Barb and Mitch pick that moment to arrive, and the kitchen becomes a noisy hive of people meeting and greeting. I stand back, watching everyone find their place in the group. Barb embraces Beth, and it’s one of the only times I’ve ever seen Jesse’s sister relax her rigid posture. There’s something about that woman that just makes you feel like you’re a kid back in your momma’s uncomplicated arms.
“I know we did it the other day, but we have to toast to the newlyweds again tonight now Beth’s here,” Barb says.
Clint shifts his feet and, instead of smiling happily at his wife, focuses his attention on his socks. For fuck’s sake. Beth will be able to smell a rat from a hundred paces if he doesn’t get his act together. Taylor busies herself, uncovering the platters of waiting food. There is chicken and crispy potatoes with steamed vegetables and mac ‘n’ cheese. The smell fills the air, and Duncan is the first to approach. “Wow. This looks amazing.”
“You’d think he hadn’t eaten in a week,” Beth says, rolling her eyes.
“Beth usually has to bring the food when we come over,” Duncan says. “These three can rustle up some basics but nothing dinner party worthy.”
“Because you’re such a gourmet chef,” I say, feigning offense. In truth, cooking skills are not ones I care about developing in the slightest. Jesse and Clint are decent at grilling. I can make half-decent oatmeal and grilled cheese. I’m a boss at heating up canned soup.
“I don’t need to be,” Duncan admits, already heaping food onto a plate. “I have a very capable wife.”
“So does Clint now,” Beth says, eying Clint and then Taylor, suspicion growing in her expression. I swear she’s like a bloodhound when it comes to dishonesty.
“Everyone, help yourselves.” Taylor stands back while Jesse takes Barb’s jacket, and Beth fusses over small plates for the kids. I join her, enjoying the happy babble of the group. When I was a kid, our house always felt like an island that no one from outside our immediate family could ever cross to. It was silent so much, despite there being five children. We all knew that making too much noise could set Dad off. Mom moved around the house like a ghost, afraid to touch anything in case it was a trigger. When there was noise, it was the sound of my father’s escalating rage and the beatings that would ensue. I got really good at finding ways to avoid family life, making a den in the bottom of my closet that was only big enough for me to hide in.
The happy bustle around me here is such a blessing, but the contrast sets me on the outside. This isn’t my family. I’m an interloper enjoying someone else’s. I reckon now Taylor is, too.
“This is nice, huh?” I turn to witness the tell-tale signs that this isn’t typical for Taylor either. Wide eyes and flushed cheeks. A small smile plays at the edges of her mouth before dropping as she feels the same sense of uncertainty.
“Your previous homelife as bad as mine was?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes dart to mine. I had hoped that she would open up to me a bit more the other day when I told her what a prize-asshole my father was, but as yet, she still hasn’t said much about her family life.
“I can tell. The happiness feels foreign.”
She bites her lip, and her fingers twist together. I touch her arm gently and look up to find Beth staring directly at us.
Jesse waits until last to plate up his food, encouraging Taylor to go before him. We’re all seated at the table, tucking in as they move along the counter. I watch, silently urging them to keep up the pretense. Jesse has to keep his body language neutral and not mess up like I did.
Beth is cutting up the food for her twins while Duncan and Mitch talk about a small incident that occurred at the local penitentiary. “They need more to do,” Mitch says. “It doesn’t matter how much I talk about prison reform, I’m ignored at every turn.”
“You do your best.” Barb rests her hand on her husband’s forearm, and I momentarily lose concentration. When my eyes flick back up to Jesse and Taylor, he’s walking with her to the table with his hand on the small of her back. I’m not the only one to glance up at that moment.
Beth’s suspicious eyes linger on Jesse’s soft expression, then Clint’s almost religious focus on the plate in front of him, finally meeting my panicked gaze.
“Right. That’s it,” she says, lowering her silverware. “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?”
Jesse stops abruptly, and so does Taylor. Clint glances up, confused. The conversation slowly dies off around the table like it would in my house when the front door would slam like a gunshot, announcing my father was home.
“What are you talking about?” Jesse asks. He hasn’t realized that his voice sounds too high, which is a dead giveaway. Jesus. The shit’s about to hit the fan.
“I mean, why do you and Maverick look like you’re cozier with Clint’s new wife than he is? You both touch her like she’s your girlfriend, and he can’t even look at her.”
“Beth.” Jesse shoots his sister a warning look. The two of them share the same bullheadedness and the same inability to choose appropriate moments for confrontation.
“Don’t Beth me. I know you, Jesse McGraw. What are you up to?”
“Beth,” Duncan says, widening his eyes at his wife. “Just leave it. We’re in company.”
“Mitch and Barb aren’t company, they’re family, and I’m sure they’ll be just as interested in the truth as I am. Where’s Taylor living?”
Clint and I keep our mouths shut for fear of saying the wrong thing. This is Jesse’s house, and it’s Jesse’s idea. If anyone’s going to face Beth’s wrath, it’s going to be him.
“Here,” Jesse admits.
“Why?” Beth glances around. “Wouldn’t it be better for them to move out and be alone? What kind of couple wants to live in a house with two single men?”
Taylor’s eyes are riveted to her food, and I get why. Beth has a bite like Mindy. That same self-confidence and belief that they’re in the right. It’s intimidating at the best of times.
“She’s helping us around the house,” Jesse says, and Beth rolls her eyes.
“Helping you? With what? Conjugal duties.”
“Beth!” Barb gasps, shocked.
“Stop,” Duncan warns again. He focuses on Taylor as though he’s worried she’s going to cry.
I’m aware of the exact moment when Jesse gives up the charade. His left shoulder jerks like a shrug, and he places his plate on the table next to Taylor. “Taylor’s living with all of us because she’s with all of us.”
Mitch’s spine straightens. Barb presses her napkin to her lips slowly, like she’s stopping herself from speaking. The kids’ eyes are wide, not because they understand what’s going on, but because the tension in the room is overwhelming.
“We should have this conversation another time,” I say, hating to witness the same innocent fear in Katherine and Holt as I felt myself all those years ago. “It’s Jesse’s birthday. It’s a time for celebration, and the kids—”
I add the last part, hoping that Beth will see sense, but it’s like a red rag to a bull.
“Where did you find her?”
Jesse shakes his head. “I’m not doing this with you now, Beth.”
“This ranch is mine, too, Jesse. I might not live here or help you run it, but I’m damned well not going to sit back while you risk it because of some infatuation with a girl young enough to be your daughter.”
The silence that lingers after that statement is like a fog of toxic gas, drifting over the celebration and settling in between every person seated at the table.
“The ranch isn’t in danger,” Taylor says softly. “I’m not interested in the ranch, and anyway, I’m married to Clint, not Jesse.”
“So that part is true?”
Taylor nods, and Jesse drapes his arm around her shoulder protectively. “Taylor’s a good woman, and this grilling you’re giving us isn’t fair, Beth.”
“I don’t like being lied to, Jesse. When people lie, it’s usually because they’re doing something shady, and I’m not having you risk what our family has grafted for generations to build. Your last marriage nearly cost us everything.”
Jesus. She really went there.
“I think we all need to calm down,” Mitch says. “We should eat this food that Taylor’s prepared and then take this conversation somewhere private.”
As the oldest person here, coupled with the gravitas of his job, Mitch commands a lot of respect.
Beth settles down into her chair and cuts her meat, forking a piece into her mouth and chewing. We all follow suit, the air charged and strained as no one can think of anything to say that won’t inflame the situation. Taylor pushes her food around her plate, and Clint’s cheeks are red. Jesse can barely chew, his jaw is so tight. It’s the most uncomfortable meal of all time, and that’s saying something.
With the food sitting in my stomach like a block of granite, I check everyone has finished before rising and gathering plates. Whatever needs to be discussed, I’m staying out of it. Confrontation is something I avoid, and Jesse is acutely aware of it. He dug this crater. He can deal with climbing out of it alone.
“You guys can go to the back room,” I say. “I’ll stay here with the kids and help Taylor.”
With stiff posture and uneasy expressions, Jesse, Beth, Duncan, Mitch, and Barb leave the kitchen. Clint hangs back, too, but I urge him to follow.
I give Katherine and Holt a big slice of chocolate cake each to keep them distracted and pull Taylor into a warm embrace. “Don’t worry about what’s happening over there,” I say. “It’s Jesse’s problem to deal with.”
“I don’t want to cause any upset,” she says, snuggling into me.
“I know.” Stroking her hair, I wait until she’s relaxed. “This was always going to be an issue that had to be dealt with. Better it’s done early.”
“Not at a birthday party, though.”
“Better now than later,” I say. “Trust me.”