“They have orgies?”
For. Fuck’s. Sake.
“Honestly, I don’t think this is something we have to work out today.” He smiled, trying to calm her through force of will. “If Aubrey wants to come out and visit me, and I hope she will, I would be very careful about what she sees and does. And I know everyone in small-town America thinks LA is Sodom and Gomorrah all rolled into one. But the truth is, most people are just regular old folks.”
Carlie Beth blew out a breath.
“Besides, I wouldn’t let her fly out alone the first time. Has she ever been on an airplane before?”
“No. If we get the chance for a little vacation, we always drive.”
“Will it make you feel better if I tell you that I’d want you both to come out?”
She cradled her head between her palms, clearly squeezing as if she were trying to keep it from exploding. “I’m never this crazy.”
He pulled her back in for an affectionate hug. “Shortcake, Miss Joan would tell you that being a mother and being crazy are the same damn thing.”
21
After Grif had reeled in Carlie Beth’s crazy, they’d slowly finished dressing, which felt so foreign to her. She wasn’t used to this kind of intimacy with a man. Somehow, making love with him, letting him undress her and touch her, had seemed less revealing than putting their clothes back on.
Grif’s phone rang as he was trading sweatpants for jeans. Carlie Beth couldn’t help herself. Through her lashes, she gave his unbuttoned and unzipped pants a thorough looking at.
“Steele,” he said into the phone.
A shiver ran through her and she turned away. It wouldn’t do to let him see how affected she was by the sexy tone of his voice. Because that was just a small part of what drew her to him. It was his determination and persistence in the face of challenges he hadn’t gone looking for—both in the form of this town and his daughter—that really cut her off at the knees. This was a man you could count on in a crisis, in a moment of weakness, and yet she’d never given him that chance.
“Great,” he said. “I’ll be down in a minute to grab the keys and sign for it.”
She finished buttoning her overshirt, half tempted to do it all the way up to the collar for protection. But that wouldn’t do a thing to safeguard her from the real threat. Her own feelings. “Sign for what?”
“My new car.”
“You have a Maserati yet you felt the need for something new?” Lord, they lived in two completely different dimensions.
“Someone did a number on Louise, so she’s in a shop in Charlotte.”
“What do you mean did a number?”
“Bashed in her lights, carved up her seats.”
“Here in Steele Ridge?”
“Right out back.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible. Who in the world would do that?”
“Maybe someone who isn’t happy about the job I’m doing as city manager.”
“That’s just stupid. I mean, who could be worse than Bobby Ray Benton?”
“Thanks,” he drawled. “I think.”
“You know what I mean.”
When they went outside ten minutes later, a man was twirling a set of keys and leaning against a shiny new…
Nissan Quest minivan.
Grif strode forward to shake the man’s hand, sign a paper attached to a clipboard, and take the keys. It took less than two minutes, and the delivery guy gave him a salute, got in a car with another person, and drove off.
Looking down at the keys in his hand, Grif said, “Guess I should listen to Britt on this one and let you drive.”
“Th…that?”
“I guess we could take your Scout, but I’d really like to see how this thing rides.”
“Didn’t you test-drive it?”
“Nope.” He handed over the keys, but her feet remained stuck to the sidewalk. “Never even looked at it.”
“You bought a tricked-out minivan, but you haven’t driven it.”
“I read all the reports online. It checked out, and I pulled the trigger.”
“You bought a minivan?”
He waved toward the—of course—steel-gray van. “I think that’s pretty apparent.”
Still knocked sideways by his choice of vehicle, Carlie Beth marveled over the shiny new family ride Grif had apparently paid cash for, poking at buttons every time they stopped for a red light.
“What are you doing?”
She shot him a sly smile. “Looking for the eject button.”
When he reached across from the passenger’s seat and took her hand in his, Carlie Beth’s heart pressed against her breastbone. What was this? What in God’s name were they doing?
They pulled up in front of the sprawling white farmhouse, and Reid was standing on the porch, his back propped against a column. They stepped out of the van, and he lifted his arm as if checking his watch, but he was actually scowling at Grif. “Maybe my watch stopped, but I thought I told you to have your ass…uh…your butt out here at one o’clock.”
Grif pocketed the car keys. “I’m here now, so stop your worrying. Otherwise, I’ll start calling you Britt.”
“This is serious shit.”
With a hot glance in her direction, Grif told his brother. “It’s not the only serious thing going on in my life right now.”
Reid pinned Carlie Beth with a dissecting stare. “Britt’s gonna shit a llama,” he muttered, probably not expecting her to catch his words.
She tried to angle away from Grif, but he caught her hand again, making it clear something was going on between them. “Stop it,” she said in a low tone. “You don’t need trouble with your brothers.”
His smile was crooked as he lifted her hand and gave it a smacking kiss. “I’ve always got trouble with those three halfwits.”
Reid just shook his head and eyeballed the van. “Carlie Beth, you get a new ride? If I’d known you were looking to get rid of the Scout, I would’ve been happy to take it off your hands.”
“It’s not mine,” she said.
“Rental? Yours in the shop?”
“Nope.” Her own grin went wide and wicked. “The van is your brother’s.”
Not watching where he was going, Reid rammed his knees into one of the brightly painted Adirondack chairs near the front door. His stupefied gaze swung between the minivan and his brother. “You? You bought a soccer mom car?”
Unfazed, Grif lifted a shoulder. “It’s got good shit inside it.”
“Uh-huh.” Reid nodded absently. “Like a place to hang your purse and store your tampons.”
Carlie Beth frogged him in the shoulder. “Hey, you make it sound like girl stuff is bad.”
“Nah.” Reid waggled his eyebrows at her. “I like girl stuff just fine. Girl cars, not so much.”
“Remind me you said that when you want to stash your beer in the cooler built into the floor,” Grif said mildly.
Reid’s eyes telegraphed interest. “It’s got hiding places?”
“I thought that might get your attention.”
“You’re still never gonna live this down.”
“Probably, but I also bought a custom Harley.”
Reid’s teasing expression went serious as he held open the front door. “Sure sounds like you’re settling in—apartment, wheels”—he shot Carlie Beth a quick glance—“and things.”
Hmm…one of those things apparently being her. Grif’s only answer was a small smile that somehow conveyed the message for Reid to stay out of his business.
“In here.” Reid led them into the kitchen where Jonah and Britt were sitting at a massive farm table made from a slab of wood set on metal legs. Britt was poring over some papers, muttering to himself and making little notes in the margins. Jonah was engrossed in something on his phone—from the sounds of it, a shoot-’em-up video game. The table’s top was gorgeous, a slab of pecan with swirls and character. Carlie Beth drew away from Grif and leaned over to get a look underneath. The craft
smanship definitely took a dive when it came to the table’s supports.
“Mom’s newest purchase,” Jonah told her. “Some dude over in Buncombe County made it.”
“Jason Krieg.”
“That’s the one.”
The craftsman was one heck of a woodworker, but he shouldn’t touch metal with a ten-foot pole. Carlie Beth looked pointedly at where Jonah had his bare feet propped on the table surface. “You put much weight on this thing, it’ll collapse.”
“If that’s the case, then Reid shouldn’t even look at it.” Jonah hooted and swung his legs down. “Mom fell in love with the wood.”
She squatted down to get a better look at the underside. Yeah, those joints were not up to snuff. “Think she’d want a sturdier support?”
“You offering?” Reid asked.
“Well, I’d hate to find out one of the Steele brothers met an undignified end by being crushed under this thing.”
“You’d do that for my mom?” Grif asked her.
What he didn’t realize and she didn’t want to admit to herself was that there were a lot of things she’d do for this man. Do for his family.
After all, Aubrey was one of them. No matter how many years Carlie Beth had tried to deny it.
“This is inferior welding. Besides, it’s ugly,” she said, trying to make her smile look calm and confident. “Can you ask your mom if she’s okay with me making her something new?”
“I doubt I have to, but sure.”
“Now that we have Mom’s interior decorating all set, can we please talk about why someone was trying to kill Grif last night?” Reid dropped into a chair, but he was careful not to touch the table itself, which made Carlie Beth’s smile widen.
Until his words registered.
“What? What do you mean tried to kill him?”
“After the ambulance picked up Grif last night, I went up and checked all the handholds. Every damn one of them across the top was greased up like a pig at the county rodeo,” Reid said, sending a hard look Grif’s way. “It wouldn’t have mattered which one you grabbed hold of. Your ass was coming down.”
“I was wrong to climb by myself,” he admitted. “But in my defense, up to this point, the worst the kids have done is clog up the toilets and paint some questionable haiku on the walls.”
“Limericks,” Jonah mumbled, his eyes still glued to his phone screen. “Haiku has three lines with a total of seventeen syllables. Limericks rhyme. You know, ‘There once was a girl from Nantucket.’”
The sound of the front door opening and snicking closed came from the foyer. “I know at least a couple of you boneheads are here,” a woman called out. “Because your cars are here.”
Britt scowled at Reid. “She sounds pissed. Tell me you called her.”
“I was going to after we talked about all this.”
When Carlie Beth looked, the sheriff was standing in the dining room doorway, her face like a sudden storm sweeping over the mountains. “Someone want to fill me in on what happened out here last night and then tell me why the hell you didn’t call my people?”
Grif rubbed at his forehead, pushing at his hair so he looked like a rumpled little boy. Then he tilted his face to give Maggie a clear view of his chin. “Can you keep it down a little? My head’s still tender.”
Although concern touched Maggie’s eyes, her hard look didn’t falter a bit. “And whose fault is that, you idiot?”
Looked like Grif’s little sympathy play wouldn’t appease his cousin. Good for Maggie.
Reid stood and offered Maggie his chair. “Mags, can we get you some coffee or iced tea?”
She strode over and glared at him, somehow appearing to be on his level even though she was inches shorter. “Cream and two sugars. And make it fresh. I don’t want anything left over from your breakfast.”
“Jonah, go make Mags some coffee,” Reid ordered.
Jonah’s only response was a lazy lift of his middle finger.
So Reid stomped into the kitchen while every other person at the table wore a little smirk. This family. They were tough cookies, but it was obvious they loved one another. The tightness in Carlie Beth’s chest that she’d had since she realized she’d have to share her daughter loosened a little more.
Maggie pointed at Grif. “Other than Britt, I expected you to be the smartest of the lot, and yet I hear you were climbing that damn wall like a deranged monkey.”
“I was doing a pretty damn good job. Would’ve made it over the top if I hadn’t slipped.”
“The point is you did slip.”
Reid came back in carrying a single cup of coffee and set it in front of Maggie.
Britt frowned at him. “That’s it? No one else gets any?”
“If I wanted to run a diner, I’d rent a place on Main Street.”
Maggie took a sip from her cup and choked. “Don’t complain. He did you a favor. This is instant. Now, why the hell didn’t anyone think I needed to know what happened to Mr. Numbskull last night?”
Reid propped a shoulder against the wall. “We’ve had some petty vandalism in the sports center recently. A little graffiti before Baby Billionaire ever bought the place. And you know about the fire a few months ago. A few mishaps since.”
“Why haven’t you mentioned the building vandalism before now, especially after what happened to Grif’s LuLu?”
“Louise,” Grif corrected. “And we didn’t say anything because it was stupid stuff—jacking up some of the equipment, stuffing paper towels in the toilets.”
“But nothing that hurt anyone?”
“Have you ever had to muck out a flooded bathroom?” Jonah said. “That’s not without pain. Believe me, when we catch those kids, we’ll—”
“Call me immediately,” Maggie ordered. She took another sip of her coffee and grimaced. “The ER folks tell me Grif had something on his hands when they admitted him.”
“I didn’t realize it at the time,” Grif said. “Just thought I didn’t have a good grip on the handhold, but apparently, there was something slick on it.”
“Like motor oil?” Maggie asked Reid, leaning forward intently.
“Definitely an oily consistency, but not as dark,” Reid said.
“Why all the questions?” Grif asked, pulling Maggie’s attention from his brother.
“Because you were hurt, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t put it past one of you to sabotage the other.”
Reid pushed away from the wall. “Hey—”
Maggie held up a hand. “But I don’t buy that you’d actually risk killing one another. Was this oily stuff all over the wall?
“No,” Reid said. “I found it on every handhold within three feet of the top. Someone didn’t want anyone to make it over.”
“You asked about motor oil,” Carlie Beth said to Maggie. “Roy Darden was a mechanic. Do you think they’re related? That someone purposefully meant to hurt Grif?”
“Doubtful,” Grif said. “Would be pretty hard for a dead guy to come back and get revenge on me. But Mags, what about the person Darden’s neighbors spotted the night he died?”
She sighed. “Our best witness never actually saw anyone, just heard the knocking. When we questioned him again, he swore up and down alien raccoons frequently visited Darden.”
“In other words, total dead end.”
“Yep,” she said. “And not relevant. So I need to find out what was on those handholds last night. If Reid hasn’t completely screwed things up, I can get a sample and send it off to the Western Regional Crime Lab.”
“Isn’t that where all the law enforcement agencies from around here send stuff?” Reid commented.
“Usually,” Maggie said. “Which means they’re normally a little backed up.”
“Even though it’s probably just those jackass kids,” Reid said, “I don’t like the idea of leaving this swinging in the wind.”
“What about private labs?” Grif asked Maggie.
“The couple here in Carolina are a li
ttle faster, but they’re pricey.”
An unexplainable feeling of foreboding came over Carlie Beth, and she gripped Grif’s forearm. “Something about this scares me.”
When he looked at her, his expression held a question. As if he was also trying to figure out what the heck was going on between them and why they were feeling so pulled toward one another. He blinked and whatever it was disappeared.
Grif gave her a slow and thoughtful nod. “Carlie Beth’s right. Maggie, get me those lab names. I’ll foot the bill to have this oil checked out.”
22
When Carlie Beth answered the knock at her front door a few days later, her heart went into overdrive at the sight of Grif standing on her porch holding a bouquet of flowers in each hand. Those, combined with his killer smile and casual outfit of perfectly faded jeans, a pair of well-used hiking boots, and crisp plaid shirt folded back at the forearms, about did her in. The stitches he still sported in his chin and the sexy scruff on his face from being unable to shave gave him a total tough-guy look.
That did do her in.
“I…um…Hi.” Her voice came out breathy.
His smile went wider as he took in her cut-off jean shorts, tank top, do-rag, and eye-blinding purple painted toes. “Hi, yourself.” His attention remained on her feet.
“It’s called Royal Pain.”
“Every time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me.”
“Is that a good thing?”
He shifted a bouquet to his other hand and pulled her in for a soft kiss that left her off balance. “That, Carlie Beth Parrish, is a very good thing.”
“Mom, who—” Aubrey drew up short and darted a look between them, her gaze taking in their closeness and Grif’s hand wrapped around the back of Carlie Beth’s neck. “Oh…”
The awkward tension wove around them for a few seconds before Grif crashed through it. “How would you two feel about an outing to Asheville?”
Carlie Beth glanced down at herself. “Oh, but I was just cleaning the—”
Going Hard: Steele Ridge Series Page 18
