by Cat Johnson
So far so good. Now if only the kid would tell us what was going on in his life so maybe I could help him. Bethany and I had had a nice talk, before Red walked in and dropped that damn Paris bombshell on me, blowing my concentration all to hell.
But before that I had begun to make a plan. What if I took the kid in? Or rather Morgan Farm did. As a single man, they might not allow me to do it alone. But if we took him in as a family, it might work.
He’d have a good home. A mother and father and three older brothers. There was a small room in the back of the house that we used kind of like an office. At least that’s where we kept the printer and the big old desktop computer.
We could put a bed in there for him. It wasn’t too far from the pantry where Boone was setting up the puppy to be house trained. He could go to Mudville High during the day. And help out with some of the chores afternoons and on weekends to earn some spending money.
I liked the idea. Boone loved it. He liked kids—maybe because sometimes he acted like one himself. Hell, even Stone didn’t have anything bad to say about it. That was a miracle.
But most important was that my parents had agreed, which was pretty amazing considering I sprung it on them right after I presented them with the new puppy they hadn’t asked for.
They’d sat and listened to what I had to say. What I knew about the kid, which wasn’t as much as I’d like. What he’d done, which wasn’t exactly good, but was understandable given the circumstances. And they’d agreed. If he needed a home, we had one to give.
Once Bethany had offered to help guide us through the process, the one big thing left to do was talk to the kid. Find out what his situation really was and see if we should bother starting the official paperwork with child services.
Of course, getting the boy to talk to me was another issue.
I saw the kid’s shock when he came in and saw me sitting there. He glanced at Bethany and then back to me as he sat, silent. Watching. Waiting.
Carson must have gotten the sense, just like I did, that the kid wasn’t going to talk as long as there was an officer of the law in the room.
He cut his gaze to me and said, “Knock when you’re ready.” Then he was gone and I could get to my plan.
I took my cell out and swiped through until I found the picture I wanted. I turned it to him. He visibly let out a breath of relief at the photo of Romeo sound asleep in our old dog bed, his two front legs wrapped around his new chew toy.
“He’s all right?”
“Yup. Happy. Healthy. I don’t know what you named him, but we’re calling him Romeo at my house. Because he likes to kiss us so much.”
Amazingly, a small smile tipped up the corner of the kid’s mouth.
“So, what should I call you?” I asked. It was a shot in the dark, but who knows? It might work.
The kid’s gaze cut to Bethany and I guessed what he was thinking. I might have earned a small amount of trust from him because of the dog. But she hadn’t. He must think she was with child services and didn’t want to answer with her in the room.
“This is my friend, Bethany. She owns the bakery on Main Street. And actually, she’s good friends with Red, from the resale shop. Bethany brought over some pastries for the deputy. Kind of a bribe so he’d let us visit with you.” I continued to talk since he wasn’t. “I’m glad he did let us see you. I wanted to show you that picture of Romeo, so you didn’t worry about him. Maybe Deputy Bekker will let you have one of the honey buns Bethany brought. They’re the best ones in town.”
“They’re the only ones in town but thank you.” Bethany smiled. “And it’s very nice to meet you. I got to spend some time with Romeo last night at Cash’s house. He’s a sweetie.”
Bethany and I chatted away to the kid, even if he was silently stoic in his lack of responses.
She glanced sideways at me and then leaned forward to focus directly on the kid.
“It’s none of my business. Your situation. Your life. Even what your name is. But I wanted you to know something about me. I grew up in foster care. From the time I was ten, after I lost my mom. Never knew my dad.” She swallowed hard. “Anyway. I know what it’s like to have a tough childhood. To want to run away. To actually do it. If you need to talk, I’ll listen. And if not, I understand that too.”
“Bart.”
“Excuse me,” I asked, when the kid’s comment surprised and confused me.
“My name. Bart.”
Bethany smiled and asked, “Your mother a Simpsons fan by chance?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. After a few moments of silence, he said, “She got cancer.”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m very sorry, Bart.”
“Me too,” I agreed, doing my best to keep my cool and not spook the kid now that he was finally talking.
There were a dozen things I wanted to ask him but was afraid to. I could only hope Bethany and I were on the same page and she’d ask them for me.
“Who were you living with? After?” she asked.
“My grandma at first. Then . . . she died too.”
Jesus. This poor kid.
“Where did you go then?” Bethany asked gently.
“Foster family.”
“Why did you leave?” She was asking the hard questions now and I held my breath to see how he would respond.
“They weren’t nice.” Three simple words, but they held the weight of so many more.
Bethany swallowed audibly before she nodded. “Yeah. I lived with a couple of families who weren’t very nice either. Then, I got lucky. I got adopted by the nicest family ever.”
Now that the conversation was starting to flow, I decided to satisfy my own curiosity.
“How long were you on your own, Bart?”
“About a month.”
“How did you survive that long?” Bethany asked.
He shrugged. “People ignore a kid. They forget I’m there and talk. I could see the warehouse was empty but it was cold in there. When I overheard about that big house on Second Street being empty, I moved there.” He lifted his shoulder again.
I had to hand it to him. He was resourceful. But the fact he’d kept himself and that puppy from freezing or starving was enough to have both of us shocked into silence.
Finally, he asked, “Are they going to send me back?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she answered.
I wanted to tell him my plan, give him hope that the same could happen to him like it had for Bethany. He could find a great family too. My family.
But it was too early. I had no clue if I could make it happen and getting his hopes up for nothing would be cruel.
Hell, I didn’t know what would happen. Once social services figured out where he’d run from, would they just send him back there, no matter how bad Bart claimed the family was?
I didn’t know the system. I’m not sure even Bethany did after being out of it for so many years.
Bart focused on me. “You’ll keep him? Romeo.”
“Yes. He’s got a good home with my family on our farm for the rest of his life. He’s going to learn to help with the herd. He’ll have lots of friends. Animals and people. I promise.”
The kid nodded.
He seemed more concerned about the puppy than himself. Maybe that was because he realized he had no control over his own life, but by trusting me, he’d at least made sure the dog would be all right.
I saw Bethany biting her lip and looking close to tears. Time to get her out of here.
The kid’s big brown eyes followed my movement as I stood. “We’re going to go. But I’ll try to see you again real soon. Okay?”
He lifted one shoulder, like it didn’t matter. He was trying to play it cool. Act the tough guy who didn’t care. I knew because it was what I would have done in his position.
Bethany stood and walked around the table. She leaned down and hugged the boy. Then, without saying a word, she moved to the door and knocked to get Carson’s attention.
&nb
sp; I asked Carson if he could sneak the kid a honey bun before I thanked him and followed Bethany outside where she stood waiting for me.
“Thanks for coming with me.”
She nodded. “Of course. Anything I can do to help, I’m happy to do.” The words were polite but her voice shook as she delivered them.
This had affected her. I could only guess Bart’s situation brought back too many memories of her own past. Coming from a Norman Rockwell family like I did, how could I relate to what she was feeling?
I couldn’t, so I did the best thing I could at the moment. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and squeezed, then said, “You wanna stop for a drink? On me.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Actually. That’d be good.”
“And maybe while we’re there you can tell me how the fuck Red came to be in Paris with some guy,” I suggested.
She lifted a brow and glanced at me, a sly smirk on her lips. “That bother you? Her being in Paris with some guy?”
“No. I mean, I’m just concerned. What do we know about this guy? Was this thing planned? I didn’t hear a word about it until she was leaving. And did you see her Instagram? It looks like she went right from the airport to some fancy cocktail party.”
By the time I finished my rant, Bethany was covering her mouth to hide her laughter.
I frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“You, Cashel Morgan. In fact, all of you Morgan boys. It took Stone months to get off his ass and tell Harper how he really felt about her. How long is it going to take you?”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” I scowled.
“No, I guess you wouldn’t. Must be a family gene.” Shaking her head, she reached for the truck’s handle.
On the other side of the vehicle I stood, keys in my hand, not moving as my mind spun with the comparison. Harper and Stone were in love. Their situation was nothing like the one with me and Red.
Was it?
Crap.
She peered over the hood at me. “We going?”
The question knocked me out of my stupor but not out of my misery. “Yeah.”
I could certainly use a beer about now.
And when we got to the bar and I made the mistake of pulling out my cell and looking at Red’s Instagram while Bethany went to the ladies’ room, I knew I needed more than just a beer. Because there she stood, hugged up on Mr. Paris, a glass of champagne in her hand and the widest smile I’d ever seen on her face.
Fuck.
“What can I get ya?” Lainey asked me.
I tossed my cell onto the bar, angry at the device and pretty much everything else in the world right now, including myself.
“Shot of bourbon, Lainey. Make that a double.”
Bethany was just gonna have to drive my truck, because the way I was feeling, one drink wasn’t going to be enough.
TWENTY-FOUR
Red
“You make it home yet?” Frank asked me over the cell phone.
“Just pulled into the driveway and walked into my place.”
“Good.”
“Where are you?” I asked, turning on the heater since it was freezing after my not being home for a week.
“About to board my flight.”
I cringed. “Sorry. I feel bad.”
“Because you’re home and I’m not? You should.” He laughed and then said, “Just kidding. I was actually happy to have a few hours layover between the two long flights. I got a decent meal. Stretched my legs. It’s all good. Of course, it would have been more fun if I’d had company. But no, you wanted to get on the road right away instead of hanging out in JFK with me. I don’t know what you were thinking.”
I heard the humor in his tone and smiled. “Yeah. I’m selfish that way.”
“Anyway, I’m glad you decided to come on the trip, Red.”
“Me too. And thank you. It wouldn’t have happened without you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a good guy that way,” he joked. “Now, when you decide you’ve had enough of redneck resale in frigid upstate New York and finally move out to Cali where the sun always shines, I’ll take you to even more fabulous places. Of course, that’s only if you don’t end up married to that farmer first.”
“Frank! I told you about him in confidence.” I plopped down on the sofa and covered my face with one hand, embarrassed by my heated cheeks even though he couldn’t see me.
“No. You told me that because you drank half a bottle of champagne on an empty stomach. I don’t recall any confidentiality agreement.” Frank chuckled.
I remembered drinking and talking much too much and regretting it in the morning—and not just from the hangover. “Ugh. I’m hanging up now.”
“Your hanging up won’t make me magically forget all you told me about your farm boy Cashel—that was his name, right?”
“Yes.” I groaned.
“But you’re off the hook anyway because they’re starting to board my flight, so I’ll let you go. I’m sure you want to unpack that pretty new dress you bought and see how Cashel likes it.”
I shook my head at myself and my own foolishness. “Goodbye, Frank. Safe flight.”
“Goodbye, Red. Talk to you soon.”
I disconnected and groaned again when I remembered how much money I’d spent on that new dress, all because I’d been swept up in the magic of Paris. I’d also had a bit of wine in me.
And yes, maybe I splurged on the dress because of Cash. He had been on my mind way too much on that trip. Which was ridiculous.
We weren’t dating. We were friends. Friends who made the mistake of accidentally having sex. That was all.
So why did I want to see him so badly now that I was home?
I had to resist the impulse. I’d look like a loser if the first thing I did when I walked in the door was text Cash. It would seem like a booty call and I’d look pitiful.
Huffing out a breath, I stalked to the fridge, and realized that I had even less to eat in the house than usual. No milk. No eggs. Maybe there was a freezer burned frozen pizza if I was lucky.
After eating French cuisine for a week, I was ready for some good old American food—and American-sized portions since the French ate like birds. I swear I’d never seen so little food on a plate in my life, even as an appetizer, and in Paris they’d call that a meal.
I wasn’t in the mood for a cold sandwich, and though I’d love to indulge in something from Bethany’s after dinner, I wanted a good hot meal first.
There were slim pickings in Mudville for good hot food as long as the diner and the historic Mudd House remained for sale and were closed for business.
It would have to be the Muddy River Inn for me, for wings or maybe a burger. Oh, and definitely an order of hot hand-cut French fries—which were not French, by the way. I’d asked while I was there and had gotten laughed at.
The drive from the airport in Queens had been long. The flight on the private jet from Paris to JFK even longer. I was ready to take a hot shower and put on some warm comfy flannel PJs.
Maybe I’d call in an order and pick up my meal to go. It would feel good to be home after being away.
I made the call, opting for Garlic Parmesan Boneless Chicken Wings and fries, and adding on an order of fried pickles too at the last minute. When Lainey told me it would be twenty minutes before my order was ready, I took the time to wash my face and brush my teeth.
I’d been traveling for what felt like days. It had been too long since I’d felt clean.
I didn’t bother changing. I’d do that later after a shower when I could slide right into pajamas. Happy with that plan, I pulled my jacket and gloves back on and got back into the truck. At least this trip was only a few miles rather than a few hours.
“Red, how was your trip?” Lainey, the bar owner and sometimes the cook, bartender and waitress depending on staff that day, smiled as I walked in the door.
“Great. Really amazing.”
“It looked like it from the pictures I s
aw.”
I frowned. The only pictures from the trip were on my Instagram.
“You stalking my Instagram?” I joked, impressed since I hadn’t thought Lainey, who was probably close to my grandmother’s age, was on social media.
She dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “I couldn’t be bothered with that stuff. But Bethany and Cashel were in here and showed me some of the pictures you put online. Hang on and let me grab your food. Carter’s just bagging it up.”
My stomach twisted as the last thing I wanted was the food. Bethany and Cashel were at the bar together. What did that mean? Was there something going on with him and Bethany?
I couldn’t blame her if there was. I’d kept my thing with Cash—whatever it was—secret from her.
In hindsight that had been epically dumb. It could cost me my best friend, because how in the world could I continue to be around Bethany if she ended up dating—or worse married to—the man I was falling for?
I somehow managed to pay for my food and keep up my half of the conversation with Lainey until I got out to my truck. But once there, I was close to losing it.
The food in the bag on the passenger seat filled the truck with what should have been an enticing aroma. I should go directly home and eat it while it was still hot. Instead I found myself pulling along the curb in front of Bethany’s shop.
I was a glutton for punishment, but I needed to know if they were together. What I’d do with that knowledge once I had it, I didn’t know.
As a red head, I’d never been able to hide my emotions. Angry—my face turned red. Embarrassed—my cheeks turned pink.
I couldn’t name all the emotions I felt right now—sad and upset were right up there at the top of the list—but I’d have to try to hide it all.
Inside, Bethany was behind the counter. “Hey. Oh my God, you’re home. I wasn’t sure what time you’d be getting back.”
“I just got back.” I was grateful she was here working and not out on a date with Cash or something. “So, what did I miss while I was gone?”
She laughed. “This is Mudville. Not a whole lot going on here. But you—you were in Paris. How was it?”
