by Liza Kendall
“Oh, come on, your little soap opera has been playing twenty-four/seven on the channels in this town. Do you not know how many people came together to give Jules a makeover before you popped the question?”
“Uh . . . no. She did look incredible.”
“That’s what I hear. I’m so happy for you two! And I can’t help feeling a little responsible,” Bridget added playfully. “Without my advice, I bet Jules would still be turning the hose on you instead of picking out a dress.”
The sinking feeling that was already mixing badly with the beer in Rhett’s stomach got worse. Advice? What is she talking about?
“What advice did you give Jules?” Jake asked in clipped tones.
“The same advice I give to all my nonpaying clients: Make nice. Make the best of a bad situation. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
Something deep inside Rhett went cold.
“Getting pregnant is about as close as you can get!” Bridget blathered on. “Seriously, congratulations!” She grinned.
Rhett stared at her, acid spreading through his gut.
To her credit, the smile died out quickly when she registered their faces. “Okay, why does this feel weird?” she said. She was completely serious now, the professional lawyer in her kicking in.
A long, terrible pause ensued.
“Just when exactly did you give Jules this advice, Bridget?” Rhett asked, struggling to keep his voice low and even.
“Oh, I don’t know . . . I guess it was here in Schweitz’s, early on. When you’d just gotten back into town. Yeah. Because she turned right around and bought you a drink. Remember?”
Yeah. He sure did remember. And he also remembered not understanding how or why she’d gone from raging lioness to friendly kitten.
Bridget.
“I need to go,” Rhett said, stumbling to his feet.
Make nice. Make the best of a bad situation. As in, I’d like to buy this guy a beer!
He had known there was something off about that. It had been too quick a switch . . . and then she’d stopped doing things like throwing his flowers into a horse stall and started being reasonable. Friendly. And worse . . .
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
She’d played him. Jules had . . .
He felt gut-shot.
“Rhett,” Jake said, standing likewise and then looking desperately around for Otto so he could pay the bill.
“I’ll get it,” Bridget said. “I’m so sorry. I must’ve misunderstood something . . .”
Rhett pulled his wallet from his pocket, grabbed several bills, and slammed the money down on the bar table so hard Bridget flinched and finally ceased talking.
Which was fine, because Rhett didn’t want to hear any more.
With Jake on his heels, he pushed out of the bar, grateful for the slap in the face provided by the cool air.
It sure was time to wake up.
He ignored his brother saying his name and pushed into the crowd. Scarlett was parked in an alley several streets away, since they always roped off Main Street for Fool Fest. He had a hike in front of him.
Sunny was helping behind an ice cream stand, and waved a cone in his face. “Want one, hon?” she called.
He waved her away, along with Ray’s proffered turkey leg, and out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed them both frowning after him. Someone else called his name— Was it Lila? He didn’t care. He pushed through mothers with strollers, toddlers and teenagers, moms and dads, old folks in wheelchairs, and even a clown on a pogo stick. They washed over him in waves of T-shirts and sneakers, their scents of sunscreen and corn dogs and sticky candy making him nauseous.
He threw five bucks at another vendor, snagged a cold Miller Lite from him, and veered left on Elm as he popped the top. His head swam with images of Jules, snippets of conversations, her hot-and-cold treatment of him . . . he couldn’t make sense of it all. Except now it did make an awful sense. Her inconsistent behavior toward him—she’d been slipping up. Veering off a deliberate strategy. He was such a fool that he couldn’t even grasp the enormity of it.
Lila careened around the corner. “There you are! I have been looking for you everywhere. Come with me. Now.”
“Lila, leave me alone—”
“No! You owe me this, bro. This is my Fool Fest, my first-ever production of this size, and I need your help. No foolin’.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him along.
Beyond annoyed, he shotgunned the rest of the beer as if he were still in college. Before he knew it, they were weaving through alleys until they got to the very end of Main Street, where the Silverlake High marching band was striking up “Fool to Cry” by the Stones. The Stones did it better. A lot better.
But Lila blithely yanked him around the corner, almost smack into the big float for the parade: A sparkling, crazy-painted ship with a big jester decorating the prow. It had tall masts made out of plastic piping and big paper sails that advertised all of the Silverlake businesses that had contributed funds, finery, or fellowship to the festivities. On the side it said in huge block letters: SHIP OF FOOLS.
“Get in,” Lila ordered.
Rhett balked. “Oh, very funny. Not.”
“Rhett Braddock, get your wayward, prodigal butt into the seat of that float before I tell the whole town that you have . . . a harem . . . or herpes . . . or something really, really BAD,” threatened Lila. “And if you won’t be blackmailed, then do it out of guilt for being missing, or just do it out of the kindness of your heart for your little sister. Get. In.”
Rhett whipped his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket, settled them gloomily on his nose, and grudgingly did as he was told. Then, to his horror, someone shoved none other than Julianna Holt in beside him, from the other side.
She looked just as happy to see him as he did her. That is to say, petrified.
The whole crowd around them began to whoop and holler, and the engine of the truck under the float started up. They were about to be paraded through town.
“No, Lila, really—” Rhett tried to get up.
Things couldn’t possibly get worse.
Except they could. His sister plopped an awful, gold-painted, faux-jewel-encrusted crown on his head, and another one got dropped onto Jules’s head, her rooster-tail hair sprouting through it.
The marching band in front of them struck up “Ship of Fools,” and they were off, rumbling down Main Street. Behind them rode Mayor Gloria Fisk and her husband, and behind them grumbled old Progress, Kingston Nash’s ancient green pickup. Charlie rode by his side, and the entire bed of the truck had been planted with bluebonnets. It was a sight to behold.
A troupe of jesters followed behind, dancing and shaking the bells in their caps, banging on tambourines.
Crowds lined Main Street, laughing and cheering. Little kids sat on their daddies’ shoulders, pointing and dripping ice cream.
“And may I introduce to you,” boomed Lila’s voice from her handheld microphone, “Silverlake’s new King and Queen of Fools! Congratulations, you two!”
More cheering, yelling, and whistling.
“Can we get a wave, Royalty? Huh? C’mon, greet your loyal subjects. Give ’em some sugar!”
Jules looked at Rhett and swallowed.
Rhett looked at Jules. I’m gonna kill my sister. And not gently.
Jules lifted her right hand and weakly waggled her fingers.
He forced himself to do likewise.
The cheering and whistling rose in decibels.
“Guess what, folks? It gets better . . . these two are engaged to be MARRIED!”
The crowd erupted into even more whooping and hollering.
Rhett turned to stone.
Jules turned redder than a poppy.
“Show off thaaaaaat RING, girlfriend!” Lila shouted,
beside herself with pride and glee.
Rhett stewed silently. Gonna skin her like a carrot. Gonna boil her in oil. Gonna feed her to some bears. Gonna snap the bones afterward . . .
“RING!” Lila yelled again, since Jules, clearly mortified, had sat on her hand.
“You’d better do it,” Rhett muttered. “She’s not going to give up.”
Looking as if she wanted to burst into tears, Jules flashed the giant Pet Rock at the crowd, which went crazy.
“That’s right, folks! And it’s from Monty’s place, right here on Main Street, for any of you who had a doubt. Anyone else ready to pop the question?” Lila hollered.
Rhett could barely bring himself to look at Jules as they made agonizingly slow progress down Main Street in the float. King of Fools, huh? Yeah. That about sums me up.
As for Jules, she seemed embarrassed, but also confused. She kept stealing looks in his direction. She turned the ring again and again on her finger. At one point she slid closer to him, and then, when he didn’t respond in any way, she slid away again.
Let her be confused. She sure confused me.
Finally, they got to the end, and Jake, who’d been following, waited for Rhett to disengage himself.
Rhett had worked himself into quite a rage by then. Jules had made an April Fool of him all month, and now he’d been crowned the king of them. Wonderful.
He brusquely said goodbye to her and climbed out of the float, while she looked after him as if he’d kicked a bunny.
“Speech! Speech!” yelled Lila.
He glared at her, shook his head, and forced himself to produce a big, fake grin for the crowd. “I’m honored,” he called. “Thank you very much. I am certainly Silverlake’s biggest fool.”
After some applause, he made his way to Jake. “I need something from the firehouse,” he said.
“From the— Are you crazy? Grady’s there. It’s not exactly safe terrain for you.”
“I don’t care. You with me, or not?”
Jake nodded, and they made their way back to their vehicles.
Rhett had Jake follow behind Scarlett in his truck on his path back to the firehouse for his laptop and papers. The deed to the Holt property would be there. A stupid, simple piece of paper that had created a whole mess.
Was it possible for Jules to be so cold and calculating? Had that been the plan, to twist him around her little finger in some revenge scheme for how he’d left her in Dallas? Her way to manipulate him to do what she wanted with the stables?
No wonder she doesn’t want to marry me. She never had feelings for me in the first place. The things he’d pointed to in his mind as evidence that her feelings could grow into something meaningful . . . were they all part of an act?
The few beers weren’t even close to numbing Rhett’s senses, as he wished they would. Instead, they had a steadying effect, allowing him to be fully conscious of his anger and his need to control it, particularly now that he was heading back to Grady’s territory. And if Grady came at him again, so be it. Truth to tell, Rhett was spoiling for a fight.
Chapter 32
Rafi and Mick were polishing the chrome on Big Red in the open garage when Rhett pulled up in Scarlett with Jake behind him, and . . . Oh, look, there’s Declan now, too. Huh.
“What are you doing here?” Rhett asked his eldest brother.
“I called him on my way over,” Jake said. “Just, you know, I wasn’t sure what you had in mind, coming over here.”
Something pinged deep in Rhett’s soul where the loneliness had always lived.
“¡Oye, Grady! Rhett está aquí.” Rafi yelled into the stairwell. “Amigo tiene cojones, ¿no?” He and Mick had put aside their cleaning supplies. “Jake,” Mick said in a warning tone. “This could get ugly.” Jake swore quietly as Mick ran upstairs; Rafi was just standing there next to the vintage fire truck, noticeably frostier than the last time Rhett had stopped by.
“I just came to get my stuff,” Rhett growled. Beside him, he heard Jake sigh.
And then Mick came back down from the upper floor into the garage. “He told me to tell you to get the hell out of here.”
Rafi held out his arms and shrugged. “There you go.”
“Tell him I said no, let’s talk about this like mature adults,” Rhett said.
“Do I look like your cabana boy, guapo?” Rafi snarled.
Jake stepped forward, his brows knit. “Hey, Rafi, look—”
Suddenly, Tommy burst through the back door, knocking the pool octopus out of his path. The kid was a few years younger than the rest of the squad and spoiling for a fight. “Just got the call.”
Declan had been leaning on his car. Now he stood up.
“Why don’t I go up and get his stuff?” Jake said. Mick shrugged and stepped back. Rafi followed suit. Tommy stepped forward and flexed his muscles.
“Seriously?” Rhett muttered.
Jake walked right up to Tommy, using his extra foot to tower over the kid. “He’s my brother, Tommy.”
“So’s Grady,” Tommy said.
And that’s when Rhett realized even if the guys themselves didn’t, that the firefighters were standing in formation, now, more or less lined up across the garage. Squaring off against the Braddocks. This wasn’t what he was used to, not since he was a kid, but he’d learned how to fight at Deerville, and he’d always commanded a boardroom. Some combination of the two could surely get him out of this mess.
He sighed heavily. And what a mess it was. Rhett wanted to throw up. No way was he going to mess up Jake’s hard-won life because of his own stupid mistakes.
“Jake,” Rhett said, without looking at his brother. “Do what you need to do. I’ll understand. I’m going back to Dallas anyway.” But nobody moved. Rhett looked over in surprise.
Jake stood, straddling the line, shaking his head. In a too-cheerful voice, tense around the edges, he said, “How ’bout nobody does anything except get your stuff? That way, Grady gets what he wants, which is Rhett gone, and Rhett gets what he wants, which is his stuff!”
“Jake,” Rhett hissed. “Don’t screw up what you have here over this. It’s not worth it. This is your life here.”
Jake looked like he was in real pain as he surveyed the faces of his team. “If they give a damn, they won’t make me choose.”
Rhett dragged a hand down his face. How was it possible this just kept getting worse? Declan hadn’t said a word. Rhett looked over and found him pulling off his long-sleeved flannel shirt. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Declan asked.
“It looks like you’ve been watching Road House one too many times and are preparing for a brawl,” Rhett said.
Deck gave him kind of a strange look. “Yeah. So?”
“This is ridiculous on several levels. One, the odds are terrible. Two, this has nothing to do with you. Three, if you get hurt, who’s going to take care of duties at Silverlake? Four—”
“He always did like math,” drawled a familiar voice.
Grady stood on the last step, just below Mick. His arms were full of Rhett’s belongings. His suitcase. His laptop. His papers. That brand-new Stetson. On Grady’s face was a look of scary self-control. The kind that could snap if a man wasn’t careful.
In full view of everybody, Rhett crossed that line, walked up to Grady, and slid the deed to the Holt Stables out of the pile with a snap. Their eyes met and Rhett froze, his anger and pain overwhelmed by the sudden realization that he’d lost his oldest friend. “Grady . . .”
Grady’s eyes flashed with hostility.
“Aw, fine. Just forget it,” Rhett muttered, his pride taking over again. He turned, leaving Grady standing there with all his crap.
Boom!
Rhett looked over his shoulder just in time to see the suitcase, clothes on hangers, his laptop,
the papers hit the floor and Grady launch himself at him. “My baby sister?”
This time Rhett was ready.
They grappled upright for a moment before falling backward onto the oil-stained garage floor. With Grady face-palming Rhett, nobody heard him say, “Can we not do this again?”
Too late. Eight men launched into a full-out hockey-style brawl for the public to view, just inside the open doors of the fire department for all of Silverlake to enjoy. Rhett was too busy with Grady to keep tabs on Jake and Declan, but he was all too aware that there were three Braddocks and five of everybody else.
And in a last flurry of curse words and thrown punches it was Mick’s voice ringing out loud and clear. “Okay, that’s enough, boys. Everybody got to have their say. Everybody got to draw a little blood.” He clucked at them like they were children. “Did you get it out of your system? I sure hope so because that display was just pathetic. Really sad. We need to up our training, stat. How ya doin there, Tommy? Okay? Your nose broken?”
He continued checking on everybody all friendly-like. “Braddocks one, two, and three, y’all feelin’ a little better? ’Cause you were about to get your butts kicked . . . too bad Ace wasn’t here, what with his primo athletic conditioning, not to mention I think the only thing we were missing here was a baseball bat . . . and Jake, brother, I’m just going to say right now that I particularly feel for you, buddy, between a rock and a hard place and all.” The big guy wearing his apron was pulling everybody apart, separating them carefully back on either side of the line.
Rhett and Grady sat across from each other, the garage door line between them. Grady’s chest was heaving still and an angry welt across his forehead was dripping blood. More blood mixed in with oil formed a paste on his opposite cheek.
Weary beyond measure, Rhett looked at Jake as the other firefighters trooped back inside. This must be awful for him, caught between loyalty for his family and for his team. And then at Declan, who’d taken off his T-shirt to try and stop the blood seeping from his badly cut lip. He managed to grin around the wadded-up T-shirt and gave Rhett a thumbs-up sign. The Braddock boys together again, at last.