Chapter Twelve #2
sank. Trev had to stop because Rye Harper was standing there.
He nodded Trev’s way. “I saw you walking up the street.
Thought we might talk.”
Trev looked from Bay and back to Rye. “Everything okay?”
Rye shook his head. “Everything sucks, Trev, but that’s not
your fault. I appreciate you taking care of Rach. She needs breathing room, and
it seems Max and I needed a kick in the pants. I’m not going to beat up your
ranch hand.”
“Like you could.” Shit. He was supposed to stop that.
Rye’s lips curled in a smirk. “Oh, I could. You might be
younger, but I assure you I’m meaner than you can imagine. But I think my
sister would take exception, and I’m pretty sure my wife would, too. Also, Stef
tells me your hands are a world of imagination or some shit.”
“That’s terrible.” Bay felt his nose wrinkle like he’d
smelled something bad—which was Stef Talbot’s choice of metaphors. “Tell me he
doesn’t actually say that.”
One big shoulder shrugged. “Stef can be a pretentious ass,
but he’s practically my brother, so what am I going to do about it?”
Trev opened the door to the café, caution clear in his
expression. “I’m going to order Nell’s food. Do not kill each other.”
“If I was going to kill him, I would be sneaky about it,”
Rye vowed. “I would do it in a way no one could figure out it was me.”
That sounded like a threat. “Well, I would prefer to not be
killed. Also, I wouldn’t kill Rye because I don’t want to piss off Brooke or
Rachel. I think they’re plotting the downfall of man right now.”
“I’m feeling good about this.” Trev’s words didn’t match his
frown. “You two work it out.”
The door closed behind him.
“I’m not sorry about what happened last night,” Bay began.
“Is she okay?” Rye asked, ignoring his hard tone. Rye’s
voice had gone soft, as though even asking about his wife made him more
serious.
“She’s fine. I mean physically. I don’t know what’s going on
and it’s none of my business, but I do know she loves you and probably
everything can be settled down if you would look at the workload and figure out
how to take your fair share.”
Rye’s head tilted, like those were the last words he
expected. “What the hell would you know about that?”
“I know that most of the women I’ve ever known just want
some fairness when it comes to the workload. I watched my mom do everything. My
father worked and she stayed home at first, so she did all the cooking and
cleaning and childcare. Funny thing, though. When she had to go back to work so
we would have a roof over our head, she still had to do everything. My father
was useless at anything but cheating on his wife and gambling away every dollar
they made. Same with my aunts. I was taught at every family gathering that
women served men. They made dinner and we watched football. And my brother sat
alone in our room so he didn’t disturb anyone with his presence. I wonder if I
would have thought about the inequity of the division of labor if I hadn’t been
thinking about how unfair it was for my brother to miss out on holidays. Would
I be like my dad? Thinking women owed me because I was a man?”
“Bay,” Rye began.
But Bay wasn’t finished. It was time for this man to know
him. “So the funny part is Shane had to learn how to do everything for himself.
How to cook and keep things clean and wash his laundry. And I decided that made
him strong, not weak. I started looking at my dad differently. My father was
fairly helpless. That wasn’t something for him to be proud of. When I was
around twelve or thirteen, I started to help… I don’t like that word. Not when
you’re living in a place. I started pulling my weight. I did the dishes with
Shane. I learned to do some rudimentary cooking when we were in high school. By
the time our parents died, we were both not lost when it came to the work we do
on an everyday basis. The work that is almost exclusively done by the women in
our lives. So that’s what I mean by if she needs a break, look at the division
of your labor.”
Rye seemed to take that in. “Max and I have been on the road
a lot. I don’t mean to leave her with the whole load. We’ve been trying to make
sure we can afford what the kids are going to need.”
“Balance that with what she needs now and you’ll be okay.
That woman loves you. She has to because she puts up with Max,” Bay said and
then winced. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be better about that. Look, Rye, I want
to be honest with you. I intend to marry your sister, and that means we need to
start figuring out if we can be family.”
Rye’s jaw tightened. “You might not be as bad as I thought.
So you take that whole division of labor thing seriously? You’re not planning
on turning Brooke into your housekeeper?”
Did the man know his sister? “She would be terrible. Do you
know how lost she gets in her work? I think she’s worse than me. Look, I’m not
perfect. I can forget a lot of things when I’m deep into a project. Shane picks
up the slack, and when we get to the other side I try to make it up to him.
What we need is to find his passion because I do worry that he’ll get lost
between me and Brooke, and I don’t want that for him.”
Rye’s eyes rolled and a long huff came from his chest. “Damn
it. All right, then. Let’s do this thing. I don’t want to lose my sister over
this, and I have no intentions of my wife needing a longer stay. Max has your
brother.”
Shit. Bay felt his eyes go wide. Max kidnapped Shane? “Where
is he? I don’t have any money.”
“What? Dumbass. Max was out at the G and Shane needed a
ride. What did you think he was going to do?”
Bay shrugged. “There are plenty of silver mines where you
could hide a body.”
Which was exactly what Shane thought was going to happen to
them in Wyoming, although it would have been a lonely gulch.
Was it so wild an idea that Kale Kingman would protect his
empire with a little murder?
Rye’s head shook, and he reached out and put a hand on Bay’s
shoulder. “How about we start with lunch? You can tell me what your plans are.
I can drive you back out to the G when we’re done.”
He wasn’t sure he had plans beyond making Brooke happy and
apologizing to his brother and hopefully selling some of his best work. “All
right. And I won’t even tell your wife if you get fries.”
Rye chuckled and opened the door. “Nah. I think I’ll stick
to the dietary plan. The last thing my wife needs to worry about is losing a
husband. Come on. I have to pick up the kids from Stef’s in a couple of hours.
I want to know how my sister is doing.”
Bay walked through the door and realized how Brooke was
doing.
And that was when he saw red and started charging like a
bull.
* * * *
“You know you could have come out to the lodge.” Mark
Hallway looked decidedly out of place sitting in one of the red booths in
Stella’s. He wore a designer suit and loafers that likely cost more than most
people in town made in a month. Or two.
Not that Mark would have paid for them. Oh, no. Other
designers gave him samples or he stole them from whoever did get them. Mark was
also considered an influencer since his socials had thousands of followers
waiting for him to tell them what was hot and what was not.
“It’s surprisingly nice for…where we are. I guess the skiing
is good so the wealthy likely visit, but I was surprised there wasn’t more. I
should have known it wouldn’t be like Aspen.”
It didn’t surprise her that Mark was disdainful of her
hometown. He wouldn’t see the beauty in either the land or the amazing people.
“My new job is a couple of stores down and I have to be
there in—” she glanced down at her watch “—an hour and a half. So if you have
something to say, you should say it.”
“I was unaware you had a new job.” Mark’s face probably
would have frowned if it moved. He used way too much Botox. She knew some
people who used it perfectly, but Mark went over the top. “Where on earth would
you work out here? I mean beyond doing some private consulting or design.
You’re obviously doing some of that.”
She wasn’t sure how what she was doing was private. “I’m
working with the local rep theater. I used to do costume work before Parsons.
I’m kind of getting back into it.”
Mark’s brows came together in seeming consternation or they
tried to. “Costumes? You’ve worked at a major house. Don’t you know costume
design is beneath you?”
It wasn’t. It was fun, and it was a strangely intellectual
exercise. Instead of hoping to please some influencer on social media, she had
to please a character, represent them. It was fulfilling in a way she hadn’t
been in a long time.
Was she seriously starting to think about Cleo’s proposal?
“Hey, Brooke.” Stella brought over a carafe of coffee and
pulled Brooke out of her thoughts. “How’s it going out on the G?”
Mark’s nose wrinkled like he was offended by Stella’s
presence.
Well, she wasn’t going to tell that asshole that the woman
currently serving them coffee was married to a billionaire, and her stepson was
one of the most influential people in the art world. Nah. Way more fun to watch
him hang himself. “It’s great. Oddly peaceful for having all those kiddos
around.”
Would she be here when Hope’s baby came? When Nell’s?
Whatever happened she would fly home for Rachel’s due date and stay in her
spinster house and she and Paige could have sleepovers and take care of the
younger boys while her brother’s bonded with the new baby.
Of course that would be hard to do if she had Bay and Shane
with her. Or would it? It would only be weird if Paige kept taking out their
shins. It was a nice place, if crowded, but they all fit on the bed, and that
was the important part.
Stella poured coffee into Brooke’s cup. “Well, Miranda is a
sweetie, but those boys are a handful. I heard Hope’s having a boy. There’s
going to be a whole pack of them on the G running wild.”
She turned and started to pour some into Mark’s cup, but
before she could, he put a hand over it.