by McCade's Way
“Brute, Brutus actually, but I just call him Brute.”
“For obvious reasons,” Cole grumbled, washing up in the mudroom sink. “Trey brought the beast back from Texas when he came. He growls at anyone that isn’t Trey.”
“Once I introduced myself, he didn’t growl at me.”
“Maybe you smell like Trey,” Cole suggested with a sly grin as he strolled into the kitchen drying his hands.
“Don’t make me get up, boy,” Trey rumbled with a sidelong glance at his blushing bride. She’d caught the innuendo.
“There are much worse things to smell like,” she said, setting things on the table and surprising the hell out of him by dropping a kiss on his cheek.
“If you can say that about him right now, its love,” Cole said pulling out a chair and waggling his brows at Trey.
Frowning, he kicked his kid brother under the table. Cole winced and reached to rub at his shin, but there was laughter in his blue eyes.
“Growly ass.”
“Grow up and find some manners before I teach you some.”
He wasn’t sure if it was the weight of the platter that made Genevieve’s hands shake as she placed the pork roast on the table, or if his growl was making her nervous, but he laid a gentle hand on her hip to steady her. She smiled down at him.
“Are those Mama’s boots?” Cole asked, straightening from rubbing his leg.
Gen stepped back, her grey eyes wide and mouth open in a soft gasp. Trey nodded, his gaze dropping back to her feet.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea they were your mother’s. I ju—just, I saw them in the mudroom and my shoes are impractical for working outside. I mean as lovely as my shoes are and as much as I appreciate them. I’m sorry. I will take them off right now,” she stuttered, obviously trying desperately not to offend him.
“They look nice on you, darlin'. Mama would’ve been proud,” Trey said, pulling his mind from memories and turning his attention to the table.
“I should have asked. I assumed they were,” she stopped and shook her head. “I’m not sure which is worse.”
“You thought they were, Catherine’s?” Cole asked with a snort. “Not a chance that one would have been caught dead in them. There was no country in that girl other than the rare times Trey—”
Trey nailed his brother’s ankle again. Ignoring the gasped curses coming from the moron, Trey motioned his wife to the table.
“They were my mama’s, and it would make her happy to know that you’re wearing them. She was a Texas lady and liked her boots. There are several pair over at the other house. I’ll bring them back when I think about it.”
“If you are sure,” Gen said, her voice still holding a little tremble.
“Mama was a very practical woman. If there is anything of hers that you can make use of, she would like that. You’re a little taller, but of a like build. As to Catherine’s things, I bu—got rid of most of her belongings, but if you find anything it’s yours. Hand me your plate.”
Silence fell over the table after grace, broke only by the scrape of silverware and the soft involuntary murmurs that accompany a delicious meal. It was heaven after a long day.
“This meal hits the spot, Genevieve. Trey hit the jackpot this time, good looks and you can cook.”
Trey sighed. Leave it to Cole to ruin heaven. “Do you want to be able to walk tomorrow?”
The shuffle under the table said he was smart enough to move his legs.
“It was a compliment.”
“Uh, huh,” Trey said, unconvinced. “And Catherine could cook.”
“Funny French frou-frou shit I’d never heard of, and half the time I don’t think it came out the way it was supposed to.”
Trey wiped his mouth with his napkin and looked at his brother.
“I’m tired. I’m hungry. I want a hot shower and a warm bed right now. Keep pushing me because you’re just a few words away from us going outside to settle this.”
The corner of Cole’s mouth turned down in a sulk, and he pushed his food around his plate. When he looked up annoyance firmed his mouth and his shoulders squared, but he turned to Gen.
“My apologies if my humor embarrassed you. I’m not quite as old fashioned as my brother and we butt heads over it sometimes, but I didn’t mean to be disrespectful or ungentlemanly. Our mama didn’t raise us that way,” he said softly.
Trey rolled his eyes at the look on his wife’s face. Damn if butter didn’t melt on his brother’s tongue. Gen had swallowed every word, and was gracing him with a smile that lit the room.
“I’m not offended. Growing up in New York I have heard so much worse,” she said, but glanced at Trey when he shifted in his chair. “But it is Trey’s home and you should respect that if you know how he feels.” She glanced back and forth between them. “Your mother must have been so proud to have two such big, strong, handsome sons.”
Trey chuckled. Now it was just getting deep in there. “There are actually three of us, not that the other one is big and strong.”
“Nate’s the daughter Mama never had,” Cole drawled with a laugh.
“You have another brother?” Gen asked, looking a little confused.
“Yeah. Nate lives in Philadelphia. He’s a lawyer,” Trey said, shaking his head. “He’s the pretty one in the family.”
“Prettier than Cole?”
Cole choked. Trey threw his head back and roared with laughter. Cole’s choking turned into a coughing fit until Trey pounded him on the back and Gen jumped up to get him a glass of water.
“I’m not pretty,” Cole croaked with a baleful glare at them both when they sat back down.
“Daddy thought you were pretty until Nate came along,” Trey chuckled.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve heard it before. If he hadn’t trusted Mama so much…,” Cole grumbled leaving the rest of the familiar teasing unsaid.
Gen looked at him with a bemused smile and Trey winked. Tapping the edge of her plate with his fork, he silently urged her to finish eating and took another bite of pork.
Slouched in the swing with his boots resting on the porch railing, Trey enjoyed an after dinner cigarette. The meal had been top notch. Turned out it had been roasted garlic he’d seen her put in the mashed potatoes. It wasn’t something he’d had before, but it was definitely a keeper. If she continued to feed him like that, he was going to put on a gut this winter.
The door opened, and Gen squatted down with scraps for Brute. She stroked the dog’s ears as he lapped up the treat. Trey swallowed the warning he’d been about to issue as she leaned forward and nuzzled the top of the dog’s broad head. Brute’s tail wagged. The mutt seemed as docile as a kitten with her.
“Everything cleaned up?”
She flinched at his voice, straightening hastily and stepping onto the porch.
“Yes, sir.”
He squinted at her in the gloom. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and he patted the seat next to him, wanting her closer so he could tell if it was chill or nerves she was trying to ward off. She perched cautiously on the edge of the swing. He pulled her back into the crook of his arm to share his body heat. She was stiff for a moment and then slowly relaxed against him.
“I’m not your daddy. You don’t need to yes sir me when I ask a question,” he said softly.
“Yes…Trey.”
He chuckled at her catch.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“Only when you’re mad.”
“I like your honesty. I’ve been told I’m not a real pleasant person when I’m mad, but then I’d like to know who is.”
“I never thought of it like that,” she said with a little giggle. “I suppose no one is.”
“I’d guess not,” he agreed, turning his head away to blowout a stream of smoke and then turning back to kiss the top of her head. “Does the smoke bother you?”
She shook her head, shifting against him so she could rest her cheek on his chest. They sat that way for a while, and he wa
s pleasantly surprised she didn’t feel the need to out chirp the crickets.
“You ready for bed?”
She nodded against him, and he flicked the glowing butt into a bucket of sand. Boosting her to her feet, he stood and followed her to the door. She paused to say goodnight to Brute. The beast leaned into her, head lolling back and for the life of him Trey thought a smile on the dog’s face. Catherine had hated Brute, and the feeling had been mutual.
“How’d you make friends so quickly?”
“I just introduced myself and asked him to show me around. It was nice to have a friend to talk to,” Gen said, with a wistful smile.
He clenched his jaw, the words jabbing at an open wound. Was she going to start with the guilt and games already? He shifted so the moonlight fell on her face, and she looked up at him.
“You regretting it already?” he asked gruffly.
“Regretting what?”
He ground his teeth. She looked genuinely confused. Women were amazing actors, knowing just how to twist a man. What would this cost him?
“I didn’t have time to hold your hand today. I have a harvest to finish and a farm to get ready for winter,” he growled.
She blinked at him, backing up a step. The self-hug move was back as she rubbed at her arms.
“I thought I did a pretty decent job of staying busy and making myself useful today,” she said softly, her chin jutting in pride. “Your direction to ‘stay at the house’ was open to a bit of interpretation.”
“And yet the orchard isn’t the house. Is it?” he snapped back at her and instantly regretted it. Why the hell had he said that?
Her eyes widened, and her bottom lip trembled before she caught it in her teeth. She straightened, shaking her head.
“No, sir, it’s not,” she said softly. “I wasn’t aware I wasn’t allowed to leave the house.”
The stiff formality in her tone grated on his nerves as did the hurt in her voice.
“You do what I damn well tell you. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
The familiar submissive response added fuel to the fire. What had he just told her about that?
“Get in the house.”
She backed through the door as if fearing his boot in her ass. She had no idea how close she was at the moment. She backed through the kitchen with him prowling after her. Pointing up the stairs, he didn’t say a word. Her hand shook as she reached blindly for the railing. She backed onto the first step, and then she spun, fisting her skirt to speed her scramble. Getting a grip on his temper, he shook his head and climbed the stairs at a more sedate pace. He needed a shower.
Thudding her head into the pillow, Gen tried to rein in her temper and hurt. Her mind raced trying to pinpoint what she had done. Everything had seemed fine, and then Trey had just lost it. He’d had plenty of opportunities during dinner to question her leaving the house. She’d made no secret of it. Why suddenly after such a cozy few minutes on the swing had he snapped?
He was terrifying when he was mad. She blushed. When he’d leaned over her, his forefinger inches from her face, she’d wanted to slide to the floor and cry. She heard the shower shut off down the hall. Straightening the quilt, she tried to think what to say to him when he came in. She swallowed the tears that threatened. He wanted her to be a prisoner in her own home. His home, a little voice reminded. All the anger drained out of her at the thought. She had promised herself when she’d accepted his proposal that she would do whatever it took to make this man happy. He was offering so much. The least she could do was be an obedient wife. She bit her lip at the words and immediately sent up a prayer. She was going to need help with this one.
With only a towel wrapped around his waist, Trey’s power was on full display. Tiny beads of water stood out on his broad shoulders and barrel chest. The bulge of his bicep when he tugged open a drawer made her wince. She hastily added a prayer begging for another chance to be the wife her husband deserved before he beat her. She licked her lips.
“I laid pajamas out for you,” she said softly.
He spun to look at her before his eyes darted to the sleepwear lying neatly across the foot of the bed. He nudged the drawer closed with his foot.
She bit the inside of her cheek at the strained silence. The light went out and she stiffened as the mattress shifted under his weight. Shivering, she slid toward him, wanting to recapture that feeling on the swing and feel his strong arms and steal his heat.
“Don’t act like a whore. It’s not a bartering tool.”
All the air left Gen’s lungs at the ice in his voice. She drew back like she’d been struck. Tears sprang to her eyes that she was helpless to stop. She crept back to her side of the bed, pressing to the edge of the mattress as sobs wracked her slender form. His words sounded over and over in her numb mind. How could the man that was so old-fashioned he took offense to his brother’s innuendos, say something so cruel? What would his precious Mama have to say about that? She shivered. The cold sneer had cut deep in her soul, wounding like no beating could have.
Chapter Four
Cole took a drink of cold water and watched his older brother effortlessly toss bale after bale onto the wagon. Trey was a work horse on the best of days, but today he was like a man possessed. The tension this morning in the kitchen had made it difficult to choke down the fantastic breakfast Gen had made. His brother had been sharper than usual, and his new wife had kept her red rimmed eyes downcast and offered only meek yes sir and no sirs to anything posed to her. He’d nearly fallen off the porch when his old-fashioned brother’s parting words to the girl had been a warning not to leave the house or he’d beat her. What in the hell had happened between them after he’d left last night?
He’d been more than a little skeptical when Trey had told him of his plan to marry some girl he’d never met on the recommendation of his former brother-in-law and a couple letters. After the hell he’d been through with Catherine, it just hadn’t made sense. It was possible that he felt even sorrier for Genevieve. A person didn’t get to know Trey in two letters. He’d had an entire lifetime to acclimate himself to his brother’s many quirks and nuances, and there were still days when the man he shared hearth and home with felt like a complete stranger. Losing Mama had been rough and broken them both in many ways, but Catherine and their whirlwind romance had devastated Trey. He’d never been the warm and cuddly sort. Like their father, he was all hard edges and tended to be stoic and gruff, but less than a year with a city girl had turned his brother into a coldhearted bastard. She’d taken whatever warmth had resided in the big bear of a man and left a frigid block of ice in its stead.
He’d never liked the haughty bitch or her fancy ways. One corner of his mouth fell with disapproval as he stole another glance toward the house. Genevieve seemed different. The girl was actually trying. God knew Trey was not an easy man to tolerate, let alone love. Cole blew out a heavy breath and shook his head. For being the oldest, the big lug sure as hell wasn’t always the smartest. He had a good thing going here, and after just over a day, he was already starting to fuck it up.
Trey snatched the water jug from his hands, jerking him from thought. He tilted his head back and drank deeply. Despite the autumn chill, sweat darkened his older brother’s hair where his hat band had laid. Lowering the jug, he took a breath and narrowed his icy eyes on Cole.
“Now that I have it loaded are you going to help me get it in the barn or do you need to go wash your hair?” he snapped, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Cole reined in his temper and shrugged insolently. “I don’t know. Are you going to quit being an ass?”
Trey gave his head a tight little shake of disgust and put his hat back on. “Not likely,” he muttered and headed for the team, getting them moving toward the barn with a simple combination of voice and hand commands.
Cole shook his head. At least he was an honest ass. “Tell me again why we have the team down here instead of using some real horsepower,” he asked, tr
udging after his brother.
“The tractor takes gas. These two are getting fed whether they’re working or not. It’s common sense.”
“Damn, you sound like Daddy.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Trey answered with a slight quirk at the corner of his lips.
“You would,” Cole snorted. “I remember being told a time or two that if I didn’t work I didn’t eat. I take it that doesn’t apply to these lard asses?”
“They always work when asked. I can’t say the same for you.”
“I’m not you, Trey. All work and no play make Cole a very cranky man, or maybe that’s why you’re such a bastard all the time.”
“Watch your mouth.”
Cole rolled his eyes. Old-fashioned didn’t begin to cover it when talking about Trey. “You’re going up top. You about knocked me out of the loft last time,” he grumbled.
“You don’t have enough muscle on you to get them up to me. If you’d get some lead in your ass you wouldn’t fall out of the loft.”
“With your fat ass, that wouldn’t be a problem for you up top.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t throw hay like a girl so that I have to lean out the door to snag them.”
“Maybe Genevieve will help you.”
“She’d probably follow directions better than you do.”
“Oh, wait, she’d have to come out of the house for that, and her big bad husband would beat her. Guess you’re stuck with me, Prince Charming.”
Trey stopped and turned so fast that Cole almost ran into him. He stumbled back a step as his larger brother advanced and jabbed a massive forefinger in his face.
“My marriage is none of your business. I’ve took all I’m taking out of you today. You better learn when to keep your mouth shut, boy.”
Cole cursed under his breath as Trey whirled and stalked back to the head of the wagon.
Gen paused on the step stool to stare out the window. She watched in open admiration as her husband tossed another bale of hay to the loft. Trey’s throws were dead on every time and the two brothers worked like a well-oiled machine. He paused, taking off his Stetson. Running a hand over the top of his head, he straightened his dark gold ponytail and picked up the water jug. She watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he took a long drink and then splashed some of the cold water on his face. He lifted the tail of his shirt to wipe the water and sweat away, and her eyes ran over his solid core and the golden hair that circled his navel.
