78. He and I Will Have Words if This Continues #3
After a quick rinse off, I’m at the vanity in my bathroom throwing on concealer to disguise the weariness displayed below my eyes.
Eli sets a coffee mug on the bathroom counter and catches my reflection in the mirror.
“Love you, darlin’. Kick ass this morning.
I’ll see you at the hospital when you get there.
And, Bright? We need to tell Brax. June was one thing, but we’re well past that.
” He motions between us. “This isn’t something dirty.
I’m not ashamed, and it’s time he knows. ”
I hold his eyes, set down my mascara tube, and take a long sip of coffee. I nod once. “It’s been nice having it be ours. I’ll miss that.”
He kisses my shoulder before meeting my eyes in the mirror again. “Me too. Be safe today.”
“I’m not worried. And I’ll only be a couple of hours behind you.”
He levels me with his gaze and a raised eyebrow, practically daring me.
“Fine. I’ll be there as fast as I can. The horses haven’t had normal in seventy-two hours. I need to see they’re okay. I’ll hand it over to Cyler and the hands as soon as I’m comfortable. Who’s with Pop tonight?”
“Not us. We’re coming home, no matter how late. You’re grouchy when you don’t have your boots on and horses in sight.”
I slip my arms around his neck, and lift on my toes. I kiss him. It’s not light or gentle. It’s intentional. “Thank you for loving me well.”
He squeezes my ass and takes control of the kiss. “Don’t tempt me, darlin’. I have shit to do and need to get to it, but later—” He pulls me tight to his body. “Later, I’ll make good on these promises.”
He rubs a thumb over my cheek before giving me a kiss on the forehead and turning for the door.
My heart fills and my ovaries want to burst as he leans over and gives Luna a scratch between the ears.
“One day we’ll be nine-to-fivers, but probably not in your lifetime.
Thanks for going with the flow.” The steady thump of her tail on the hardwood floors greets my ears as I turn back to the mirror and fight to look presentable.
Elias
“Knock, knock.” I push open the door to Kimp’s hospital room after rapping on the wood surface and waiting for a response.
Willa is at Kimp’s bedside, feet propped up, chatting away.
Her dark hair is swept up into some messy ponytail.
Her extravagant tattoos are mostly concealed.
Only one on her right hand shows as she’s talking animatedly with Kimp.
It reads slays her own dragons, and I know that’s true.
Though, with Exton by her side now, she doesn’t have to anymore.
Their gazes turn to mine. Pop offers a muted good morning and extends a hand to a chair near Willa. The woman in question offers me a dazzling smile and pops up to offer me a quick hug. “We were just talking about Colt.”
When we take our seats, Kimp asks me about Bright.
I hedge. He’s in the loop, but Willa isn’t.
I owe it to Brax to tell him before his brother’s fiancée knows.
“She’s good. She needed to check on the ranch and the horses.
Y’all have a hell of an operation, and Cyler and the team have done well, but Bright needs to get her hands dirty and is only confident doing so knowing you’re out of the woods and have great company.
” I nod to Willa who offers a grin. When I look back to Kimp, I add. “She’ll be here this afternoon.”
No sooner do the words leave my mouth than there’s a tentative knock on the door, and Emberleigh’s voice filters to us. “Good morning. Is it okay to come in?”
Kimp pushes his voice to its limit. I know because I can see the grimace with his large inhale and the resulting response. “Of course, darling girl. Come on in.”
On her heels isn’t Braxton, but Exton, who carries three coffees on a tray filled with breakfast food.
“Morning.” He sets down the tray and offers a coffee to Willa and then Kimp, before setting a plate of eggs and bacon in front of his dad. “Don’t admit to the contraband,” he stage-whispers and passes a blueberry muffin to Willa. “We’re going to need more coffee.”
“I’ll join you.” I stand, offering my seat to Emberleigh. “How do you take your coffee?”
She tells me, and I follow Exton into the hall. There’s a quiet presence about Braxton’s younger brother. He fully commands any room, but doesn’t demand your attention. Respect is offered because respect is due, not because he requires it.
We stride down the hall.
“How was last night?” I ask
“He’s stubborn. That’s good. He’s not going to let anything keep him down, but his body isn’t twenty-five anymore, and his brain doesn’t want to admit that.” He pushes through the metal double doors.
“Do you think he’s in more pain than he’s letting on?”
“He was shot. Gut wound. That’s enough. But, if I’m reading it right, there’s more going on mentally. His privacy and security were breached, and his family was in danger. And he couldn’t save the day.”
“Gunshot wounds will do that.” I don’t mean for it to come out sarcastic, but the wry humor can’t be missed.
“Yep.”
We wind through the hallways, passing medical staff and visitors alike until the metal-on-plastic sounds and hum of hushed conversations of the cafeteria reach our ears. We grab far too many pastries, a glut of coffee, and enough bottled water to hydrate an entire hospital wing.
“How do you fit into all of this?” Exton asks after we check out, balancing the coffee and moving into the hall.
“Excuse me?”
“You were there, right??”
“I was. The threats were mounting, and Brax wanted legal counsel present when he discussed the case with the sheriff.”
He’s silent for a moment before continuing his questioning, “And the barn?”
I fight not to shuffle the bags of water and food. Every movement is a clue to the veracity of my statements. “I was there at Brax’s request. He was worried about Colt’s safety and knew he’d be targeted. He wanted Colt with Brighton while he was distracted.”
“Ah.”
After a long silence that few can stand comfortably, we arrive back at Kimpton’s room. I stifle a sigh of relief. I like Exton, but chatting with a human lie detector while hiding a secret is the mental equivalent of jogging in burlap underwear.
I offer Emberleigh her coffee. “Where’s Braxton? I figured he’d be here by now.”
“He had an errand to run. He’ll be here in a bit.”
An errand? What the hell? Forty-eight hours ago, we were dodging snipers and kidnapping attempts and today there’s vague errand-running?
“Pop, are you good if Willa and I take off and head to the condo for a shower?”
“Will you bring me back a cheeseburger?”
Four sets of incredulous eyes lock on the man.
“Those are your terms?” Willa’s smile pulls wide. “You should’ve negotiated harder. For a nap and a shower, I would’ve brought you whiskey too.” She shakes her head and stands, walking to Exton and threading her fingers through his. “Your negotiating skills are getting soft.”
“Text or call if you want anything else.” Exton lifts his chin as he starts for the door.
“Cheeseburger and onion rings,” Kimp reiterates.
Exton shakes his head, not refusing his dad, but almost incredulous at his request.
I grab my tablet and move to that damned vinyl loveseat, propping my coffee and pastry on the end table beside it. I delve into work, offering as much privacy as I can to Emberleigh and Kimp. If they need more, they never ask.
“I’m damn good at my job, you know.” Emberleigh is saying.
I’m lost in work when something in Emberleigh’s conversation with Kimp drags me right back into the room.
And not in a good way.
“Last night, Braxton asked if he could retain my services for the PR challenges that will undoubtedly be on your doorstep after an attempted kidnapping that ended in a triple homicide.”
She’s not wrong. Technically, she’s not right either. There were four homicides yesterday, but she must not know the precise body count.
“And?” Kimp replies, earnestness in his features.
“And I told him I would absolutely do it to protect the family, the business, and Colt’s future.
I told him, too, that the best way to handle this is for you to be the face and the voice—not to have a spokesperson from an outside PR firm fill that role.
I’ll coordinate the strategy, but you, Pop… You need to be the front man.”
Kimp looks over her head and holds my gaze.
There it is—the catch-22. Not that I ever expected this to be easy. On one hand turmoil, murder, intrigue. On the other, developers who are making this personal, fighting over adjacent land.
The breeding business versus the land it exists on.
The public’s perception of the family or the private entities clawing at our throats.
We’re in the crosshairs of a business lost to eroding public trust or occupation and lifestyle lost to encroachment.
I drop my gaze but lift my shoulders. I have no answer for him. It’s the perfect storm. He’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.
We both know it.