Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Winnie
“Don’t tell me the indomitable Winchester Boyd got stood up?”
I glance up from my wobbly table as Wolf Waters sidles over to me. He tosses a bar towel across his shoulder and leans on the wall with his signature bad-boy grin, looking like he owns the place. Because he does.
“ Indomitable , hm? That’s an awfully big word for someone who lives in a bunker.”
Backwoods Bar is less bar and more a glorified metal shed where Wolf slings beer out of coolers. The whole thing is rumored to be above his underground bunker. No one I know has ever seen it, and my theory is that the man lives out of his pickup.
“I learned it from Jurassic World ,” Wolf says.
“Of course you did.”
His smile widens, his teeth gleaming through his trim, dark beard like the big bad fairytale creature of the same name.
Wolf is a handsome man, but he’s a Waters.
He may have made a solid choice by burning bridges with his snobby and insufferable family, but he went a little too far in the opposite direction with the whole doomsday prepper lifestyle. Are bad-boy doomsday preppers a thing?
Personally, I prefer bad-boy bosses.
“So, who’s the lucky man?” Wolf asks, and I jolt.
Surely my thoughts aren’t being broadcast directly on my forehead. “What?”
Wolf gives me a look. “Whoever’s running late. You keep looking at the door.”
“Right.” I give my head a little shake. “I’m meeting Chevy.”
“Ah. Sibling hangout. What can I get you while you wait?”
“Soda water and lime if you’ve got it,” I tell him. When he makes a face, I hold up both hands. “I’m driving, so I’m boring tonight.”
“Winnie-girl, you couldn’t be boring if you tried. Be right back.”
I check my phone again. No texts, and it’s now eight fifteen.
My brother is many things—cheerfully good-natured, a neat freak to the n th degree, and smarter than he lets on.
He is also punctual to a fault. I am really, really hoping this doesn’t mean he hit it off with some awful woman and forgot about our plans.
He hasn’t brought anyone home since I’ve moved in with him, but there’s a first time for every disaster.
I’m not concerned—YET. But I have been bored, which has given me entirely too much time to stew over the day’s events. And one particular person who starred in them.
Stewing is the last thing I want to be doing when it comes to James.
The man already takes up too much space in my head.
Especially after our very last exchange, the one ending with him grabbing my hand.
If I couldn’t still feel the ghost of his thumb skating up my wrist, I might think I imagined it.
His touch was so light, so tender, so UN-James-like that I almost keeled over right there in the warehouse.
It sent a thrill through me. Not simply a visceral reaction in every living cell in my body, but his touch woke something up in my mind too, the kind of curiosity I have a hard time turning off.
I haven’t been able to stop questioning how James really feels about me or wondering what else besides a surprising gentleness he’s hiding under the surface.
There is a lot more to my grumpy boss than he wants to reveal. Which only makes me determined to slice through him layer by layer.
Bad idea, Winnie. Very, VERY bad. Layers belong in dips or winter wardrobes, not in your boss.
Chevy walks in, his hair still wet from a shower, just as Wolf returns with my drink and a can of light beer for my brother. A few other Sheeters have wandered in, so Wolf heads back to the bar with a smile and nod but no chit-chat.
I hold up my phone. “You’re late.”
“Well, hello to you, too, sis.” Chevy makes like he’s going to ruffle my hair, but, at the last minute, throws an arm around me and squeezes me in a side hug. “Sorry. I got caught up at dinner, then wanted to make sure I showered after our long workday.”
I wrinkle my nose. “You didn’t shower before your date?”
“My date didn’t care about my smell,” he says, winking.
I try to cover both my ears and eyes at the same time, which doesn’t work and makes me look like I’m doing hand motions to some weird new dance. “Ew. I don’t want to know!”
Chevy only grins. “I think you do this time.”
“No, I really don’t want any details—”
“I took your boss to dinner.”
I drop my hands and stare. Then, with trembling fingers, I pick up my soda water and promptly choke. My brother grins at my reaction. I glare.
“ Why? ” I demand when I can speak properly again.
“I wanted to make sure he and I were on the same page.” Chevy takes a slow sip of beer, watching my reaction.
My brother has a way of putting people at ease, friendly and casual while he’s actually cataloging every detail.
It’s why he's so good at his job, and why he should probably be a detective in a bigger city rather than a deputy here. I only hope he doesn’t notice the way my pulse is fluttering in my neck.
My heart has gone telltale, intent on beating its way out of my body and revealing the effect even the idea of James Graham has on me.
I attempt to keep my voice steady. “And what page is that?”
“The one where if he hurts my baby sister, he’ll rue the day.”
I can’t tell if Chevy is kidding or not, but if he actually had some kind of fatherly shotgun-in-hand talk with James, I’m going to shrivel up and die of embarrassment.
I push my glasses up on top of my forehead and rub my eyes. I’m not used to wearing my contacts for so many hours like I did working in the warehouse today, and my eyeballs feel gritty and dry. Blinking, I put my glasses back in place. Chevy fills my view, smiling. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I most certainly did.”
My cheeks are burning. My heart has stopped beating altogether. Goodbye, cruel world—or maybe just cruel brother.
“Chevy,” I whine, pressing my drink to my hot face. “Why? You know James can barely stand me, right?” My eyes narrow as a thought occurs to me. “Wait—did you have this kind of talk with Dale too?”
Chevy takes a sip of beer before answering. “No.”
Whatever part of my brain is still functioning shorts out at this. “But you had one with James ?”
“Winnie, be honest with yourself. Did you really see a future with Dale?”
“No.”
It’s a knee-jerk no. I don’t even need to consider the question. I’ve barely thought about my ex since we ended things. It’s like our breakup and maybe even our relationship didn’t happen.
Despite how well Chevy tried to hide it, I’m observant too, and I know my brother never liked Dale. Which really should have been cause to ditch him sooner. I don’t want the kind of man who doesn’t fold right into my family, and Chevy is the only family I have left.
Still. That doesn’t give my brother the right to go talk to James Graham.
“Me not seeing a future with Dale doesn’t equal you talking to my boss . It’s not like we’re dating. Or thinking about dating.”
“So, you’re keeping things just business?” His grin is smug and infuriating.
“Just business,” I insist.
“Hm.”
“You don’t believe me?”
Chevy finishes his beer and waves Wolf off when he offers another. My brother and I share the same sense of responsibility when it comes to alcohol and operating motor vehicles.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and James are at each other’s throats,” Chevy says.
I gasp dramatically and put a hand to my chest. “Me? I’m Miss Congeniality. I get along with everyone.”
Chevy chuckles. “But not with him. Don’t you find that interesting ?”
“I’ll have to create a hypothesis and put my observations in a formal study. But I need a control group and some lab space …” I tap my lips, pretending to be deep in thought.
“I, for one, find it very interesting,” Chevy says, totally ignoring my joke.
“I find you annoying.”
“You seem to enjoy annoying James.”
“I beg your pardon. I am a picture-perfect employee. Didn’t you see how I organized help in cleaning out the warehouse today?”
“Help James didn’t seem to want. Which is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I was just doing my job. Very well, thank you.”
“You were doing that thing where you push and prod. It’s something you do with people you care about. Something you didn’t ever do with Dale.”
I have no argument for this, so I take a long sip of my drink and wonder why I thought sibling bonding was a necessary thing.
Chevy continues with his way-too-astute observations. “When there’s that much tension between two people, they’ll end up kissing or killing each other.”
I swallow hard at that statement, thinking of that game we used to play in middle and high school: marry, kiss, kill. I always argued with Lindy and Val saying when you married someone, you’d probably spend part of the time wanting to kiss them and part of the time wanting to kill them.
Now, it feels like those words have come back to haunt me.
I’ve thought several times today about killing James. I mean, not literally, obviously, but in the figurative sense.
As for kissing … well, I thought about that too. NOT figuratively. Very definitely literally and also liberally.
Chevy’s grin is smug, and again, I have to wonder if my brain is somehow projecting all my thoughts.
I go for humor, the great deflection. “Did you pull out your gun or badge and tell him you’d run him out of town if he hurt your baby sister?”
Chevy only shrugs. Humiliation is a hot wave creeping up my chest. I cannot even with my stupid brother. Groaning, I lower my forehead and bang it on the table. “You can’t do that, Chev.”
I can’t even imagine how James reacted to my brother butting into the situation. I won’t ask. Especially because a sliver of my heart is thrumming with excitement, wanting to know whether James thinks of me more on the kiss or kill side of the spectrum.
NO—wait. What if Chevy said that same thing to James about kissing or killing?
Right now, my brother just moved to the tippy-top of my figurative murder list. Which is saying something, considering the fact that James tasked me with removing all the cats from his warehouse.
“I make no apologies,” Chevy says, draining the last of his beer. “I’ll always have your back, Win.”
“The thing is—I don’t always need you to have my back. Like in this specific case, with James. I definitely don’t.”
Chevy drums his fingers on the table. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll take every precaution when it comes to you. Just the way Dad would have done.”
The way Dad would have done.
The noise of my heartbeat in my ears is like the wings of a giant flock of birds, taking flight. My vision goes slightly hazy, and for a brief moment, the world tilts. I’m standing before it rights itself, and I grab the wobbly table, hoping it holds me.
When sound and sight rush back in, everything is too bright, too loud. Chevy is staring at me, and I can’t look at him right now. He looks too much like our dad, and I don’t want to see that comparison. I throw some cash down on the table. Then I bolt. Not running but just about.
“I’m staying with Val tonight,” I call over my shoulder, not slowing even a little bit.
Chevy yells after me, but it’s my good fortune Wolf Waters intercepts him before he can follow.
The air is cool in my throat, and I draw in deep lungfuls, relishing the slight burn as I speed-walk to my car.
What my brother doesn’t know, and what I can’t ever tell him, is that he’s dead-wrong about our father. We all were wrong about him. And that’s the painful truth I’ll carry with me to the grave, just the way Dad did.