Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Emily
I thud my laptop shut and rub my temples, the glowing white screen of the state challenge proposal still burned into my retinas. My brain feels like mush.
For three days, Kassie and I have been grinding away at this presentation for the state board, obsessing over every line of the structural report.
When Thomas dropped Rick’s name a couple of weeks ago, I swear I almost passed out on the spot.
My blood ran cold, and that sickening feeling of my skin crawling returned with a vengeance.
Wyatt had almost hit the roof. I’d never seen him so close to a physical explosion.
It took everything I had to convince him that we didn’t need his fists. We needed my math.
Little did I know my past would come back to haunt me so spectacularly, but I’m done running.
Between my engineering expertise and Kassie’s encyclopedic business knowledge, we’re going to walk into that board meeting and end Rick’s career.
I’m going to get my closure, and he’s going to get a lesson in Miller-style justice.
But right now, I need a minute of peace.
Alex is supposed to be upstairs getting ready to ride Dixie with Wyatt, but the sound of slamming cupboards and the grating scrape of a wooden chair across the kitchen tiles tells me those cowboy boots are nowhere near his damn feet.
I pad into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. I’m greeted by the sight of a small, denim-clad butt hanging out of the lower kitchen unit.
“Alex? What are you looking for, honey?” I ask softly.
I fail at the soft part.
He shoots out of the cupboard like he’s been spring-loaded, his face flushing a deep crimson as he frantically twists his hands behind his back.
“Oh! Nothing! I—uh—I lost my…my pencil case,” he stammers, his eyes darting around the room.
I bite back a smile. “And you thought you’d left it in with the canned goods?”
“Maybe? I’ve looked everywhere for it,” he insists, nodding so hard I’m worried his head might fall off.
My eyes flick to the kitchen island, where a bright red canvas pencil case is sitting front and center. I reach over, pick it up, and dangle it from my finger. “Well, I don’t think you looked very far, did ya, bud?”
Alex stares at the case, his mouth dropping open in mock surprise. “Oh, man! I’ve been looking everywhere for that!”
I raise an eyebrow, leaning against the counter.
The kid is a terrible liar, which is honestly refreshing in this house. Between his dad’s stoic silence and the complicated history we’re all still navigating, at least one Miller is an open book.
“Okaaay. Well, you ready? Your dad’s probably waiting with Dixie down at the corral.”
“Yup. I’m all ready,” he says quickly, sliding what looks like a small, flat tuna can into his pocket.
I open my mouth to ask, but I decide against it. He’s clearly on a mission, and I’m intrigued. “Okay, well, I’ll walk you down.”
His face falls instantly. “It’s okay! I can go!”
“If you’re sure.”
He nods and skips out the door.
I move to the window above the sink, watching him scamper across the grass. Instead of veering left toward the corral, he pulls a sharp right toward the South Barn.
What the…? I need to investigate this.
I shove my feet into my boots—looking ridiculous in my dress and an oversized cardigan—and head out into the crisp autumn air.
In the distance, I see Wyatt in the corral. He’s worked hard on that horse. Dixie is a different animal from the flighty mare I met months ago. He hears my boots crunching through the grass and turns. The usual scowl is replaced by a look he only ever gives me now.
“Hey, beautiful.” He smiles. “You seen that son of mine?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. I just sent him down, but looks like he took a detour.”
Wyatt’s brows pinch suspiciously.
Just then, Owen steps out of the stable, wiping his hands on a rag. “Thought Alex was coming down to ride with us.”
“He was,” Wyatt calls out. “Emily thinks he’s got other plans.”
“That boy is up to something,” I say, a smirk tugging at my lips. “The tuna can in his pocket was a dead giveaway. He’s in the South Barn, I bet.”
I lead the way, Wyatt and Owen trailing behind me like a pair of confused shadows. “I gotta hand it to you, Wyatt.” I laugh over my shoulder. “He’s a terrible liar.”
Owen pushes open the heavy wooden door of the barn. As we step into the shadows, we’re greeted by a startled Alex sitting in the straw, surrounded by a nest of four tiny, squirming kittens.
“Son of a—that dang cat had more kittens?” Owen grumbles, though his bark is clearly worse than his bite. “I’ve asked Jax a thousand times to spay the damn thing!”
Wyatt and I exchange a glance and instantly burst out laughing.
“So this is what you were rooting through the cupboards for?” I ask, taking a seat next to him on the hay bale that crunches under my weight.
Alex looks glum, his shoulders hunched. “Because Grandpa gave the last ones away. I was keeping these ones a secret.”
I pout my lip outward, glancing up at Wyatt.
Owen rolls his eyes, and Wyatt snickers at his son’s blunt accusation.
“Oh, buddy,” I say, pulling him in close. He’s tugging at my heart right now.
“Alex, we can’t have the ranch overrun with cats,” Owen offers, but one look at the boy’s face is enough to shatter a heart of stone. Owen sighs and turns on his heel. “You know what? I don’t have the energy for this.”
As Owen retreats, Wyatt joins us on the hay bale. “You know, bud, he’s right. These cats will just keep multiplying. We’ll have more cats than cattle if you hide them all.”
“But I don’t even know where the last ones went,” Alex mumbles.
I pick up a tiny tuxedo kitten, and it starts purring instantly as I place it in my lap. Dang, they are cute.
“This one’s Eric,” Alex whispers.
“Eric?” I giggle.
“Yeah. The tabby is the mom. That’s Eric, Fred, Tommy, and Midnight.”
“All boys, huh?” Wyatt smirks.
“Well, I can’t really tell, but I think they are,” Alex says, twisting his mouth.
I look at the chaotic mix of markings. There’s a calico, tabby, and ginger.
“Man, they’re all different markings. Looks like Tabby is a little hussy,” I note, the word leaving my mouth before I can catch it.
Wyatt shoots me a look, his eyes dancing as he fights a massive smile.
“What does that mean?” Alex asks innocently.
“It—uh…it means she’s a really, really good mom,” I offer, my eyes widening at my slip-up to Wyatt above Alex’s head.
“Oh, yeah. She is. Can we keep one?” he asks hopefully.
Wyatt subtly shakes his head no at me, but his eyes are soft.
“Well, we can’t keep them all, bud. But how about we take care of them together until they’re bigger? We can have Uncle Jax put up a poster in the vet office, then you and I can choose the families.”
Alex considers this, his lower lip tucked in. “Okay,” he says softly, reaching out to give me a sudden, tight hug.
Wyatt’s eyes soften instantly, watching his son’s arms wrapped around my neck. It’s that look that tells me I’m no longer just someone who helps his dad take care of him.
“Hey, Em?” Alex mumbles against my collarbone.
“Yeah, bud?”
“I think you’re a hussy, too.”
The silence lasts maybe half a second before Wyatt sounds like he’s about to have a stroke.
“You’re on your own with that one.” Wyatt wheezes.
My mouth falls open. I want to shoot something back at him because he’s about to leave me hanging, but he’s on his feet in a flash, bolting for the barn door.
Wyatt’s shoulders shake uncontrollably, his head in his hands as he struggles to breathe. He’s literally holding his breath to keep from howling with laughter, disappearing into the sunlight while I sit there, flushed bright red, holding a cat named Eric.