Chapter Five #2
He caught the hint of a smirk from Tanner at the attempted levity, then it was gone, and the angry face was back. Tanner swiped his hat off and shifted his stance a couple of times. He was no stranger to arguing, Jake could see. This guy had a temper just like him. Marvelous.
“I don’t care at this point. You—”
Jake waved a hand, cutting Tanner off. “I get that you don’t want me here.
I get that this is a huge slap in your face.
Same here, pal. Apparently, our father decided to be an asshole before he died.
Not my problem if your pretty pink panties are in a bunch about it.
But for now, you get to have me here so I can help your lawyer get this monkey off my back. Then I’ll be gone.”
Jake’s blood was hurtling through his veins now, and he glared at Tanner. That was a speech. He’d tried to keep his mouth shut, but it hadn’t worked.
Tanner was glaring back, jaw working, “Fine. But stay out of the barns. You’ll just get hurt.”
“Seriously, cowboy? What do you take me for?”
“And stay away from Liz,” Tanner added, jabbing a finger at him. “Don’t get any ideas. I saw how you looked at her.”
Looked at her? This guy had a serious fucking control problem.
Jake raised an eyebrow as he tied on the frilly pink apron.
Tanner had barely had time to see the two of them in the same room before he’d stomped off.
But, Jake realized, what he’d seen of Liz, he’d liked.
Maybe it had shown? He’d have to be more careful.
“Looked at her? Shit, I’ve barely even been introduced to her. What the fuck is your problem?”
“You are, City Boy.”
“May I remind you that I am older than you, little brother? I would also prefer if you used my name,” Jake snapped, goading Tanner on for some ridiculous reason.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—” Tanner started, but Jake stalked around to him, standing a foot away from him, folding his arms. They went toe-to-toe, egos snapping like a rubber band between them.
Jake’s knuckles cracked in the fists he was making, and he clamped his teeth down. He desperately wanted to put this pompous, high and mighty asshole in his place. His temper won, but he didn’t want to hit the man. At least, not yet.
“You really don’t like not being the boss, do you?” he added, before he could stop himself.
Tanner growled, poking Jake’s chest with his finger and looking him straight in the eye. “You, asswipe, are not anyone’s boss here. I call the shots, and I say what and when. This is my ranch.”
So that was how it was going to be. Animosity and a pissing contest. But the reality of Tanner’s statement put ice in his blood.
It really was their ranch, and Jake had no business dictating anything.
He was getting bent out of shape for no reason, other than the guy had tried to push him around and called him on looking at Liz. Which he had.
“Look, Tanner, let’s just—” Jake said, forcing himself to back away, changing his tone to try and make amends. Tanner gave him one final, seething glare, which stopped him mid-sentence, before spinning on his heel and leaving. Which was exactly what he would’ve done, if he’d been in Tanner’s shoes.
“This is going to be a fucking party,” Jake muttered into the empty kitchen, and turned to the fridge to see what he was working with.
* * *
Jake lifted the pan off the stove and tossed the sautéing onions.
It felt good to be cooking, and he hummed as he set it back down on low heat to simmer, peeking in the oven at the roast marked Thursday he’d found in the fridge.
So, it was Tuesday; they’d deal. He couldn’t resist when he’d seen the red, marbled meat.
The quality of the roast was exceptional.
Fresh rosemary from the garden he’d spied out back was peeking out around it, along with some savory and thyme.
Garlic cloves stuffed into the folds were turning golden brown.
Heaven.
The whole kitchen smelled like roasting meat, caramelizing onions, and herbs, and it was calming his nerves after the bombshell of a day.
He’d discovered, as he explored the cupboards, that this kitchen was stocked with anything he could possibly want.
Seriously, there was an entire pot drawer with top-line pans, double ovens, and a spice rack that rivaled his own, although most of the selections—except for the usual oregano and Montreal steak rub—were unopened.
“Well, making yourself useful, New York?” Brady said as he stepped into the kitchen from the back porch.
Jake smiled at the nickname Brady had given him, like an automatic acceptance compared to Tanner’s, which was meant as an insult.
Jake resolved that he wasn’t going to let Tanner get to him.
If his half brother wanted to be a jerk, let him.
He’d just stick to the oasis this kitchen provided, when he could.
“Peony said the cook had the night off. She was exhausted, there was no way I was letting her put dinner on the table for all of us when she could barely stand.”
“I appreciate that,” Brady said, as he wearily eased onto one of the stools at the island. “She’s been through a lot.”
Jake nodded in agreement and, after checking the vegetables one more time, leaned on the counter opposite his younger half brother. Brady looked more like his mother, and for Jake, that was a relief at the present. Arguing with Tanner had been like yelling at himself in a mirror.
“So, where is your mother in all this? Tanner said her name was—”
“Veronica. Yeah. She died a long time ago. She had bad kidneys,” Brady said, looking down at his hands.
“I’m sorry,” Jake replied quietly. “That must’ve been tough.”
“This will be tougher,” Brady said. “Dad dying sucked because we didn’t have time to say goodbye. Now, to lose the ranch too—”
“You’re not losing it,” Jake interjected, and Brady nodded tiredly, acknowledging him, then leaned on his arms and gave Jake a serious look.
“I—damn, you likely have family and a job back in New York. It’s as much a shitstorm for you as us, and I just realized it now.”
“Not as many ties as you’d think,” Jake admitted, waving his hands and giving his brother a serious look back. “I’ll deal okay. Survived worse.”
“Fair enough,” Brady muttered, and they stared at one another again, awkward silence between them. “Still, I want to apologize.”
“This is one strange, messed up situation. No need to be sorry,” Jake blurted, wanting to fill the air with something. He liked Brady, and he relaxed as they spoke.
“Doesn’t look like you’ll have much trouble. It smells great in here,” Brady admitted, and stood up, stepping around the kitchen to look in the saucepan. “I cook from time to time, but—”
“But what?” Jake said, glad to find something to talk about with his brother. It would be nice to not feel at odds with the entire family, and it brightened his mood.
“Oh, it isn’t anything like this. Not like you can, I’m sure. I can make pasta, barbeque, that sort of thing,” Brady said, backing away, hands in his pockets. Jake shook his head and laughed, stirring the onions once more then turning off the heat to the element.
“Nonsense. I’m sure it’s fine. Cooking isn’t some nebulous art form, it’s more science, really. Following the rules, breaking a few to see what happens, playing with flavors. It all boils down to the basics, no pun intended.”
Jake sensed that Brady was happy to change the subject.
“The difference, if you want to compare it to science, is that I barely passed grade twelve chemistry, and you’ve got a PhD. But thanks for the vote of confidence.” Brady was grinning at him, and Jake was thankful he seemed to be easier going than Tanner.
Brady sighed, plopping his hat back on his head. “I have to go see what help Liz needs. Trevor had to leave to go get his kid from camp.”
“Dinner will be on in less than an hour,” Jake said as he turned back to the stove. Brady nodded silently and left out the back door. The kitchen was quiet once again, and Jake’s shoulders lowered. At least one brother wasn’t ready to murder him. He’d take it.