King's Country (Oil Kings Book 4)

by Marie Johnston

  I snapped my mouth closed and tried to look fierce when I was actually astonished. I’d never seen anyone tell Creeper off. I crossed my arms and tapped my boot.

  Creeper’s lip stayed curled. “Didn’t realize it was PMS week.” He spun and charged away.

  Emma turned toward me and bit her lip. “Thank you so much.”

  My eyes went wide. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

  “I thought I was alone, other than the cashier who isn’t going to risk her retirement job to stop the owner’s son from being a sex offender. Then you were there, telling him off.” She shook her head and the steel in her spine was gone. Her steady gaze wavered and she worried her lower lip. “I wasn’t going to let him tell everyone that you were a bitch when you were tough enough to stand up to him. I just stood here shaking in my shoes like a scared rabbit.”

  She’d tried being nice to him to keep from being accosted. I’d never had to do the same. For the first time, I was grateful for my reputation. “If he ever bothers you again, I’ve got a shovel, rope, and a lot of land.”

  She giggled and snorted, then put her hand over her mouth and laughed. “Oh my god, we’d have so much help hiding the body,” she whispered. “And no one would tell. We’d be heroes.”

  I looked around. The joke was morbid, but I couldn’t stop from laughing with her.

  She saw my conflicted expression and waved it off. “Sorry. You get a sick sense of humor working in the medical field. How’s your leg?”

  I kicked out my right leg. “Getting better.”

  “PT went well?”

  I hadn’t been around Emma much, but I was learning that I couldn’t hide anything from the nurse.

  “You didn’t go. I understand. It’s a lot after all the doctor’s visits,” she sighed and glanced at the shelves of oil. “How about I get my oil and we get coffee next door?”

  “I don’t drink coffee.” I froze like I’d been asked on a date by the most popular guy in school. Only I was already dating the most popular guy in school and I was way more chill around him.

  “You can watch me drink.” She giggle-snorted again. “Sorry, that sounded like a Creeper invite.”

  I snickered. “I won’t kick you in the nuts if you don’t try to grope me. I need a filter, then sure.”

  She selected a two-cylinder oil for a new lawn mower she was excited to try. I grabbed my filter and a package of root beer barrels.

  “I haven’t had one of those in forever,” she said as we were leaving the store.

  “I don’t usually buy them. But Pop used to get them when I was little.”

  “It’s hard, isn’t it?” When I glanced at her, she shrugged. “When addiction steals our loved ones. It’s like pieces of them get taken so slowly you don’t realize how little of them is left with you.”

  We reached the coffee shop at the edge of the parking lot, far enough to have their own independence from the Hammond-owned hardware store. “You have experience?”

  “Some. Not a parent. But I see it a lot at work. There are a lot more alcoholics in town than people would think. Your dad wasn’t the only one, but I think he took the outrage for them all.”

  Fitting. Pop had gotten the shit for what his parents had gone through, and then for what everyone else went through with their loved ones. He’d taken the blame for a lot he hadn’t done in life until eventually he’d earned all the blame.

  The smell of coffee greeted us as we entered. A group of older men surrounded a little table in the corner, playing pinochle. The young barista, Taya, was the owner of Creek Coffee. It’d been downright scandalous that she hadn’t used King as the moniker instead of Creek, but she wasn’t native to town. She’d moved to King’s Creek and wasn’t afraid to buck the trend.

  “Morning, Emma,” she called, her gaze going from Emma to me. I expected the usual flash of derision in her gaze, or at least some superiority. But other than a hint of curiosity, I couldn’t detect anything negative. She smiled in greeting. “Welcome.”

  Did she seriously not know who I was?

  “Hi, Taya,” Emma replied. “This is Bristol. She doesn’t drink coffee. What do you have other than water?”

  Taya pushed her dark hair off her face and propped a hand on her hip. “Let’s see, do you like really sweet, or more mellow like tea?”

  Pop used to say that tea was nothing more than weeds someone had pissed on. I couldn’t drink it without that imagery. “I like sweet.”

  “An Italian soda coming right up.” She tapped a placard by the cash register. “Pick a flavor, any flavor. I can mix and match too.”

  I was digging out my wallet while I read the list. Emma put her hand on my arm. “You saved me from Creeper. Let me treat.”

  My inner being rebelled. I didn’t want charity. But I’d seen how Tucker, Kiernan, and Dawson treated each other. Some days, Tucker arrived with a carafe from Creek Coffee for the three of them. Other days it was Kiernan with donuts or bagels. Also supplied by Creek Coffee. And then there was Dawson’s Sunday night Bake-Offs. I’d helped him prepare extra coffee for the guys that morning.

  It was what friends did. Acquaintances even.

  “Okay, but only if you let me buy next time.” Oh, god. Had I just asked her out? It hadn’t been this awkward to ask a guy out.

  Emma grinned and handed a twenty to Taya. “Deal.”

  I ordered a strawberry cream Italian soda and followed Emma to a table.

  After we sat, she looked straight at me. “At the risk of being nosy . . . you and Dawson, huh?”

  Her mouth twitched like she was holding back a grin. I didn’t sense jealousy or the need to gather gossip to spread around town. “Me and Dawson,” I confirmed.

  “He finally wore you down?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Good. That man needed to work for it. After you two came into the ER that night, I hoped you’d give him a good run for it.”

  “You’re not upset?”

  Her brows popped. “Because we dated? No. I think most of us ladies want to know what it’s like. He’s hot. He was nice enough. But . . .” Her forehead furrowed. “I want the guy I end up with to do anything to be with me. No coasting. No humoring. No hemming and hawing.” She leaned forward. “I want the chemistry you two had in the ER. I mean, he would’ve carried you to town to get you to the doctor.”

  “He would’ve done that for anyone.” And I meant it. That was the thing about that day. He’d done it for me when I would’ve been voted Most Likely to Be Left in a Ditch by Dawson King.

  “He would’ve. Then he would’ve tipped his hat and been on his way. He wasn’t leaving your side. I crossed my fingers for you.”

  I winced. “I might disappoint you.”

  She laughed and the pinochle players glanced at us. Taya dropped off our drinks and I tried not to down mine in one pull after the first taste. “Well, I’m glad it’s working out. And I’m glad I got to know the real you. You were always so quiet in school.”

  I arched a brow. “Quiet? I was always in the principal’s office.”

  “Because the other kids wouldn’t quit fucking with you. They knew you’d take the fall. It’s why they kept doing it.”

  I stared at her. The second time in twenty minutes she’d made my jaw drop. “I mean, I knew that, but I didn’t think anyone else noticed.” Or cared.

  “Yeah, we noticed. But none of us had your balls.” She put her hand on her chest in a faux dramatic gesture. “Speak up in a small town? Side with the infamous Bristol Cartwright?” She dropped her hand. “It would’ve been social suicide for a cheerleader who could barely name the fifty states. Anyway, I felt like shit for it. I’m sorry.”

  “Why? You weren’t teasing me.”

  “No, but I could’ve said something.”

  “I appreciated your help in the hospital.”

  Her smile was quick. “I use my position to speak up now. You weren’t treated very well and I report
ed it.”

  Third time my jaw hit the ground. “What? Really?” Her determined expression confirmed it. “He was a dick.”

  “He’s always a dick. He needs to get fired, but not many doctors want to come to a small town and take calls at all hours.” She took a sip from her foamy coffee. “Did I steal you away from work?”

  I shrugged. “If the sun is up, then I should be working.” But since I’d met Dawson, I’d taken more time off than ever. I couldn’t depend on him and his workers to bail me out. I’d have to figure out how to grow. How to afford my own help. How to ranch more like a business than a hobby. And to do that, I’d have to work hard enough to earn the money. But I couldn’t bring myself to end the coffee date.

  “I won’t keep you long. I have a lawn to mow and you have cattle to do whatever it is you ranchers do. But we’ll have to do this again. Without the harassment first.”

  I polished off my Italian soda. “Sure.” I had the same attitude as when I’d start dating someone. They could reach out if they wanted to see me again. I wasn’t going to go begging for company.

  “I have another Monday off in a couple of weeks. I usually only work three twelves but we have a nurse out on maternity leave and two more on vacation. I picked up a ton of overtime, and all the weekends.” She rolled her eyes. “The single life.”

  “Want to meet here again?” I’d pencil it in, but I’d make sure I came to town for another errand. Just in case.

  “Yes, and we’ll make sure Taya can join us. You’ll love her. Oh, give me your number. I’ll send you a message so you don’t forget.”

  “I won’t forget.” My social calendar was nonexistent. But I exchanged numbers with her.

  My phone buzzed and I took a quick peek. Dawson. Wanna go to The Tap Friday night?

  I set my phone facedown.

  “Is something wrong?” Emma asked.

  I had a couple of bulls I planned to sell. I could check with local sales barns. One of them might be having a bull sale. That’d give me some extra cash to put back into the ranch—and into myself. “Dawson wants to go out this weekend, but I only have work clothes.” I didn’t want a repeat of Hogan’s. This time I wasn’t dressing up for anyone else, not even Dawson.

  I wanted to dress up for me.

  Emma’s eyes lit up. “If you don’t have time to run to Billings, my friend has this cute little online shop, but she keeps a lot of her stock in her house. Want me to make an appointment with her?”

  Why the hell not? She could dress me in a burlap sack and have a good laugh with her friend, but it’d be a step up from what I had on.

  Dawson

  I parked in front of Bristol’s RV, whistling as I hopped out, leaving the engine running. I jogged to her door and knocked. Daisy raced toward me.

  “Hey, girl. Your mommy around?” I cocked an ear toward the door but didn’t hear anything.

  “You’re early,” Bristol called from behind me.

  I spun around and my world tilted. Fuuuuck.

  Bristol sauntered toward me. The rolling sway her boots gave her hips was gone. So were the boots. I took her in from head to toe.

  Simple sandals were on her feet, showing an amount of ankle that would’ve been criminal a couple hundred years ago. Cuffed blue jeans were damn near painted on her long legs, and a baggy striped shirt hung off her shoulders, hinting at all kinds of curves underneath. The outfit was simple and sexy as hell, but only because of who wore it. Her red hair was brushed in a smooth line and hung over one shoulder.

  I narrowed my eyes. Was she wearing makeup? No? Yes? If she was, it was a touch around the eyes. Her bright green eyes were softer, but vivid.

  “Hell,” was all I said.

  She stopped in the middle of the drive and looked down at herself. “Is it bad? I thought I could trust Emma, but—”

  “You’re smokin’.” I closed the distance between us. “You were always hot, but this is a different look and it’s stunning. It doesn’t hide you.”

  She wrinkled her nose and a blush graced her cheeks. “I have eye shadow on. And Emma’s friend Lizette showed me how to . . .” She waved a hand around her head. “The whole hair thing. With a round brush and a blow-dryer.”

  She’d probably had to buy both.

  I wore crisp blue jeans and a clean polo with the logo of a golf course in Billings. I’d blend in just fine, but it wasn’t like I’d put in the effort Bristol had. The only change in my routine was that I hadn’t put a hat on after I’d showered. My hair was combed and I’d shoved a hand through it so it lay to the side. Boom. Done.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I said.

  “I wanted to. For me.” She went to hook her hand through her jeans, but her belt loops were covered by the shirt. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

  She’d done herself up for herself. My ego wasn’t insulted at all. I couldn’t wait to walk into The Tap with her on my arm. I held my elbow out. “Ready?”

  “Not really.”

  “You look amazing. Really.”

  “I know. But people are going to be all weird about it.”

  “You wanna go change?” I’d undress her myself. The way those jeans caressed her long legs—I had plans for taking them off.

  She lifted her chin. “No. Fuck them.”

  That wasn’t just bravado. It was her motto, a mantra to survive on. “That’s my girl.”

  I opened the pickup’s door for her and trotted around to the driver’s side. “You want to go to Hogan’s first for a bite? The Tap has pizza and . . . pizza.”

  “Bar pizza sounds good.”

  “I’d be jealous, but I like their pizza too.”

  She propped her elbow by the window and watched the countryside roll by. Green pastures. Brown buttes dotting the hills. Glimpses of blue from the river valley. My AC blasted and the ends of her hair fluttered.

  Times like these were addicting, quiet moments we enjoyed together. I didn’t have to ask her to know that she loved what she saw as much or more than I did. We’d grown up running these ditches, riding these pastures, working this land. Our lives were rooted in this area, intertwined for generations.

  The buildings on the edge of town came into view. The box hardware store with the coffee shop on the other side of the parking lot. A tidy neighborhood on the opposite side of the country highway. I drove through them on the way to the bar downtown.

  Bristol watched it all out the window. Tonight was supposed to be fun for her, not nerve-racking.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  She blinked at me. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

  “It’ll be fun.” I didn’t pressure her. As much as I wanted to tell her to say the word and we’d leave, I kept my mouth shut. Bristol had been navigating this community and their attitude her entire life. I’d gone out with her for a few hours, once, and then given up on them.

  The parking lot beside the bar was over half full already, but we didn’t run across anyone until we went inside. I held the door open for her, my hand on her back as I walked in behind her. She slowed, searching the place for a table.

  “Dawson, hey,” Jamie, one of the guys I’d graduated high school with, greeted me at the door. “Been a while since I’ve seen you out—Bristol?” His gaze hung up on her, drifting over her hair, then traveling down her body. His expression grew more incredulous as it went.

  “Jamie,” Bristol said, her voice neutral.

  “How’s it going?” I asked, keeping my arm anchored around Bristol. She appeared relaxed, but her body was rigid. I sifted through memories. Had Jamie ever been a dick to her? “How’s Natalie?”

  He lifted his gaze off my girlfriend, but the disbelief had disappeared. “Good. The guys and I are here for Samuel’s bachelor party.”

  Dammit. Was that tonight? I would’ve avoided The Tap if I had remembered. “Right. I heard Samuel was tying the knot.” My wedding invitation was on the counter. I’d opened it, seen the RSVP, and set it down,
forgotten. I put up with Samuel—had my whole life. He was my insurance agent, but that didn’t mean I cared to socialize with him. His personality had rolled farther downhill as he’d aged.

  Jamie cocked his head. “You’re going to the wedding, right? They’ve reserved the entire block his insurance company is on for the dance. It’s going to be a bigger party than the fair.”

  Samuel was having his wedding on the same night as the street dance the weekend before the fair, knowingly taking business away from a company that refused to do business with him. He’d bragged about it.

  He’d been a little rough around the edges in high school, but then he’d gone off to college and joined a fraternity, and not the kind that nurtured young men into becoming contributing members of society. They might’ve tried anyway, but Samuel moved back to King’s Creek with his head full of all the ways he was better than anyone in town.

  He catered to me, the ranch was one of his biggest accounts, but he shit-talked almost everyone else. I couldn’t believe he’d found a woman who’d put up with him, but then I’d heard he used a lot of dating apps. I had assumed he used them for sex and not to find actual love.

  “I’m going to have some family in town that weekend.” Thankfully. Otherwise I’d have to nut up and go to the wedding. I’d even be expected to go to the dance afterward.

  “King!” I cringed at Samuel’s deep shout. “You made it.”

  “I’m sorry. It slipped my mind, but I made other plans—”

  “It doesn’t matter if you have a chick with you.” His blurry eyes raked over Bristol. “Fuck me. Cartwright?”

  “I’ll pass,” she replied and his laugh boomed across the bar.

  “Damn. You clean up good.” He clapped me on the back. “You got the magic dick or what?”

  I didn’t bother holding back my cringe. I tightened my hold on Bristol, but she didn’t appear in danger of leaping the five feet between her and Samuel to deck him. Her gaze was steady, as if she was waiting to see how bad this would get.

  She wasn’t the only one.

  “Come on.” Samuel gave an exaggerated wave. “Join the party.”