28. Willy
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Willy
Arizona hooks the cherry off the top of her milkshake with her spoon and aims it at me across the table. “So Red walks into the kitchen, finds three lambs eating breakfast, and all he says is, ‘Kane’?”
I nod. “One word. Then twenty minutes of disappointment.”
She tips her head back with a laugh. “That’s almost impressive.”
“I’ve spent years giving him chances to improve.”
“I can tell.”
She pops the cherry into her mouth, catches my eye over the rim of her glass, and smiles while she chews.
The diner has emptied around us. Betty Lou wipes down the counter in lazy circles while an old country song crackles through the jukebox.
Every so often she looks our way with the kind of smile that makes me nervous. I do my best to keep my attention on the table.
Arizona follows my glance toward the counter before looking back at me. “What was that?”
“Self-preservation.”
She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye and finishes the last of her milkshake before setting the empty glass aside. “So everybody keeps tabs on you?”
“Pretty much.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“I’ve stopped asking questions.”
She folds her arms on the table and studies me with a grin that tells me she’s already expecting trouble. “Where do I fit into this?”
“I was hoping you’d make one questionable decision tonight.”
“Oh?”
“Come to the ranch.”
She tilts her head. “For what?”
“Let’s have some drinks. Cards, maybe. See the guys…”
She smiles into her empty glass, turning it between her hands before her attention drifts toward the window. Her truck waits beneath the streetlamp outside, exactly where she left it.
She watches it for a beat, then taps her fingertips against the table instead of reaching for her keys. “You sure it isn’t too late for everyone?”
“Emmett’ll be glad you’re there. Red too.”
She holds my gaze for a beat, then gives a small nod as though she’s settled the question in her own mind. “Alright.”
I tilt my head. “Alright?”
“I’ll come for one drink.”
The grin spreads across my face before I can rein it in. “You’ll have a good time.”
We slide out of the booth together. I tuck enough cash beneath the empty glasses to keep Betty Lou happy, then pull the diner door open while Arizona steps outside ahead of me.
The evening has cooled since we came in. Main Street sits beneath the streetlights, and country music drifts from somewhere farther down the block where a few people are still making the most of the night.
Arizona stops beside her truck and rolls her keys across her palm.
“You can follow me,” I say as I nod toward my pickup.
She looks from her truck to mine. “Or?”
“You ride with me, and we’ll come back for yours tomorrow.”
She spins the keys around one finger, watching me with a smirk. “Sounds good.”
“I promise I won’t drive into a tree.”
She climbs into the passenger seat, and I circle around to the driver’s side before pulling out onto the road toward Dusty Spur.
The pines close in around us before giving way to open pasture. Headlights sweep across weathered fences, and Arizona rests her elbow on the open window while she watches the countryside roll by.
“It’s peaceful out here.”
“Yeah, when we aren’t having issues.”
She nods and looks back through the windshield. “I keep thinking about it.”
“So do we.”
The conversation fades without feeling unfinished. The tires roll over the familiar road while the night stretches around us until Arizona lifts a hand toward the fence line.
“Look.”
I glance across in time to see a deer disappear between the trees. “You spotted that fast.”
She smiles. “I spend most of my life paying attention.”
“Songwriter habit?”
“Partly. I like watching people, too.”
The ranch comes into view around the next bend, porch lights spilling across the yard while the fire throws sparks into the dark beyond the house.
Arizona leans forward, one hand braced against the dash. “It’s beautiful. I’m always struck by Dusty Spur, every time I come here.”
The engine barely cuts out before the screen door bangs open.
Emmett strides onto the porch with three beer bottles hooked between his fingers. His face lights up when he spots Arizona climbing out of the truck.
“Well,” he says, taking the steps two at a time, “I’d started preparing for another evening listening to Willy tell the same stories.”
I climb out and shut the driver’s door. “They get better every time.”
“They get longer every time.”
Arizona laughs. “I’d like to hear both sides before I choose a side.”
“You’ll regret that,” Emmett says as he offers her a beer. “He’s got a talent for editing history.”
Arizona accepts the bottle with a grin. “Thank you.”
Heavy boots thud across the porch. Red steps outside with a beer in one hand and stops when he sees Arizona standing beside the truck.
His gaze settles on her. “Didn’t know we were expecting company.”
“I invited her.”
Arizona lifts her bottle toward him. “You planning on sending me home?”
He studies her for a beat before taking a drink. “I’ll decide after the first beer.”
Arizona smiles over the rim of her bottle, and I catch the corner of Red’s mouth twitching before he turns toward the fire.
Emmett sees it too.
I grab a couple more beers from the cooler and follow them to the fire. Red drops into his usual chair while Arizona settles opposite him, stretching her legs toward the flames.
Emmett takes the seat beside her, leaving the last chair for me. Funny how that one happens to be next to Arizona.
I hand her another bottle. “You still committed to one drink?”
She turns toward me, rolling the cold glass between her palms. “I haven’t reached a verdict.”
Emmett chuckles. “That seems sensible.”
I let out a long sigh. “You’ve already learned how to flatter him.”
Arizona turns toward him. “I wasn’t flattering him.”
“No?”
“I like people who pay attention.”
Emmett scratches the back of his neck, suddenly fascinated by the label peeling beneath his thumb. “I just try to make sure everyone’s got what they need.”
“I noticed,” she says, meeting his eyes. “You’ve asked if I wanted another beer twice, and you keep checking whether I’m warm enough.”
He glances at the fire. “I’d rather ask than assume.”
Red takes a drink. “He worries.”
Emmett shrugs. “Somebody should.”
Arizona’s attention shifts to Red. “And you?”
He rests his forearms on his knees. “I watch.”
She studies him. “I noticed that too.”
He holds her gaze without saying another word. It’s only a couple of seconds, but Red doesn’t waste eye contact any more than he wastes conversation.
Arizona continues to watch him with the same curiosity she’s had since the diner, like she’s trying to work out how a man who speaks so little manages to say exactly enough.
I glance between them. “I think that qualifies as a speech.”
Red looks at me. “Don’t get used to it.”
Arizona smiles into her beer. “I’ll remember it anyway.”
A coyote calls somewhere beyond the pasture while the horses shift in the darkness behind the corrals.
“And me?” I tease.
Arizona turns to face me. “You keep everybody laughing because you hate seeing people carry too much by themselves.”
The words steal every smart answer I’ve got.
Emmett looks at me.
Red does too.
Arizona smiles when she catches me searching for a comeback. “I finally found one you don’t have a joke for.”
I laugh under my breath. “I wasn’t prepared for you paying that much attention.”
“I told you.” She nudges my shoulder with hers. “I watch people.”
The contact lasts a heartbeat longer than either of us needs, and when she eases back, her knee brushes mine beneath the edge of the chair.
Watching her figure us out one by one should be funny.
Instead, it feels a little dangerous.
The fire crackles between us while Emmett studies the label on his beer with far more concentration than it deserves. Red watches the flames, though the corner of his eye keeps drifting our way before he takes another drink.
Arizona glances at each of them, then back at me. “So…”