“Nope.” He took another swig of beer. “You ever think about telling Daniel everything he doesn’t know about you?”
I fumed at him. “It’s not the same. There’s nothing to be done about the details he doesn’t know about me. On the other hand, Vivian and I could have helped him do something other than confess to murder. Your grandmother might have come up with another solution to your ranch’s problem.” The details of my life I’d just referred to were fighting to get to the surface, but I clung to my anger, refusing to let them out of their box. They’d had enough playtime.
“Probably,” he conceded. “But Granddaddy and I fixed things up, and she didn’t have to worry for nothing. Sparing her that means more to us than anything.”
“Would you hand me another sheet pan? It’s in that cabinet you’re leaning on.”
He bent and slid the metal pan out of its slot. “Where should I put it?”
“I’ll take it.” I placed it on the worktop beside the cutting board and lined it with parchment paper.
“Men like Daniel and my granddaddy—”
“And you.” I shot him an accusatory look.
“And me.” He drained a little more of his beer. “Our need to protect the people we love takes precedence over everything else.” I wasn’t buying it.
“It boils back down to trust. I understand why Daniel lied. I just don’t agree that it was justified.” I scooped the potatoes onto the sheet pan and drizzled olive oil over them. “I’m not over it, and I don’t know when or if I’m going to get over it. Daniel sacrificed his family for a stranger.”
“It doesn’t sound like that man’s a stranger to Daniel.”
“Well he is to me!” I shouted, the pan clattering to the stovetop when I dropped it. “Those people came in here and could’ve killed us all. If we’d had even a tiny clue about them, that wouldn’t have happened.”
“You’re right.”
I snapped my head up. Daniel and Vivian stood hand-in-hand in the doorway. He looked like I’d slapped him. Again.
Chapter Eleven
Stone
I flipped on the hot water and pushed my sleeves up. That was hands down the most awkward dinner in the history of dinners here. We’d all attempted to be civil in light of the good news. Daniel wasn’t going to jail. He’d let Vivian back into his life, and together they’d solved his problems. On top of that, they were getting married. In New Zealand. And we were leaving day after tomorrow for the ceremony.
“You don’t have to do this,” Muriella said, even as she handed me a plate.
“Did I ever tell you what happens to Jacobs men who don’t help with the dishes after supper?” I scrubbed at some dried sauce.
“No.”
Her lips were turned down, and she didn’t sound all that interested either.
“They have to clean the floors of the whole house. With a toothbrush.” She stared at me. “I’m serious. We can call my mama right now and ask her.”
She silently put the plate I’d rinsed into the dishwasher.
“You ever cleaned hardwood floors with a toothbrush?”
“No.”
Shit. One word answers.
“I’m here to tell you, I only did it once.” I passed her a fork. “My brother tried to bring me some knee pads, but I was too stubborn for that. My knees were tender for a week.”
That earned me an incredulous look. “I can’t imagine you not doing your chores.”
“It didn’t take me long to learn I had a part to play on the ranch.” I snorted. “No pun intended.” She didn’t even crack a smile, so I continued. “Mama was harder on us than anybody, but I get it now. When I didn’t do what I was expected to do, I let everybody else down.”
She set down the last glass in the top rack. “I thought I knew my part in this family. I don’t know anything anymore.”
Multi-word sentences. I could work with this.
“You do know your role.” I turned off the water and dried my hands. “You take care of everybody. You’re the glue that holds the whole thing together.”
Her shoulders slumped. “They don’t need me. He’s not going to prison. They’ve got each other.”
“Yeah, they do. But they wouldn’t have one another if it weren’t for you. Do you honestly think Daniel would have ever stayed with one woman without your influence?”
“He didn’t have a choice. He’s meant to be with Vivian. That has nothing to do with me.”
She folded her arms over her stomach, that little handprint on her sweater reminding me of what I’d always believed I could have with Muriella one day. After our date, I wanted that even more, but after everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours, I was less sure than I’d ever been that it was possible.
“Darlin’, I know you don’t want to hear what I have to say, but this,”—I waved my hand in the air—“doesn’t work without you.”
“They could hire someone to do what I do.”
I flinched. I’d never seen this side of her, and I hoped never to again. “So let them. Why don’t you get away from here for a little bit? There’s plenty of room on the ranch. Three men to do the dishes. Five women to gossip with. If you think you’re only here for the domestic stuff, find out if that’s really the case.”
“You just said it wasn’t.”
“I know it’s not, but you don’t seem to.”
Her mouth flattened and she reached for that damn dishtowel. “That would be just perfect for you, wouldn’t it? Me and you out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere.”
“I won’t be there.” She gave me a yeah, right look. “I have to work. Here.” More than ever, I wished I didn’t. But I’d made commitments I had to see through. Once again, they seemed to overshadow my real priorities.
“I couldn’t impose on your family.”
“Believe me, they’d love it. If anybody imposes on anybody, they’ll drive you nuts.” I grinned at her. They could be aggravating as all get out, but if I could get back all the time I’d missed with them, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
She looked tempted, which caught me off guard. Muriella had always seemed perfectly happy right here where she had her own smaller version of what I had in Texas. The fact she appeared to take my offer seriously proved just how lost she must have felt.
“You’ve got a few days to think about it. Instead of flying back here after the wedding, you can go straight there.” She glanced away. “You are going to the wedding, aren’t you?”
When she looked at me, her eyes shimmered. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
What the actual hell? Our best friends were getting married. No matter how mad she was, I never pictured her missing it.
“They won’t do it without you.” I gripped the edge of the counter. “I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, but you know it’s true.”
“I want to be there.” She nibbled her lip. “But I don’t know how to forgive.”
It was the most honest thing she’d ever said to me. Right or wrong, I took that as a sign of progress.
“You don’t have to. Not before you go.” I polished off my beer. “And I’m not trying to tell you what to do here.”
“I think you are.”
“If you miss it, you might be sorry later on. That’s all I’m saying.”
She propped an elbow on the counter. “Do you think it’s true that when you don’t forgive, the person who hurts the most is yourself?”
I studied her. We weren’t talking about easy stuff, but this right here, her opening up, was what I’d wanted. “It’s not one-size-fits-all, is it?”
“Father Jude talks about it. We teach forgiveness at school. I just don’t have it in me to do it.”
“Some people don’t deserve it.”
She jerked her gaze to me, and I shrugged. I knew what the Bible said about it, but some stuff just didn’t apply to real life. Maybe God wouldn’t forgive me for thinking that way, but it was how I felt.
“You didn’t
answer my question,” she said.
“Because I don’t know the answer. But overall, I’d say yeah, we’re the ones who hurt the most when we can’t let it go.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She held up her index finger and disappeared from the kitchen.
Muriella and I had talked over the years, not just about insignificant things, but something had changed. My effort to give a little in hopes she’d do the same appeared to be working, and if we kept at it, I knew she’d give me more. And that was what had kept me going all this time. The possibility of more.
Nobody else had ever interested me the way she did. There’d been plenty of other women I’d found attractive, might’ve even asked out if the circumstances had been different. But I couldn’t do it. Didn’t want to. Muriella was always on my mind. I’d belonged to her from that first July 4th, which transcended logic and reason. But my grandmama had taught me that sometimes that stuff was overrated.
Also, I trusted Muriella. I couldn’t say that about very many people. Everyone wanted a piece of me, and the more famous I became, the worse it got. I never knew if folks were interested in me for me or for what they could get from me. With her? Most of the time it seemed like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough. This was more than wanting what I couldn’t have. She was the woman I’d hoped to find all my life.
She returned to the kitchen, a manila envelope in her hand.
“What’s that?”
“A few possibilities for Mitch and Juliana’s trip. Did you have a chance to feel out when they could go?”
“Uh—” I scratched at the back of my neck. “I’m not as on top of things as you are,” I said sheepishly.
She laid the envelope on the counter in front of me. “I highlighted my favorite restaurants and places to stay. Since they’ve been before, they’ve probably got things they want to do. If you could talk to Ruby, that would help.” Her look was accusing.
This was yet another reason I’d waited for her. She cared about my family as much as I did. Hell, maybe more seeing as she’d already done her research, and I hadn’t made the time to do my part.
I checked the time on the microwave clock. “Too late to call her now.”
“It’s eight o’clock there,” she protested.
“When you get up at four, that’s bedtime.”
Her mouth twitched in amusement. “Tomorrow then.”
I saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
She stifled a yawned, and I stuffed my disappointment down.
“I should go.” I deposited my empty bottle in the recycling bin, hoping she’d ask me to stay a little longer.
“Thanks for running interference.”
Guess not.
I pretended to dust off my hands. “My work here is done.”
Chapter Twelve
Muriella
Someone was behind me.
I tensed, slowly removed the earmuffs from my head, and turned, uncertain who I would find.
Immediately, I relaxed and pasted a cordial smile on my face.
“Valentina. I’ve never seen you here before.” I glanced around the shooting range. A man two stalls down fired off several rounds in quick succession. I’d known the woman for more years than I could count through the joint events our respective churches put on together. Before seeing her here, I would’ve suspected this to be one of the last places she’d be.
An amused look formed on her face. “I come every few weeks. Apparently, you’re here more often.” Her gaze moved behind me to the target riddled with holes in the bullseye.
My body flushed as I hooked the earmuffs over my arm. Only the people employed here knew just how much I frequented this place.
I took in her skinny designer pants and pencil-thin heels. She looked impeccably put together as she always did, but one piece of the ensemble definitely stood out. “That’s a lovely necklace.”
Her hand flew to the chunky gold blocks resting on her chest. “Why, thank you. It was a gift from my husband.” She fluffed her silver hair. “I always pick out the best jewelry from him.” She winked.
“He, or should I say you, have a great eye.”
She smiled warmly at me. “Are you about to wrap up here?”
I squared my shoulders. “No. I haven’t been here long.” Not nearly long enough to bring back the sense of control target practice provided. I had no idea when or if Daniel’s associates might return. I still hadn’t made a decision regarding the wedding. And Stone…he had me off-kilter for completely different reasons.
“I could go another round.” Valentina slid into the stall next to mine.
A noise of frustration escaped me, but she didn’t seem to hear. Daniel came here with me a good deal, though he hardly ever fired a weapon. This time, though, I’d slipped off on my own, needing the time alone to regroup. It appeared my effort was futile.
“Are you coming to the next meeting?” she asked as she adjusted protective glasses over her eyes.
I didn’t want to chat, especially not about the joint event Saint Pius did with Saint Agnes every year for the children.
“Yes.” I lifted the pistol and fired, missing the center of the target by an inch. My nostrils flared.
I shifted my stance, focused on where I wanted the bullets to strike, and squeezed the trigger until the magazine was empty. With automatic movement, I reloaded and fired again. And again. And again.
The range disappeared. All that remained was me and my target and the semblance of control I’d been missing for days. Every round that hit its mark centered my spiraling fear until I’d packed it back into the box I kept it in.
Daniel’s lack of trust in me became my target. I obliterated it with twenty rounds, yet my anger remained. Quickly reloading, I aimed again, this time intentionally landing shots around the outer fringes of the circle.
What he did was beyond protection. He shut me out, kept me in the dark. Of all people, Daniel knew how much I hated the darkness.
I exchanged the old target for a fresh one, the hum as it moved into place giving me a sense of comfort. As small as the noise was, it was part of the process. Something I could count on in the experience.
As I aimed again, this time the target became that minuscule seed of hope Stone had planted six years ago. With every shot it grew, from a sprout into the full bloom of a flower. No matter how many times I hit the mark, it refused to die.
My arms fell to my side and I hung my head, chest heaving. Without meaning to, I’d let him in, and now he wouldn’t go away. I didn’t know what to do with the attraction I could never act on. But he was so easy to talk to, so much so that I’d found myself opening up instead of shutting him out.
Out of everything, he frightened me the most. The feelings he inspired were unfamiliar, and I needed routine desperately. A fragment of my soul wanted him to be part of that routine, but an even bigger part refused to bring him into my hell.
He could help you out of it.
I jammed the clip into the pistol. This time no matter how I aimed, I couldn’t hit the center. That’s what he did to me. He kept me so off balance, I lost who I was.
Or maybe he’s showing you exactly who you are.
No. It was one date. So what if I’d enjoyed our time together? So what if I couldn’t stop thinking of him? So what that he was everything I’d want in a partner? That kind of life wasn’t for me.
My shoulders slumped. The therapeutic sense of control slipped away. The fear I’d shoved into a box seeped out of the cracks, winding its way around me until I was paralyzed.
I’d grown too comfortable with my life. I’d learned very early how quickly everything could be taken away. Somewhere along the way, I’d forgotten. I wasn’t equipped to handle change, yet I was powerless to stop it.
I clutched the gun, searching for something to ground me, but that something was nowhere to be found.
Desolate, I packed the pistol back in its case and closed the box of ammunition. When I turned around, Val
entina leaned against the stall, a sympathetic expression on her face.
“Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn’t.” She shifted the bag on her shoulder, knowing in her eyes.
But she didn’t understand anything about me, which was exactly the way I wanted it to be. I genuinely liked her, but just as I did with everyone, I kept her at arm’s length. For her to see me this way shook me even further.
I straightened and tried to morph back into the person I allowed the world to see.
“It’s difficult to keep the veneer from cracking, especially when what’s inside wants out so badly.” She glanced down at her perfect outfit.
I tilted my head. The woman never had a hair out of place, was always dressed to the nines. She took charge in meetings without making others feel stepped on, yet she was always the first to dig in and do the dirty work no one else wanted to. Not once had I ever considered she didn’t have it all together. To know she might understand what it was like to hide behind a carefully crafted image made me feel not so alone. A little better even.
I held up the case. “I need to return this.”
Her brows dipped. “As accurate as you are, I assumed that baby was yours.”
I shook my head. “I don’t own a firearm.”
Daniel did, though he despised them. He preferred I didn’t have one in my home. I’d never argued because the apartment building had seemed like a safe place for me, until those people intruded and tied me to a chair.
We wandered toward the entrance of the shooting range.
“Do you have time for lunch?” Valentina asked me. “I know a place not far. It’s quiet, a good place to wind down.”
My steps faltered. I didn’t do outings with strangers, but Valentina was an old acquaintance, and I wasn’t ready to go home.
Anxiety prickled at the back of my neck, but I ignored it. I’d already been tossed so far out of my comfort zone, I wasn’t certain I could find my way back in.
I hefted my purse back on my shoulder and discreetly touched the pocket of my jeans. My phone was close. I’d be fine.
Three Dates (Paths To Love Book 2) Page 8
