48. Chapter 48
Chapter 48
Maci
A fter talking to Hank on Saturday, I try to keep busy. Sutton and the crew have a full day of deworming and weighing calves. He offered for me to help, and it’s not that I don’t want to, but my mind is busy with anxiety. Not wanting to distract my favorite comforting man, I decide to visit my second-favorite.
It’s a weird thing to think that James has become so important to me in such a short time, but he offers a sense of peace that I could use now.
A member I don’t recognize waves me in at the gate, and I park in what’s becoming my usual spot.
McCoy pushes the front door open on his way out as I enter. My eyes catch on his bandaged hand. He only tips his head at me in greeting. Unlike many of the others, he never looks at me with interest of any sort. Some seem curious, likely at my being the President’s daughter. Pete always seems happy to see me. My dad and Hawk tend to look at me with a familial feel. But McCoy just watches; there’s nothing else there.
“Hey,” I say quietly, as he walks out and I walk in. I turn back toward him. “Everything ok?”
He stops walking and stares at me from the sidewalk, the door still held open between us.
“Your hand,” I clarify, moving my own briefly in his direction.
“Yep.” His casual response doesn’t translate to a softness in his eyes, and I continue to study him for an indication of what happened. It’s not actually my business, but his usual laid-back personality has been replaced with something falsely indifferent, stiff, leading me to believe he’s actually hiding something.
I’m not sure why an injury would even matter. Unless he’s embarrassed as to how he got it.
“Just a little barbecue accident.” His entire persona changes after he speaks. He lifts the wrapped hand to waist level and laughs sardonically. “That’s why I don’t cook.”
His following smile doesn’t feel natural. “See ya, Maci.” He waves with the good hand and lets the door fall closed.
Why can’t I picture McCoy barbecuing?
“Hey Maci,” Ginger calls from behind me.
I turn and wave at her behind the bar.
“James isn’t here.”
“Oh.” I make my way her direction and plop down in one of the chairs stationed at her bar.
“Everything ok?” She doesn’t have the soft voice of Izzy, or the playful voice of Leah, but she seems genuine in her care. Which is odd, considering our start.
The corner of my mouth tips up.
“I think I’m just…tired. You know, when your brain, your body, even your bones are tired?”
She pours a whiskey and soda and slides the glass to me. “You’re welcome to sit here and relax for as long as you need.”
Are we building a friendship? I guess stranger things have happened.
“Thanks.” I sip the drink and settle in for a while.
Sutton and I have rearranged the office to butt the desk and small table against each other, spreading out maps of both properties side by side.
Looking at the little buildings dotting both adds a new perspective to what’s in process. Sutton draws a blue shape akin to a rectangle around The Big House and the area surrounding it that he plans to make more personal for his parents. This includes the existing garden and the new pig pen.
“Are you sure they want Oinks and Snorts to stay there?” I press a finger to where the new addition is.
Sutton gives me a puzzled look. “Who?”
“Oinks and Snorts. The hogs.”
He blinks. “And you have shit to say about Mama naming things.” His face softens. “Yeah. They’re good there for now.”
He outlines the area for Nopal Vista in green. It’s more square and includes a section of the hidden creek.
I pull up one of the chairs and he makes a colorful representation of the various categories on the ranch and anything that’s fairly permanent. Then he follows up with pencil sketches.
“Your haunted house could go here.” Using the pencil as a pointer, he taps a square with a pumpkin in it on the northwest side of the new property. “There’re additional entrances here and here,” the pencil taps, “so we can avoid everyone coming through the more private areas.”
“It’s not my haunted house.” The flush is leaving my cheeks.
His signature hidden smirk plays on his lips. “Yes it is. I’m even going to put a big-ass sign that says Maci’s Slaughterhouse on it.”
My mouth falls open and the heat returns as quickly as it vanished. “You won’t.”
He laughs. Then he goes about penciling in all the other ideas that have come up.
“Is this how you plan the pieces you craft?”
“I do a little sketch. Nothing crazy.” He pretends to focus on the map, but his reddening cheeks give him away.
“You look a little flushed. Need some fresh air?”
The pencil hits the desk with a smack. “Great idea. I’m starving.”
Before I can stand, he cages me into the chair I’m sitting in. “Grab the Defender and meet me at the front.” He punctuates his request with a hard kiss, then leaves before I can stand.
The day is gorgeous and chilly, just how I like it. I tug my boots on and head out to find the keys in the Defender. Just as I’m pulling up to the front porch, Sutton opens the front door and comes out with an insulated bag.
“What’s this?” I slide into the passenger side.
“Lunch.” He tucks the overstuffed bag in the floorboard and climbs into the driver’s seat. We head in the direction of Nopal Vista.
We talked over moving into The Lodge until our house is built, but decided not to. We’ll focus on getting it ready for guests, instead. Michael and Andi don’t bother us at The Big House, and the walls are surprisingly thick, giving us at least the illusion of being secluded for a few more months.
I love that we already spend so much time where we’ll be permanently, though. Building these memories from the literal ground up.
Together, we spread a comforter where the house will go, and Sutton starts removing food from the bag.
“Looks like a celebration.” I sink down to the blanket.
“Just lunch with my favorite person.”
My heart trips over itself right as my phone rings. “Wonder who that could be.” I yank it out. “It’s Hank.”
Our eyes lock. He doesn’t have news already, right? Maybe Alan told him to fuck off.
“Hi, Hank.” I wish my voice came out stronger. I can’t help but anticipate the worst.
“Hey, Maci.” His tone is neutral.
“Should I put you on speaker?”
“Sure, if you want.”
I press the button. “Go ahead.”
“Well, I have news. Alan’s lawyer called me just a few minutes ago.” Again, his tone gives nothing away. It’s not usually his style, and I’m wondering if he’s trying to calm me before he tells me I’m screwed.
“Alan has agreed to drop the civil lawsuit, with the counter request of all parties signing an NDA.”
“Who are ‘all parties’?” I chew my lip.
“You, Sutton, and Stephanie.”
“So, we could never use the bigamy.” Sutton studies the phone.
“Correct. Contractually, he would sign agreeing to drop any claims and refrain from filing anything new. Everyone else would sign not to pursue the bigamy or share any knowledge surrounding it.”
“Is that legal?” Sutton presses.
“People agree not to share all kinds of learned information,” Hank says. “It’s up to you, though.”
Sutton’s eyes bore into mine with a new hunger. We’re both so ready to be past this.
“Tell the lawyer we’ll do it. But I have my own requests. Alan has to also agree to give Stephanie an uncontested divorce. And she gets any insurance money from the house.”
Sutton smiles wickedly at me.
“The house?” Hank asks.
“Alan’s house burned down on Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, shit. He’s just taking it left and right.” Hank sounds more impressed than concerned. “Ok, I’ll let you know if there’s a problem. Otherwise, we’ll sign later this week.”
“Thanks, Hank.” I end the call and practically jump into Sutton’s lap.
He willingly pulls me to straddle his outstretched legs.
“Now we have something to celebrate.”
He kisses me softly. “Every day with you is a day to celebrate.”
“Well, it looks like you’re going to be packing a lot of fancy lunches, because I’m not going anywhere.” I grab his hat and place it on my head.
“Excuse me, Firecracker. But there’s a rule about wearing the hat.”
“Does it have to do with breaking in this land?” I bounce my eyebrows at him.
“It does. Now, would you like to fulfill the requirement before or after dessert?” His eyes flash.
My face falls slightly. “I’m usually dessert.”
He grins. “I have a sweet tooth. I’ll have two.” He reaches into the bottom of the insulated bag and pulls out a tiny cheesecake.
“Cheesecake! I’m feeling spoiled, Cowboy.”
“I intend to spoil you any day I can.”
I take the cheesecake tray and set it aside. “That’s for later.” My fingers thread into his hair and I pull him tightly to me for a hard kiss. “First, we break in the land. Then, cheesecake. Then, I have to give you a really long honey-do list for the house.”
“The house that’s not built?” he says against my lips.
“Yes. It’s like an unwritten rule. You need to have never-ending tasks.”
He snickers. “I already do. But that’s fine. As long as you’re on the list.”
“Every day, sir. Every day.”