Loving Deep: Steele Ridge Series

by Tracey Devlyn

  Grif cursed.

  Jonah pointed his phone toward the oncoming storm.

  Britt sprang forward, clamping his arm around Reid’s neck in an unbreakable band before the troublemaker knew what hit him. He hauled his brother into the house amid a plethora of curses and fist slams. “I’m thirsty. Let’s see what Mom has to drink.”

  Britt cut the corner short, ramming Reid’s shoulder into the doorjamb. The ladies weren’t in the kitchen, which suited Britt fine. He wasn’t interested in humiliating Reid—much—he just wanted to teach the little pecker a lesson in moderation.

  He crowned his captive with the refrigerator door before grabbing a longneck.

  “Sonofabitch! I’m going to rip your balls—”

  “Reid,” Joan Steele called from the dining room. “Language, young man.”

  “I am going to kill you for this,” Reid said quietly, so only Britt could hear. Then he raised his voice. “Sorry, Mama.”

  “Don’t forget Evie and our guests,” Mom said. “I didn’t raise heathens.”

  “Sorry, ladies.”

  “Britt,” she said. “Not in the house. And be careful of your brother’s injured knee.”

  Rather than release his squirming brother, Britt tightened his hold and retraced his steps. “Just needed to get something to drink, Mom.”

  Jonah stood in the open door, still recording. He pressed his back against the screen door to let them through. The moment Britt stepped outside, he released his brother, who nearly tumbled off the porch in his haste to get away and right himself.

  Angling his head toward Jonah, Britt warned, “That had better be for your own amusement.”

  “Seriously? This video gem could get me a million likes in less than an hour.”

  Britt did not break his Do and Die stare.

  “Shit, man. We’ve got to get you into the twenty-first century.”

  “Tarzan—”

  A pillow to the head cut off Never Learn Reid’s next taunt. “If he doesn’t finish kicking your ass,” Grif said, “I will.”

  Lean arms curled around Britt’s waist from behind. He peered over his shoulder to find an impish Evie smiling up at him.

  “Take pity on the Green Beret,” she said, her sapphire blue eyes twinkling. “He’s lost when not hunting bad guys.”

  Britt’s dark mood lifted at the sight of his baby sister. Some people had the ability to brighten a room—or a heart—just by making an appearance. That was his Evie. Other than the occasional annoyance with her brothers, she never appeared anything but happy. Never had a harsh word for another person. Never let life defeat her.

  “When did you get home, Squirt?”

  “Fifteen-twenty minutes ago. I would have been here sooner, but my friend Kathy got dumped by her quarterback boyfriend. She was a mess. I fed her chocolate and gave her a book to read.”

  Jonah snorted. “One about how real men should act?”

  “Don’t mock, boy genius”—she released Britt, but didn’t move from his side—“until you’ve sampled the wares.”

  “I’ve read one. A bunch of Romeo and Juliet nonsense. I’ll stick with action-adventure.”

  “Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy, not a romance.” Evie’s blue eyes sparked. “Most action-adventure movies have an underlying love story.”

  “Do not. They’re about the chase and blowing shit up.”

  “Indiana Jones and Marion, Katniss and Peeta, Han Solo and Princess Leia, Clark Kent and Lois Lane, Neo and Trinity, Four and Tris, King Kong and Ann Darrow.” Evie ticked off on her fingers. “Every one is about a guy and a girl fighting evil forces while giving in to their growing attraction.”

  Reid’s eyebrows shot up and his hand swiped the air toward Evie in an age-old gesture of “What the hell?” Britt ignored him. Explaining the nuances of when to use and when not to use “girl” to a bonehead would require more energy than he cared to expend.

  Jonah eyed her with disbelief while his computer circuit of a brain analyzed each movie Evie named—and found she was right. “Dammit, Evie. Why’d you go and ruin them for me? King freaking Kong? Seriously?”

  “Time for you to break free of la-la land.”

  For a moment, Jonah appeared to want to pounce on Evie and show her he spent as much time in the gym as he did with his video games. But his hard gaze flicked to Britt, then back to Evie, then to his telephone, taking the self-preservation path.

  Britt bumped Evie’s shoulder with his. “I have a present for you.”

  “You do? What?”

  Glancing around, he found his brothers watching them. “Let’s take a walk.”

  He led Evie to the side of the house where an old tire swing hung from a gigantic oak tree. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photo album. “Take a look.”

  She peered at the screen, saw the frozen image. “You got them?”

  He winked, then nodded toward the phone. “Hit play and find out.”

  She did, and the screen came alive with wolf pup antics. Evie followed the pups, her excited expression transforming into one of wonder. Although she’d assisted him, Deke, and Barbara before, this was her first glimpse of the pups.

  No one else in his family knew about his work with the red wolves. Only Evie. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the others. The Steeles were notorious for keeping family secrets within the clan, but none of the others had the same affinity for the environment as Evie.

  Being able to talk about his work with someone who did more than nod at his words was…Hell, he didn’t know what it was, but he liked it.

  “Oh, my gosh. They’re amazing!” She handed him the phone. “When can I see them in person?”

  “Soon. Let’s give them time to acclimate to their new world before visiting again.”

  “Gah.” She whacked his shoulder. “I knew you would torture me.”

  “My favorite pastime.”

  She sent him a dirty look. “I’m still amazed by how this breeding pair found each other.”

  No one would have guessed that any of the unaccounted-for wolves from the defunct Great Smoky Mountains National Park reintroduction program would have survived and remained true to their species. The odds had been stacked against them to a suffocating degree.

  But the Steele-Shepherd breeding pair had beat the odds. Clobbered them, in fact. No doubt the two were several generations removed from the original reintroduction group. But somehow, they—and their ancestors—had managed to retain their purebred red wolf status. Truly amazing and inspiring. Britt wondered how many more might be roaming the Eastern Tennessee-Western North Carolina landscape.

  “Me, too.”

  “Theirs is a modern-day love story,” Evie said with a grin. “No distance has been too great, no starvation has stopped them, no coyotes have tempted them. Epic.”

  “You have been reading too many romance books.”

  “Not possible. Imagine what a happier world we would live in if more people read those books.”

  “The men would be happier for sure.”

  “Reid’s rubbing off on you.”

  “Bite your tongue, woman.”

  “You know, if you spent more time with him, he wouldn’t harass you so much.”

  “Not true. I’ve spent hours with him on the training center renovation. He’s as much of a pain in the ass now as ever.”

  “Hey, Friends of the Flowers,” Reid called out. “It’s time to eat.”

  Evie’s eyes twinkled. “I see what you mean.”

  “Never doubt your big brother.” He draped an arm around her neck and headed toward the scent of barbecue and roasted potatoes. Saliva drenched his mouth. No one could top his mom’s BBQ pulled pork. Tender, melt-in-your-mouth pork dipped in a spicy-tart sauce authentic to generations of North Carolinians.

  Everyone took their normal seats at the dining room table. Mom at one end, and Britt at the other. For a long time, Britt had refused to take the end chair, his dad’s spot, believing the old man would retur
n. But he never did, so Britt had assumed the head-of-the-household position in mind and body and chair.

  Grif, Carlie Beth, and Aubrey sat to his left and Reid, Evie, and Jonah to his right. If any more siblings found their mates, they would need a bigger table. Randi Shepherd’s image floated across his mind, laughing and sharing stories with his family. The scene was so clear, so real that Britt’s gaze turned to his right, expecting to see her beautiful face shining with laughter.

  Instead, he found Reid waving a hand inches from his nose. If Britt had a machete, he would hack off the damned thing at the wrist.

  “Yoo-hoo, Tarzan. Mom asked you a question.”

  “Reid,” his mother scolded. “Stop calling your brother that ridiculous name.”

  “Why ridiculous? He spends all his time in the jungle.”

  “Save your sass for the playground, not your mother.”

  Reid’s cocksure expression crumbled.

  Britt shared a look with Grif, whose lips twitched before he concentrated on filling his plate. No one dared to push their mother once she delivered a setdown. Not even Reid.

  “How are the renovations going for the training center?” Evie asked Reid into the silence.

  Reid stabbed a potato with his fork. “Slow.”

  After Jonah saved the town, the newly constructed sports complex needed a new purpose. Jonah in his understated wisdom deemed it a perfect location for a regional law enforcement training center. Given Reid’s injury and the unlikelihood that he would be able to return to the Green Berets, he had been the perfect candidate to coordinate the refurbishment of the state-of-the-art facility.

  With Britt’s construction experience.

  They would both be lucky to get through the project without maiming each other.

  All the brothers played their part to give Reid this golden opportunity. Jonah supplied the cash, Grif executed the agreements, Reid provided the vision, and Britt dealt with the contractors. Rather than show some appreciation, Reid had turned into an even bigger turd.

  Although it wasn’t the best timing, Britt had welcomed the distraction of attending a conference in DC. He’d needed a break from…everything.

  “Any issues at the construction site while I was gone?”

  “If I had five hands,” Reid said, “I still wouldn’t have enough fingers to tick off all the crap I had to deal with while you were vacationing.”

  Britt allowed the vacation comment to slide. “I guess now you’ll appreciate my presence a little more.”

  “What the hell does that mean? I appreciated you before.”

  “You have an interesting way of showing it, bro,” Jonah put in.

  “Did they finish the firing range?” Britt pressed.

  “Another day or two. Why? You getting itchy?”

  “Just tired of dropping lead on my own property.”

  An accomplished archer and rifleman, Britt liked to keep his skills sharp between hunting seasons. Many years ago, as a young hunter, he’d clipped a deer with a bullet. He’d followed the blood trail for over three hundred yards before he lost it. The thought of that injured deer’s suffering had haunted him for years. Still did, from time to time.

  Since then, he’d learned patience and kept his skills fine-tuned. He’d never missed his target again.

  The others managed to wheedle Reid out of his miff long enough for Britt to learn that everything was progressing well enough, despite Reid’s whining. Britt was glad. Although he’d needed the break, he would have felt guilty had things gone to hell while he was away.

  An hour later, Evie walked him out to his truck. “You were patient with Reid.”

  “Years of experience, Squirt.”

  “No, he’s more obnoxious than ever. Something’s bothering him, and you seem to be the focus.”

  “He’ll figure it out.”

  “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “He does love you. But he’s in an odd place. Almost losing Brynne messed with his disposition.”

  Britt suppressed a grin. “Disposition? You sound like Mom.”

  “Quit trying to distract me.” She rubbed her fingertips together in a gesture he recognized as anxiety. “You’ll keep that in mind, right? About Reid.”

  “Don’t worry.” He slid behind the steering wheel and shut the door. “I won’t kill him. Today.”

  She shooed away a mosquito floating by his chest. “Did you mail your application?” Her face lit with guarded excitement.

  He would have loved to say yes. Just to make her happy. Instead, he turned over the engine. “Not yet.” He set the truck in reverse.

  “You’re stalling. Why?”

  “It’s called commitments, Evie. Maybe there’ll be time once the renovations on the center are done.”

  “You have been preparing for this moment for over two years.”

  “Looks like I’ll be preparing for a while longer.”

  “Reid and Jonah will understand a few weeks’ delay.”

  “Like Reid understood my conference delay?” He nodded toward her feet. “Watch your toes, Squirt.”

  5

  Randi bent over her desk in the rear office at Blues, Brews, and Books. Burning eyes stared at the small digital clock in the upper-right corner of her computer screen. 8:17 a.m. She rubbed her temples to ward off the oncoming headache. Waiting until a decent hour to call Virgil might be the hardest thing she’d had to do since learning how to tie her shoes.

  Numbers, words, and columns blurred together like a bad game of Scrabble. She’d slept little the previous night, making bookkeeping near impossible this morning.

  Her attention moved to the stack of condolence cards, opened and read, but not answered. She really needed to send out thank-you letters before too much more time passed. The muscles in her chest tightened. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would find the words.

  She reached for her latte, hoping the sugar and caffeine mix would slap her into her normal alert, on-the-go self. When she tilted the cup toward her mouth, she misjudged the sippy hole, and creamy coffee dribbled down her chin and onto her desk.

  “Why am I not surprised?” Pulling several tissues from the box, she mopped up her mess and pitched the soiled tissues into the trash. A discarded white envelope in the recycling bin next to her trash caught her eye.

  Gaviston and Swink, Attorneys at Law.

  Randi straightened, pushing receipts to the side until she found the crisp white vellum. Its message—salvation. So why did the words make her stomach cramp like a runner’s muscles after hours of dehydration?

  A tentative knock provided a much-needed interruption. “Come in.”

  “Morning, Randi. Sorry to bother you.” Petite, with sleek black hair streaked with bright purple highlights, Kris McKay entered her office, confusion evident in her normally impish Asian eyes. “Jed’s around back with a delivery. He needs to speak with you.”

  “Would you mind handling it, Kris? I’m in the middle of something here.”

  Although small of stature, Kris had a backbone made of titanium. Randi had witnessed her assistant manager slash barista slash waitress talking down a drunken miner three times her size. Like all of Randi’s employees, Kris wore many hats. However, Kris had been with her since Blues, Brews, and Books first opened and she loved the place as much as Randi—and was fiercely protective of the shop and her employer.

  “I tried,” Kris said. “When I started discussing the details of our next order, Jed insisted on speaking with you.”

  The worry that had been flowing like slow-moving lava in her gut since her discussion with Britt Steele fired to life, searing her chest. “Is there a problem?”

  “He wouldn’t discuss specifics with me.”

  Randi nodded and made her way to where Jed waited for her in the empty bar. One deep blue awning stretched across two distinct storefronts, signaling to patrons they had arrived at Blues, Brews, and Books. One side of a soundproof moveable wall hou
sed a bar and restaurant. The other, a coffee shop with an oversized Little Free Library. Staff flowed freely between the two via a back corridor, and both businesses shared a dry and cold stock area.

  So many people had advised her against such a peculiar arrangement. But Randi had conceived the idea of Blues, Brews, and Books in her early days at university. An all-in-one gathering place. Most people liked simplicity and familiarity, along with great service and exceptional product. Her business delivered all of that and more.

  The unique configuration allowed Randi to manage both businesses efficiently and, once inside, her customers weren’t even aware of the operational aspect. Most of the locals distinguished their meet-up place as Triple B bar or Triple B restaurant or Triple B café, which suited Randi just fine. She didn’t care what people called her establishment as long as they continued to buy her product and enjoy the service.

  Although unconventional, Triple B had become popular with folks of all ages and interests. Now, she had to do everything within her power to save it.

  “Hey, Jed,” Randi held out her hand. “Kris said you wanted to speak with me.”

  He returned her handshake. Bordering six feet and more on the pretty side than masculine, twenty-two-year-old Jed Decker spent a good deal of time on the road, delivering his family’s locally brewed beer.

  “Sorry to hear about your mama, Randi. Daddy sends his condolences.”

  “Thanks, Jed. The flowers your family sent were beautiful.”

  “I know this isn’t a good time.” He shifted his stance, planting his feet farther apart. “But Daddy asked me to tell you that we can’t make any more deliveries until your current balance is settled.”

  The fire flared into her throat, cutting off her words. She’d been expecting this. For the past three months, she’d paid only a portion of each bill that had rolled in. Hoping to give herself enough time to figure something out.

  She did a quick calculation. “I can give you a check now for half, then the rest next month.”

  Shaking his head before she even finished, he said, “Daddy said all or nothing.” Regret tinged his tone, though his gaze remained steady.