by Alison Kent
“Cool? About a kid I barely knew for a couple of months hunting me down?”
“Yeah. Like I said.”
And way to be a dick. He yanked off his hat, worried the brim around and around as he weighed Clay’s bravado with a narrowed gaze. “Are you hungry?”
It took a minute for Clay to answer, hunger warring with pride and with being pissed off and more than likely with his being a little bit scared. No doubt a pretty hefty level of sadness was mixed up in there, too. “I could eat.”
Casper nodded. “C’mon, then. I’ll buy you a burger.”
Clay gave a snort. “And then drop me at the sheriff’s office? No thanks.”
Jesus. It was a wonder people kept having kids. “I won’t drop you at the sheriff’s office.”
“You’ll bring me back here?”
Casper considered his options. “No, but I’ll take you to the ranch.”
“What ranch?”
“Where I live. Where I work.”
“This isn’t your house?”
Casper made a scoffing noise. Did the kid really think he lived here? And why in the hell had he ever mentioned this place to Angie? Had he been showing off? Drunk bragging about growing up in a Crow Hill mansion? “It is, but it’s not fit for man or…Kevin.”
“He can come, too?” Clay asked, the question cracking as if he was only just holding himself together, and the smallest act of kindest would be the end of that.
“Sure. He can bunk with Bing and Bob.” At Clay’s frown, Casper explained, “The ranch’s border collies.”
“Then what?”
“Then what, what?”
“After you take me to the ranch. What’re you going to do?”
That he did not know. There was a lot of legal stuff going on here and he was getting in over his head. He needed time and he needed advice. “I’ll figure something out.”
But Casper’s non-answer had Clay backing up. “I’d rather stay here.”
Jesus H. “You can’t stay here. This place is a dump.”
“I’ve seen worse.” He dropped to his sleeping bag, digging in. “I can clean it up. You could pay me.”
He could, if he had money, if the boy was of legal age, or even an emancipated minor. And if the house wasn’t the size of the Crow Hill Country Club, requiring a crew of Clays to clean it. Casper shook off those thoughts for the one that mattered.
Where had Clay seen worse that made bunking in this hellhole an option? “You can’t stay here, Clay.”
“Then me and Kevin’ll split,” he said, shoving the book he’d been reading into his backpack, rolling up the sleeping bag and tying it to the frame. His face was blank as he regained his feet. Then he shouldered his way forcefully by Casper, calling for the dog as he headed for the back door.
Hands at his hips, Casper hung his head, shook it, called out, “Wait.”
He listened for the echo of the screen door’s hinges, but heard only the reverberation of Kevin’s claws clicking to a stop on the floor. He waited, but that was it, the cavernous house sounding of still air and old wood emptiness and hate and despair. He pulled in a deep breath and all the patience he had and returned to the other room.
Clay stood looking out, Kevin sitting at his side. Sunlight turned them into silhouettes, a boy and his dog, alone, the world theirs for the taking. And yet they’d chosen this piece of shit house to stay in. And they’d chosen him to come to.
The weight of that responsibility made the ranch and the house feel like feathers. Casper wasn’t sure he liked being the voice of reason. What did he even know about reason? He’d measured a good chunk of his life in eight-second segments from the back of a ton of raw meat.
Jesus H. Christ. Okay. Basics. The beginning. He’d go from there and see what happened. Because, shit, what else could he do? “Let me go get us both something to eat.”
“Sure.”
“Will you be here when I get back? Or do I need to hog-tie you before I go?”
“I’ll be here.”
“I will come after you,” he said, pouring that supreme truth into his words. “And I won’t do it alone. So sit, read. I’ll bring back the food and we’ll figure this out.”
Clay swung his backpack onto the kitchen’s island, stirring up a cloud of dirt and stink. He dug for his book, curled his fingers in Kevin’s ruff, and gave a shrug on his way back to the parlor.
Casper took a long minute to wonder what the hell he was getting himself into, then walked out the back door, hoping that sometime between now and later, he’d come up with more of a plan than the absolute nothing he had now.
THREE
FAITH HAD STARTED to think the lunch hour would never get here—and today, of all days, when she needed to unload on her girls. Sharing a meal with Arwen Poole and Everly Grant had become essential to her sanity, even though their getting together had nothing to do with the food.
In a community where a large percentage of the population was made up of ranching families, it was nice to sit down and unwind without the conversation turning to cattle prices and the lack of rain. Or cattle prices anyway—even if beef as an end product was a major part of Arwen’s living.
The lack of rain, on the other hand, was killing everyone and everything. Even the apartment courtyard in Faith’s hacienda-style complex was dry and crackly. These days, the grass shared by Arwen’s cottage and the Hellcat Saloon was the greenest spot for miles, and her business was thriving because of it.
Hardly a surprise, Faith mused, dropping into her chair. With most of the area turned to some shade of brown, everyone was looking to relax in Crow Hill’s only oasis. “I need Coke, ketchup, and french fries, stat.”
Already in place at their out-of-the-way spot, Arwen returned her tumbler of iced tea to the table. “You look like you’ve been to hell and back. That’s quite a trip to make before noon.”
“No kidding.” And unfortunately it would take hours, and more than junk food, to cleanse the morning from her mind.
“Is it work?” Everly leaned against the table’s edge, her menu open in front of her. “More than usual, I mean.”
“Work, yes, but…other stuff, too.” Faith and the girls shared everything. And she’d confessed to them her renewed crush on Casper. But just in case it was completely pathetic, she didn’t want to blurt out the things she’d been thinking about his thighs. “I told y’all about the surprise party Boone and I are throwing for our folks’ anniversary, right?”
“Yep, their thirty-fifth.” Everly closed her menu. “And my offer to help you design the invitations still stands.”
“You’re a doll.” Faith turned to hook her purse on her chair. “And I will take you up on that. But I still need to make a list of everything else that needs doing.”
Arwen narrowed her gaze. “You haven’t done that yet? You talked about doing it last week.”
Waving off the scolding, Faith said, “And then life got in the way, and here I am.”
“So let’s make your list now.” Everly reached for her bag on the floor, and the pen and spiral notebook inside, tucking back her fall of honey-blonde waves as she straightened. “Number one. Invitations.”
Faith nodded toward Everly’s writing tools. “I thought news people these days were into digital recorders or iPads.”
“Usually,” Everly said. “But sometimes nothing beats writing by hand.”
“Speaking of writing by hand…” Looking beyond Faith’s shoulder, Arwen motioned for Luck Summerlin to take their order. But before any of the women could speak, the waitress pointed with her pencil to each at the table in turn.
“Faith wants an extra large Coke and a double order of french fries. Everly will have a club sandwich, and Arwen a grilled chicken salad.”
Everly groaned. “God, are we that boring?”
“Not boring,” Faith said, refusing the label. “Organized. Efficient. We know what we like, and it saves us from having to reinvent the wheel every time we order.”
&
nbsp; “Nice try, Faith, but I’m going to have to side with Everly on this one,” Arwen said as she glanced at Luck. “I guess that boring order will be it.”
Grinning, Luck nodded. “I’ll get this put in and be right back with Faith’s drink.”
Her gaze following Luck across the saloon, Everly said, “You know, one of these days we’re going to have to mix things up and throw Luck for a loop. I’ll order meatloaf or something.”
Arwen gave the other woman a knowing look. “And then a to-go box? Since you won’t finish a plate of meatloaf the same way you never finish your club sandwich?”
“Hey!” Everly swatted Arwen’s arm with her closed menu before dropping it into their table’s fourth chair. “I get lunch and supper and only have to order once.”
“Order once, pay once. I’d go out of business if everyone ate like you.” Arwen turned from Everly to Faith. “Thankfully this one and her metabolism take up the slack.”
Faith frowned at the thought of switching up her weekly junk food noshing. “I like my french fries. I like my Coke. I like coming here for the comfort of friends and food.”
Arwen laughed. “Wouldn’t that be for friends and comfort food? We make a damn good plate of nachos, you know. If you ever wanted to go crazy.”
“But I like my french fries,” she whined, rubbing at her throbbing temples.
“And I like my club sandwich,” Everly said. “But I don’t want to grow stale. Next week, meatloaf for me, nachos for you. We’re going to throw caution to the wind.”
Throw caution to the wind. Words that made her think of Casper. She looked from Everly to Arwen and back, then took a deep breath. “How do you know if a risk is worth taking?”
“I don’t think a few calories here or there is going to make a difference.” Everly sat back, pinched lint from the knee of her skinny black pants. “Not with the way you burn fuel, damn you.”
Faith only just managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Not a food risk. A real risk.”
“Oh. Well.” Everly shrugged. “Depends on what it is. Are you talking personal or professional?”
“This one is definitely personal,” Faith said, stabbing a straw into the glass of fizzing soda Luck set on the table before carrying the rest of the drinks on her tray to the next.
“That means it’s a man,” Everly said, leaning close to Arwen.
“And if it’s risky,” Arwen responded, leaning closer, “it’s Casper Jayne.”
Faith, who might as well have been sporting a bull’s eye on her forehead, propped her elbows on the table and braced her chin in her hands. “Am I that obvious?”
“It’s not about being obvious, sweetie.” Arwen reached to squeeze Faith’s arm. “Casper’s been your weakest link for years.”
A shiver slid the length of Faith’s spine as she thought back to this morning. “He was in my office earlier, and dear God, those thighs. I could barely look at anything else.”
“What was he doing at the bank?” Everly asked as Luck arrived with their food.
Faith waited until the plates had been served before answering. “He’s got a burr up his butt about renovating the house on Mulberry Street.”
“Good lord, why?” Arwen shook her napkin over her lap. “I’m surprised he didn’t put it up for sale the minute he got his hands on the deed.”
Faith reached for the ketchup. “He hasn’t said a thing about selling. Only about wanting money to fix it up.”
“Are you giving him the money?” Everly asked, tucking a strip of bacon back into her sandwich.
“I said the risk I was considering was personal. I’m not about to lose my job over his obsession with that house. Thing is”—she ate two fries before going on—“after he left, I dug into the county records. Property taxes and such. Did you know that house was built by Zebulon Crow? At least the initial structure. It’s part of Crow Hill history.”
“Zebulon Crow?” Everly asked, her reporter’s antennae obviously twitching. “That makes it part of Texas history.”
“I know. But I’m not sure Casper does.”
“I’ll bet the Texas Historical Commission would think it worth saving,” Arwen said, forking up a strip of grilled chicken. “But if the house was built by a Crow, how did the Jaynes end up with it?”
The same thoughts and questions had crossed Faith’s mind. “The inspection report was dismal, but I went ahead and called the inspector. He told Casper he’d be better off razing the place, but admits it looks like most of the damage could be repaired. It wouldn’t be cheap, and he hasn’t seen the inside, but he didn’t write it off as a complete loss.”
“Why hasn’t he seen the inside?”
“I don’t know,” Faith said in answer to Arwen. “Casper only wanted the bad news on the exterior.”
Her gaze holding Faith’s before falling to her salad, Arwen was slow to respond. “I remember hearing talk at school about how bad things were in that house for Casper.”
Faith’s chest tightened. She’d heard the same things. “I asked Boone about it, but he wasn’t spilling any beans. Even as teens, those three boys were tight.”
“If the house holds a lot of bad memories, it’s kinda strange he’d be wanting to pour a ton of money into it,” Everly said.
“I don’t disagree,” Faith replied, swirling a fry through the ketchup on her plate.
“Enough about Casper’s house.” Arwen held up a hand. “I want to hear about this big risk you’re considering and how he’s involved. It’s his thighs, isn’t it? You want to wrap yours around ’em and let him buck you like a bull.”
This time Faith did roll her eyes. “I absolutely cannot afford to get caught up in his drama, but I came so close to dragging him across my desk this morning.”
“Aww, sweetie. You’re a smart girl,” Arwen said. “As long as you know what you’re doing, why not take him for a ride?”
Biting into her sandwich, Everly nodded, then mumbled, “What she said. Just do it.”
“Y’all make it sound so easy.”
“If we’re talking about the same Casper Jayne, then yes. It’s that easy,” Arwen said. “Unless you don’t think you can keep things to sex.”
That wasn’t as much of a worry as what trouble she might get into with him during a fling. The man was a loose cannon. “Did sleeping with Dax get him out of your system?”
“No,” the other woman said, wiggling in her seat. “But I kinda like the way that turned out.”
“Which is all well and good for you. But I’m not looking for a relationship, and even if I were, Casper is hardly relationship material.”
“I didn’t think Dax was either. And I certainly wasn’t looking for anything more than a good time. Things just…happened.”
“Then you’re the perfect poster child for why I shouldn’t do this. I don’t have time for things to just happen. Not with a man as reckless as Casper.”
“Faith, it’s an affair. It’s fun, and Casper is gorgeous. You work hard. You deserve to play hard. And I can’t imagine playing with Casper would be anything but.”
The thought of Casper hard…Her nipples tingling, Faith reached for her Coke, sucked down a long cooling swallow. “He told me to give him a sign.”
“What? When?”
“This morning. In my office.”
“You talked about sex in your office?”
“I thought he was flirting with me. I accused him of not having the balls to stand up to Boone and the gang’s no-sisters rule.”
“Ouch,” Arwen said with a grimace. “How’d that go over?”
“Not the way I’d intended.” To say the least. “He said if I wanted him to stand up to Boone, to give him a sign.”
“And did you?”
“Not then, no. And I haven’t decided if I’m going to.” Faith glanced at Everly who’d downed half her sandwich while listening to the conversation. “I know how Arwen feels. What about you? What would you do if you were me?”
Everly held u
p both hands. “I’m the last person to give sexual advice. It’s been so long, I probably qualify for a re-virgin card.”
“But if you were ready and there was someone. What would you do?”
“If he wanted me the way Casper wants you, I’d jump his bones. But just his bones. Not his heart, mind, or soul, and I’d take mine out of the equation as well.”
“See?” Arwen gave Faith a look that had her questioning every reason she’d listed for why getting naked with Casper Jayne was a bad idea. “You think he’s too reckless, but asking for a sign instead of dragging you across your desk doesn’t sound that reckless to me.”
Faith thought about her keyboard, her paperwork, her desk blotter. Thought about Casper sweeping it all to the floor, reaching for her, pulling her to him, her skirt up, her panties down.
There wasn’t anything about that scenario that didn’t scream reckless. And she could not, for one minute, let any of what she was imagining happen.
Setting her napkin next to her half-empty plate, she reached for her purse and her wallet. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got tons of work before I can leave the office. I’m meeting Boone at the ranch for dinner so we can nail down what we can of the party details.”
“Did you decide where you’re going to have it?”
She turned to answer Arwen and laid her money for the bill on the table. “No. We can’t even settle on that. I want the country club. Boone wants to do it at their house.”
“That’s because you have a good job and he’s a struggling rancher.”
And then there was the money she had that he didn’t, that no one outside her family knew about. But Arwen was right.
Things would be a lot easier if Boone would let her pay for everything; instead, they’d agreed to split all the costs. “What he doesn’t get is that having the party at their house means more work for the two of us. I don’t want to have to play hostess and caterer. I want to write a check and enjoy myself.”
“Why don’t you have it here?” Arwen asked. “We’ll close for private functions, as long as we’ve got plenty of notice. And we’ve got the room you need, not to mention the food. The two birds, one stone thing. You wouldn’t need a separate caterer. Unless you’ve already talked to someone.”
