Undeniable (29 page)

She nodded. “Then out to the hill to pack up more of my things. I need some clothes. Other stuff.”

“How long you gonna stay with Lasko?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do next.”

She had no job, no place of her own. And after all the time she’d put in at the firm. Dax hadn’t been sure he could hate his father more—until now. “You’re welcome at the house. I mean it. And you don’t have to cook and clean.”

Her mouth twisted, and she allowed a small laugh. “I’ve seen your idea of clean. Dog mops. Lord, Dax.”

“I mopped after you left. Soap and water and everything.” He paused. “Unless you’re staying with Josh for another reason.”

She looked down, jangled her keys as she searched for the one she wanted. “He’s a good friend. That’s all.”

“Better than Boone and Casper? Better than your only brother?” he asked, waiting to see if she disputed his claim.

But all she said was, “I’ll think about it.”

And so after a minute he dug again. “Greg. What do you know?”

She shrugged. “He went to Texas Tech and got his degree a couple of years before I got mine. His mother was a legal
secretary. I don’t remember him mentioning other family. The Campbell worships the ground he walks on. Especially with his landing the Trinity Springs Oil account.”

The mother thing jibed with Greg’s story. And not mentioning his father made sense. Dax wondered if the old man had a gag order or whatever keeping his bastard from telling the truth. “Trinity Springs Oil. That’s a big one.”

“Big enough that pretty soon the firm’s going to need another attorney or two. And that’s assuming The Campbell’s able to work.”

“But Barrett’s handling everything for now?”

She nodded. “I’ve thought about seeing if he needs any help. He did seem truly sorry when he delivered the news.”

“What news?”

“That I’d been fired.”

“Wait, what? Are you telling me the old man didn’t have the balls to tell you himself?”

“I walked out. I deserve it.”

“No, you didn’t.” That much he knew. “No one deserves that kind of disrespect.”

She shrugged. “Was there something else?”

He tugged off his hat, ran his hand through his hair, settled it back in place. “I’ve been a shit of a brother, Darcy. I really am sorry. I should’ve come home or at least called to check on you. Especially with knowing how our parents are. I left you to deal with all of that and I have no excuse.”

“Sure you do. You were looking out for yourself. And I honestly can’t say that I blame you. I, on the other hand, took the other fork in the road and tried to mold my life to what they wanted instead of figuring out what I really wanted to do.”

And how much of that was his fault? “If I hadn’t bolted, you
might’ve had time to do that. You were sixteen. No one knows squat at sixteen.”

“You knew.”

“I guess, though mostly I knew I didn’t want to turn into our father. Seemed law school would be the first step toward making that happen, and I was not going down that road.”

“How
did
you know? That you wanted to cowboy?”

“Working four years with Dave Dalton.” He looked down, scuffed at the parking lot gravel. “He really was the father we both should’ve had.”

She reached out, held his arm long enough to squeeze. “I’m sorry you lost him.”

“And I didn’t know it until Tess was gone, too. That was a tough bit of news to hear.”

“Where were you? When you found out?”

“In Montana. I’d been there three or four years. Great place. Great boss. Reminded me a lot of Dave. I’d’ve stuck around had it not been for the inheritance. Turned into one of those crusty old cowboys who knows every bend in every creek and can tell you what years had the worst snowfalls and which well’s going to dry up next.”

“You can’t do all that now?”

“Nah. Not crusty enough.”

“You’re on your way, letting dogs mop your floor.”

That had him smiling. “So you’ll think about coming back to the house? It’s got to be more comfortable than a feed store.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen Josh’s loft? It’s as nice as my suite at home.”

“People might talk.”

“I hope that’s a joke because you are the last person I can imagine caring about gossip.”

“I care about you.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“I’ve been lousy about showing it.”

“I know that, too.” This time, not so soft.

“I did go to the hospital. That’s got to count for something.”

“Depends on why you went.”

The right answer would be to say it was his duty as a son, as a brother. Instead, he said, “Arwen made me.”

Darcy laughed. “At least you’re honest.”

“She told me it would make me feel better about him. About the way we’d left things when I’d split.”

“And? Did it?”

“Nope. Of course I couldn’t say all the things that need to be said since he’s in no shape to listen.”

“I talk to him when I’m there. He might be able to hear even if he can’t acknowledge it.”

“You think talking to him’s going to bring him out of it?”

“I don’t know, but it’s what I have to do for me.”

“Even though he fired you.”

“He’s still my father.”

He had no argument for that. “I’ve gotta get to work before the boys skin me.”

“So that was it? You hunted me down to ask about Greg?”

“He was at the hospital when I went. Made me curious about him, his attachment to the old man. Why he’s in Crow Hill at all.” He sharpened his aim. “Why his being here doesn’t bother you.”

“Why would it? There’s been enough work to keep four or five bodies busy, yet we ran on two for the last several years. Greg’s competent. More than competent. Why would it bother me?”

The last several years. The hard ones Ned Orleans had mentioned? “Because he doesn’t belong here.”

“And you’re in charge of who gets to call Crow Hill home?”

He’d said too much already. “You’re always welcome at the house. Even if you just want to stop by and mop. You don’t have to move in.”

“I’ll think about it. I didn’t mean to leave things in such a mess. And it’s not like my calendar is filled these days.”

“Any time and for as long as you want. I’d love to have you there. Maybe we could, you know, catch up.”

“I’d love to hear more about Montana. Hell, I’d love to hear more about the Daltons. Not the couple I knew, but the Tess and Dave that took you away from us.”

“That’s not what happened, Darcy. What they did was show me how to be myself. I’m the one who messed up thinking that meant shutting out everyone else. I was eighteen. I was stupid. I hope I know better now.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to leave again?”

“Pretty sure Boone and Casper won’t let that happen. The three of us making a go of the ranch is one thing. Two will never cut it. And speaking of which…”

“You need to go. You told me.”

“But now that I know where you’re hanging, I’ll see you soon.”

“Let me know about the furniture. For Nora.”

“Will do,” he said and turned to go before remembering what Arwen had said. “Hey, did you happen to run across a recipe for Tess’s barbecue sauce?”

T
HE MUSIC BLARED
from the patio’s speakers. The commercial fans blowing from the corners of the backyard roared. The smoke from the pits of the teams competing in the July 4th cook-off rose thick enough to choke a team of Clydesdales. But boy, did the air smell good, and that from Arwen’s Hellcat Saloon station especially so. Okay, so maybe she was prejudiced.

But while the Dalton Gang had Tess Dalton’s sauce and rub, Arwen had her own secret weapon in Myna Goss. The older woman had been a staple in one of Houston’s most popular barbecue restaurants for years. She’d moved to Crow Hill with her husband when he’d switched careers at fifty, leaving behind the USPS to become a guide on a nearby exotic game ranch.

The day Myna stopped by at lunch for a beer and a burger and admitted she wasn’t a fan of retirement, Arwen hired her for the saloon’s kitchen, doing the both of them a big favor. Myna
brought experience as well as tips and tricks and ways to man a grill and a pit that had turned the Hellcat’s menu into a goldmine.

Today, Myna stood at the helm of the saloon’s big barbecue drum, smoking chicken, baby back ribs, and a brisket. Myna wasn’t a fan of sausage, and since the Blackbird Diner stuffed their own casings with the Stokes’ family recipe of freshly ground and spiced meat, Arwen was fine bowing to Myna’s quirks.

Though Luck competed as part of the Summerlin family’s team, the rest of Arwen’s waitstaff pitched in at the saloon’s station. And with Callie, Stacy, and Amy at Myna’s beck and call, Arwen was free to play cook-off hostess. But mostly she was free to see how the Dalton Gang was faring in their first official appearance as a group.

The gossip had started as the trucks started showing up not long after dawn. Casper had arrived with Boone in his big black dualie, and Arwen had been surprised to see Darcy exit the cab as well. She’d been less surprised not to see Dax anywhere. With Wallace Campbell unable to judge this year, the committee had handed the reins to Greg Barrett as the only Campbell and Associates representative

Arwen wondered how Dax’s sister was dealing with the loss of her job, and glanced over, caught by the sight of Josh Lasko with his head close to Darcy’s. It brought to mind Arwen’s picnic with Dax, the tenderness of his kiss, his desperate sort of sorrow, as if his telling her of the change in his feelings was something to mourn, even while he struggled to hold on to what they’d found.

She didn’t want to let it go either. She just didn’t know how to make it work. He wasn’t wired to stay, and even if he didn’t forget her, his remembering her wasn’t enough. She’d thought it would be when the truth was she wanted him with her. She needed him
to make her laugh and make her think and make her come. She needed him to love her—because she loved him. She loved him.

Oh,
God
. She loved him.

This was so not the day to come to that realization, and she did her best to blink it away. She needed to be at the top of her game, undistracted. At least Dax wasn’t here…

Except he was, she realized, looking back at the Dalton Gang’s station. He stood there with a longneck in one hand, leaning an elbow on Casper’s shoulder, laughing with the other man at Boone’s attempt to flip ribs.

Giving a thumbs-up to Myna, Arwen moved away, hoping to look like a good hostess making the rounds. In reality, she couldn’t think of anything but Dax. She stared at him where he huddled with Boone and Casper, her heart aching, her head aching twice as bad—badly enough that it took her several seconds to tune into the whispered conversation at her side.

“Look at him, Nan. He’s there next to the Campbell girl. Look at the two of them together and tell me you don’t see a resemblance. A family resemblance.”

“Roma! Do you really think so? I mean, there’s never been a hint of rumor that Wallace fathered a child. Cheating yes. Everyone knows the man can’t keep his pants up, but do you really think—”

“Are you kidding me? How many trips out of town does he take a year? How long is he gone each time? I can’t imagine he hasn’t left, uh, a little something of himself behind. Maybe more than one something, if you get my drift.”

Her head spinning, Arwen pretended to watch Myna stir brown sugar into her barbecue sauce but stared past the other woman at Greg and Darcy instead. Both shared Dax’s coloring, though his hair was lighter from the time he spent in the sun. And
though she knew Darcy’s eyes were green instead of blue like her brother’s, she’d never paid attention to Greg’s.

Their bone structure, however, their cheeks and their jaws. It really was uncanny, but could it be true? And Greg’s hands when he gestured. She swallowed, told herself she was imagining things, but those hands looked so much like Dax’s she could almost imagine them sliding over her skin.

She was shaking, literally shaking. But was she also taking ridiculous gossip and running with it? Was she believing the worst of Wallace Campbell because of how close she was to Dax, taking his side, supporting him?

Surely she wasn’t letting herself be swayed by what she shared with Dax.

“I’m pretty sure your cook’s sauce needs more beer.”

Arwen jumped at the voice in her ear, slapping Dax away, grabbing the empty longneck he held from his hand. “And I’m pretty sure you are sauced and have had plenty.”

He pulled another bottle from his pocket and twisted off the cap. “What’s a July fourth without getting sauced on sauce made of sauce?”

He’d been drunk long before he’d arrived at the cook-off; he hadn’t been here long enough to drink as much as he obviously had. Not that she was particularly surprised, but then she looked from him to the empty bottle she held to his sister and the hot young attorney who didn’t fit in Crow Hill. Who didn’t have any reason to be here unless…

“Didn’t you tell me Greg Barrett was at the hospital when you visited?”

“He’s a dick. Thinks he’s got some claim on the firm. Bullshit. That firm is Darcy’s.”

“Why would he think he has a claim on the firm?”

“He’s the only one left working there. He’s the only one the old man gives a shit about.”

The only child? Is that what Dax was saying? Was he drunk enough that she could get her answers? “Did you and Greg talk? At the hospital? Did he tell you anything about where he came from? Why he moved to Crow Hill?”

“I need another beer.”

“No. You don’t. You need to eat.”

“I’ve been trying. Food’s not done anywhere.”

She’d seen him pestering Teri Gregor at the Blackbird Diner’s pit, and was pretty sure it was a good thing her husband Shane was currently deployed. “Then you need to sleep it off. C’mon. You can use my couch.”

“I’d rather use your bed. And use you in it.”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. She hooked her arm through his and guided him across the yard, ducking through the temporary fencing she’d set up between the saloon and her cottage. His hat got caught on the way through, and she reached back and grabbed it, pushing him up the walkway toward her kitchen door.