Chapter Nine #3
But Tyler was still staring at him as if trying to figure out a puzzle, as he white-knuckled that clipboard and his jaw worked something rough on his molars.
T.R. turned his back, burying his head in his work, skin still tingling, because as much as he and Tyler gave each other shit, this didn’t feel like playful banter.
Ty had given him a job when no one else would, after he’d shot himself in the proverbial foot so many years ago.
For the first time in forever, he’d been given the benefit of the doubt, being employed as foreman.
Nothing he’d done had pushed his cousin away over the years, but …
was he a threat now? Had he just marked himself for job termination, challenging Tyler in such a way?
Oh, Flower Girl, he can do a lot more than just say no. He’d felt like Charlie had believed in him in that moment. But, naw, if his radar had been so off about her, then it had probably been off about this too.
He gritted his teeth and cranked hard as his music droned. Seconds went by like minutes. He worked off two more lug nuts and secured two more. Had Tyler left? He glanced backward.
“Boxing gloves?” Tyler arched a brow, like a sentinel, ever present and overbearing.
He wasn’t letting this go.
“C’mon, man. I wasn’t serious.” He chuckled.
The air compressor cut off. Silence.
“Yeah, you were, else you would’ve been grinning when you said it.”
Goddamn! T.R. tossed the wrench down and scoured his face, groaning.
“Look, Gramps once told me he planned to leave me this place, but I was just a kid, and it was a long time ago, but my folks—” He cleared his throat.
Hopped down from the tractor and killed the music completely, pulling out his phone again. Of course, to check the time for his gig.
6:49.
Fifteen days, thirteen hours, and nineteen minutes to be exact, his brain tabulated like clockwork.
“No matter.”
Tyler considered him. “Your folks what?”
He shook his head. Tyler had turned this operation into a huge success. T.R. shouldn’t have said a word.
“Speak up, cuz. Your silence is petulant.”
T.R. glared daggers. “Look, it ain’t that big a deal.
When Grams died,” he bit out, sorted a meaningless tool to keep his hands busy and his eyes averted.
“I came to the funeral ’cause I knew the farm was on the line.
My folks done kicked me out a couple years before, and they didn’t wanna see me.
But I asked to meet with the probate lawyers anyway.
Didn’t have a clue what I was doin’ only that I wanted to be here.
Up there, on the ridge.” He notched his chin toward the escarpment where he lived overlooking the pastures and trees.
“They told me I wasn’t welcome, that Granddad hadn’t left a legal will, and they sure as hell weren’t gonna recommend the lawyers give the property to a troublemaker like me.
What could a high school dropout possibly know about a multimillion-dollar operation that was sitting in the financial shitter?
Said I’d ruin it even more than Gramp’s had with his old school, milk-crate file system.
” He shook his head, chewing his cheek, and sorted more wrenches and pliers that didn’t need sorting.
“Told me to go grow up. Fact is, I was eighteen already, with nothin’ to my name and no job ’cause I couldn’t fuckin’ r…
” He trailed off. “They made the right call, I suppose.”
“I thought there were no other grandkids to inherit,” Tyler finally replied, dropping his tough guy pose. “Your parents said it was gonna go up for auction if I didn’t take it.”
T.R. snorted and dropped the mindless tools.
His parents had been liars. No surprises there.
He climbed back up the tractor and pushed in the clutch, pressing the button.
They’d rather it got auctioned off to some developer and turned into rows of condos instead of let their only son have at least one good thing.
The engine fired to life.
“Purring like a kitten,” T.R. joked, deflecting. “About time. Sorry it took so long.”
Tyler huffed. “You got a girl on your mind. Like me. They twist us up into some knots, don’t they?”
T.R. flashed his grin and swiveled his trucker cap around to shield his eyes. “After tonight I’ll have worked that out of my system.”
Tyler watched him, dark brown eyes cool and calculating. “Your past will bite you in the ass if you’re not careful, man. What if she’s there tonight? Everyone can see from the videos a couple weeks ago you really liked her. Don’t mess it up. Maybe you just gotta be patient.”
“Laugh’s on me, then. Two weeks of silent treatment ain’t patient?” He put it in gear and rolled out into the descending sun leaving Tyler behind, giving a two-fingered salute off his cap bill as the heat warmed his back. “Can’t mess up somethin’ that don’t exist.” No one ever chooses you.
He had a gig to get to. The first one since her. Since his new song had dropped eight days ago. When he’d still held out hope for that call that wasn’t coming.