Chapter 5
W hen Josie woke the next day, her eyes felt like she’d used sandpaper instead of Kleenex.
Crying herself to sleep—not a feeling she missed. After the trial, she’d hidden in her plain motel room and wished she could gorge on her mom’s homemade brownies—with extra fudge.
Then thoughts of her mother and how heartbroken she’d be caused another cascade of tears.
Jesse was going to jail. Josie doubted a town as close-knit as Moore would take it easy on a city boy with a grudge. The Walkers were too highly regarded.
Josie sighed wistfully. She could see why. Aside from their good looks, they oozed small-town wholesomeness.
The way Brock had tried to make her feel better…
Geez, she’d was fast becoming a Walker groupie.
No, not all Walkers. Just Brock.
They had all stood together, just the five of them. They probably kept the rest of the family out of the loop to protect them. She doubted their parents hadn’t been there because they’d been too busy and the trial was too inconvenient.
She and her mother had always championed Jesse. Bill just slammed him about how he had no legacy because it had died with his birth dad.
She fisted her hands over her eyes. Poor Jesse. No wonder the stories of his great uncle’s land and how it should’ve been his had burrowed into Jesse’s mind and festered.
With resignation, she checked the time. Time to go and see if she could visit him.
Her phone pinged. She wasn’t ready to face the world, but she checked the message. Her heart stuttered as she did.
It was from Brock. All it said was “This is my number.”
Well, good morning to you, too, farm boy.
Her day just brightened, if only a little. She rolled out of bed. In the bathroom that only took two steps to cross into, she had to shake her head at the No Cleaning Fowl in the Shower sign.
“We just keep it up year ’round,” the clerk had explained. “Some hunters think it’s no big deal to strip their kills in the shower even when we provide an outdoor station at the end of the building. Duck feathers clogging the drain has flooded many a room.”
Dead birds in the shower—was that the worst thing the shower had seen?
Josie arrived at the jail on time and they brought her into the little room where she could speak to her brother.
After a few minutes he was led in by a petite deputy. The deputy passed on a few instructions and left. Jesse plopped down in the chair across from her. His face hung like a pound puppy and Josie wished she could give him a big hug. Lord knew, she could use one.
“How are things?” he asked.
“Shitty. You?”
“Yeah.”
She refused to cry again, but when she thought that her best friend sat across from her in cuffs, she almost failed.
“Don’t worry about me, Jo. I’ll be fine.”
“Why’d you stick to the not-guilty plea? I thought they were going to cut you a deal.”
He rolled a heavy shoulder, his eyes dark with hostility. “Because that land should’ve been mine.”
Josie steeled herself against her brother’s stubborn nature. At least he was only hurting himself this time—and her—instead of destroying someone’s property.
Jesse must’ve read her remorseful expression. “I don’t think it would’ve mattered.”
No, neither did she, but she appreciated his attempt to make her feel better. Nothing could make this situation better, unless her brother admitted how wrong he’d been.
“Look,” his voice thickened, “take care of yourself while I’m gone. Keep out of Bill’s mess.”
“I always do.”
Jesse shook his head. His hair had grown so shaggy, it curled around his collar and gave her brother a roguish look that fit his orange jumpsuit. “No, he’s gotten worse since Mom died.”
More controlling, too, but she couldn’t burden Jesse with that. “Bill looks out for me at least. Doesn’t let me do the books for…” She glanced at the cameras in the room.
“Bill’s out for Bill.”
“He took care of you.” It was a sad attempt at easing Jesse’s mind, but she didn’t want him worrying.
“He did what he had to and no more because I wasn’t his. Bill’s a coward and I don’t want to see you crash with his car because he doesn’t know when to stop.”
Wasn’t that rich, coming from her brother in jail’s finest threads. Anyway, she’d be smarter than that…wouldn’t she? She’d been a daddy’s girl, a damn parrot until boys had started noticing her in high school. Then Bill had closeted her away as much as possible and she’d taken the betrayal hard.
Josie didn’t dare mention how dire the financials were getting with the garage. Jesse had enough to stress about and too much time on his hands. Once again, she was torn with fury at him for what he did and a chasm’s worth of regret.
What if Brock had caught her drooling over his collection? She’d snuck around his land when Jesse first mentioned coming to Moore to check out his family legacy.
This guy, Jo. His collection is unreal and he restores them all by himself.
Her gut told her that as long as she hadn’t damaged one of Brock’s classics, he would’ve given her a tour and geeked out with her. But then she might’ve been in trouble right along with Jesse.
Josie needed a change of subject. Bill wasn’t going to change and sitting here talking about him wouldn’t help.
“Bill’s got a bead on a ’68 Shelby.” Why’d she bring the car up? She couldn’t go into the details of how Bill wanted to trick Mr. Blackwood so they could flip it for six digits.
Jesse whistled. “That’ll be a sweet payday. How much work will it need?”
“The guy took real good care of it, but it hasn’t run for years. It was something special for him and his wife.”
“Why’s he getting rid of it? His kids have got to know how much it’s worth.”
“They’re not car people, and he has the farm to pass down to them.” She paused, then decided to confide in Jesse. “The owner…he wants the car to go someone who really cares about it. He’s very sentimental.”
Jesse snorted. “And he’s thinking of selling to Bill?”
She shook her head. “Me.”
Jesse arched a dark brow.
Squirming in her seat, she continued, “The business could really use the money from the sale. Bill thinks it could bring in a hundred and eighty thousand.”
His brow drew even higher. “Nice.”
“Right?”
“But you don’t feel good about it.”
Again, she shook her head.
Jesse straightened and glanced around the room.
“Listen—don’t sell yourself out. You do it once, and it starts getting easier.
The excuses flow and they all make a lot of fucking sense, like how you’re owed…
everything.” He paused and a crease formed in his forehead.
Did he see himself in his words? “You feel strongly about something, don’t let anyone push you around. ”
And there endeth the lesson.
She gave him a small smile. When Gage and Bill had bombarded her with their crazy ideas about the business, Jesse had always been her level. Looked like he still was, his own bad decisions aside.
There was a tap on the door, their one minute warning.
“I’m warning you, Josie, Bill isn’t smart enough to dig himself out of his own holes. Find a way to get out on your own.”
No. No matter what, she was Bill’s little girl. Still, it didn’t mean Bill would make the best decisions regarding her. “I’ll watch out for myself, and you do the same.”
As the door opened, Jesse pinned her with a serious stare. “I’m really sorry, Josie. My shit isn’t something you should be stressing over when you have Bill’s mess.”
She nodded numbly. Her brother always played the part of protector. But even he had his snapping point and Bill cutting him off from all support had been it.
She wandered out to her car, deep in thought. What if the land had been handed down from Jesse’s grandma? Would they have grown up in Moore, or escaped here? She might’ve found herself in Moore, looking for a job and meeting up with a hot farmer/mechanic—
She had to concentrate on something else. No good came from that line of thinking.
Why was she here?
She approached Brock’s place, but instead of pulling into the copse of trees she’d hidden in before, she pulled into his yard.
As always, his property took her breath away.
The house was older but well-kept, and the various green shades of the trees and grass were perfectly highlighted by the cloudless blue sky. The beige garage was tucked back into the ring of trees protecting the acreage from the elements while the magnificent red barn commanded attention.
It was also gorgeous. She wondered how old the barn was and how often they painted it to keep it so red.
When she’d been out here before Jesse got busted, she’d wanted to frolic with the chickens.
Watching them dart all over the pen on their fat little legs made her smile.
She wondered if they laid eggs and the whole chicken bit.
Did the Walkers butcher them?
Could she eat a meal knowing she’d played with it a few weeks prior?
She’d never had so much as a fish. Pets weren’t allowed and since she still lived at home, she had to follow the rules.
A cat raced into the barn. The doors were spread wide open. She parked by Brock’s large pickup and got out.
When she glanced back to the barn, Brock was lounging against the doorframe.
A grungy white rag hung out of the belt loop of his jeans.
His standard Ford hat was back on. No wonder she’d had such a hard time concentrating with him in proximity the day before.
Without the protection of his ball cap, she got the full effect of his piercing blue eyes and could hardly keep her mind off of running her hands through his mane.
He either had only one black T-shirt he wore all the time, or eighty of them. No complaints from her because the way it molded over his muscles was better than a muscle-head calendar.
The smell of wildflowers carried on the gentle breeze. For once, the weather wasn’t going to skyrocket into the nineties and the day would be more bearable than the previous couple of weeks.
“Come to look at my collection?”
Not just the cars. “I had a little time before I left town.”