Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Zane
“Guess it’s time for breakfast,” Luke muttered, unhooking the lead rope from his mare’s halter and giving her neck a pat as she trotted off to graze like she didn’t have a single care in the world.
I stood by the water trough, twisting the spigot off, and exhaled an irritated breath.
The last thing I felt like doing was pretending to be friendly over scrambled eggs with a woman who didn’t belong here.
My eyes drifted to that beat-up Chevy in the driveway—definitely a loaner from Willy’s lot.
Guess she did more damage than a simple flat tire when she blew past me on the side of the road.
Now look at her, stranded just like she left me.
Ain’t karma poetic?
Luke fell into step beside me, casual as ever and whistling some tune that didn’t match my mood. “So what do you think?”
“About what?” I tugged my gloves off and stuffed them into my back pocket.
He gave me a look. “About the stock market, genius. What do you think I’m talkin’ about?”
I didn’t answer. He knew damn well what I thought.
“She’s hot,” Luke added, like he couldn’t help himself. “All that dark hair and those legs? Fuuuck.”
I clenched my jaw. Yeah, I’d noticed. Of course I noticed. I couldn’t stop noticing. Every time I closed my damn eyes, I saw smooth, tanned legs and the curve of her waist. It made me angry—at her, at myself, at this whole ridiculous situation.
We stepped up onto the porch, boots thudding against the wood. Luke went in first, all charm and playful grins, and gave Andi a “mornin” like he wasn’t the kind of guy who usually skipped small talk.
She returned his kindness, sweet, polite, and too damn pretty for someone so irritating.
I stepped in behind him, nodding when our eyes met. No words. Just enough to acknowledge her and move on. I headed straight to the sink and turned on the tap, letting the cool water run over my hands as something in my gut stirred, low and restless.
I shut it down…quick.
Don’t start that shit.
We took our seats at the table. I bowed my head out of habit, murmured the amen, and reached for the eggs without making eye contact.
I was halfway through buttering a hot biscuit when Mom turned her attention to Andi—sweet as pie, asking how she was settling in and what she thought of Tarnation so far.
Where she came from: Louisiana. What she did for work: waited tables on the weekends but during the week did billing for her dad’s construction business.
And me? I just sat there, watching as my whole family practically leaned across the table to hear this woman talk.
Smiles, questions, laughs…like we were all here for a nice, friendly brunch instead of tiptoeing around the fact that everything about this was weird as fuck.
I kept my mouth shut, though, and my eyes on my plate, but I could feel the shift in the air as Andi stiffened with each rapid-fire question—not visibly, but enough for me to notice. Maybe I shouldn’t have enjoyed it, but I did.
Her answers felt too clipped, like she was saying just enough to be polite but careful that it was never too much. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like feeling like I was being sold something with only half of the story.
Then Mom asked if she had family “back home,” and everything in her posture changed.
“No, um,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Both of my parents passed away some time ago.”
Sympathy swept across the table like someone let in a draft. Luke even reached across the table and laid his hand over hers like they were already old friends. And she let him.
It irritated me more than it should’ve.
“How’d they die?” I asked, blunt and unapologetic.
Her eyes flicked to mine, wide for half a second before she caught herself. I watched every twitch of her face. Every blink. If she was lying, I’d know.
“Zane Michael McKade,” Mom snapped. “That’s not your business.”
“What?” I said with a shrug. “I’m just trying to get to know the stranger in our house.”
“Have some compassion,” she shot back, voice sharper than the knife on my plate. “She’s a guest.”
I bit back what I wanted to say. Instead, I just pushed the damn food around on my plate and kept quiet as my mother kept going—like we were supposed to pretend that wasn’t at all awkward.
“Norah mentioned you’re looking for a place to stay,” she said to Andi.
I didn’t even have to look at her to feel the shift in her body language. I could practically hear her spine stiffen. She hated that this was happening in front of me.
“I am,” she said quietly.
“Well, you’re welcome to the spare room until you find something more permanent,” Mom said. “You can help out around the ranch while you’re here for rent.”
I stopped chewing. So did she.
My fork hit the plate with a hard clatter. I stared at my mom, not even bothering to hide my disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“My house, my rules,” she said without blinking.
That was the last straw. I shoved my chair back harder than necessary and it tipped over, hitting the floor behind me.
My mother’s voice followed me as I stormed across the room. “Now where are you going?”
I grabbed my hat off the wall. “I’m not hungry,” I muttered and stepped outside, letting the screen door slam behind me.
I needed air. Space. Anything but the way Andi looked at me—like she didn’t understand why I hated all of this.
Truth was, I couldn’t explain it either. At least, not in a way that made any damn sense. The only thing I knew for sure though was that I had this gut-deep ache I didn’t understand, and something told me it wasn’t going away anytime soon.
Just like her.