Eighty-Nine
IT COULD NEVER possibly be in dispute as to how devoted Briar Crockett is to his daughters, the true loves of his life, what he’d call his one true thing except there happen to be two of them.
His new wife?
Not so much.
He still considers her to be his trophy wife, even as she’s turned out to be a trophy who talks too much and spends even more, all of which started happening almost immediately after the big diamond was on her finger.
As a result of that—or should he think of it more as a cause?
—he has a sweet, secluded place that only he and his sons know about, a small lake house over in Parsons that he uses for some of the women he has on the side, and whom he calls when his wife and his girls are out of town.
And sometimes, truth be told, when they are in town, and he’s able to get creative with both scheduling and logistics.
And all of his girls sure are out of town tonight, over in Charlotte for a Kelsea Ballerini concert, not back until tomorrow morning.
All the time in the world to get it done tonight.
Briar sends one of his most loyal troopers, Bo, to pick up the young woman, Bo having been in his life even longer than Roof and Lynyrd have.
Briar sees the lights of Bo’s SUV coming up the drive at nine o’clock sharp.
Bo knows as well as anybody who works for Briar Crockett, and probably better, how precise he is in all things, and the premium he puts on punctuality.
The ones who’ve lasted with him all understand that, the way they understand the premium he puts on loyalty. Or they don’t last for too very long.
You could ask some of them about that, if you could find them.
Briar doesn’t wait for the knock on the front door, opens it wide as he hears her coming up the steps, smiling broadly as he does. The perfect host.
“You’re looking lovely tonight, Abby,” he says.