by Liza Kendall
“That sounds terrible,” said Rhett caustically.
Sue laughed evilly, sounding exactly like Jules. “Listen, if that’s what you’re looking for, you find yourself an adorable debutante in Dallas.”
“I didn’t say that was what I was looking for.” He rocked back on his heels and shot her a challenging look.
“You don’t need to. You go buy yourself half a dozen of ’em, all righty?” She stepped forward and smacked his black Amex against his chest. “Two blondes, two brunettes, two redheads. But you leave my Jules alone. I can feel the attraction between the two of you, and you need to forget about it. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear. My question is, Why are you warning me off?”
“She’s not a toy. Not a plaything for a man like you.”
“A toy . . . a man like me . . . What do those terms mean, exactly, Sue? What kind of man do you think I am?”
“You’re a city slicker, Rhett Braddock.”
“Am I.”
She compressed her lips and squinted at him. “Sure as shootin’.”
He was quite sure she’d used the phrase deliberately.
“I encountered a few in my day.”
“And they were too slick for you?”
“Why, that’s a rather insulting question, Ever-Rhett.”
“Oh, I’m the one who’s insulting? News to me. So did you get outslicked? Is that why you’re trying to protect your niece from me?”
“I’ve brought Jules up not to need my protection. Taught her how to shoot when she was ten. Taught her how to break in a horse at fourteen. And how to smell BS from miles away.”
“Gave her a signed certificate upon graduation, did you?”
“Ha. You don’t belong here,” she said, “and I’m not afraid to say it.”
The old hurt, the old anger, ignited again and coiled, low in his gut. “Seems to me that I decide that, not you,” Rhett said. “Not anybody else in Silverlake.”
If she heard the dangerous undercurrent in his tone, she ignored it. “What are you doin’ back here, Ever-Rhett?”
“I’m here to bail your family out of a jam, among other things. So maybe a little less hostility is in order?”
“Maybe. Maybe we can be best buddies, down the road. Just don’t mess with my Jules.”
Rhett slid the Amex card back into his wallet and tossed his ruined shoes into the boot box on the floor near the counter. “You should know that I don’t mess with anyone, Sue. Not unless they mess with me first.”
“Good to know.”
“So why did you mess with me by telling Jules that I had the saddlery business and property appraised?”
“Not everything is about you, Mr. Braddock,” Sue said. “If something concerns me, it concerns Jules. Simple as that. I told her because she had a right to know what was going on.”
“A little out of context, don’t you think?” Rhett said, not missing the slight tinge of acid in Sue’s tone. It was hard to tell how much she was intentionally trying to manipulate the situation, but there was no denying she sure had Jules’s back. “I would have told her myself, Sue.”
“Oh sure. When it was convenient for you. Thanks for your biz, boss man. You come back soon, ya hear?”
He spun on the heel of his new Lucchese boot and walked to the door.
“Oh, Mr. Braddock?”
He looked over his shoulder at Aunt Sue.
“I’m glad you stopped by. But you remember my words. And you remember where your loyalties lie: to your friend Grady. I can’t imagine you will ever care about Julianna more than you care about Grady.”
Stunned, Rhett didn’t have a response for that slap in the face so he just walked out, the bells on the door jingling as he left. Remember where your loyalties lie: to your friend Grady.
Damn it.
City slicker. You don’t belong here.
He’d been called worse, and he’d been told worse. Still, the words hurt. They reverberated through his head as his shiny new boots clipped along the pavement. Sue had a nerve. And she wasn’t smart to antagonize the guy who now had the power to close down her business.
Or was she?
Rhett deliberately walked through a mud puddle to take some of the shine off the boots.
She’d read him like a book, actually. By accusing him of being a city slicker, she’d knocked him onto the defensive. Made him want to prove that he was no such thing.
Rhett’s mouth twisted as he got into Scarlett, mud and all.
You don’t belong here . . .
If not here, then where?
Maybe he should drive back to Dallas right now. Scarlett would get him there in three hours if he drove like a bullet and wasn’t spotted by highway patrol.
But that felt like running.
I’m supposed to leave Jules alone. As Rhett drove back to the Holt property, his mind wandered back to that night with her in Dallas. He remembered seeing her walk through the crowded bar at Nick & Sam’s Grill. It was a place where he was a regular and he could be the shiny, city version of Rhett Braddock with maximum efficiency and style should an old college buddy or a client be passing through town. He didn’t have to think too hard or care too much; he knew what to order, he knew how to impress, and he knew the evening could be wrapped up in two hours if the company didn’t warrant extending the evening.
Julianna Holt pushed through that crowd, looked around the room, and smiled when her eyes found his. It was the only night in Dallas he could remember wishing would last forever.
He hadn’t seen her in years. He hadn’t seen her as a woman until that moment in her good jeans and a cropped velvet blazer over a T-shirt, worn cowboy boots on her feet, and her hair loose and free around a face with a minimal amount of makeup. And for a moment, when his body joined with hers later that night, it meant so much more than the act itself. In her arms it felt as if she was calling him home. Holding out her hand and saying he’d be welcome back in Silverlake. Giving permission that he didn’t even know he needed to reclaim a part of himself that he’d lost. “I’m so happy to see you again,” was the first thing she’d said, all sunshine and wildflowers and honesty.
And then he messed it up by spooking because of Grady. No, Rhett. It wasn’t just because of Grady. You were scared. Admit it. You were scared you didn’t know how to be the person you used to be. That version of yourself as a boy in Silverlake. You missed him; you wanted to be him for a long time. And some part of you spooked because you didn’t want to fail. You didn’t want to show up in Silverlake and know for certain that you could never go back.
Jules’s aunt Sue didn’t think he could come back, not for the long haul. She didn’t want him to. Did Jules feel the same? Was she really just counting the days before he left? She’d been mad as hell that first day he’d stepped foot at Holt Stables, but it wasn’t that first day anymore. Sometimes he thought he caught her looking at him like she had that night at Nick & Sam’s.
Maybe Sue is looking at you all wrong. Sure, you’re a city man, a money man. But everybody has different versions of themselves and maybe one of them doesn’t have to be a lie for the other one to be true. Maybe you should just talk to Grady. He tested that theory out in his mind for a moment and then realized that was still a stupid idea, and 100 percent not worth it, given that Jules wasn’t interested in a second chance.
At the end of the day, he was still going back to Dallas, and Jules was staying here. What was the point of telling Grady about any of it?
Chapter 16
Jules stood staring at Rhett, unable to believe her ears. “Six figures? Your snooping is getting my dad a tax refund of over six figures?”
He nodded, his blue-chip eyes bluer than the sky overhead. “I thought that might make you feel better.”
He looked quite impressed with himself, proud that he was saving Billy
Holt so much money. And she had to hand it to him: He had a right to be. So why did she want to punch him?
“Well, Pullman Duff helped calculate it all. He knows tax law better than I do. But I did have an instinct that your dad wasn’t claiming enough.”
“He can go and get treatment at MD Anderson now, without going into crazy debt.”
Rhett shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.”
If only she had thought to look at the tax returns. Do some research on allowable farm deductions. Take them to Pullman. “You’re a prince among men.”
“Uh . . .” a flush started at his collarbone and began to rise higher.
“Which completely and utterly pisses me off.”
“Wait . . . what?”
“I don’t know whether to turn five cartwheels,” Jules mused, “or get Otto to serve you a beer with ex-lax in it. I honestly cannot choose.”
Rhett looked alarmed. “That’s just . . . wrong. And anyway, Otto wouldn’t do that.”
Jules brought her chin up. “For me, he might.”
“I’m seriously confused, here,” said Rhett. “How exactly have I made you angry this time?”
Jules snorted. “Do you understand that I’m really, really tired of having to thank you? Especially after how you behaved in Dallas?”
He sighed. “I don’t want you to thank me. This was for your dad. And I’ve explained and apologized for how I left things in Dallas.”
“Yes, you have. But it doesn’t change what you did or how it made me feel. Used. Tossed away without a thought.”
“Believe me, I thought about you. Didn’t stop, in fact.”
“Nice way of showing it.”
“Jules—”
Maybe it was time he knew the truth. “What you didn’t get, Rhett, is that the little brat who followed you and Grady around when we were kids? That little girl you were kind to, when Grady would barely tolerate me? Well, his stupid, dorky baby sister with the buckteeth—she had a crush on you. And she pretty much never got over it. Until Dallas.”
He stared at her, looking stricken.
“Yeah. I used to write your name in my school notebooks. Rhett plus Julianna equals barfy hearts and flowers,” she said bitterly. “So, you unbelievable marauding a-hole, Dallas was my dream come true—until you scraped me off your shoe in the morning without a second thought.”
“Oh, Jules . . .”
“Because you’d messed with Grady’s . . .” She struggled for the right word. “Grady’s property. And that wasn’t okay. Because, you know, it’s all about your bestest buddy, dearest friend, your brother from another mother. And me? I was just a convenient way for you to get off that night.”
“No,” Rhett said. “That is not how it was!”
“You used me. And no matter how nice you are now to make up for it—”
“Stop. Would you just stop for a moment?”
She shut up and glared at him.
“For the record, I did not use you. I was unbelievably attracted to you.”
“You were?”
“I still am!” He scrubbed a hand down his face, dark with frustration and a day of stubble. She couldn’t help melting a little. “Jules, I don’t view you as anyone’s property . . . I view you as . . .”
“As?” She waited a little breathlessly. Couldn’t help it.
Oh God, she was an idiot. Still vulnerable.
Bad idea, Jules. Toughen up. Hang on to the anger. Much safer.
“I view you as hot! And even though I knew it was a bad idea that night, I couldn’t help myself.”
Rhett Braddock thinks I’m hot.
A flush climbed up her face as she waited for him to elaborate.
And I still think he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
He shrugged. “I drank too much and lost my judgment.”
She evaluated him frankly. Head to toe. Those mile-wide shoulders, the trim waist, the long, athletic legs in the snug denim. Couldn’t help appreciating what she saw. Despite her best intentions, she softened toward him. Melted, in fact. What if . . . Oh no, don’t you dare even think that, much less say it . . .
But she did. “Would you like to lose it again?” she asked, a little huskily. “I guess I could use you right back . . .”
“What? Yes. No! I can’t do that. Grady would kill me.”
Her oversized brother did not belong in this conversation. “Why don’t we leave Grady out of this?”
“I wish,” he muttered.
Irritation surged inside her. “Choose,” she said, simply. “Me or him.”
“I can’t do that! It’s not that simple.”
Jules pursed her lips and nodded decisively. “Then you won’t mind if I keep hating you.”
“I do mind!”
A big part of her was relieved that he hadn’t taken her up on her offer. Who was she kidding? Use Rhett Braddock for sex? No. She’d end up falling in love with him all over again, and being crushed all over again.
She shrugged.
“Damn it all, Jules.” Rhett threw up his hands. “For a simple country girl, you are waaaaay too complicated. And as the saying goes, I don’t know whether to sh—uh, crap or go blind around you.”
She sighed with a satisfaction she didn’t quite feel. “That makes me happy. It’s poetic justice.”
“It’s not poetic,” he growled. “And there’s no justice about it, either. In fact, it’s downright evil that you would be thrilled that my head is about to explode.”
Jules nodded, delighted. “It is, right?! It’s perfectly, one hundred percent evil.” She laughed. “And right now, I’m okay with that. Go grab a beer with Grady, why don’t you?”
Rhett growled again, and walked away.
Chapter 17
Rhett couldn’t ever remember feeling like such a jerk . . . stupid, dorky baby sister with the buckteeth . . . she had a crush on you . . . And she pretty much never got over it. Until Dallas. Dallas was my dream come true—until you scraped me off your shoe in the morning.
Words couldn’t even describe how rotten he felt. And it explained everything. Why she’d thrown the flowers into the stall. Why she’d been so hostile. Why she still couldn’t get past it.
He’d not only broken her heart, he’d wiped the floor with it.
Was there any way to fix it?
When he arrived back at the firehouse that evening, sounds of raucous laughter and an old track from the Doors was spilling from the second-story window. The garage door was up, showing off Big Red, who looked like she’d been detailed recently. In keeping with the time of year, someone had stuck an enormous jester made out of glitter and tinsel on the front grille by the American flag decal.
He remembered climbing all over the vintage curves of this very fire truck as a kid, ladders and all, on parade days. A smaller, dustier city vehicle was parked on the far left of the cavernous garage and an empty spot indicated someone was out on official business. Well, it wasn’t empty, per se; an inflatable pool octopus was sitting in the middle ready to annoy whoever came back from duty. Someone had strapped a Silverlake Fire and Rescue helmet on it, and it looked a little confused.
A loudspeaker in the corner crackled a bit, as if it couldn’t wait to announce an emergency, and the boys were clearly ready. Against the brick wall along the floor, several sets of fireman’s pants were lined up neatly, waists shoved to the floor, protective boots poking through the tops of the leg holes. A racking system held heavy jackets and helmets. An assortment of other equipment remained boxed, shelved, categorized, and otherwise neatly stowed, funny in a look-we-all-grew-up sort of way; neither Jake nor Grady could’ve ever been accused of being neat and orderly back in the day.
Cooking smells wafted down the stairwell as Rhett headed up the old wooden stairs to the upper floor where the action was. Not-
Spot came bounding over to greet him with the customary nose to his no-longer-privates. He scratched the dog behind the ears. “Snag any more pancakes?”
A peculiar odor assaulted his nostrils, and he did his best to waft it away, eyeing Not-Spot accusingly. Not-Spot shook his head, whined, lay down, and put a paw over his nose, as if disclaiming all responsibility.
Rhett paused for a moment. This . . . this was not a good smell. No way Mick was at the stove. A few more steps proved he was correct.
It was Lila at the stove, clearly in charge as she gestured wildly with a ladle. Mick and Rafael stood on either side of her, shooting worried glances at each other over her head. She gave Rhett a wave; Rafael used his quick reflexes to avoid getting whacked with her weapon. Though Rafi’s lean, muscular build probably matched most everyone, save Grady, for strength, it was clearly his dexterity that set him apart. And saved him from being brained by Rhett’s sister.
“If I can just perfect this sauce, we’ll be on our way to the greatest Fool Feast finale ever!” Lila said enthusiastically. Lila was a go-getter, a doer, with ambition for miles and the sort of can-do attitude that inspired others to get their asses in gear. Not only could she start things up, but she could see ’em through the middle and get everybody to the end. So, yeah, she was smart, pretty, and fun.
What she wasn’t: a good cook. She’d never been a good cook, and there was a reason why it had always been either Jake, Ace, or Rhett helping their parents with the grill on Friday nights and the griddle on Sunday mornings. Declan couldn’t cook, either, but at least he’d had no problem admitting it.
Rhett gave Rafael a sympathetic look and then caught sight of his brother Jake holding a grown-up Charlotte Nash in the circle of his arms. She pulled away from Jake and came forward. “Hi! You do remember me, right, Rhett?”
He nodded, smiled, and clasped her hand. “Of course I remember you, Charlie Nash,” he said warmly. Then, feeling that wasn’t quite enough, he pecked her on the cheek.
Jake flashed him a grateful look, and Lila smiled.
Mick and Rafi stiffened a bit, though, and turned back to the stove. Rhett got the feeling that they weren’t Charlie’s biggest fans—and he knew Grady still struggled to accept her after her role in defunding Silverlake Fire and Rescue. But for Jake, he did his best, understanding that she’d been between a rock and a hard place.
