Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The Ranch
“I brought a fruit salad and I’m not speaking to Brooks,” I announced when I walked into the ranch house kitchen.
Hadley and Salem were both wearing matching strawberry-print aprons. Salem was chopping a cucumber on the wooden cutting board and Hadley was at the stove, stirring what smelled like tomato sauce.
Salem looked behind me. “Where is your fiancé? Hiding from you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you really think that six-foot-something man is hiding from me?”
“Uh, yeah?” Hadley said. “You sound pissed.”
“I sound pissed because I am pissed,” I seethed.
Hadley walked to the refrigerator. She pulled out a ginger beer and popped it open and brought it to me. “These bubbles are dangerous, so don’t drink and drive.”
I took the bottle from her and sipped. Crisp ginger hit my tongue and settled my belly.
“Brooks went to talk to Archer,” I said. “Where are your husbands?”
“Out at the build site,” Hadley said. “Did you know Stella and John’s daughter came for a visit with her husband?”
Cold terror enveloped me. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. I met them on the sidewalk outside of Sweet Teeth.”
“Really?” Salem asked.
I nodded. Now was not the time to get distracted.
Mostly because if I told them that, then I’d have to tell them the truth about why I’d been out in the woods by myself.
And I’d never been good at hiding my feelings from them.
Hadley and Salem pulled stuff out of me before I even realized I was spilling my guts.
“It was a quick hi and goodbye. I was with Archer, and he was congratulating me on the engagement. But can we get back to why I’m pissed at Brooks?”
“Sure,” Salem said. “Carry on, wayward Poet.”
I arched a brow. “He called Grampy.”
“When?” Hadley asked.
“When I was in the hospital,” I said.
“Well, don’t you think Grampy has the right to know?” Salem asked. “Even being across an ocean, I’d want to know—”
“Brooks told him who he was to me,” I interrupted.
“Ah,” Hadley said. “And you’re worried about getting a phone call from Grampy about why you didn’t tell him you were engaged.”
“No. I’m worried about Grampy showing up here and finding a shotgun along the way,” I stated. “He’s on a flight now.”
“Seriously?” Salem asked. “Grampy is coming to Huckleberry Hill?”
“Yes,” I said. “Grampy is coming to Huckleberry Hill. And about thirty-six hours ago, all he knew was that I was in the hospital and I had a fiancé. And that I wasn’t the one to tell him.”
The two of them exchanged a look. And then Hadley said to me, “Come stir the tomato sauce for me.”
“Why?” I asked, setting down my ginger beer.
Hadley removed her apron and put it over my neck. It fell to my knees.
“I’m going to go find Muddy,” she said.
“And do what? Warn her?” I demanded.
“Warn her,” Hadley said. “And give her a heads up that your grandfather is a contender.”
“Never trust the tweed,” Salem murmured.
“Preach,” I said, turning to the stove and stirring the sauce.
Hadley left the kitchen, leaving me and Salem alone.
“We’ll run interference,” she said. “And even so, once he calms down and sees how Brooks is with you, he’ll be okay.”
“You think?”
She snorted. “No.”
My texts to my grandfather went unanswered.
I hoped that meant he was on a plane and not too angry to even speak to me over text.
Then again, this wasn’t a talk over text kind of situation.
This was a I need to see you face to face so I can give you the verbal lecture of a lifetime kind of situation.
“Do you not like the lasagna?” Muddy asked when she saw that I’d barely touched my plate.
“Oh, no it’s delicious,” I said to her.
The dinner table was usually lively with conversation. But not tonight. Everyone was subdued.
Every now and again, someone would look toward the front door, as if expecting my grandfather to barge in unannounced.
He’d at least knock though.
A dog head settled onto my lap. Salem’s dog, Fig, was an unashamed beggar, but I appreciated the love, none the less. Hadley’s goat, Tempest, was also vying for a snack. She kept bumping my knee with her head. Apparently, I looked like the soft touch.
We were in the middle of dessert when there was a knock on the front door.
No one moved.
Jane finally rose from her chair. “I’ll get it.”
The table was quiet as Jane went to answer the door.
She opened it and there was a quick exchange, followed by Jane returning to the kitchen with my grandfather right behind her.
His gray trousers weren’t even wrinkled, despite the many hours of travel.
Though he was tall—just above six feet—his back hadn’t begun to stoop despite his age.
Without thought, I got up and went to him. I searched his creased face which was completely devoid of emotion at the moment. Taking a deep breath, I hugged him, wrapping my arms around his body. After a brief moment, he embraced me back. I felt his kiss on the top of my head.
He smelled like peppermint.
Tears filled my eyes.
I pulled back to look at him.
Thick, black-rimmed glasses framed his brown eyes which peered at me with tenderness. “What a way for you to get me to come back from England. All you had to do was ask.”
A surprised laugh escaped my lips. I took a step back and faced the table.
“Everyone, this is my grandfather, Jack Peabody. Grampy, everyone.”
Grampy looked around the table. His gaze landed on Hadley and then Salem. “Ladies.”
They beamed back at him.
Grampy’s discerning, sharp gaze continued around the table, pausing for a moment on Muddy, and then eventually sliding to Brooks.
Brooks rose.
“You’re Brooks,” he stated.
“Yes, sir.”
Grampy nodded. “All right. You and I need to have a conversation.”
“Yes, sir,” Brooks said easily.
I looked at Muddy for aid despite the fact that my grandfather wasn’t yelling.
Yet.
“Den,” she said. “Take the den and close the doors.”
“You sure?” I asked.
She nodded.
Grampy looked at Muddy for a moment again. “You’re the one.”
“The one what?” Muddy asked.
“The one who gave my granddaughter the money for the bookstore she wants to open in town.”
I looked at Brooks. “You told him that, too?”
Brooks nodded.
“What didn’t you tell him?” I demanded, but it was a rhetorical question.
“You can thank me later,” Muddy said.
My grandfather’s spine snapped straight. “Thank you? You want me to thank you?”
“Uh-oh,” Salem murmured.
“Double uh-oh,” Hadley added.
“Yes, you should thank me,” Muddy said, rising from her chair. “She needed the money; I was happy to offer it.”
“If she needed the money, then she should’ve asked me,” Grampy snapped, his silver eyebrows slashing together in anger.
“But she didn’t ask you, did she?” Muddy prodded.
Grampy looked at me. “No, she didn’t. She didn’t even tell me she was moving to Huckleberry Hill and opening a bookstore. Let alone that she’s shacked up and pregnant.”
I winced. “Can’t we have this conversation in the den? In private?”
“Little late for that, isn’t it?” Declan voiced. “I never did say congratulations, did I?”
“Yeah, congratulations,” Cas offered lamely.
“What pisses you off the most?” Muddy asked Grampy. “That she made a decision without involving you? That I gave her the money? Or that she’s with Brooks?”
Grampy dropped his arm from around my shoulder and began rolling up the sleeve of his white button-down shirt.
“Is he getting ready to fight?” Declan asked me.
“I thought you said he was a tweed-wearing professor,” Cas said to Salem. “I see no tweed.”
Grampy’s ink became visible on his forearm as he continued to roll up his sleeve.
“Badass,” Cas said with a whistle. “Oh shit, are those UDT tats?”
Grampy nodded. “Vietnam.”
“Damn,” Declan said. “Thank you for your service.”
Grampy inclined his head, but his focus was on Muddy.
Not me. Not Brooks. Muddy.
And Muddy’s gaze was riveted to my grandfather’s forearm.
“Dad, you haven’t said anything,” Hadley addressed her father.
“I’m just watching it all unfold,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Feels good not to be the irrational hothead this time.
Grampy’s gaze whipped to Mr. Powell. “Did you just call me a hothead?”
“You flew all the way from England to give a verbal ass-whooping,” Mr. Powell stated. “I’d say that’s the definition of a hothead. Take it from a father of two daughters who did this to me.” He gestured to his gray hair. “No judgment on my end. Just an observation.”
“Still waiting on an answer,” Muddy said. “What and who are you most pissed at?”
“Poet, of course.” Grampy looked at me. “I’m ashamed of you.”
My breath caught.
Brooks moved to take a step toward me in protection, but Grampy held up his hand to stop him.
“I’m ashamed that you thought you had to go to anyone else for help. Ashamed that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about what you’d decided. Ashamed that you took money from a stranger instead of coming to me.”
“She’s not a stranger,” I said, my voice reed thin. “She’s Muddy.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Grampy said.
“I gave her the money, just like I’d have given Hadley and Salem the money,” Muddy stated. “Because Poet is family.”
The two of them stared at each other. Grampy sighed. “I need a drink.”
“Den,” Muddy said. “I’ve got a twenty-five-year-old scotch. The brandy’s good too.”
Grampy glanced at Brooks and then looked at me. “I think you and I better talk before anything else happens.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” I said.
Grampy pointed at Brooks. “Don’t go far. You’re next.”