19. Hobbled #2
“They were my grandmother’s.” Rose’s voice takes on a sentimental lilt.
Flynn walks in carrying plates. “I remember a lot of meals here.”
The West siblings, happy and nostalgic, make it easier to push unsettling thoughts aside.
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” Flynn nods, carefully placing the china before each chair.
I had tried to use paper plates from the pantry, but Rose smacked my hand and demanded fancy china. We are seriously going to eat Chinese takeout on bone china. I gave myself a near migraine with the eyeroll I sent Rose’s way.
“When our parents passed and Holt moved us out here, he always made sure we ate dinner together. Sharp at seven.” Flynn says the last line in a deep imitation of Holt.
We all laugh.
Rose follows her brother, fixing the placement of the dishes to her standards.
“Yep. Even though Holt was always busy working the ranch, as well as making sure the West Oil board members weren’t screwing around, he made sure we had dinner together.
” She frowns, as if suddenly appreciating how difficult that had been for her older brother. “Every night.”
“Yeah, well, there were a lot of basic meals and takeout.” Holt ambles in, arms laden with silverware and cloth napkins.
“You were busy making wedding funds,” I joke, nudging his side. “I’m sure no one expected you to turn gourmet cook as well.”
Thankfully he smiles back. Maybe I haven’t screwed this up after all.
“We sure didn’t make it easy on you.” Rose laughs. “All those private schools I got kicked out of.”
“All those parties I went to,” Flynn adds.
“Ah, who cares?” Holt steps between the two, an arm around each. “Now look at you.” He squeezes Flynn in closer. “You own a successful business and managed to get a bona fide genius to agree to marry you.” Rose gets squeezed in next. “And now this one is about to graduate early from college.”
“Wait, what?” Flynn leans forward, looking at Rose. “Since when?”
Congratulations surround Rose, who tries to play it off, but who also can’t help the big grin on her face. Holt settles back, also smiling, obviously enjoying having both his siblings under the same roof again.
Holt West is one damn good man.
And I want to jump his bones. Like, pronto.
He catches my eye and my look must translate because he turns red.
Trish comes in with two pitchers of beer from the keg Flynn had brought from Clear Lake. A NASA rocket scientist, space suit developers, and mission managers got into the beer making game, and their company, True Anomaly, makes some pretty badass beer.
Meanwhile, Holt nearly chokes when he glances down at Trish’s spiked high heels on the dining room’s hardwood. “Come on, y’all. Let’s eat.” She slides gracefully into a chair and places a napkin on her lap. “I’m starving.”
I highly doubt the petite Southerner will eat more than what I consider a snack-like portion, but I sit down and start opening boxes. Everyone grabs a seat and tucks in.
The beer flows as we empty multiple Chinese food containers. We all laugh as people give me shit for being a maid of honor-zilla. Holt gets shit for living in a '70s museum for so long. And we all give Rose shit just for being Rose.
It is one of the best meals I’ve ever had. And I didn’t even get a spring roll.
Trish gets up, leaves and comes back in, somehow managing to walk like a lady in her stripper shoes while Holt’s eyes once again narrow on her heels. “Let’s not forget the fortune cookies!”
“Yum, gimme.” I reach out but Trish pulls the bag out of reach.
Glaring, I point my finger at her tiny-ass frame.
“Listen, short stack. I’ve had a day. And since Holt couldn’t bake me chocolate chips because the kitchen isn’t up and running yet and someone stole my spring roll” — my eyes narrow dangerously — “I will seriously cut a bitch if I don’t get a fortune cookie. Pronto.”
“Sheesh.” Trish tosses the bag to me and takes a step back, hands up. “Take it.”
“Wait.” Rose tilts her head at her brother. “You were going to make Jules Grandma’s chocolate chips?”
Holt shifts in his seat. Poor guy. I didn’t mean to call him out like that. “Ease up, girl. Nothing wrong with a man who knows how to bake.” I pull apart the plastic wrap around the cookie. “No shame in the man-baking game.”
Jackie laughs. “You’re so weird.”
I shrug, but Rose doesn’t take her eyes off Holt. “Am I right? Was it Grandma’s recipe?”
Rose’s intensity makes me rethink her motive. Glancing at Flynn, I see he’s awaiting Holt’s answer as well.
Holt just pushes around the leftover rice on his plate.
“What’s up with Grandma West’s cookies?” My eyes ping pong between the West siblings. “Are they an aphrodisiac or something?”
Rose finally looks away from Holt and smirks at me. “You could say that.”
“Rose…” There’s a warning note in Holt’s voice that only seems to amuse Flynn.
“Grandma said that you only make her chocolate chips for people y?—”
“All right, that’s enough.” Holt sits up in his seat. “Jules, pass the fortune cookies around, will you?”
I might not know exactly what Grandma West said about her cookies, but I trust my gut enough to know I’m not ready to hear it.
Especially since I’m still not sure if Holt is mad at me.
“Sure thing, cowboy.” I dole out the cookies, tossing the plastic packaged delights around one by one, eager to move on.
Thankfully, Rose relents and reads her fortune. “A chance meeting opens new doors to success and friendship.”
“In bed,” I add, glad to be back in a less awkward atmosphere.
The girls laugh.
“Ugh.” Flynn rubs a hand over his face. “Do not add in bed to my sister’s fortune.”
Rose rolls her eyes. “Well then I guess we can’t add it to Jackie’s either.”
Flynn looks over at his girl, who turns pink as she silently reads the little strip of paper in front of her. “Hmmm, that depends.” He tries looking over her shoulder. “What’s your fortune, Darling?”
Now red, Jackie leans away from him. “Um…”
I snatch the little strip of paper.
“Hey!”
“Too slow, Darling. Too slow.” I read it, laughing. “Oh, now this is a good one.” Jackie slides down in her chair as I clear my throat. “Now is the time to try something new.”
“ In bed ,” Rose, Trish and I say together, laughing hard as Jackie covers her flushed face. God, it must be exhausting showing your feelings like that. Thankfully, I don’t blush.
Flynn leans back in his chair, a satisfied grin on his face. “Well now…”
“Okay, okay,” Jackie slaps his arms, laughing. “Trish, your turn.”
Still grinning, Trish breaks open her cookie. “Nothing astonishes men so much as common sense and plain dealing. In bed.”
“Ha!” Rose slaps the table. “Ain’t that the truth!”
Holt closes his eyes and shakes his head. Flynn ignores his sister and nuzzles Jackie’s neck, and she pretends to push him away.
Face hurting from all the smiling I’m doing, I read my own. “You are very talented, in many ways.” I pause for effect. “ In bed .” I brush my shoulder off. “Well, duh.”
More laughter.
Jackie, sly dog, looks over at Holt, whose stare in my direction has turned oddly contemplative. “And how ’bout yours, Holt?”
Still looking at me, Holt states, “Stop searching. Your love is right in front of you.”
Everyone hoots and hollers and lets loose with not so subtle innuendos.
Like I said, I don’t blush. But damn if it didn’t get ten degrees warmer in here all of a sudden.
“You guys good to drive?” Holt holds Rose by the shoulders and looks into her eyes. “How much did you drink?”
Rose shakes him off. “Chill, Dad . I only had one beer. And lots of Chinese food.”
“Yes, well, you can’t be too careful.”
Flynn breaks them apart, leaning down to kiss Rose’s cheek. “You coming to visit us down in Clear Lake soon?”
Rose nods. “I’ll be down. But I’ll stay with Trish.”
Jackie frowns. “Why? We just put in a hot tub and?—”
“Yeah, no. You guys fuck like rabbits. I’m not getting in that thing.”
“Rose, language.” Holt’s tone reminds me a lot of the general.
I shake my head at him. “Holt, give it up. She’s a grown-ass woman. She can say fuck and actually fuck if she wants to.”
“Nope.” Flynn straightens, putting his hands over his ears. “Lalalala.” He walks backwards toward his vintage Mustang in the drive. “I’m out.”
Laughing, Jackie follows him. “You know, to be fair, Rose has to hear a lot about you …”
Their conversation drifts off, and then the Mustang roars to life, drowning everything out until their taillights fade down the road.
“Okay,” Rose says, making a move to her car. “We better hit the road.”
I look at Trish. “You’re going to the city with Rose?”
“Yeah, I took some vacation time.” She shrugs her slim shoulders. “Thought I’d spend it in the city.”
“Sure, vacation.” Rose nudges her. “We all know you’re hiding out from?—”
Trish’s elbow flashes out.
“Fuck!” Rose rubs her boob, glaring at Trish. A boob that Trish just tit punched. “What the hell?”
Holt sighs over her language. Trish just shrugs her slim shoulders and checks her nails.
“I think I love you,” I tell Trish, who smiles like a queen at high tea before mincing over to Rose’s sports car in her heels.
Rose, hand still on her boob, gives Holt a kiss on the cheek.
“Drive safe.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rose sets off after Trish, mumbling, “Freaky little midget.”
Laughing, I stand by the porch and watch the two drive away. Trish does a little finger wave as they pass.
And then it’s just us. No people, no sounds.
The silence stretches just a tad longer than comfortable.
“So…” Holt rocks back on his heels.
“That was a fun dinner.” God, that was lame.
“Yep. It was.” He doesn’t sound any less awkward. So at least we’re lame together.
Fuck it. I’m just going to be honest.
“Holt, I—” Buzzing cuts through the silence.
“That your phone?” Holt’s face looks harder than it did a minute ago.
“Uh, yeah. Probably just one of the girls.”
“But they just left.”
“You know those idiots.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “I’m going to go say good-night to Cookie. I’ll see you inside in a minute, okay?”
Holt’s quiet, staring at me so intensely with his whiskey eyes that for a moment I want to tell him what’s going on.
I want to unburden myself of all the pain and fear I’ve been keeping inside, boxed up.
But I don’t know how. These feelings are so foreign to me that I don’t even wait for Holt to answer, I just turn and walk away.
Afraid to admit I’m scared, afraid to admit I might need help, afraid to admit I care.
Finally alone in the barn, I step into Cookie’s stall and pull out my phone.
“Holy fuck.” The image burns itself into my brain and I lean back to slide down the stall wall, coming to rest on my ass.
Cookie, being the good pet she is, crouches down beside me, laying her giant, heavy head in my lap. But not even the comfort from the world’s most brilliant bovine can make me unsee the picture on my phone.
Though obviously taken from some old western movie, if the grain and color of the picture are anything to go by, the image of a dead cowboy hanging from a tree is enough to make me, the person who can withstand eight g’s without blinking, nauseous and shaky.
It was bad enough when this person, whoever it is, aimed his anger toward me, threatened me. But no way is Holt going to be involved in this. He said the ranch was his safe place, where he felt the happiest. I’m not about to take that away.
I stroke Cookie’s head, taking comfort for a moment before doing what I need to do.