Chapter 11 #3
“It’s just Sprite and grenadine,” I say. “If you don’t want it, that’s fine, but it’s nonalcoholic.”
He digs out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s all friends and family here.” Edna insists on paying for everyone and then we give it back to her as a bonus at the end of the year.
“We’re neither.” He says it plainly, no heat in his tone.
“I’m their friend,” Hillary argues and points to me. “And he’s married to Auntie Em.”
I nod. “You’re going to have to take that up with Edna, and I’m sure you’ll lose.”
He puffs out a faint chuckle and grabs his drink. “Thanks, man.”
“Let me show you what I’m working on! Wait here.” Hillary darts away.
Brooks slides onto a stool, watching her interact with the table of women over his shoulder.
“She seemed to have fun. If you get leads on several bunnies up for adoption, you’ll have to blame Prescott.” I tip my head in the direction of the table Emerson’s at. “She works with rescues.”
“I almost have a hutch built.” He scrubs his face. “The irony is that’s what my dad was called all his life—Hutch. Then I get a girl who’s obsessed with rabbits.”
I chuckle and my gaze strays to Emerson like it’s been doing all damn day.
She gives me a questioning look, then frowns, looks down at her project, and unravels a few stitches. I smirk and she catches me, rolling her eyes. The spot on my chest that she licked tingles. What do I need to do to get her mouth on me again?
I won’t get the answer at work, so I start cleaning up my station. Brooks is watching me. His hand is clasped loosely around his glass. His attention doesn’t waver.
“Something else you need?” I ask lightly.
He checks around. Hillary never came back to show off her project. She’s sitting with Edna, scrolling through pictures, a bunch of chickens on her screen. He turns back to me. “What’s in this for you?”
I know what he’s asking. Doesn’t mean I’m going to answer. “In what?”
He gives me a deadpan look. “Hutch. My sister. The pickup.”
“I was a mechanic before I knew about calving season and absolute volumes.”
“What’d you work on?”
He’s not surprised. Emerson must’ve told him. “Anything I’d get money for. If I didn’t know it, I’d learn it.”
Respect fills his face. “Doesn’t tell me how that works into all this.”
“Hutch needed help. I needed my property to not burn down from his space heaters and heating lamps.”
Brooks grunts and glances over his shoulder again, this time at Emerson. “And my sister?”
I saw her, and I wanted her. “Hutch was determined to get you two back here. Figured if it wasn’t me, it’d be someone I didn’t know was trustworthy.”
“Why’d you lead her on for that damn pitch?”
My ever-present guilt about that twists around my ribs.
“I wanted to meet her. If she was going to be my neighbor someday, maybe even my wife, figured it was best not being a stranger.” Didn’t expect Hutch to pass away right after that.
“And she’s good at what she does. She called our marketing team on something they should’ve picked up on. ”
He sits back on the stool and runs his hands down his thighs. “You’re a smooth talker.”
“It’s come in handy over the years.”
This time the respect is begrudging. He doesn’t want to like me, and he hates that I’m needed until the sale goes through.
I prop my hands on the counter. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
“By keeping her here where she can’t get clients and won’t have new accounts to support herself with when she moves back? I won’t close on my house for six more weeks.”
Goddammit. “You have a buyer already?”
“Agent called before I got here, and I accepted the offer.”
“Just like that.”
“It was asking price.” His flat stare is unwavering. “More wasn’t worth keeping her trapped here. Soon she’ll have the money from the house sale.”
And then she can leave, and the mysterious date of whenever that is hangs over my head like a ticking clock. Tick, tick, tick.
“I get you’re into her,” he says quietly. “But if you fuck around with her and decide she’s not worth it like all the other assholes in her life, I’ll torch your house and your barn, and I’ll take that pickup back and roll it into the river.”
Anger flames through my blood. All those other jackasses can fuck themselves. They lost someone really special, and maybe she just has shitty taste, but no one threatens everything I worked for. After all these years, maybe I’m still sensitive to being seen as a good-for-nothing loser.
“While I respect your intentions, don’t pretend that I don’t see this for the show it is.
You wanna make yourself feel better? Go ahead.
But you stood there while she got married.
You let your sister take the risk for you and your daughter.
You don’t know me, and you don’t know her.
Because if you did, you’d realize that rolling the pickup into the river would be the end of some of the only good memories that woman has from her childhood.
That truck is hers, and I’m going to make sure it doesn’t give her a single issue. ”
The fury in his eyes extinguishes, changing to surprise. “Why?”
“Because someone has to put her first.”