29. Cody
Cody
Later that morning…
“ Y ou grabbing something to eat?” Callan, pink-cheeked from racing me across the ranch, demands.
I swipe a hand over my brow. “Yeah. I’m late, though, so I’ll be in and out.”
“See you tonight.” He tips up his chin. “I will beat you tomorrow.”
My grin’s smug. “If you say so, Baby Cowboy.”
“Ah, fuck. I could strangle Tee for that nickname. Why did that have to catch on?”
“The best names always do.”
At the entrance hall, we split up—he heads for his room with a bird being flipped my way as a farewell and I veer toward the kitchen. Only, just beyond the door, I hear my sister-in-law and Tee in there.
“I want to ask you a favor.”
“A favor?” Zee sounds both wary and suspicious.
Because I know of no loose cannon worse than Tee, I don’t blame her.
“Uh-huh.”
“Your favors are dangerous.”
“They’re not.”
“They are.”
“Not.”
“Are.”
Tee huffs.
“Like the time you asked me for a favor and it involved going on that double date with the nineteen-year-old brother of that pianist you played with?—”
“You had a better time than I did!”
“Doesn’t matter. I spent four hours talking about Titanfall and why teenage acne shouldn’t diminish his self-esteem or stop him from asking out Melanie—the homecoming queen-cum-teen goddess.”
“Better a discussion on skincare than dealing with octopus hands.”
“The pianist was such a jerk. No wonder you fell for Butch Cassidy. He charmed you without having to deal with being hit on.”
Though I stiffen at her words, Tee grouches, “You trying to make me feel like shit?”
“No, just saying everything makes sense now.”
“I didn’t fall for him because he didn’t have grabby hands.” She harrumphs while I grow tense at her admission. If anyone hurt her … “I fell for him because he could string sentences together, understood syntax, and had a lexicon worthy of a writer. He even set out his letters the right way and everything.”
Well aware that this conversation will prove that eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, I still lean against the wall to listen in.
I can’t even feel smug about her appreciation of my letter-writing skills. I’m just curious about this damn favor.
Zee hoots. “And here was me thinking you were writing dirty to each other.”
“I wish,” Tee mutters.
Even as my ears prick at that, Zee’s sighing. “Okay, so, I am a married woman, Tee, and Colton definitely won’t let me go on a double date—” I grin. Colt might be pretty chill where Tee’s concerned, but he’s definitely not going to let Zee ‘facilitate’ her dating life. “—so, what’s the favor?”
Brows lifting, I peek around the corner, knowing that this has gone past eavesdropping and into spying territory as I catch Tee sliding her cell across the counter.
Zee, who’s frosting cookies at seven AM for some damn reason, glances at Tee’s phone. “Oh, honey.”
I don’t know what she’s looking at, but it’s made her entire expression shift.
“I-I figured we’re heading that way for the interview later on. Maybe we could stop off and…”
Ah, there we have the reason for Zee frosting like there’s no tomorrow.
Day X of Callan’s PR solution means yet another interview.
“I think I can make this happen,” Zee murmurs.
I’m more curious than ever.
“I know you… They don’t have to live indoors?—”
They?
“Cody, what are you still doing here?” Callan asks, voice cheerful as he slaps me on the shoulder. “Figured you’d be on your way to work by now.”
Tee whips around to face the doorway, her gaze colliding with mine as ‘Baby Cowboy’ busts my cover.
Shit.
Also, how goddamn long have I been eavesdropping?! Callan’s clearly had a shower.
Knowing I have to brazen this out, I nod at both women, who are gawking at me—Tee’s multitasking by glowering too.
Callan looks between us. “What’s going on?”
“Nice ride?” Zee asks.
“Sure was.” Callan scrubs his hands together in satisfaction. “Plus, I’m prepping everything for the quarterly accounts. Today’s going to be a good day.”
“For some.” Zee wrings the piping bag like she wishes it was someone’s neck. “I have that stupid interview today.”
“Sorry, Zee,” Callan tries and fails to soothe.
Her grimace tells me it didn’t work.
I change the subject. “Thought Colt handled the quarterly accounts.”
“He’s letting me do it this year.”
“Sounds fun,” I say weakly, well aware that’d be a punishment to anyone else.
He beams. “Definitely.”
“If you want to do accounts, Baby Cowboy,” Tee jeers, “then you can do mine too. It’ll take you about five minutes.”
Callan pauses pre-bite of the banana he snagged from the fruit bowl. “Is that a challenge?”
“No, it’s a harsh truth of the state of my bank account.” She nudges his arm. “We’re not all Richie Rich.”
“How did you even find out about my trust fund anyway?”
Zee snorts. “Tee’s impossible to keep things from.”
“It’s a gift. They should send me into Russia. I’d manage to figure out all their state secrets.”
“I think you’d end up in a gulag,” Callan argues.
And I’m in full agreement.
Tee gasps. “Callan! Are you dissing my street cred?”
“You have about as much street cred as Levi. The only people in this house with street cred are Colton, Cody, and Mrs. Abelman.”
Zee hides a snicker. “Thanks, Callan. I appreciate the endorsement.”
“Colt?”
“You haven’t seen him with a shotgun, Tee. Anyway, some people are born scary and some aren’t.” He wags a finger at Tee, who’s on the brink of biting it off. “We’re definitely not scary. In fact, I think we’d be someone’s bitches in prison.”
“Let’s hope you three avoid prison then, huh? But Zee, you’re not alone with the suffering. I have a shitty day ahead of me too.” I snag one of the fresh breakfast muffins Mrs. Abelman left on the counter at some point. “Elena Frobisher’s sick. Did you know, Callan?”
“Not really. Cole and I didn’t get a Frobisher buddy. What’s wrong with her?”
“Early onset Alzheimer’s,” Tee answers.
Callan winces. “Harsh.”
“How do you feel about dogs, Callan?”
The question has Callan and I sharing a surprised look.
“I was never allowed one, Tee. What do dogs have to do with Mrs. Frobisher?”
Zee ignores him. “Why weren’t you allowed a dog?”
“Clyde’s allergic.” I pick up another muffin. “Why are you asking?”
“All the more reason to get a pack of dogs then,” Tee mutters. “Filter the whole ranch with dander and he’ll never be able to come back here.”
Callan tears into his own breakfast muffin. “Why are we talking about dogs?”
Tee shows him her phone, and finally, I get to see what they were discussing earlier.
My brows lift when I read the headline:
Kindersen’s Humane Society Animal Haven Destroyed in Freak Flood
Callan’s mouth rounds. “Four hundred dogs are in danger?!”
Ah, shit.
I know that tone.
“I thought we could rehome one,” Tee concurs.
“What, one hundred?”
“No. A single dog, Callan.” She clucks her tongue. “Do you have tumbleweed in your ears?”
“Four hundred dogs need rehousing, Tee! One.” He scoffs like she’s the mad person in the kitchen. God help us—I know what this means. “Leave it with me.”
With that, he wanders out of the kitchen, mumbling about one dog, as if while juggling the baking dish housing all the muffins and a bottle of juice.
“What just happened?” Zee questions, gaping at his back.
“What just happened is you created a monster.” I sigh. “He’s either going to rebuild the shelter or he’ll bring them here.”
“Bring them here?” Tee warbles, the living incarnation of the happy-eye emoji.
“Callan’s always loved dogs,” I reason, moving closer to her because she’s too distracted to notice our proximity.
Tee blinks a few dozen times. “I hope you don’t think I was trying to take advantage of his good nature.”
“Were you?”
“No!”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
Zee eyes me, making it known that she’s still unhappy with me being Butch Cassidy. In all honesty, I’m surprised she hasn’t confronted me about it. Which makes me think Tee has her on a short leash.
“Seeing as Callan took the rest of the breakfast muffins, may I have a cookie?”
Luck pushed, she graces me with a gimlet stare, but it’s Tee who grouses, “He used ‘may’ and not ‘can,’ Zee. He deserves a cookie.”
Zee sniffs. “Grammar police.”
“Grammar marshal,” Tee corrects, but her eyes are back on her phone.
It’s crazy to think this is a milestone passed, but the encounter has me hiding a smile. A smart move because Zee slides the platter of decorated cookies at me. “You can have one.”
Because there’s a warning in there, I nod at her. “Thank you.” To Tee, I ask, “You still good with coming to check on Mrs. Frobisher?”
“Sure. What time?”
“Eleven.” I clear my throat. “If you unblock my number, I’ll let you know if today is or isn’t a bad day for her.”
Her eyes lock on mine, but she doesn’t give me a clue if she has blocked my number or not.
“Didn’t realize you were into fishing, Cody?” is her answer.
“A wise man tries.”
“A wise man knows when to back off.”
Holding up my hands, I retreat. “See you at eleven, unless I hear from Bast.”
“Fine.” She dips her chin. “I need the bathroom.”
I make to leave too, but not before a rolling pin whacks me in the back. “Holy fuck, Zee!” I’m not ashamed to admit that I shriek.
That hurt.
“You deserve that and worse.” She points her piping bag at me. “Colt told me he discussed the situation with you. I don’t see you fixing anything. You’re on notice. You hear me?”
“You could have killed me, woman!”
“Not for want of trying.” She sniffs. “Fix. It. If I hear her playing Moonlight Sonata one more goddamn time, the rolling pin won’t get you in the back, but the head.”
“I’m working on it! And that’s a threat of murder?—”
“I might look sweeter than syrup, but Tee’s supported me through blizzards, boyfriends, and burials.” She brandishes the piping bag at me again. “You’ve been warned.” Then her gaze turns limpid when the restroom door opens before she hisses, “What are you still doing here?”
Like a smart man, I lift my hands in surrender and get the hell out of Dodge.