The Legacy of Falcon Ridge: The McLendon Family Saga - Book 8

by D. L. Roan

  “I figured.” Clay squinted against the sun, bracing himself for the answer to the inevitable next question. “How much?”

  Ken hemmed and hawed and finally gave him a not-so-cheap estimate. Clay sighed. He didn’t have that kind of reserve cash, but he’d make it work. Whatever it took. Hell, he hated to even think it, but he’d sell his plane if he had to, because he wasn’t about to move his new wife into his dad’s house. “Can it be done?”

  Ken grunted, the sound followed by rustling papers before the contractor finally gave him a maybe. “I’ll do everything I can to help you out, man,” he added, “but I’m only promising a roof, four walls, and working plumbing. The rest will be up to the inspectors. You know how it goes.”

  “Perfect!” Clay rushed to assure him.

  “And only if I get your deposit by noon tomorrow,” Ken added.

  “I’ve got it.” Excitement propelled Clay from the tailgate. “I’ll call the bank and have them wire it to you now.”

  “I’ll call in the crew, then, and get the material ordered.”

  Clay swiped his palm over his forehead, relief and excitement racing through his veins. “I owe you one, man.”

  “You owe me thousands,” Ken laughed. “Hundreds of them.”

  “Yeah-yeah. I’m on it. Call me if there’s any problems.”

  “Will do, and congrats on the wedding.”

  “Thanks.”

  Clay hung up and called the bank, then flipped through his contacts, pausing before he dialed the next number. Images of his mother flashed through his mind as he stared at his phone. She’d loved flying as much as he did. He could still remember the day she’d taken him up for his first flying lesson. Pop had won the Cessna in a friendly bet with a neighboring rancher and given it to her on their tenth wedding anniversary. Seven years later, he took his first solo flight in that plane, tears blurring the instruments as he scattered his mother’s ashes over Sterling Eagle Ranch.

  He drew in a deep breath and said a silent thank you for the amazing gift she’d given him. Selling her plane was a last resort, but if he couldn’t find another way to come up with the extra cash to pay Ken, then he’d need to have a buyer lined up for a quick sale. He was about to dial the number when he heard footsteps close behind him.

  “Hey.” Clay pocketed his phone. “Sorry, I had to take that call.”

  Matt held up a staying hand as he walked to the back of Dani’s truck and pulled himself up to sit on the tailgate. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on ya.”

  Clay sighed in relief and took a seat next to him. Matt had been surprisingly accepting, but an awkward silence still hung between them as the seconds ticked into minutes.

  “I never was one to beat around the bush, so I’m just gonna give it to you straight,” Matt finally said. “That okay with you?”

  “Sure.” Clay’s stomach tightened as Matt turned, his eyes narrowing as their gazes locked.

  “My brothers are being giant asshats about this whole damn thing.”

  The air rushed out of Clay’s lungs so fast he choked.

  Matt chuckled and slapped him on the back a few times. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, uh—” Clay cleared his throat. “Just wasn’t expecting that.”

  Matt sighed, plucking off his hat. “I used to call ’em fucktards until Gabby put her foot down. Said it wasn’t politically correct, and you know, the kids were getting in trouble at school.”

  Clay laughed. “I feel ya. Me and my brothers have to be careful around my nephew, too.”

  Matt scrubbed his hand over his mussed hair then plopped his hat back on. “Well, whatever you want to call ’em is fine by me. But try not to take their meltdown personally, especially Mason.”

  Clay nodded silently, not knowing exactly what to say.

  “Listen.” Matt propped the heel of his boot on the edge of the tailgate and stared down the long gravel driveway. “Let me help you out a bit here.”

  Clay raised a cautious brow, waiting for Matt to enlighten him.

  “Though I can be a bit hot tempered at times, I don’t sweat the small stuff. If my family’s happy, then I’m happy, and Dani’s clearly happy, so I’m cool with this little wedding schedule update. Feel me?”

  Clay chuckled. “Yeah, I think.”

  “Good,” Matt snickered. “Now, Grey, on the other hand, is a classic worrier. If there’s a worst-case scenario for anything, he’ll lose his shit over it, and someone—usually Gabby—will soothe his feathers and everything’s back to normal. But Mason? Mason is a different kind of bird altogether. He’s got this sixth sense about things.”

  Matt looked at him like he was supposed to know what that meant.

  “Like when he’s workin’ with a new horse,” he went on to explain, his hands animating his words. “Mason can feel what the horse is thinkin’. He knows exactly what it’s gonna do long before the horse even knows. And he’s the same way with people. It’s a rare occasion when somethin’ sneaks up on him.” He paused and looked up at Clay. “But you snuck up on him,” he said with a sly grin. “He no more saw you comin’ than a Mack truck with no headlights on a dark highway, and he’s still tryin’ to find his footing.”

  Understanding mixed with relief, and Clay drew in a deep breath. “That…actually helps,” he breathed out. “Thanks.” It made a lot more sense than anything he’d been able to come up with.

  “Give Mason some time,” Matt urged, then hopped off the tailgate. “When he finds his balance again, he’ll come around. You’ll see.”

  Clay slid to the ground and closed the tailgate, dusting his hand over his jeans before he offered it to Matt. “Thanks, really. I was dyin’ in there,” he said with a sheepish grin.

  Matt took his hand and pulled him into a back-slapping hug. “Anytime.” He nodded toward the barn. “C’mon. We’ll grab a couple of fishing poles and head down to the creek.”

  Clay shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the house. “I should probably get back in there. See if Dani needs anything.”

  Matt scrunched up his nose and gave his head a quick shake. “That whole ‘Grey losing his shit’ thing I told you about? I wasn’t kiddin’. You don’t want to be in there right now.”

  Clay glanced back up at the house, then back at Matt, not sure what he should do. He didn’t want to leave Dani hanging.

  “Trust me,” Matt said and shouldered him toward the barn. “Let’s go wet a line and give Gabby time to work her magic.”

  Clay hesitated, before he followed Matt down the hill. A little male-bonding time with at least one of his future fathers-in-law wasn’t such a bad idea, was it?

  Chapter Four

  Wedding Countdown: Seven Weeks

  “Have you thought about what we talked about last night?” Carson nudged Breezy with his elbow as he drove beneath the last stoplight in town and navigated the winding road to Falcon Ridge, his mind swimming with possibilities and his heart beating rapidly with hope.

  After a month of badgering, he’d finally convinced his twin brother, Connor, to go back on tour. It wasn’t a headliner gig like they used to play before they married Breezy, but they would share the spotlight with seven other bands in the charity tour their old manager, Rod, was setting up. Eight epic bands playing ten huge venues, including the White House and Madison Square Garden.

  While the political class would no doubt be their biggest take for the charity they were promoting, it was the dream of playing The Garden that kept him awake at night, plotting and praying Breezy would say yes. Besides the pain he’d caused Breezy and Connor, and the embarrassment he’d caused his family, his biggest regret about screwing up their last tour was missing the opportunity to perform at the world’s most famous arena.

  This was their chance. His chance to make up for nearly ruining their music career. Connor’s chance to sing his newest songs live on stage in front of the world. Breezy’s chance to take a break from the emotionally draining cycle of trying and failing to get pre
gnant. She tried to hide it, but he’d heard her crying when she thought she was alone. He could also see the sadness in her eyes get deeper with each passing month. Not to mention every time they went to the fertility doctor, and the girls working in the office recognized him and Connor, it was like death by a thousand giggles. They needed this trip.

  “She asked us not to pressure her,” Connor said with a huff from the back seat, then reached around the front seat and laced his fingers with their wife’s.

  Carson cut him a sideways glare, reaching down to take Breezy’s other hand. “I’m not pressuring you, babe.” He brought her hand to his lips, grinning despite the disappointment that threatened to crush his hopes. “Just don’t keep us in the dark too long.”

  Breezy sighed as she pulled her hands free from both theirs and crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you last night I’d think about it, and I am. The family has a lot going on right now and they need me.”

  “But the tour isn’t until next year,” he argued.

  “Car,” Connor warned.

  Carson bit his tongue and turned the radio up a notch, perking up when he recognized the song. “This is one of the bands we’ll be touring with, if we decide to do it,” he added when he caught Connor’s glare in the rearview mirror.

  “If we do this,” Breezy said, pointing at the radio, “you have to get me their autograph.”

  Carson belted out a boisterous laugh when she blushed, hope blooming back to life. “We’ll do more than that,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips again. “You’ll be backstage with us the whole time.”

  “Forget backstage,” Connor huffed. “I’ll pull you on stage with us.”

  “You better not,” she warned, squirming away from Connor’s tickling fingers, her playful giggle music to Carson’s ears.

  Yes. This tour would be good for them.

  The large gates bearing the Falcon Ridge brand came into view, and Carson slowed the truck, pulling into the shorter driveway just past it. Both Papa Daniel’s and Uncle Cade’s trucks sat in their usual spots in front of their house, and he parked behind them, retrieving the envelope from above his visor the mailman had delivered to them by mistake.

  “Be right back.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Breezy said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I want to ask Uncle Cade how the new home health aide is working out.”

  Connor slid out behind her, and the three of them ambled up the stairs together, chuckling at the loud classic rock music blaring inside.

  “Sons of the seventies,” Connor snickered.

  Carson rapped on the front door a few times, then turned the handle when no one answered. “Hello?” he hollered over the wailing guitar, wrinkling his nose at the bitter-sweet, pungent aroma of cannabis that tainted the air inside.

  “Good Lord!” Breezy coughed, her face pinched in disgust as she tried to fan the stench away.

  “Uncle Cade must be racking up bonus miles on his medical marijuana card,” Connor choked out.

  “Hello?” Carson called again. “Uncle Cade?” When no one responded, he treaded further into the house.

  “Car, wait,” Connor warned, but Carson waved him off. A little contact high never hurt anyone.

  The music grew louder as he walked down the hall, continuing toward their study when he found the living room and the kitchen empty.

  “Papa Daniel?”

  He stopped in the hallway, peered into the office on his left, and screamed like a fucking girl as the scene in front of him was permanently branded onto the surface of his eyeballs.

  “What the—ow-ow-ow!” Cade bellowed from the chair behind the desk. Naked as a jaybird, he folded over and grabbed his dick, his face twisted in pain. “Sonofabitch!”

  Carson drew in another breath, the pitch of his next scream climbing an octave when Papa Daniel’s bald head popped up from Cade’s lap.

  Run! Turn around and run!

  “Oh my fucking hell!” Cade roared again. “I think you bit my dick off!”

  Why were Carson’s legs not moving? Why!

  “Let me see,” Papa Daniel insisted, prying at Uncle Cade’s hands until Cade let go, and—

  No! No-no-no! Carson cringed away, but his feet were still not cooperating!

  “Your dick is fine.” Daniel grimaced as he rubbed the back of his head. “I think I have a damn concussion, though.”

  The music played on as both their pained, disgruntled gazes locked onto Carson and he finally found his footing, turning to plough right into Connor and Breezy as they came barreling down the hall.

  “What’s wrong?” Breezy screeched at the unexpected impact.

  “Don’t go in there!” Carson yelled, but it was too late.

  “Oh my God!” Connor and Breezy yelped in unison as they shielded their eyes.

  “Holy shit! Sorry!” Connor grabbed Breezy’s hand and pulled her back down the hall, her face as red as a beet as they stumbled past him.

  Carson ran after them and was halfway down the front steps before he remembered the envelope in his hand.

  “Fuck!” He doubled back, opened the door—keeping his eyes closed tight—and flung the letter inside, slamming the door closed behind him before he bolted to the truck.

  Connor chuckled breathlessly as Carson started the truck and peeled out of the driveway, slinging gravel all the way back down to the main road.

  Breezy squealed with laughter as he whipped the steering wheel around and pulled through the Falcon Ridge gate, slamming on the brakes before they got to the main house. “What are you doing?” she demanded, still laughing as Carson stretched across the console and pulled her into his lap.

  “Pull up your shirt,” Carson demanded.

  “What? No!”

  She tried to shimmy away from him, but he worked her shirt up over her breasts and pulled down her bra. “I need something to get what I just saw out of my head.”

  “Car, it’s broad daylight! And we’re in your parents’ driveway!” Breezy pulled her shirt back down.

  “Baby, please,” Carson begged, his fingers tangling with hers. “I’m going to have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

  “Drama queen,” Connor quipped from the backseat, still laughing. “But for the record, I’m completely on board with this plan.”

  “Seriously?” Breezy said with an exasperated chuckle.

  “Serious as a heart attack, darlin’.” Carson closed his eyes, then cringed at the image of Uncle Cade’s half hard cock flapping in the breeze, and Papa Daniel’s— “Oh God, help me.”

  “Fine,” Breezy said with a huff, looking over her shoulder out the windshield before she lifted her shirt for him.

  Carson fingered her bra down, gazing his fill at her soft, perfectly rounded, womanly, wholly non-male boobs. It was working, sort of, until he closed his eyes again. “Fuck! It’s not working!” Her nipples pebbled beneath his touch and he leaned in to take one between his lips.

  “Alright, that’s enough.” She shoved him away and pulled her shirt back down, shimmying back into her bra.

  “Aww, I didn’t get a taste,” Connor pouted behind them as she climbed back over the center console into the passenger seat.

  “Dick.” Carson whimpered as he put the truck in gear. “All I’m seeing is old grandpa dick.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Connor scoffed as they pulled up to the house. “And you have to admit, Uncle Cade is one hung sonofabitch.”

  “Don’t say that!” Carson clenched his eyes shut and covered his ears. “You can’t say Uncle Cade and hung in the same sentence!”

  “You just did!” Connor cackled.

  “Carson, brakes!” Breezy shouted, jerking him back from the brink before he rolled into his mom’s car. “Good grief! Get a grip,” she scolded him. “And I think it’s sweet. As sick as Cade’s been lately, I’m glad he’s feeling well enough to…you know…”

  Carson grinned. “Know what?” he asked, his grin widening as her blush deepened, spreading to
the tips of her ears. If anything could banish the images burned into his brain it would be their wife talking dirty.

  Breezy rolled her eyes and slipped out the passenger door Connor held open, shaking her head and waving him off. “I don’t have time for your games today,” she said as the three of them walked up his parents’ porch steps. “Gabby and I can’t be late. Dani would kill us.”

  The scents of breakfast still lingered in the air as they walked inside. “Mom? We’re home!” Connor called out, but the kitchen was empty when they rounded the corner.

  A thud sounded above them, and Carson cocked his head before heading back down the hall. “C’mon. Grey must have gotten a head start on the demolition.”

  Since Jonah announced that Chloe was pregnant, Grey had gone all DIY on them and decided instead of only redecorating the spare room, he’d turn his and Connor’s old bedrooms into a nursery and playroom. He and Connor had come to help tear down the wall between the rooms while Breezy and Gabby were going to Billings to meet Dani for wedding planning stuff.

  Eager to see how far along his dad had gotten, Carson raced up the stairs and down the hall, skidding to a stop when he turned into the room. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He covered his eyes and turned away, his mom yelping in surprise as they broke apart and righted their clothes.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” Gabby said with a breathy sigh as Connor and Breezy walked in.

  “What the hell are they putting in the water around here?” Carson swore as he turned back around, peeking through his fingers to make sure everyone was decent before he uncovered his eyes.

  “Oh, stop.” His mom snickered as she shouldered Carson out of the way. “It was just a kiss.”

  “Yeah, right.” Carson snorted as Breezy and Connor reached the bedroom doorway. Hell, if this kept up, they’d never be able to get Breezy pregnant.

  “We have a front door for a reason,” Grey grumbled as he adjusted his tool belt. “You should try knocking.”

  “Yeah, well, you should try locking it,” his brother fired back as he picked up a hammer and a pair of safety glasses from the pile of tools on the floor.