Chapter Ten
“These stockpots are fantastic,” Layla said as she put four of them on the outdoor burners while Avery grilled sirloin and Ritchie chopped vegetables.
She added beef broth and seasonings, bringing the liquid to a boil. They assembled the stew and let it bubble.
Avery added a three-berry cobbler to the earth oven.
“I’m not privy to noncompetitive meal prep,” Layla told him. “I’m only seeing what happens when the cameras are on. So this is a different angle for me. I want to document this, but that wouldn’t be fair. I don’t have this kind of footage with the other contestants.”
“So maybe just enjoy our behind-the-scenes moments.” He winked.
She fanned her face. “I was only going to post ones that were PG-rated.”
He chuckled. “Those are few and far between.”
“And I’m good with that.”
The stew simmered until the meat was tender and the flavors blended.
They served the wranglers and ranch hands. Then Avery and Layla sat with Chance.
Avery’s older brother asked, “You joining us for supper at the main house tonight, Miss Layla?”
Avery would have kicked his brother’s shin under the table. But he was curious as to Layla’s response.
She said, “That hasn’t been mentioned to me yet. And I should probably go back to Serrano. Though ... if there’s an official invite issued, I’m happy to accept.”
“I did tell you the door’s open,” Avery reminded her.
“To your house,” she pointed out.
“All one and the same, honey,” he told her.
He noticed a tremor running through her hand, and she set aside her spoon. She shot a look at him. “Didn’t we ascertain we might be on the verge of a slippery slope?”
“Yep. Question still stands,” he said.
“I did like how we just worked together. Is there a specialty you take to the table at the main house?”
“Usually a dessert.”
“Great idea.” She glanced around, zeroed in on his garden, and said, “Lemon and blueberry empanadas with a drizzle? Carrot cake cupcakes?”
“This woman totally gets us,” Chance said as he piled his silverware on his empty plate. “We eat later in the evening. After the wranglers are fed.”
“Jack cooks at the house?” she asked.
“That’s his territory,” Avery told her. “Jillian’s, too, now that she’s moving in. They’re getting hitched and having a baby.”
“Oh, fuck!” Layla exclaimed. Then clamped a hand over her mouth. Briefly. She said, “Pardon my French.”
Avery and Chance exchanged a look. That was Avery’s phrase.
Someone needed to take away his shovel. “Knee-deep” with Layla was turning into a shallow grave for him.
She continued. “I knew there was more between those two than cohosting his BBQ channel. You can’t manufacture chemistry like that. It’s damn sexy. They hooked me from that call-in Jillian made.” She gave the gentle giggle that always made Avery’s stomach pull tight. “I will confess to replaying the section that featured you, Avery. Very witty. With that perfect balance of charm that provided another sizzling component.”
“That’s my cue to exit stage left,” Chance joked as Avery and Layla stared at each other.
Avery barely heard him.
He told Layla, “You should’ve just called me that very day.”
“Didn’t have your number.”
He chuckled. “Like Brodi couldn’t get it for you.”
“Point taken.” She shrugged. “But I had to do some research first. I prefer to know who I’m approaching with my competitions. Though, yes ... I should have just called you. That very day.”
“You’re here now. That’s what counts.”
Her smile was the sweet one that built upon the smoldering sensations she evoked. Making him think he could drown in lust and be a better man for it.
Though there was a different L-word tickling the back of his brain.
He wasn’t the type to subscribe to instant infatuation or anything beyond that. Falling in love was supposed to take time. You were supposed to know who you were falling for.
Granted, every bit of herself that Layla revealed drew him in. Beyond that, her actions spoke volumes. Not only in how she interacted with him but with others. And how they responded to her. She didn’t hide her passions or cower from getting involved in fragile matters of the heart.
Solidifying for him that love at first sight actually did exist?
Still a touchy subject. However, the cons didn’t outweigh the pros. Not yet anyway.
As the cowboys cleared out, Avery, his assistant, and his ... what? ... girlfriend (?) handled the chores.
Then they started prep for the next meal. Steak tacos with Mexican-style pickled red onions and cilantro, hangers, chili-cumin roasted corn, and southwestern potatoes.
While the cowboys ate, he and Layla ducked out to go to the house and clean up. Well, to do more than that.
Later, they took the desserts up to the main house.
Avery felt a bit awkward introducing Layla around, knowing his entire family saw right through him—she wasn’t just the host of the show he was starring in this week. Reeds were great at ribbing each other, but they took it easy on Avery. Probably because this was the first time he’d brought a woman to supper.
Much to his relief, there was plenty to talk about as food was passed around the table that didn’t center on him and Layla, though casual questions were dropped ... just so that the others could learn more about her. She didn’t deflect. Not only, he suspected, because they were noninvasive queries but also because she wanted to be forthcoming.
When the desserts were served, he said, “Layla’s ideas.”
“And Avery’s recipes,” she added.
“You’ve never made either of these for us before tonight,” his aunt chided him. All sly-like.
“She’s just making good use of my garden,” Avery explained. His gaze shifted to Jillian. “Along those lines, how are you planning to move your operation on-site?”
“I was offered use of the guesthouse as a commercial slash certified kitchen,” she told everyone. “With the bedrooms being available for my podcasting and storing my supplies.”
Avery slid a glance toward Jack. “You think of everything.”
“It was my mom’s idea,” Jack said. “Makes perfect sense. Jillian’s operation is expanding by leaps and bounds. She’ll also continue to cohost with me.”
“And I’ll help her tend to her crops,” Aunt Brett chimed in. “We have plenty of land surrounding the guesthouse that George will get ready for her to cultivate her chili peppers.”
“Guess you could say this family thinks of everything,” Jillian declared.
“I’ve already discerned that,” Layla replied.
“We’re also building storage for Mom’s pottery, to sell online and at her craft fairs,” Jack said.
“And,” Jillian added, “we’re using the kitchen and storage in the guesthouse for Jack’s new business venture as well.”
Avery eyed him with interest. “And that is ...?”
“Barbecue sauces and syrups,” his cousin announced.
“Oh, snap!” This from Chance. “I’ve only been sayin’ this for over a decade.”
“Do not grief on me,” Jack said. “I didn’t quite realize I could add another revenue stream without it draining my brain and energy. But Jillian has optimized her production process, and Mom and I are on board.”
Some of the weight that had resided in Avery’s chest for most of his life lessened. “That’s incredible, Jack. All of you.”
The potential for additional capital was a huge advantage. The more padding of the coffers, the less Jack had to stress.
Something very serious to consider. Avery recognized that Jack’s dad had been mired in financial deficits and faced the ever-changing environment that affected livestock owners. There was always something to throw a wrench into the works. And when his own brother became that wrench ... things had declined.
Avery knew it hadn’t been simply about the fiscal constraints that had been created. He understood that his uncle Royce had been betrayed. By Avery and Chance’s father. And all Uncle Royce had done, in turn, was figure out how to make ends meet, how to maintain an empire, how to keep an eye on his nephews and ensure they knew they were a part of this family, regardless of their dad spitting on this very soil.
This inspired Avery to tell them all, “I’m moving forward with Light Your Fire. It makes sense. I have the skills. And ...” His gaze flitted to Jack. “If I come into the money, it’s yours.”
Okay, yeah, he was supposed to consult Mateo on how to weave those funds into the ranch’s books before he blurted anything out.
But Avery had to take a stand.
The entire room fell silent.
Jack glared at him. With too much emotion in his eyes for it to not spear Avery to the core.
“That’s a no-go.”
“It’s a for-sure-go.” Avery held his gaze. “I intend to win. And that’s cash for the ranch.”
Avery shoved back his chair. He offered his hand to Layla, who joined him.
He said, “Y’all enjoy the desserts. And know I’m committed to this.”
He led her out.
Layla fought the tears. They wouldn’t do her or Avery any good. They wouldn’t do the situation any good. That was for Avery to iron out with Jack.
The complexity she grappled with was that Avery had a sound ground on which to stand: doing whatever he could for his family.
She admired that.
They undressed without disturbing the tranquility. They slipped between the sheets. She nuzzled against him.
Quiet moments consumed them.
Eventually, she said, “Y’all have an integrity that’s heartwarming.”
“It can also aggravate us.”
“Not so. There’s an underlying desire to be all that you can be. Everyone is invested in that, Avery. Straight down to your nephews, who also contribute. And your auxiliary people, like Garrett and Mindy. Cowboys and ranch hands.”
“Our universe encourages personal growth and group cohesiveness—all at the same time.”
“Agreed.” She added, “I respect that everyone can pursue their own interests. Develop them and turn them into monetized vehicles.”
“We’ll see about that.”
She grasped his point. “You and Jack will have difficulty reconciling a cash award, if you win one.”
“I’ll deal with that when I win.”
She kissed him. And murmured against his lips, “That’s the preferred sentiment here. When, not if.”
“I have sufficient motive to come through on the high side.”
“Yes, you do.”
His fingers grazed her upper arm. “Tell me more about your swing and miss, darlin’.”
“Not sure what you’re talking about, cowboy.”
“You know.”
The air turned stagnant.
She had to provide details as well.
Hers got grim here.
She sighed. Then said, “I followed a path I shouldn’t have. Got too caught up in who I could potentially become after spending so much time as a wallflower.”
She was ill at ease now. But didn’t shrink away from the topic at hand.
She told him, “I had the perfect entrance into New York society. For a short span of time, I reaped rewards. Felt like royalty. Understanding I wasn’t, but still ... I was immersed in glitz and glamour. All I had to do was pull a few teeth.”
“Till someone was on to you?”
“Yep.”
She propped herself on an elbow and stared down at him. “I delivered misinformation. Could have been given to me on purpose. Or maybe I just misunderstood. I’d had a couple martinis during those particular conversations. Doesn’t matter. The outcome was so horrendous, I begged him to give up the game. To find venture capitalists who were on the up-and-up. To not get roped into shadier dealings.”
She plopped onto the mattress and stared up at the ceiling, anger and anxiety roiling through her.
Avery asked, “What happened next?”
“He didn’t like my earnest approach.” She grimaced. “He didn’t like anything I said after that, including that we should find a different project that didn’t require so much espionage. Because that was what it’d become. Corporate espionage.”
“But you weren’t raiding bank accounts, right?”
“Oh, God, no.” She sat up again and gazed at him. “I’m not even sure I can call myself the equivalent of the getaway driver. I was a communication vehicle, sure. But again ... if you’re willing to impart proprietary information during a cocktail party, it’s bad on you for wanting to hang the messenger.”
“And yet you still feel guilty.”
He said this in a tender tone. So that she wilted against him.
“Yes, I do.” Didn’t take a rocket scientist to form the correlation between them. “I grasp our tie-in, Avery. Your dad set the winning stage while also building the gallows for you.”
“I could’ve gone so much further with the competitions.”
“And to be honest, he could have—should have—reveled in your rising status.”
“But then he’d flip a switch and cause a problem. One after the other.”
She cringed. “You wanted him to be honorable.”
“And he didn’t give a shit about that.”
Avery let out a harsh breath. Glowered a bit.
Then he said, “You were a pawn too. And ended up owing a stash.”
Her insides twisted. “Some mixed implications here, cowboy. I was lured, yes. Then I saw the light and tried to redeem myself. In the end ... I did ask for the one thing I desired the most. And I’m happy to pay for it.”
“Meanin’?”
“Meaning, I made a huge mistake playing spy, just to gain a sense of self-worth. I intended to return to my virtues. Recommended he do the same. After that ... all hell broke loose. On my face.”
Avery bolted upright. And demanded, “What?”
Layla tasted the ferric tinge of blood—and terror—she couldn’t escape. But she didn’t hold back this time. She told him, “He hit me alongside my temple with a bottle of brandy, so please don’t ever offer me that.”
A bad joke.
She continued. “I blacked out for seconds, minutes. I don’t know how long. When I came to, he wound my hair around his fist, hauled me up, practically dragged me into the kitchen, and slammed my face into the stainless-steel door of the refrigerator.”
“You are fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” Avery was on his feet in a second.
She drew in a deep breath. Gazed steadily at him. And said, “Over and over.”
Avery paced with so much pent-up agitation it made her stomach roil—so that she might’ve thrown up. That was also due to having just revealed her darkest secret.
His hands balled into fists at his sides.
She told him, “It was five years ago, so you have to let the rage go. Nothing to be done about it.”
He whirled around. They stared at each other. The air crackled with more emotions and tension than she could dissect. All piercing and painful.
“Is this asshole in prison?”
She shook her head. “I never pressed charges. He knew people. People who tended to me in a private hospital that he paid off so that the police wouldn’t be involved. A man who came in and whispered that he’d kill me if I uttered a word—not that I could speak. The best I could manage was to scribble out my desire for a cosmetic surgeon who I would pay for. I only had one request of him.”
“Which was?”
“Make me pretty.”
Tears pooled in her eyes.
Avery returned to the bed, perched on the edge. Not too close.
He tried to make sense of all of this, she could tell. Though it really wasn’t complicated. Her train had jumped the tracks, she’d gotten back on the right rails, and had disappeared when she was well enough to leave the hospital.
She’d drained her savings account for the initial down payment on her surgery. Rerouted investments so she could rebuild her life elsewhere. Assumed Christopher had likely told HR that she wouldn’t return to work for whatever excuse he made up. She changed her name, left everything behind her, and came to Texas.
“My first thought was to go to the farm. But I couldn’t figure out how to explain this new person to my father. Nor did I want to put him in any danger. If he went off half-cocked. Or if someone followed me there. I laid low for a couple of years. Then got up the nerve to approach a friend from college who owed me a favor. Todd liked my pitch for a traveling cook-off show. I was trained in broadcasting, so it was a natural fit. And the audience seems to like my appearance. So. I sort of got everything I wanted, Avery. In the long run. Bear that in mind.”
“Except there’s still this monster out there who—”
“I don’t think about the monster. Not as a rule.” She hedged a moment. Then admitted, “I do still feel the need to look over my shoulder. That’s why I haven’t seen my daddy yet. But I’ve done a thorough job of burying Tess Billings. Even the payments I make to the surgeon are via electronic transfer. He’s one of the very few who can identify me, so maybe I’m effectively paying him hush money. Though he’s earned every penny. I’m not upsetting that applecart, ever.”
Avery raked a hand through his hair. Let out a gnarled sound. Stood and paced some more.
“Don’t go chasing your tail on this one, cowboy. Can’t change my past. I can only move forward.”
He gave her a staunch look. “But you still can’t go home, Layla.”
Her heart constricted. “That is a fact. For now anyway. Maybe someday I’ll convince myself I’m a distant memory and no one’s searching for me to make sure I never report what happened.”
“You should report it,” he averred in a quiet tone.
“Nope. He’ll lawyer up with a legion I can’t compete against.” She spread her arms and added, “I’m happy with my life, Avery. The production crew is my family. There’s a deeper sense of camaraderie with Todd and Brodi, of course. Those two know my story. And I trust them to keep it. Todd also knows I need a job that doesn’t require a résumé or a background check. He can’t support the show if it fails, though, so we do what we can to grow our numbers and increase monetization.”
She strove for a bit of levity to lighten the somber mood, saying, “Having you on-screen will do wonders in that department.”
His jaw clenched. There was a smirk trapped in there somewhere, but he was too amped up to let it out. She recognized the signs, was attuned to his characteristics. Also, she’d gone through this with Todd, who’d wanted to get on a plane and smash Christopher Courtland’s face, so he suffered the way Layla had. It’d taken endless convincing that she would be fine without his retaliation to calm him down a bit.
Brodi had been furious as well, but she’d mostly just cried.
Now here was this strapping cowboy who likely would gain satisfaction from pummeling anyone who assaulted her. And he had a ranch full of other cowboys who would back him up, she had no doubt.
Causing her to say, “This stays between us, Avery. No one in your family needs to know.”
They continued to stare at each other.
His irises were too dark and his jaw was too set for her to not accept this whole scenario as a personal affront to him. That he wanted to do something to rectify it, to make up for what she’d endured. And to take out his own fury on the one who’d hurt her.
And by God, the experience had been excruciating. She knew she was lucky to be alive. Surprised, really. It was a miracle what sort of shattering the body could withstand.
The same held true for the spirit.
She told Avery, “I believe in my heart that what goes around comes around. That karma can bite bad people in the butt. I’m praying his takes him down in one fell swoop.”
It was a vicious thing to say, yet she didn’t even wince. Didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over saying it out loud.
Avery nodded. Because he got it.
“Chance and I once whispered in the shadows about how easy it’d be to loosen the latigo on our dad’s saddle in hopes he’d take a fall during a dead gallop. Seemed fair, considering we had to lie to Uncle Royce once or twice a month if we had visible bruises and say we were bucked. Or that we were just roughhousin’ between ourselves.”
“Good Lord.” She stared at him, her stomach churning again.
“We could never bring ourselves to do it. Of course not. We were just angry young boys wanting to end the bullying. But also protecting our father from jail time for abuse. It was a bit of a conundrum.”
“A horrific one.”
“You and I have violent pasts. Chance too. I’m guessing my mama as well, and that was why she left, before it escalated. If so, she saved herself, and I have to let go of the animosity I feel because she didn’t take us with her. I wouldn’t be shocked if Uncle Royce went several rounds with my dad when they were growing up. Caleb Reed didn’t just wake up one morning fightin’ mad. He’s been that way since I’ve had a memory.”
A menacing shiver cascaded down her spine.
“You definitely don’t want him coming back,” she said.
“No, I do not. No one does.”
“Which makes it incredibly ironic that you’re doing this show—which could bring him back—in hopes of paying off some of his debt.”
“Aren’t we a twisted pair, you and I?”
“I cannot deny that. And yet ...” She crawled toward his side of the bed, untied the sash of her robe, and let the material slip from her shoulders. “There is something to be said for sexual therapy.”
He guided her down onto the mattress. “It’s more than sexual, don’t you think?”
She couldn’t deny the emotional bond they’d created on many levels. But she only touched on the immediate component, not wanting—at present—to delve into their deeper feelings for each other, knowing they were almost impossible to reconcile.
She murmured, “We’re both tormented. But willing to see beyond that.”
“Make no mistake, honey, I could spit nails right now.”
She swept her fingers through his hair. “I grasp that concept.”
“Sinkin’ into you is the ultimate distraction.”
“Then condom up and take me for a ride, cowboy.”