Chapter Ten
Bix had declined to come to dinner that night, and Daughtry was almost relieved. He needed the reprieve. He always felt like
he had to watch her, keep an eye out for her.
You make it sound like she’s a chore. She isn’t, and you know that.
He felt hyperaware of her, though, and it was a strange sensation, and not one that he liked all that much. He sat down in
the living room with Denver and Justice after everyone else had cleared out.
He’d love to pretend he didn’t know what it was. Sadly, it was the all-too-familiar ache of being attracted to a beautiful
woman. And he couldn’t afford that. Not with her. She was under his care, and he wasn’t that guy.
Worse, though, had been her reaction. The heightened color in her cheeks, the way her breathing had gotten faster.
She’d felt it. The same thing he had.
The pulse of electricity when their hands had touched. And her eyes had gone all bright. Her attraction had been... naked.
Like she hadn’t known how to hide it or hadn’t wanted to.
And something about that was appealing to him, even if it shouldn’t be.
Because it was like an invitation to wildness. To something deeper than the arrangements he’d always had. These very clear-cut sexual agreements that had no risk, and no real spark.
Sparks start wildfires.
And only you can prevent forest fires, dumbass.
“Where’s your little shadow?” Denver asked.
He gritted his teeth. “ My little shadow isn’t actually my shadow, and she is at home.”
“Home,” Denver said.
“Yes. That is where she lives.”
“I thought this was all just temporary.”
“Well. It is. But for now, it is what it is.”
“Sure,” said Denver.
“How is she? As far as work goes.”
“She’s great,” said Justice. “She does the work of two people easily. And when she doesn’t have the know-how, she definitely
has the enthusiasm.”
“You mean like the willingness to climb up on top of the barn roofs?”
“Exactly that,” he said.
“Great,” said Daughtry.
“You know,” said Denver. “I’m wondering about something.”
“What is that?” Daughtry asked, feeling irritated with his brother.
“When are you going to stop playing cops and robbers? You’re half in and half out of the ranch. And it isn’t like you’re gunning
for a top-level position in law enforcement. So... what is the game?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” Denver straightened in his chair. “Sometimes I think maybe you took Bix on because she’s acting as your surrogate. Living in your house, coming to work for us every day. But it’s not you, Daughtry.”
“No,” said Daughtry. “It’s not. But I put work into this place whenever I’m not on shift.”
“But you’re on shift full-time. And like I said, you’re kind of half in both. That’s what I don’t understand.”
“Because it’s not about being the top of anything, or the head of anything,” said Daughtry. “I didn’t know that you cared
about this. I didn’t know you felt like you needed a greater understanding about it. Because let me make it clear. Let me
give you the rundown. Our dad was a miserable human being. He probably still is. He caused damage in this town, Denver, you
know that. And I know you feel a sense of responsibility for it. Or you wouldn’t be off trying to pay for all of his mistakes—literally.
I know you give Sheena Patrick money. That you sent her sisters to school.”
Denver’s lip curled. “It’s different.”
“The hell it is. It’s not different.”
“Yes, it is,” Denver said.
“All those people aren’t the surrogates for your redemption? Because actually, it seems like it’s the same thing. And if Bix
is anything, then she’s that. It has nothing to do with me sending somebody to do my work on the ranch in my place.”
“I don’t understand the need for the job.”
“I didn’t ask you to understand it. You’re right about one thing, Denver. I’m not in charge of any other place, but you and I both know that I’m never going to be in charge here. I don’t want to be. I care about it. You handled it all your way, I handled it mine. We were both there, Denver. We both saw Dan Patrick die. We both have that feeling of... blood on our hands.”
“You don’t have to tell me about it,” Denver said.
He looked at his brother. He loved him. There was no doubt about that. And he knew Denver loved him too. But after the scales
had been torn from their eyes, after their dad’s empire had crumbled and they’d seen it for what it was, there had always
been a wall between them.
Landry and Justice seemed beneath their dad’s notice most of the time. Arizona had been the object of contempt. Daughtry and
Denver had been his boys. There was an inescapable feeling that his bond with Denver was somehow tied to that and he knew
they both rejected it completely.
It made things a little complicated sometimes. They worried about each other. They didn’t really know how to fix each other.
Mostly they left each other alone when it came to deep emotional wounds or whatever.
Why Denver was choosing to get in his grill now, he couldn’t say.
Daughtry gritted his teeth. “I have done my level best to make sure that I do better, that I give better, since then. But
I have to be careful. You know that. I have to...”
“What? You think if you quit being a police officer then you’re going to forget how to not be a criminal? You’re not going
to forget how to not be a narcissist.”
“You don’t know that. And anyway, it’s my business.”
“We all have our own ways of dealing with this,” Justice said quietly. Justice rarely opposed Denver. Hell, none of them opposed
Denver all that often. “If that’s what works for him, then it’s what works,” Justice continued. “It’s not up to you to tell
them what to do, or how to do it better.”
“Well, that’s nice,” said Denver. “My little brothers forming an army against me. When I’m the reason that this place got
pulled up out of ruin.”
“And I’m appreciative,” Daughtry said. “But you can’t tell me that you want to share the crown with anybody. We both know
you don’t.”
“The whole point of expanding all this is to give everybody their own niche,” he said. “But the truth is, Daughtry, you don’t
have that kind of time.”
“You’re right. I don’t. And I don’t especially care but I...” Suddenly, he remembered what Bix had said to him. “What do
you think about beer?”
Denver gave him a look like he was insane and raised his beer bottle in the air. “I like it pretty well.”
“That isn’t what I mean. I mean what do you think about brewing beer? There’s my contribution.”
“Brewing beer?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m not going to actually head it up, but that was an idea that Bix had. And I think it’s a good one.”
“Not doing much to make me think she isn’t your surrogate.”
“That’s your hang-up, not mine. I think it’s a good idea. And I think it’s something that she could manage.”
“If she does that, then you’re looking at a much more permanent position.”
It was true. He was looking at needing to get her a place of her own, as well. He was looking at...
For some reason, his brain just quit working. He wasn’t sure he wanted Bix to find a different place, and yet the idea of
having her on a more permanent basis was... strange. A little bit jarring. But definitely less jarring than the idea of
her leaving. And anyway, the beer thing was a good idea.
“It is a good idea,” said Denver. “Four Corners beer?”
“Yeah,” said Justice. “There can be a type for each ranch. I mean, assuming everybody else wants to chip in. They don’t get
fancy beer for nothing.”
He could sense the irritation coming off of Denver in waves, because Denver couldn’t deny it was a good idea. And Daughtry
could see that he wanted to.
“Okay. Find out some more information about that. Or get your critter to do it.”
“She’s not my critter . Talk about her with a little bit of respect. You said she was a good worker. So give her the full credit that you would
give any good worker.”
“I do. In front of her,” Denver admitted. “It’s only in front of you that I’m this big of an ass.”
“Lucky me,” said Daughtry.
He rounded out the night with his brothers without having another fight or coming to blows. Not that they ever did that. He was a little bit surprised at Denver’s commentary. Mostly because they didn’t tend to get in each other’s business like that. Their father had been so manipulative, and they were all pretty wary of that sort of behavior.
But there it was. Resentment, bubbling up beneath the surface. He wasn’t that thrilled about it. He pondered it as he drove
home. The lights were on in the front of the house, but he could see through the windows that Bix wasn’t lingering in any
of the front rooms.
She had been a little bit scarce since the town hall meeting.
He thought back to those bright eyes, her pink cheeks...
Shit.
Good thing he had a lock on control.
Good. Damn. Thing.
He opened up the front door, and went inside, closing it heavily behind him.
He paused, and listened. He couldn’t hear any movement. He went over to the fridge and opened it up, taking out a bottle of
beer. He closed the fridge door, and then he heard a sound from the hallway.
“Bix?”
Soft footsteps started to head his direction.
“Bix?” he repeated.
“No,” she said. “It’s the Golden State Killer.”
“That would be a surprise.”
She held up her hands like claws. “Death is always a surprise, Daughtry.”
She lowered her hands, and looked embarrassed. He stared at her for a long moment, stunned again by how much she had changed. Not so much in personality. She was still prickly. And insincere at first. Every single time. Sincerity had to be dug out of her with an ice pick. And even then, it was tough to manufacture.
“What did you have for dinner?” he asked.
“Leftover pizza,” she said. “How was... everybody?”
“It was a reduced crew tonight. But good.” He opted not to tell her about the fight that he had with Denver. Because he and
Bix weren’t friends. It was funny; she had told him that she didn’t know how to have friends. He wasn’t sure he did either.
He had his brothers, and they bumped along just fine until they had a little dustup like tonight, and then they pushed it
only so far before letting it go.
Justice had a friend. She was a woman, and he wondered if that was something to do with... Hell, he didn’t know. He didn’t
have an explanation for that. Landry had Fia, but that was it. Denver sure as hell didn’t have anybody. Arizona had an expanded
network these days. She and Rue bumped around just fine. And these days, Arizona even got along with the Sullivan sisters.
But Daughtry had no idea how to have friends. And it had never bothered him. He had colleagues in the state police, but the
way it was structured, they didn’t really have to talk to each other much if they didn’t want to. And mostly what he wanted
to do was clock in and clock out. That was it. That was what he did. His job had always been about service, not brotherhood
or any other such thing.
So he could tell her about it. It would be interesting. An exercise in friendship.
But instead, he just looked down at the beer bottle in his hand. “My brother is interested in beer. Our own beer.”
She frowned. “Okay?”
“What do you know about brewing beer?”
“Oh, plenty. I haven’t done a whole lot of it, but I have before, on special request. And I know how to get a setup together.”
“You don’t need to make anything out of buckets. We can buy actual equipment. But I would like your help pricing it out. And
it would be great if you could walk me through the process a little bit.”
“Sure. I can do that.”
“How would you like to head up the endeavor?”
She blinked. “What?”
“If Denver ends up agreeing after we present him with a plan, would you like to be in charge of Four Corners Beer?”
She looked like she had been slapped with a wet fish. “I... I don’t know. I really don’t. I... What does that mean for
me?”
“It would be something of a permanent position.”
“Permanent. Here.”
“Yeah.”
“I have... I mean I was going to...”
“What were you going to do?”
She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “I don’t know.”
Bix felt embarrassed, standing there looking up at him. Daughtry, who was too perfectly formed for her to bear. And who seemed to just be. As easily as putting on a uniform every day. A man with purpose. A man who knew who he was, and what to do about it.
A man who made her feel.
Because it was maybe the most honest thing she had ever said to him, other than that outburst about everything she would’ve
done with her life if she’d had a normal upbringing.
Because she didn’t know.
She had been lying to herself this whole time. In her head, she had thought it made sense to go to California because her
dad did have some contacts there. She had been planning on setting up a still. Planning on getting the product out there,
where her father’s name and reputation might mean something.
She had been planning, dimly, on trading on her father’s sketchy reputation down in a rural part of California where she didn’t
have any friends or family.
The truth was, no one was waiting for her.
She had planted a seed inside of herself, a little white lie. An idea that there were people there she knew better than she
did. A vague notion that they would be appreciative that she had showed up with product. It had given her a feeling like she
was heading to a destination. That she had a goal.
She didn’t. She didn’t.
Nobody was waiting for her. Her father was imprisoned, and so was her brother.
Her mom might not even be alive anymore, and if she was, she doubted she even remembered she had a kid.
The only people who really had a sense of who she was... were the Kings. Daughtry King was offering her more than any other
person ever had. And she would be an idiot to turn them down. That was the bottom line. That was the truth.
“What about...? I mean...”
“What’s worrying you?”
She laughed. “Only everything. Nobody has ever offered me a permanent position before. Nobody has ever offered me anything
close to... Where am I going to live?”
“Here. For now. But you’re right, there should be some other housing.”
“I mean, you should probably let me pay for my own housing.”
“We’re lousy with land. If there’s one thing we’re not short on it’s places to stay. It doesn’t actually make any sense to
have you paying for your own place. Because you don’t need a lot of space. It can be part of your compensation. We can continue
with room and board. But I agree, you want to have your own space.”
“That’s... nice of you.”
“I’m not being nice. This is a good opportunity for you and for us.”
“Yes, you are,” she said. “You’re being nice. You have been, from the minute that you met me, and I really don’t know why. I just... I can’t believe that you’re being this... You could find somebody with experience.”
“I could. And I would have to pay them more. I’ll pay you something fair, but something that represents that this is your
first gig. But also, there will be room and board. And you don’t have to stay forever. Get it set up and then... go to
college.”
Her chest hurt. It was the hope. That was the problem. It was so foreign, so painful, it was the reason that she turned away
from all of this most of the time. Because it was just... It was hard. It was just so hard. She wanted everything that
he was offering.
She wanted everything she had found here.
The sense of camaraderie, the food, the... the family.
But it scared her too. How could it not? This was nothing like her life. Nothing like the life she had known previously. Her
own family treated her like she was disposable, and Daughtry was giving her something real. It wasn’t a handout. He was actually
giving her job experience.
If she stayed here long enough she would be able to get work elsewhere. And he was right; if she stayed and saved enough money
then she could go to college. She could probably start online classes.
She would be able to buy a computer. And they had Wi-Fi on the ranch.
Her heart was pounding, but she was smart. She knew how to survive.
She wasn’t sure she knew how to do this, though. It felt like something bigger than survival. Something more. And that was something she didn’t have any experience with. Not beyond the last month.
“So what’s the plan? We have to present him with information?”
“Yes. We need to get together some information on projected costs.”
“Well, I’m familiar with all the supplies. For brewing, bottling and distribution. I imagine you’re going to want real labels,
and there are companies that can do that for cheap, and there are companies that can do it good. My recommendation would be
to do it good.”
He chuckled. “Okay. Whatever you think. You give me some ideas, and we’ll work them into a proposal for Denver.”
The absolute terror of the hope that was rioting through her was better than any cigarette. It was intoxicating, and she was
worried that it might be addicting. Just like he was.
Her feelings for him were anything but straightforward. And she had a feeling she was a special project to him. She was going
to prove that she was worth the investment.
She would make sure that Daughtry King was not sorry that he believed in her.
Because he was the only person on this green earth who ever had.
And that was worth more than whatever strange sensation she got in her stomach whenever she looked at him. This was worth
everything.
“I’m going to get something together tonight. And... I can give it to Denver in the morning.”
He nodded. “Great.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, and they looked at each other for maybe a minute longer than necessary. Not a whole minute.
Just a heartbeat. A breath.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll see you.”
“Yeah,” he said.
She went back to her room and closed the door, leaning against it, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. He was giving
her a chance to make something of herself. He was giving her a chance to plan for her future. That was worth more than anything
else ever could be. It wasn’t stardust. It was something more concrete than that; it was what she needed.
It was a brick. And she would be damned if she was going to waste it.