Chapter 29
Dallas was waiting on the porch when Trent drove up at ten on the dot. They’d been raised to be punctual and those lessons had stuck.
The minute he was in and buckled up, Trent pulled away and glanced over at his brother. “Well?”
He dragged in a breath. “You were right. You were so right. Thank God we talked about it last night. It was awesome. I had no idea. She had no idea. She says we couldn’t have made a baby, though, because the timing’s off, but damn, we had fun.”
Trent chuckled. “Told you.”
“To think I advised you against this move of yours. If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t have had that experience, and you wouldn’t have told me about it. Angie and I would have put this off. Maybe even a year or two. I hate to even think about missing out for another two years.”
“Then you and Cheyenne will be adjusting your work schedules?”
“I’ll talk to him about it first chance I get. Our schedules are jacked up anyway, so it might as well be now. We rearranged our shifts for the wedding so we’re on call today and tomorrow, but off on Saturday. The chief’s been great about working around this event.”
“Like Brittany said, it’s Wagon Train’s wedding of the century.”
“You should probably call her Brit, dude. At least in public.”
“Why?”
“Because the way you say her name, it sounds like you’re madly in love with her even though you claim that’s not the case.”
“You’re reading too much into it.”
“Speaking of that, what happened after we left? Did she toddle on home after dinner?”
“Nope.”
Dallas grinned. “No more cruel and unusual punishment?”
“Angie must have filled you in on the rest of Desiree’s advice.”
“Uh-huh. But she waited until the walk home to tell me that part. She knew I’d laugh and she didn’t think we should be yukking it up in your kitchen, all things considered.”
“And did you laugh?”
“Oh, yeah. So loud I scattered a flock of quail roosting in a tree.” He switched to falsetto. “You can’t have a reasonable discussion with a sexually deprived man. Classic Desiree.”
“Sexually frustrated man.”
“Whatever. Deprived. Frustrated. Same thing. She’s so right.”
“Yeah, and I got into an argument with Brittany over it.”
“You had a fight? From what you said, I thought?—”
“My fault. I started it.”
“Because you were sexually frustrated?”
“No, I— never mind. We made up. We had fun last night, too.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Let the good times roll.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how she sees it. She’s worked out a timetable to wean us off that activity.”
“What the hell?”
“She wants us to be platonic buddies by the time Montana’s born.”
“I don’t see that happening. I get it now, and I can’t imagine?—”
“It’s not a terrible idea.”
“Yes, it is, bro. Worst idea ever.”
“Think about this. If I’d made the mistake of having a kid with Cheryl?—”
“Condoms were invented for women like Cheryl. Thank God you used them and none of them broke.”
“But what if one had? That baby’s life would have been hell. We would have ended up divorced, anyway, and the fighting would never have stopped because we’d have this kid to argue about.”
“But Brit is not Cheryl, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“And I’m not like her dad, who left her mom and married someone else when she was around ten. That really affected her.”
“I didn’t know about that. Unfortunate.”
“She’s worried that continuing to get horizontal might lead to romance.”
“She’s not wrong. We’re taught love is supposed to come before sex, but sometimes it’s the other way around.”
“Which is why I’ll go along with her plan, because I’m not looking for romance any more than she is.”
Dallas glanced at him, then turned away to gaze out the side window. But he hadn’t moved fast enough to hide his smile.
“I’m not, damn it.”
“Okay.” He focused on the rural landscape for several minutes. “How’s the grand opening shaping up for L’Amour and More in Apple Grove?”
“Good.” He was happy to change the subject. “There’s only one marketing angle I can’t make happen. I think it would be huge but it looks like we’ll have to do without it.”
“What’s that?”
“M.R. Morrison’s an NYT bestseller and the folks in Apple Grove love his books, not to mention tourists who’ll be in town by then. An in-person signing event would put that shop on the map, but damned if I can break through the wall of mystery surrounding the guy.”
“That’s too bad.”
“He lives somewhere in Montana. I can’t prove it, but since moving here I’ve read enough of his books to be convinced he’s from this area. The way he writes about the Sapphires you’d swear he was staring right at that mountain range while he’s typing.”
“Yes, you would.”
“I stopped by Desiree and Andy’s table yesterday when I was in the Buffalo and mentioned how much I’d like to find the guy. Andy said they were making progress, like he knew something I didn’t. Which reminds me. What was going on last night when Angie bragged about Desiree’s ability to keep secrets?”
“What do you mean?”
“When Angie said her mom was a world champion secret-keeper, you said that’s for damn sure, like you’d personally experienced it. And Angie tensed. Is something going on I don’t know about?”
When Dallas didn’t answer, Trent glanced at him.
His brother was staring straight ahead, unmoving except for when his jaw muscle flexed.
“I take it there is.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Is there a gold mine somewhere on the property? That would explain why she’s so well-off.” He was only half-joking. He’d picked up bits and pieces of info since January and nothing added up unless she was an investment genius. But why would she keep quiet about that, especially around her family?
“I really can’t say anything, bro. I would if I could, but?—”
“Okay. I’ll leave it alone.” But he’d keep his eyes and ears open. After Andy had said I think we’re making progress, he’d looked over at Desiree. Was M.R. Morrison one of her ex-boyfriends?
“Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.” Dallas cleared his throat. “Why were you in the Buffalo?”
“Meeting Brittany’s mom.”
“I didn’t hear about that. How’d it go?”
Describing the lunch conversation brought them to the subject of what exactly he’d say to their parents on the way back. They were still discussing it as they neared the airport and Dallas got a text from their mom that the plane had landed a few minutes early.
Trent scored a parking space near the bag claim entrance, and they made it inside just as their dad hauled a big suitcase off the conveyor belt. While Dallas hurried over to grab it for him, Trent hugged his mom.
She was tall, nearly five-ten. When he was small she used to crouch down to hug him. Now he hunched over a little to hug her.
The scent of her favorite perfume brought a lump to his throat. She was the only person in the world who’d seen him cry when he talked about leaving Cheryl. The tears hadn’t been for Cheryl. He’d cried because she’d killed his favorite dream.