Unbreakable (21 page)

“Good girl.” Arwen slapped the bar top, then walked away to place the order.

While waiting, Faith leaned her elbows on the bar and massaged her temples, trying not to think about anything. Not work or Casper. Not the house or Casper. Not her money or Casper. Not how sore her inner thighs were or Casper.

But the applied pressure didn’t help because it made her remember his hands and his fingers and the way he used his thumbs, the circles he rubbed at the base of her skull, on the soles of her feet and her shoulders, how he did the same between her legs with the head of his cock, spreading her moisture, teasing her clit—

“Here ya go.”

Faith reached for the glass with both hands and swallowed a quarter of the contents, stopping only to avoid the pain of an oncoming brain freeze.

Arwen moved the glass, slid the plate of nachos in front of her. “Did you come here just to drink?”

“No. I had a reason. Give me a minute and I’ll find it.”

“You do look exhausted.”

“I’m not sure exhausted covers how tired I am. I’ve got to get more sleep.”

“Going to bed alone’s the best cure for that.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I plan these all night things,” she blabbed, reaching for a tortilla chip loaded with refried beans, pico de gallo, chile con queso, and thick jalapeño slices.

“I think that’s a Dalton Gang thing. Going all night.” Arwen
twisted her hair against the back of her head and secured it with a pencil. “Dax was the same way. I’d wake up to find him inside me and that was it.”

Good lord. “As happy as I am for you? There really is a thing as too much sharing.”

Arwen laughed. “Sorry. Just figured we could bond over the whole gang member old lady thing.”

At that, Faith nearly choked. Then she finally relaxed and laughed. “Is that what we are? Old ladies of gang members?”

“Or something. Though I’m still waiting for my official grim reaper riding gear.”

“I’m not sure they make that stuff for horses.”

“Thank God, though my ass would look great in chaps. Now tell me about the house.”

“Sure,” she said, trying to decide how much an old lady of a gang member, as opposed to a fifty-fifty partner, would know. “It’s coming together. Diego Cruz, he works part time at the ranch?” she asked, just to be sure Arwen knew. “His parents own a janitorial service, so Casper cut a deal with them to do the major clean-up inside, getting rid of what furniture’s still there, window coverings, all the crap in the yard, things like that.”

“Is there a lot?”

“Some. None of it worth anything, he says. I know Casper junked a ton of small stuff. Broken dishes. An old toaster oven. What used to be a TV cabinet. Suzanne’s things.”

“You were there?”

“For some of it. On the weekend.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean, hmm?”

“Nothing. Go on,” she said, filching one of Faith’s nachos.

“John Massey was good friends with Dave Dalton, so Massey Construction worked out a payment plan Casper could live
with. They’ll be starting the construction next Monday.” Meaning Faith had one more weekend to spend making sure the inside of the house was cleared. “And, yes, I contributed my financial skills to the project to make sure no one was getting screwed.”

“Good to have friends in high places.”

“You know Crow Hill as well as I do. You can connect everyone in town through six degrees of separation, if not less.”

“Still. I’m surprised he’s moving forward so quickly. I thought he’d need more time to get the cash together.”

“He’s working part time for Royce Summerlin,” Faith said, reaching for her drink and downing another quarter.

“That’s right. Dax mentioned he was breaking horses for extra income, but I didn’t put two and two together. Guess I thought the money would be going into the ranch.” Arwen replaced Faith’s damp napkin before she returned the glass to the bar. “Royce must pay a lot better wages than I do.”

“I honestly have no clue what Casper’s making from Royce.” And that was the truth. “All I did was look over the Massey paperwork.” Another truth. “And since that money’s not part of the ranch partnership, he’s not obligated to run it through me or the bank.” A final truth, though there were so many bits and pieces she was leaving out that the whole thing felt like a lie.

“Makes sense,” Arwen said as Faith used one chip to scrape beans onto another. “But you didn’t come here to tell me about the house. Or Casper’s finances. And you said you’re not here to get drunk, but that there was something…”

Lord, she mused, holding up a finger while she chewed. The party. Of course. “I came here to offer you a compromise.”

Arwen frowned. “I didn’t know we had anything to compromise on.”

“It’s about the anniversary party. I’ve found another venue,” she said, rushing on to keep Arwen from asking for details. “But
Boone and I decided we want to serve barbecue, and before I ask Smokin’ Joe’s about catering, I’m here to ask you.”

“Smokin’ Joe’s won the July Fourth cook-off.”

“Smokin’ Joe’s isn’t owned and operated by one of my very best friends.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.”

“So you can work me up a quote?”

“Sure thing. I need all the information you can give me. Date, time. How many people are you expecting? What crazy items does Boone want on the menu?”

“I see my brother’s reputation is alive and well,” Faith said with a laugh, waiting for Arwen to find a pen and order pad to scratch out some preliminary notes. “But we’re not doing anything crazy. Except the beer, I guess. You know how my dad is about his funky little brewhouse labels.”

“I think we’ve got plenty to make the coach happy. We’ve just taken on three new microbreweries, though the good stuff does not come cheap.”

And Boone would know if she went over their budget. He knew beer as thoroughly as their father did. “I don’t care. Boone can get as bent out of shape as he wants to. This will be my treat. He and Daddy love comparing notes on new finds. It’ll be fun.”

They spent the next thirty minutes discussing menu items, the meats—brisket, chicken, ribs—the sides—potato salad, cole slaw, ranch beans, Texas toast—the relishes—red onions, sliced dill pickles, cheese-stuffed and grilled jalapeños—and the desserts—chocolate pecan sheet cake, banana pudding, peach cobbler.

“And I’d love to have fried okra for Boone, but not sure that’s feasible. It’s never as crispy reheated as when first out of the oil.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Arwen smiled as she scribbled the last note. “I love how happy you are to have him home.”

“You think I’m happy, you should see my folks. It’s like Momma can’t wait for Sunday morning services to be over so she can hurry home and get lunch ready. I don’t remember her ever hurrying when it was just the three of us.”

“He comes to church?”

“He’s been a time or two, but usually he spends Sunday morning working, then the rest of the day at the house.”

“I never did understand his leaving,” Arwen said, tapping the eraser end of the pencil on the bar. “Except for the fact that there’s not a lot of reason to stay here—unless one has a family business to keep running.”

“And so many of the kids we went to school with do.”

“I know. Josh has taken over the feed store. And since Dax decided to cowboy and Darcy left the family firm, Greg, the bastard son”—Arwen paused—“is now in charge of Campbell and Associates.”

“How’s Dax dealing with the half-brother thing?”

“It’s life. He’ll get over it.” Arwen grabbed another nacho, then asked, “Boone never had any interest in coaching football? I can see him going all Friday Night Lights.”

“Not in coaching. Not in business.” She tried to picture her brother behind a desk or on the sidelines, and failed. “Boone loves ranching, and the Mitchells are not a ranching family. He could’ve stayed on with the Daltons, but it wasn’t the same once Dax left. Then Casper followed, and that was it. He was the only one who knew anything about how Dave wanted things done.”

“And he was only eighteen.”

Not even that. “He didn’t turn eighteen until late that summer. Dax and Casper were already gone, and he was seventeen, trying to run the show. The hands Dave was able to find weren’t taking orders from a kid, and it got to be too much.”

“He never wanted to go to school?”

Faith shook her head. “He was lost without his boys. Hard to believe, with the three of them coming from as different backgrounds as any three people could, but they were his rocks. It was like he couldn’t function in Crow Hill without them here. So he left.” She readied another loaded nacho for her mouth. “I just don’t want anything to happen to make him feel that way again.”

“What way? Unable to function? Why would he?”

“Maybe not unable to function, but unable to make things work.”

“Like with the ranch.”

“Yeah. Especially now that Casper’s so busy with the house.”

“And with Summerlin’s horses.”

Faith nodded, thinking that he was also busy being a surrogate father to Clay. And bedding her. “It’s not fair to Boone to have to pick up the slack.”

“It’s not fair to Dax, either.”

“Oh, no. Of course, not,” she said, but Arwen’s comment had her frowning. “Has Dax complained about the extra work?”

“I’m pretty sure Dax doesn’t feel he has the right. He bailed on a lot of hours the first few weeks we were together. He said he was using his own time, but I don’t think he had any more then than Casper does now. So yeah. I’m thinking it’s Boone’s turn to do some slacking.”

“I don’t think Boone knows how to slack.”

“Hmm. Does he ever see anyone? Date?”

“Date? Not that I know of. Does he see anyone? I couldn’t say.”

“I’m guessing he does something about sex.”

“He’s a man so I’m guessing he does, but he’s my brother first, and I really don’t want to go there.”

Arwen laughed. “You know who’d be perfect for him. Everly.”

“Really?” Faith asked as she drained her glass. “I thought you were going to say Kendall.”

“Hmm.”

Faith waggled a finger. “Uh-uh. No matchmaking.”

But Arwen ignored her. “Will they all be at the party?”

“Boone will be, but the guest list is mostly my folks’ friends.”

“If I’m going to do the catering, I will need help…”

“You have Luck and the others,” Faith said, though she loved the idea of Kendall and Everly being there with her. And matchmaking or not, she didn’t think either of them had met Boone…

“I do,” Arwen said, taking away Faith’s empty glass. “But I’m all about two birds and one stone. Or in this case, two girls flying free and one very hard man.”

“I
GOT AN UNEXPECTED
phone call today,” Casper said, watching for a hint of guilt, or at least curiosity, in Faith’s expression.

She was too busy looking at the pages of the Cruz Cleaning invoice spread across the bleached-within-an-inch-of-its-life kitchen island to look up. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’d been on his way to Mulberry Street to pick up the bill left there by Alberto Cruz when he’d seen her car at the Hellcat Saloon. Since she was the one wielding the Ebenezer Scrooge pen, he’d called, inviting her to make the trip with him.

She was obviously still under the influence of what she’d described as a fish bowl of a margarita. Either that, or she couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to him when there were dollar signs swimming in front of her eyes.

He tried again. “They left a voice mail.”

“Who?”

Jesus. “Someone at the Texas Historical Commission.”

“Interesting,” she said, running a finger along a line item and screwing her mouth to the side.

He didn’t know if she was talking about what he’d said or what she was looking at. “What’s most interesting is that they had my phone number.”

“Okay.”

“I’m figuring you gave it to them.”

That finally brought her head up. Her brow knitted into a frown as she considered him. “What?”

Jesus H. “Have you heard anything I’ve said?”

“You got a call from the Texas Historical Commission. And you think I gave them your phone number.”

“Did you?”

“I did not.”

“Well, hell.”

“What did they want?” she asked, folding up the bill from the cleaning service, returning it to its envelope, then stuffing it into her purse.

“To talk to me about the house. To come see it. To find out what I know about its history so they can start digging for whatever documents will prove what I say.” Not that he’d said anything. And he sure had nothing to prove.

“What did you tell them?” she asked, pushing her hair from her face and staring up at him as if she’d never seen him before.

Jesus H. Christ. “Are you sure you only had one margarita?”

“Yes, I’m sure. What did you tell them?”

He pushed away from the island, crossed to the sink to stare out the window at the yard. It was nothing but dirt, but it had been cleared of all debris and detritus. He didn’t think he’d ever seen it look so empty. “I haven’t called them back.”

“But you will, yes?”

He turned around, hooked his palms over the lip of the sink at his sides, and leaned into it. “I’m not having one of those ugly brown historical markers posted out front.”

“Why not?” she asked, crossing her arms. “It’s an amazing honor. You own a piece of Texas history.”

Lot of good it was doing him. “I don’t want a bunch of yahoos stopping by to gawk.”

“It’s not like they’ll be coming inside.”

“You say that now, but just wait.”

“You know,” she said, finally grinning. “You could be singlehandedly responsible for a huge bump in Crow Hill’s economy. Visitors filling up on gas at Bandy’s. Stopping for snacks at Nathan’s. Dropping by the Blackbird for lunch. Touring the Lange’s winery.”

Ah, but that’s where she was wrong. “Not singlehandedly. This wouldn’t be happening without you.”

She shrugged it off. “Something no one will ever need to know.”

“I know. And it bugs the crap outta me.”

“Why?” she asked, frowning.

“I’ve seen the bills. I know what you’re putting into this place.”

“So?”