Blatantly Blythe

by Sarah Hegger

  “Wow.” Nate shoved his hands in his pockets. “Aren’t you farting sunshine and rainbows today.”

  Eric had to suppress a smile. “I’m having an existential crisis.”

  “Is that what they’re calling being an asshole now?”

  He got his shit together. His brother was a nice guy. “I’m sorry, and you’re right. I’m being a dick.” He poked at the papers on his desk. “We seem to be getting hit by one load of shit after another.”

  “What’s this?” Nate picked up the notice of a pending inspection. “When do they ever inspect anything?”

  “Apparently, it’s a brave new world.” Eric took the notice away from Nate and put it back. “Don’t worry about it. We’re good with health and safety anyway.”

  “And this?” Nate didn’t believe in personal boundaries and now had Brett’s report in his hand.

  “That’s the report from my security detail at the Highgate site.”

  Nate frowned down at the paper. “Is this right?” He jabbed his finger at the name. “Brett Barrows is working security for you?”

  “Yeah.” Eric didn’t feel ready to defend his position. He’d made the decision as more of a gut instinct than anything else. “He needed a job.”

  “You know his record.” Nate raised an eyebrow. “Particularly the part where he roughed his sister up so badly that he broke her arm. And I know for sure that I told you he was part of the reason Blythe freaked out that night you went to check on her.”

  “And just how is Barron?” A slow creep of anger tingled beneath his skin. “Knocked any more women about?”

  Nate shook his head. “You know I can’t do anything unless Blythe presses charges.”

  “Then you should have told me to handle it.”

  “Uh-huh.” Nate folded his arms over his chest. “Because you going vigilante on me would make my day. Make no mistake, Eric, I will arrest you.”

  “I’m touched,” he said but it lacked his former heat. Beating the shit out of Barron would be momentarily satisfying but not the solution. “Anyway, Brett’s not the same. Not the same man they locked up this last time.”

  “Maybe.” Nate shrugged. “But these guys who leave prison don’t have much of a chance unless someone takes a leap of faith with them.”

  “Talk to him yourself,” Eric said. Actually he had hit on a great idea. Nate had developed a cop’s sense of people and could sniff out bullshit and looming trouble. “I’d really like to hear what you think.”

  Nate chuckled. “I’m sure you would.”

  “Meaning?” Eric didn’t like the knowing look in Nate’s eye.

  “Really?” Nate met his gaze straight on. “We’re still pretending that you don’t know that I know that you have a vested interest in the Barrows family?”

  “I don’t.” Which was the truth, because Blythe had carved him from her life. “Not anymore, anyway.”

  “When?”

  “Just before that night Barron went around.”

  Nate grew thoughtful. “And before you ripped into Bella and the others.”

  “They weren’t being fair.” Eric would be fucked if he backed down on this. “They don’t know her and made judgments about her.”

  “They’re trying to change that,” Nate said. “After you left our place the other night, I talked to them about it.”

  Eric let him have the floor. Nate knew as much about the Barrowses’ business as anyone, given that the call to do something about Barrows-made trouble often went through the sheriff.

  “Blythe’s good people,” Nate said. “I don’t know how the hell she managed to crawl out of that cesspit of a family, but she did. I’ve always liked her. Although, apparently not as much as you.”

  “Have you always known?”

  “Nah.” Nate shook his head. “I knew you two talked a bit after Laura, but I didn’t realize it was more than that until a couple of years later.”

  “Well, it’s over now.” Eric went back to the view. The words burned like indigestion. “Apparently I don’t like her enough.”

  Nate gave him a hard look, and then nodded. “I wondered when she’d wise up.”

  “What?” Eric stared at Nate. Nate had never said a word, not even murmured a suspicion that he knew what was going on with Blythe. “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Blythe.” Nate stared out the window. “Look at that.” He clicked his tongue. “Damn Frank Wells is parking in the disabled spot. The only thing disabled about him is his common sense. ”

  Eric toyed with playing dumb, but for all his pretty face and his aw-shucks county sheriff spiel, Nate was sharp as a tack. “And here I thought I was being so discreet.”

  “You were.” Nate continued to glare out the window. “God, I hate people who park in disabled spots when they’re not. But this is my town, and I see shit.”

  “Huh.”

  “Plus.” Nate slid him a sly smile. “You kind of gave the game away when you lost your shit the other night.”

  That might be coming a bit strong. “Would we say I lost my shit?”

  Nate snorted. “I love you girls, but you’re full of shit.”

  “Okay.” Heat climbed his cheeks. “I might have lost a little of my shit there.”

  “Well, buckle up, brother.” Nate rubbed his nape. “Because your lady is heading into another storm.”

  “She’s not my lady.” That hit him with serrated edges, and he had to take a moment and breathe deep. “What storm?”

  Nate cocked his head. “What did she say? When she ended things.”

  “Hmm?”

  A flat stare from Nate informed him his attempt to play dumb had failed.

  “Are we going to eat ice cream and watch chick flicks or something?” He didn’t want to talk about this. “What storm?”

  “You know about Brett already.” Nate let him off the hook. “But apparently Blake is back in town and has moved in with her.”

  “What the hell!” Eric stared at his brother, hoping like hell Nate was punking him.

  Nate shook his head, dead serious. “Blake arrived at St. Peter’s the other night for the Thursday dinner service. Blythe caught sight of him and took him home with her.”

  “She knows better than that.” Eric reached for his phone, and then stopped.

  Nate shook his head. “Yeah, she does. Bella said she was really conflicted about it.”

  “Bella?” The surprises kept coming. “What does Bella know about this?”

  “Bella was the one who told me.” Nate gave him a wry smile. “After your shit losing, the girls got curious. First they went to see Phi, and Phi is one hundred percent in Blythe’s corner, and then they went to see Blythe.”

  Eric winced. He didn’t want to think how that had gone over. “What happened?”

  “They made friends.” Nate shrugged. “They had a bit of a heart-to-heart and found common ground.”

  Of all the things he had expected Nate to say, that wasn’t one of them. “Damn.”

  “And that’s not all,” Nate said. “Bella and Liz were also volunteering at the Thursday night dinner service. Apparently she asked them what she should do about Blake.”

  “Blythe asked Bella for advice?” The words sounded wrong even saying them out loud. Blythe had a big chip on her shoulder about Bella. Not altogether undeserved but there nonetheless. Or apparently, not there anymore. “That must have been some heart-to-heart.”

  “Bella is concerned about the Blake situation, but not worried. She said Blythe is not going into this blind.”

  “No, she isn’t.” Nobody who grew up a Barrows could take on a case like Blake blindly. Blythe had lost her innocent outlook many, many years before he’d even known her.

  His phone had somehow found its way back into his hand, and he stared at it. He wanted to call h
er and ask if she was okay, if things with Blake were okay. He wanted to tell her she could count on him if things weren’t okay.

  That wasn’t his right anymore. She’d taken that right from him.

  Or perhaps he’d forfeited it by not being able to offer her more than they’d had. Along with forfeiting the right to sit beside her in his beautiful house and look out at the view and tell her about his shitty day. Forfeited the right to hear her laugh at something he said or tease him out of his crap mood. Lost the right to lose himself in her beautiful body.

  Fuck.

  “What are you going to do?” Nate indicated his phone.

  Eric shoved it in his pocket. “I’m going to site to see if I can find out any more about what happened last night.”

  Nate eyed him speculatively. “You’re not going to call her?”

  “I can’t.” And that hurt like a son of a bitch. “She’s not mine to call anymore.”

  * * * *

  Eric took Matt’s truck again. With the amount of time they used each other’s cars they may as well swap. Then again, Matt was heading the minivan route.

  So weird to think of his brother making the school run and coaching little league. Matt had done his best to fill in for Dad when they were all younger, but this was different. Jasmine would grow, and Eric was willing to bet she’d have siblings before too long.

  Fall leaves scattered beneath the wheels of his truck as he drove to site. Snow could come any day now, and they had been hoping to have the roofs on at Highgate before that happened. These delays were messing with his schedule big time, and it’s not like Highgate was the only project they had going right now.

  Cooper and Brett stood by the construction trailer as he drew up.

  “Hey.” Eric climbed out Matt’s truck.

  Cooper nodded. “Eric. Inspector is coming up tomorrow, but we got nothing to worry about there.”

  “I know,” Eric said. Cooper ran a tight site. “It’s just helluva coincidental that all this shit is coming at the same time.”

  “About that.” Cooper jerked his head at Brett. “Brett and I were having a chat.”

  Everything in Eric went on alert. “Yeah?”

  “I saw Barron at the house the other day,” Brett said. “Little fucker knows something about what’s been going on up here.”

  “Meaning?” Eric would love to have answers.

  Brett pulled a face. “Meaning there’s no such thing as coincidence. All this trouble you’re having, it seems to have a common source.”

  Eric had been coming to a similar conclusion. “And Barron knows who that source is?”

  “He’s too useless for that.” Brett sniffed. “But he does have some information you should hear.”

  “We were about to head that way,” Cooper said. “But now that you’re here …”

  “I’ll drive.” Eric was already walking to the truck.

  The cab shrunk as Brett shoehorned himself in the passenger side. If he didn’t look so much like Pat Barrows in every other aspect but size, Eric would have some questions for Carly.

  The silence in the truck thickened as Eric drove them down the mountain.

  Brett tapped his fingertips on his knee and stared out the window.

  When he spoke, Eric jumped.

  “So, is Blythe okay?” Brett stared out his window. “Had a chat with Barron about harassing her.”

  “I don’t know.” If anything, admitting to her being out of his life had sharper hooks on it than ever. “I haven’t seen her.”

  Brett grunted. “Probably for the best.”

  Like fucking hell it was.

  They drove to Cranks, a biker bar just off the I-80 and Eric parked.

  A few bikes stood outside, but it was early for the usual Cranks crowd.

  Brett leaned forward and peered through the windshield. “This is Pat’s old hangout.”

  None of the Barrows kids really spoke of Mom or Dad. Probably because Pat and Carly had never stepped up to the name.

  “Then it became mine.” Brett opened his door. “I raised some hell in this place.”

  “I can believe it.” Eric followed him across the parking lot and stopped. A service entrance ran alongside the right side of the squat, square gray building. Garbage cans and crates stood stacked against the wall.

  He had been sitting there feeling sorry for himself when Blythe had first skipped into his life. Sure, he’d seen her at school, and what teen boy hadn’t noticed the fuse to his hormones that was a teen Blythe Barrows? But he’d been sitting on a pile of crates getting wasted when she’d seen him and stopped to chat.

  Brett turned and glared at him. “You coming or what?”

  Inside, Cranks stank of spilled beer, cigarettes and weed. The owner was known not to give a shit about no-smoking policies and nobody was brave enough to question that. If you smoked and pissed off the person next to you, it would largely depend on how big and mean they were, and how much they objected to breathing your smoke.

  A chair scraped and clattered over. Barron stood there, weaving on his feet and glowering at Brett. “What the fuck, man?”

  “Not here for trouble.” Brett held his hands up.

  Barron paled.

  Yeah, Eric got it. That gesture was about as reassuring as a mountain lion picking its teeth with a claw.

  Glancing past Brett to Eric, Barron shook his head. “Nah man, Brett. I haven’t been near that bitch.”

  Eric wished Brett would hit him anyway. Add a few more bruises to that fading black eye.

  Barron’s friends crouched low over their beers, staying out of Brett’s eye line.

  “This is not about Blythe.” Brett motioned Barron closer. “You got some information I want you to share.”

  Dragging his feet, Barron moved closer. “About what?” Barron stopped out of Brett’s reach but close enough to talk. “The dude with the S650?”

  Brett jerked his head at Eric. “Tell him what you know.”

  Barron did a quick three-sixty glance and leaned in. “Most days the site guys come down the mountain for lunch,” he said. “Places up there are too expensive. Nine bucks for a sandwich and a drink.”

  Brett growled.

  “Okay.” Barron licked his lips. “There’s this food truck where most of the guys pick up lunch. Dude pulls up in this Mercedes-Maybach S650. Sweet fucking set of wheels, so I notice. He talks to Ray and leaves. Few days later people are talking about how there’s money to be made to slow things down on your site.”

  “You didn’t see who it was?”

  Barron shook his head. “Nah. Only noticed the car.”

  Eric wanted to punch something. Hard. He also wanted to howl. At last he had some information about why things were happening, and information meant he could hunt.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Despite her misgivings, Blythe was feeling cautiously optimistic about Blake. As a houseguest, she couldn’t fault him. He cleaned up after himself, was considerate and well behaved and did what he could around the house. He’d also been on one or two job interviews. Nothing solid had panned out but he bagged groceries at the local Safeway once or twice a week.

  So far, he’d made all his meetings at St. Peter’s and kept in close contact with Daniel.

  Kim adored having another big brother around and made him her willing slave.

  Blake read bedtime stories, played make believe, was a proficient finger painter and even allowed himself to be tied to the dining room chair.

  As he had been most mornings since he’d arrived, Blake was up before her. The smell of coffee drew her to the kitchen, where Kim sat in front of a bowl of fruit and some eggs and toast.

  “Good morning.” Blake got her a cup and poured coffee.

  Blythe watched it like a hawk until she got her hands on it. “Morning.” She
bent over and kissed Kim. “And good morning to you.”

  “Morning.” Kim waved her toast in the air. “Blake makes the best eggs.”

  “Better than mine?”

  Kim rolled her eyes. “Much.”

  Blake hid a smirk beneath his coffee cup.

  “Is Will up?” Blythe looked for his keys on the hall table.

  “Up and gone,” Blake said. “He told me to tell you not to expect him for dinner.”

  “What?” Blythe lost her happy buzz. “He’s supposed to pick up Kim today. I have a client.” She hated canceling clients. She’d built her business on being reliable and good at what she did. And tonight was only her second session with Chase. She didn’t want to look flakey.

  Blake shrugged. “He said he had to work, and then he had a night class.”

  “Damn.” She filled up her coffee. Maybe she could ask Kurt to take Chase.

  “Um…Blythe.” Blake looked sheepish. “You know, I could do it.” He motioned Kim. “I could pick her up, if you like.”

  Sure Blake had been a model houseguest, but this was real responsibility. Kim couldn’t be left at St. Peter’s. Of course, the mums who ran the daycare would never leave a child alone but Blythe refused to be that parent that didn’t arrive on time to fetch her child. The family reputation hung around her even at St. Peter’s.

  “Yeah.” Kim grinned through a mouthful of strawberries. “Blake could pick me up. Then we could have ice cream.”

  The bid for ice cream was a constant in Kim’s arsenal.

  “I won’t forget.” Blake lowered his voice and looked at her earnestly. “It’s close enough that I can walk there and fetch her. I can even take her to the park on the way home. If that’s okay with you.”

  Kim’s enthusiasm waned. “I don’t like walking.”

  “Of course you do.” Blake scoffed. “You’re just scared that I’ll walk faster than you.”

  “Am not.” Kim beamed at him. “I can walk faster than anyone in my school.”

  “Yeah.” Blake lowered his head until they were eyeball to eyeball. “But I’m not at your school.”

  Blythe didn’t know what to do. It would certainly get her out of a bind to have Blake fetch Kim, and if their living arrangement was going to work, at some time, he would have to take on some responsibility. But this wasn’t getting the groceries or paying a bill, this was Kim.