by Liza Kendall
“I don’t think either of us has to imagine that,” Rhett said grimly, and he saw from Jake’s expression that his brother understood he was talking about losing their parents. He’d sure like to be talking about something else.
“I’m really glad you’re getting deeply in touch with your feelings,” he drawled, doing his best to get back on familiar ground with a little brotherly sarcasm. “I’ll have to thank Charlie for that when I see her again. In the meantime, say hello to your Inner Child for me.”
“Shut up,” Jake said, but without any heat. He grinned the ridiculous grin of a man in love.
“So, it’s really like that, is it? She’s ‘the one’? You gonna be the first of us?” Rhett asked.
He expected his brother to protest, but Jake looked Rhett square in the eyes, a slight flush on his smiling face, and said, “Yep. But keep it to yourself. I haven’t said a word to anybody else about it, and I want to really surprise her.”
Rhett grinned like a madman. He slapped Jake on the back by way of congratulations, unable to articulate the happiness he felt for his brother. There was something unexpectedly . . . well, beautiful, about sharing such a simple moment of joy with family. Face-to-face, not video call. He’d forgotten what that was like.
Jake held out his hand. “Welcome home, Fancy.”
Rhett huffed a laugh and took his brother’s hand, staring at their clasped fingers. “Please don’t tell me that nickname’s a thing around town now.”
Jake told him nothing of the sort, probably because it was too late to stop the terrible nickname and because Rhett got busy trying to stuff that drooly pillow back in his brother’s face. Now who is acting like a kid? Rhett was loving every second of it.
Jake finally wrestled the pillow back and threw it down the vintage pole hole in order to end the scuffle. “Hey!” someone downstairs called. The pillow came shooting back up through the hole.
“Listen, I’ve got to get back over to the Holt place,” Rhett said.
“How are things going with Jules? The entire town’s watching, you know. She’s Silverlake royalty and you done made that girl cry,” Jake said with extra twang.
“What?!”
Jake’s eyes widened. “Whoa. I was just messin’ around.”
Rhett blinked. “I don’t think so. Not really. What exactly are they saying?”
“I thought you’d laugh,” his brother said. They shared an uneasy glance. Maybe it takes more than a single handshake to be family again after such a long time.
“Jake, what are they saying?”
Jake shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah, everybody’s talking about the sale and what’s poor Jules going to do now that . . .”
“Uh-huh? Go on.”
“Now that that rich boy bought up her future.” He paused. “Everybody knows she wanted to run that place. She’s never been shy about saying what she wants.”
His words brought back a time in a very different place under very different circumstances where Jules Holt hadn’t been at all shy to say what she wanted.
“You’ve got yourself in a somewhat tricky situation, is all I’m saying. Tread lightly.”
Somewhat? Rhett pressed his forehead against the wall. He wanted to punch something. “That’s how everybody sees me,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I was born here, Jake, same as you, same as Jules.”
“I thought you’d laugh,” Jake repeated. “I’m sorry.”
Normally, I would. Rhett took a deep breath and shrugged it all off. “To answer your question, things are going well, especially under the circumstances.” Man, if Jake only knew all of the circumstances. But then Grady would find out, because to hear tell, Silverlake firefighter loyalty was some kind of supernatural force. And if Grady found out, Rhett would be six feet under before Jules had fed and watered the horses the next morning. “Jules is a great manager. You know how hard it is to find motivated people who care about what they’re doing?”
“Outside the firehouse, yeah,” Jake said.
Rhett chuckled. “Jules is the whole package. She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s a doer . . .” She’s gorgeous, great in bed, a good friend, a good daughter, just a terrific all-around human being . . .
“I think I lost you there, Rhett,” Jake said, the corner of his mouth curling up in a suspicious smile. “Huh. I just meant, were the books what you were expecting? But, by all means, do go on about Julianna Holt’s many fine qualities.”
“Now you’re getting annoying again,” Rhett said, lowering his voice. “Grady’s going to overhear and misunderstand.”
“Oh, I don’t reckon Grady’s gonna misunderstand a thing,” Jake said, not lowering his voice a bit. And with that he tipped up the brand-new cowboy hat and plunked it right down on Rhett’s head.
Chapter 11
Rhett had gotten his first taste of firefighter life at one of Mick’s beloved sit-down meals. For the first time in a while, he felt like a part of something bigger. He could see why Jake loved being a member of the department; it was like having a second family.
Only thing was, Rhett hadn’t eaten this many carbs since his sadistic trainer in Dallas had ripped a cheese Danish out of his hand, and, to add insult to injury, tossed it in his garbage can. Then the bastard had had the nerve to bill him extra for “motivation.” And the balls to nod when Rhett asked him if he was for real.
He felt a little sick, truth be told, because apparently Silverlake firefighters didn’t cut corners on anything, including a “housewarming” party for their new roomie the prior night. But he also felt happy and homespun and Mick’s chicken and waffles specialty was perfection in a pan. Crispy, crunchy, tender inside—pure fried poetry. Bonus points for grease; it did seem to be fixing the hangover right up.
Even Mama hadn’t made it quite that good.
“Sorry, Mama,” he muttered as he left the station and climbed into Scarlett, fired her up, and pulled out of his spot across from the fire department. Only to find Declan coming up behind him in his Chevy Silverado. Rhett waved him forward and his brother drove up alongside him rather than passing him by.
The two stared at each other for a long moment through their respective windows. Then Deck sardonically lifted his hat, and Rhett caustically lowered his shades a notch, then nodded before shoving them up to the bridge of his nose again. Declan stared blankly at Scarlett. Yeah, I earned this car. Rhett gunned the motor, just to piss off his brother. You’re the one who sent me off to the big time. Wouldn’t “coddle” me when I was getting the crap kicked out of me.
Up yours, Deck.
As if he’d heard the words, Deck hit the gas and rumbled by without further acknowledgment. About five minutes later, Rhett had just gotten up to speed on the highway when he saw Jules’s wreck on wheels, pulled onto the shoulder at an extremely awkward angle. An accident? Had someone hit her?
Then he registered that the wrong end of her seemed to be driving.
Rhett blinked.
No, what he’d seen was real: Jules’s denim-clad buns in the air—and they were fine—behind her steering wheel. She was bent over, reaching into the back seat for something.
Dignity, thy name is Julianna Holt.
Rhett pulled over behind her and stepped out of Scarlett. He walked up and knocked on her window, whereupon two things happened.
First, some sort of disgusting, hairy monster exploded off the floor, snarling, and tried to eat him through the glass of the window. Second, Jules shrieked, hit her head on the roof of her truck, and landed sideways in a tangled heap.
She then recovered, lowered the window, and pronounced his name as if it were the most disgusting cuss word ever invented. “Rhett Braddock.”
“Yes?” he said cautiously.
And then the disgusting, hairy monster—which looked a lot like a Saint Bernard—sprang from the back seat ont
o Jules, and then out the window.
“Holy—!?” Rhett took two muddy paws to the chest, four hundred decibels to the ears, and lost his vintage Ray-Bans to the slavering jaws of the creature, who crunched them in half before streaking onto the highway to escape. The stench of the animal remained on him, however. “What the—” Rhett wiped slobber off his face as he stared after it.
“Beast!” Jules yelled. “Come back here!” She wrenched open the door of her wreck and ran after the dog—straight into oncoming traffic.
Rhett swore and dove after her. She was a walking calamity.
And yet both she and the dog neatly dodged a speeding baby blue Mini Cooper and a big yellow school bus, not to mention a navy Taurus with its front bumper held on by duct tape.
“¡Pendejo!” shouted the driver of the school bus. Thankfully there were no children on board.
Rhett caught up with Jules and the dog on the other side of the highway, unable to stop the stream of profanity from coming out of his mouth. “What in the hell were you thinking?!” he finished up as Jules, utterly ignoring his words, turned around and demanded his belt.
“What? Why?”
“For a leash.”
“Leash . . . for all you know, that thing has rabies! Ringworm! Ugh, it smells like it’s been eating roadkill.”
“Belt,” said Jules, inexorably.
“But—”
“It’s your fault he escaped my car, so give me the darn belt, Braddock!”
“How do you figure it’s my fault? You’re the one who rolled down the window . . .”
First Lila had pilfered his cuff links. Then the dog had chowed on his Ray-Bans. Now Jules was stealing his belt. What was next? But Rhett reluctantly unbuckled his belt, causing a carload of teenagers to honk and shout dirty suggestions as they drove by. Next a trucker honked in appreciation. Some world.
Jules, who’d been hanging on to the dog’s neck hair with determination as she crooned to it, looped Rhett’s pricey Allen Edmonds belt around its neck and told it what a good boy it was.
“It’s not a boy,” Rhett pointed out.
“What? Who cares? You would look there, you perv.”
“I’m not a—oh, jeez. I give up. I’m always the bad guy, with you.”
“Come on, good girl,” Jules said to the dog. “Quit whining, bad guy.”
Whining.
“Come on! We need to get her to the vet.”
“We?”
“My truck is stalled.”
“Stalled?”
“Well, it won’t start again,” she amended.
“Let me take a look.”
“Um,” Jules said, looking both ways now for traffic. Like a normal person might. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Of course it’s necessary,” Rhett said. “We need to get it rolling again.”
“I’ll just call Grady,” she said. “He can stop by while we take Beast, here, to be looked at.”
Rhett squinted at her. “You’re not thinking that I’ll allow that animal into my car, are you?”
She squinted right back. “Why not?”
His mouth literally dropped open. “Oh no, no, no. Not gonna happen, darlin’.” He waited for a battered Chevy Impala to pass, and then crossed the highway toward her truck. “I’ll get your truck fixed instead.”
“You won’t be able to,” she called.
“I’m pretty good with cars,” Rhett called back. He and Deck used to work on them in the Old Barn with Pop. Those were some good times . . . taking stuff apart and putting it back together, figuring out how things ran. The smell of clean motor oil pervading the place . . .
He was in her driver’s seat before she and the growling, hairy creature wearing his belt could cross. He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine sputtered. It didn’t take a particle of Rhett’s much-vaunted genius to see what was wrong. “Are you kidding me?” he said to her when he got out.
Her face flamed.
“You’re out of gas.”
“I told you that you couldn’t fix it,” she muttered.
“Can I show you something, Jules?” He pointed into the vehicle. “There’s a gauge, there. See? And it’s like a small miracle. You can use those beautiful eyes of yours to keep track of how much fuel you have.”
“I meant to . . . but then the riding lessons yesterday ran long, and I had to run out to Slater’s to pick up some stuff, and I forgot . . . and I thought I could just make it to the grocery store before it ran out completely . . .” She shrugged. “If you can just drop us at the animal hospital, then Grady’ll bring me some gas. He’s good like that . . . Did you just say my eyes were beautiful?”
“Yes, I did. Any objective person would say so.”
“Gee, that’s nice. Now, open your car door, please.”
Rhett put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “You clearly didn’t hear me earlier. That hairy thing you have tied to my belt is not getting into Scarlett.”
The dog lowered her head at him and growled.
“Especially,” he added, “since it wants to eat me.”
“She won’t eat you. Will you, Beast?” Jules crooned to the creature and scratched it behind the ears while it drooled in bliss.
“Correct. Because she won’t be getting into my car.”
“Yes, she will. Because she really needs medical attention.”
“That’s as may be. But you need psychiatric attention if you think she’s riding in Scarlett.”
Jules made puppy eyes at him. “What if you were starving, lost, alone, cold? Wouldn’t you smell, too? Wouldn’t you eat a little roadkill?”
Rhett cast his eyes heavenward. “I’m not going to listen to this.”
“Wouldn’t you depend on the kindness of strangers, just like her?”
“Aaaagh.”
“C’mon, Ever-Rhett . . .” Jules wheedled.
“She can depend on the kindness of a stranger who doesn’t drive a seriously expensive sports car!”
“Fine, Fancy. You suck,” Jules informed him.
“I suck?”
“We will just walk. And I’ll probably be late for the first riding lesson. Might even have to cancel it. And there goes the income! Oh well, I guess. Come on, Beast.” She squared her shoulders and turned her back on him.
“Why not call Grady for this, too?”
She stopped.
“Uh-huh. He’s told you, No more animal rescues, hasn’t he? He does enough of them for the town.”
“Maybe,” she admitted. And started walking again. Looking cold, forlorn, and alone. Dependent on the kindness of strangers.
“Help me,” said Rhett to the sky. “Please, help me.”
The sky didn’t answer.
He got into Scarlett and pulled up beside Jules and the repulsive-smelling, filthy dog. He leaned over and opened the passenger-side door. “Get in.”
He was rewarded by a brilliant smile. “I knew you’d come around!” Her hair jutted from the top of her head in a messy bun as she slid her small, curvy body inside and coaxed the dog onto her lap.
Beast whined and panted, but finally got in, smearing Rhett’s cream leather seats with mud and poleaxing him with the stench of her fur and her breath. “Dear Lord.” He took refuge by burying his nose in his own armpit.
Beast, being a drooly sort of dog, shook her head and sprayed slobber over every inch of his once-pristine Porsche. He looked around in disbelief, then got another whiff of the dog’s breath and shoved his face back into his armpit.
“Gonna be hard to drive like that, Ever-Rhett.” She squeezed his biceps affectionately.
And just like that, he felt himself falling for her.
Why? Because she’d squeezed his arm? Was he kidding himself?
Rhett gripped the steering wheel even
tighter and focused on driving, not even a little sorry about the prospect of leaving Beast in the competent, compassionate care of the Silverlake Animal Hospital. Esme, the vet, wouldn’t be there on a Sunday, but she was always on call.
When they got there, Rhett didn’t ask who was paying the bill. While Jules explained Beast’s situation, he gladly fished his wallet out and forked over the Amex Black Card again.
The girl behind the reception desk wore a smock printed with multicolored paw prints, and immediately hit him up for a donation to the Black Tie & Boots Soiree. He nodded without complaint and was rewarded with an adoring look. Leaving Beast in good hands, they headed out, stopping almost immediately again at the Grab n’ Go for gas. Rhett topped up a five-gallon container that he purchased inside, and drove Jules back to her wreck on wheels. “No need to trouble Grady,” he said gruffly as he filled the tank.
“Wow, thanks so much!” She rewarded him with an actual arm punch this time.
His heart rolled over and showed its belly.
For an arm punch. Really?
“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly. “So did you find the dog out on the highway?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t leave her out there. I was afraid she’d get run over. So I stopped and got her to come to me with a piece of cheese from my Lunchables packet—”
“You eat Lunchables?”
“Sure. Don’t you?”
“No.” She was like a little kid with her diet of fast food and snacks.
“They’re super easy. I have stacks of them . . .”
Why was he not surprised?
“. . . they come in handy when I have back-to-back lessons and stuff out at the barn. Well, and then I supplement from the horse snacks in my fanny pack.” She grinned.
“Someone needs to feed you a decent meal now and then.”
“My mom tries. But it always comes with a lecture or a little annoying piece of advice on how I don’t have my life together. She doesn’t understand who I am, really. Because I’m not like her.”
“I hear you.” Rhett’s mouth twisted. “But there are times when I’d give anything to have my mother nagging me again. Anything at all, just to have her back.”