by Addison Fox
And that drive only took ten minutes.
Why was she here? Why had she said yes to Arden’s kind invitation? Why was she so panicked over dinner with old friends?
Why, why, why? Nothing but whys.
Only she did have a reason. A big one that had started with the afternoon she spent sitting next to Tate in the park. The talk of his mother and the laughs over when they had been children had chased away the initial disquiet that had followed her into the park. Only chasing that unrest away had left an odd, empty melancholy in its place.
Arden’s text had caught her in a vulnerable moment, and the call that followed quickly on its heels even more so.
So here she was. Flowers in hand, knocking on the front door of the Reynoldses’ house. She’d almost laugh over it, and the weird role reversal, if she wasn’t so nervous.
And dammit, why was she nervous?
These were her friends. People she’d known nearly her entire life. People who she should be comfortable having dinner with along with a few laughs. Of course, they were people she was comfortable having dinner with. It was only one person who made her uncomfortable.
Which was just stupid, because she’d been here thousands of times and there was nothing to be nervous about. Except she was.
Belle knocked and practiced the calming breaths she’d learned at the Academy.
And hoped like hell Arden answered instead of Tate, because then he’d see her acting like an expectant mother doing Lamaze on his front porch.
At that image, she stopped breathing all-together.
Ugh! Why wasn’t she making any sense?
“You look lovely.” Arden stood framed in the screen door, her hair falling over her shoulders in glossy waves. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Thank you for the invitation. It was—” Belle broke off. Did she say what she was thinking? Or would she put on the polite platitudes like she did for everyone else? “It was nice to receive the invitation. I needed this more than I realized.”
“Then I’m glad you’re here.” Arden gestured her inside, following behind after she closed the door.
Warm, rich scents bathed the air, a mix of tomato sauce and baking bread. Her stomach answered immediately, nearly roaring in the sensual wave of such deliciousness.
When was the last time she had a meal like this? She very rarely cooked for herself, a mix of seeking quick options and general lack of interest in cooking that kept her away from the stove. Sandwiches, a quick batch of scrambled eggs or frozen dinners were way easier than building a full meal.
And when had that become her reality?
“What can I do to help?” Belle asked the question, anxious to get out of her own head and do something. Something useful and helpful and active. She’d spent way too much time in her own thoughts of late and she was getting rather sick of the poor company.
Arden had gone to all this trouble. It certainly wouldn’t do to stand in the middle of the woman’s kitchen with a sourpuss on.
“I’d love some last-minute help with the garlic bread.” Arden pointed toward a row of items already set up on the counter. Belle took each one of the items in, from the fresh garlic to the large bottle of olive oil to the already chopped parsley.
“When you say you’re cooking dinner, you don’t mess around.”
Arden turned from where she stirred sauce on the stove. “It really is nice to have a woman around. The last time I cooked like this, I had a wicked, epic fight with my brothers.”
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say not one of the Reynolds boys will ever again think up an offhand comment about too-thick mashed potatoes and feel they need to put the observation into words.”
Belle laughed in spite of herself, picturing the incident. Whether it was having three brothers or just the way she was made, Arden Reynolds didn’t take crap off of anybody. Belle suspected that would be even truer of the three men she shared blood with.
“Which brother was it?”
“I think it might’ve been Ace who actually said it, but the other two jumped in quickly enough it was hard to blame him directly.”
Words she’d heard many times in her youth played through her mind. “My mother always said if something should be left unsaid, it should be.”
“Amen,” Arden said. “Wise advice indeed.”
“Are we rehashing the potato incident again?” Ace Reynolds walked into the kitchen, his smile bright and warm as he walked directly to Belle. His big arms wrapped around her and she nestled into the hug, taking care not to rub her hands—full of minced garlic—all over his shirt.
More than one woman in Midnight Pass had swooned over Ace, though none had managed to capture the big cowboy’s heart. The oldest of the Reynolds boys, Ace was known throughout the Pass and beyond as the stoic, stalwart head of the Reynolds family. Where Tate was known for his humor and Hoyt for his all-around surliness, Ace was the Steady Eddie. Solid, sure of himself and always quick to tip his hat to a lady, Ace Reynolds was the quintessential Texas cowboy.
She certainly found him attractive, but Belle had only ever seen him as an older brother. Since he’d only ever seen her as a little sister, it worked nicely.
“Glad you’re joining us tonight, Belle.”
“I appreciate the invitation. And it smells amazing in here.” She hesitated a moment, before going for broke. “And not a potato in sight.”
Ace guffawed at that, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I see Arden has pulled you into her more-than-righteous chef’s anger. If the woman has her way, we’ll never hear the end of the potato story.”
“I should think you wouldn’t.” She was about to say something else when Ace was pulled away, a harsh curse lighting up the air.
“Get your damn hands off her!” Tate bellowed.
“Jealous, little brother?” Ace made a point to get up in Tate’s face before stepping back to snatch a carrot off the counter. “Never did like seeing a man touching your woman, did you?”
Before she could protest the distinction of being Tate’s woman, Tate beat her to the punch. “I just don’t like seeing a woman, any woman, get pawed at by my stupid brother.”
“Pawing? That’s what we’re calling it?” Ace just munched on his carrot, his grin cocky.
“Don’t be crass,” Tate shot back.
“And quit carrying on in my kitchen.”
Both men looked momentarily contrite at Arden’s warning, but Ace still managed to get in the last lick with a muttered, “Your problem is you haven’t done enough pawing.”
Hoyt interrupted any further tussle as he slammed through the swinging door into the kitchen. “Hey, Belle. Welcome to the zoo.”
Belle wanted to laugh at the artful display of testosterone that seemed to overpower the kitchen, but opted for a shoulder shrug at Arden instead. She knew her friend loved her brothers, but the little display—reminiscent of a herd of male rhinos—made Belle realize that perhaps being an only child had a little more merit than she’d always suspected.
Arden waved a hand with a wooden spoon covered in spaghetti sauce. “Would you all just get out of my kitchen and give me a chance to have a little bit of girl talk?”
“We just came in to help,” Hoyt said before snatching a half-cut roll on the counter. A roll Belle had just smothered in olive oil and garlic.
“Help?” Arden raised a lone eyebrow at Hoyt. “Help my ass. Now get out.”
Amazingly, all three men did as she asked.
Belle watched each of them leave, filing back through the swinging door in the same order they came in. It was only once they were gone that she turned to her friend. “That is a rare and fine skill. Someday you’re going to have to teach me how you did that.”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?” Belle asked.
<
br /> “You teach me how you manage to possess a gun, yet seem to restrain yourself from shooting imbeciles with it.”
* * *
Tate ignored the persistent image of his brother kissing Belle’s cheek in their kitchen and focused on the doubleheader on the TV. He knew there wasn’t anything between Belle and Ace. He knew it.
So why did it bother him so bad to see another man—even one he loved and respected as much as he did Ace—with his arms wrapped around Belle Granger?
“You cool off yet?” Ace asked him, as if reading his thoughts.
“Nothing to cool off about.” Tate never removed his gaze from the screen. The Rangers were playing the Cardinals and he wanted to see the new pitcher the Rangers were debuting tonight.
“Right.” Ace reached for his beer on the coffee table, picking it up and then replacing it with his feet.
“Would you get your feet off there?”
“Are you my mother?” Ace shot back.
“You could behave a little nicer when company’s here.”
Ace never removed his feet, but the subtle humor that had ridden his earlier response had vanished. “Belle is hardly a guest. Not only was she here for over a week talking to our staff, but she’s been coming here since she was small. She knows what the house looks like, and she knows what my feet look like up on my own damn coffee table.”
“I just think you could show little bit of respect.” Tate heard the words spilling from his own lips and knew what a priggish schoolmarm he sounded like. Feet? Coffee table? Was he really going there?
“And I think you should mind your own business.” Ace tossed back the remark and added a finger gesture to make his point. It was vintage Ace—and a move they’d all practiced to the point of excellence through the years—but it still stung.
Tate pushed to his feet, not sure where he was going with the action but determined to remove his brother’s feet from the coffee table. “I said, we have company.”
Hoyt let out a low groan before finally leaning forward, moving into the melee. He slapped his hands on Ace’s feet, dislodging them from the coffee table, before turning his attention on Tate. “Are you both trying to screw up dinner? None of us have had a home-cooked meal that didn’t come out of the bunkhouse in over a month, all because of Big Mouth over here and his damn potatoes. I think you could both find a way to behave.”
Hoyt grabbed his beer before adding, “And this is coming from the brother generally thought of as the jerk of the family.”
“You are the jerk of the family.” Since his response was nearly identical to Ace’s, Tate wasn’t sure it was a real victory, but it did ease the tension a bit.
“You cooled off?” Ace shot him a sideways glance but kept his feet firmly on the ground, their childish argument about feet on the coffee table already fading away.
It was childish, and Tate knew it. But for reasons that continued to escape him, he’d somehow managed to fall down the rabbit hole of schoolyard memories, playground insults and sibling rivalry the likes of which he hadn’t seen since he was ten.
“Why is everybody so convinced I need to cool down?”
“Um, maybe because you do,” Hoyt said.
“I can’t seriously be the only one upset about what’s going on around here. Or has it escaped your notice we had a murder on our property a week and a half ago?”
“It hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice, Tate.” Ace was quick to push at him, his attention no longer on the TV. “But it also can’t change the way we live our lives. Nor can you continue to let it get to you that Belle Granger is the one investigating this murder.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Yes, it is,” Ace said. “And it’s what she’s chosen to do with her life. She’s a good cop. Why is it the rest of us can see that and you can’t?”
“I can see it.”
“But you don’t like it,” said Hoyt. “That’s the real rub, isn’t it?”
His little brother came a bit too close to the underlying problem and it chafed to be quite that transparent. His family all knew he and Belle had parted ways years ago and in the throes of a few whiskey-fueled evenings, he’d told his brothers the truth of why they’d broken up. That didn’t mean he needed to rehash it now.
Nor did he mean he wanted to rehash it ever.
He and Belle had stood on opposite sides of a very large fence. One that in the ensuing years had become a wall, built of emotional concrete and practically impenetrable from either side. After the embarrassment of his father’s actions, he’d learned to push his way through just about anything. Bank loans, skeptical lawyers, even the town’s questions about the quality of the Reynolds boys and the beef they brought to market.
He’d pushed through all of that and found a path. One that was good, honorable and decent. One that had garnered him and his family some success and had begun to put Reynolds Station back on the map. He wasn’t afraid to power through challenges, nor was he afraid to push forward toward the answer he wanted.
Yet despite all he’d learned, he had no idea how to carve a path back to Belle.
* * *
Belle hadn’t enjoyed an evening this much in a long time. Unlike her evening out at the Border Line with Arden a couple of weeks back, this was relaxed, without the prying eyes of half of the town. Or the roaming hands and suggestive glances of Dove Anthony.
The evening had also given her a chance to reacquaint herself with the Reynolds family. It was funny, she realized, how much her time with Tate had colored how she thought of them. Through Tate, she’d known that Ace was the well-respected older brother, Hoyt was the grumpy younger brother and Arden was the baby sister and family free spirit. Observing them on her own and especially watching them together had shown her that while those traits and qualities were true, they were also rather broad brushstrokes.
It had been fun to see how Ace worked really hard throughout dinner to compliment Arden’s cooking. Not only had he seemed contrite about the overstep on the potatoes, but he’d realized that underneath the comment, he’d hurt her feelings and he wanted to make it right.
And then there was Hoyt. Yes, he might be grumpy, but underneath the old man facade was someone who was bright, artistic and funny. He’d gotten more than a few jokes in, about the family and, more expansively, around his observations of the people in town.
While she knew Arden better than most of the men, it was interesting to see the way her friend interacted with her brothers. Some ribbing, some battling and a little bit of sweet-talking seemed to make up their collective family dynamic. Yet underneath it all, Belle saw an affection that was real and tangible. Her brothers made her crazy, that was obvious, but Arden also loved them all to distraction.
And then there was Tate.
In many ways, Belle saw what she wanted to see and always had. The sweet boy who’d captivated her had become the sexy man who enthralled her, in spite of her best efforts to feel otherwise. Even with the knowledge that she was biased, it was fascinating to see him with his family, as much a part of the dynamic as Arden, Ace and Hoyt.
When they’d dated, things had been so new between them—so fresh and more than a little overwhelming—they’d spent little time in the company of others. And then once they broke up, they’d avoided each other as diligently as possible.
This evening was the first in years she’d spent any amount of time with the Reynolds family collectively. It was nice to see some of her perceptions change, like a kaleidoscope that she shifted just enough to get a new image. A new picture. And maybe, she realized, a new understanding as additional colors fell into place.
As a family, they’d been through a lot. Although Tate’s father’s disgrace had happened shortly after they’d broken up, she knew the basic story. His father had taken the family business to the brink of bankruptcy and had ultimately soiled the Reynolds name t
hroughout the beef industry with his illegal cattle-feeding practices. His death from a heart attack less than a year later had ended any real sense of responsibility or liability for his actions.
Yet his children had done right by the legacy. They’d worked the land, built a business plan to bring in new cattle and they ultimately restored the name of Reynolds in Texas and beyond.
It was impressive, she knew, and more than a little daunting to realize all they’d accomplished in so short a time. While she certainly hadn’t felt that she’d wasted the past ten years of her life, it was humbling to see all that Tate and his family had built in the same decade.
She’d learned criminal theories and had put the occasional bad guy away.
He’d built a business.
They had different lives with different goals and it wasn’t fair to compare. But they did compare themselves to each other and had throughout the time they were dating. He’d pressed for her to take a different path—had nearly pleaded it on several occasions—and she’d stubbornly refused to change her mind.
Why had that always stood between them instead of making them stronger together?
They both valued hard work. And underneath the constant swatting at each other, there was respect and always had been.
She did understand his concerns about her safety. There wasn’t a single person in a relationship with a cop who didn’t worry about that. Yet many people made relationships and marriages work. And yes, while some relationships still didn’t make it under the pressure and the scrutiny, many did.
Look at Captain Grantham, for Pete’s sake. He and his wife had raised two children and had spent a lifetime together. They’d even survived the pain of losing a child and were still together.
A life of public service and a marriage could work. But, she acknowledged to herself, both parties had to want to make it work.
“How about some strawberry shortcake?” Arden’s offer of dessert broke into her thoughts and Belle was thankful for the reprieve.
Hoyt, Ace and Tate practically fell over themselves in order to pull the dishes off the table. One stacked plates in the sink, another put coffee on, while the third went to the counter to pull out forks and knives and then dessert plates from the cabinet.
