Conflict of Interest (The Walker Five Book 1)

by Marie Johnston

  “How are the fields looking?”

  Gram loved talking shop. She’d had her hand in as much of the outdoor work as the indoor “woman’s work.” He doubted his grandfather would’ve been able to grow their farming operation as much as he had if he hadn’t married Gram. Her drive and ambition, and his grandpa’s inclination to make Gram happy, made it an operation envied in the tri-county area. And that was back when it was Walker One. Five kids and several major technological advances later, they’d been able to work much more of the land.

  “The fields look like black gold, Gram.”

  She grinned, her teeth too big for her mouth, but she insisted on wearing her dentures because she’d paid good money to have them made. “I suppose you haven’t gotten out in them yet?”

  “Nah. It warmed up so early this year, I started plowing last week.” The others might give him shit for jumping the weather gun, but Gram would understand.

  She shrugged one bony shoulder. “We might get a cold snap coming through, or one of those polar vortexes, but plowing now won’t hurt anything. What are you planting this year?”

  “The wheat prices are still down, so we’ll go with sunflowers and canola. Aaron has part of his land in CRP.”

  “Bah, the land is hearty. Farm smart and you don’t need any conservation reserve program bossing you around.”

  She said the same thing every year. To her, farming smart meant treating the hell out of the land with pesticides, herbicides, and fertilizers to get the most out of each crop.

  “We’re humoring the government, Gram.”

  A bad year in farming hit the pocket book pretty hard, so he and his cousins utilized every resource and program out there to maximize crops without stripping the earth. To them, CRP was money they earned for doing nothing except expending their resources on another aspect of their business.

  “The government will change their minds next year.” Gram nodded in agreement.

  “Keeping it exciting in here?”

  She sported her toothy smile. “I do enjoy the birds. That wall-to-wall cage in the entertainment area sure is something. And they play Lawrence Welk every once in a while. An elementary school stopped to visit and give us Easter baskets.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “It was wonderful, since I haven’t any great-grandchildren running around.”

  Dillon shifted in his seat. He sincerely hoped all of his cousins endured the same discomfort when they visited Gram. Or was it his due? “I’m only twenty-seven.”

  “I had all five kids, four of them out of diapers, by the time I was your age. And that was after a late start.”

  “Good thing Gramps tamed you in time.” His grandpa used to joke he’d won over Gram only because she was desperate.

  Gram chortled. Her body may be weak and frail, but her mind was sharp and she didn’t offend easily. He looked forward to Sundays.

  Her smile died and she sighed. “Well, he did what another couldn’t.”

  Dillon cocked his head about to ask what she meant when a familiar voice in the hallway caught his attention.

  Of all places, what was she doing here?

  Elle walked by with the nursing home director, turning her head in time to catch his eye. Surprise registered on her face, but her attention went back to the lady next to her.

  Before he thought it through, he was up and rushing out the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  He could’ve swore his grandma said, “Go get her,” before he rushed out of the room.

  “Hey, Elle.” Dillon jogged to catch up with her.

  The director and Elle stopped to wait for him.

  Elle halfheartedly smiled, like she didn’t know if she should acknowledge she knew him. “What are you doing here, Dillon?”

  Anne answered for him, a huge smile stretched across her face. “Dillon Walker’s a familiar face around here.”

  “I hang with my grandma on Sundays,” he explained. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m researching the facility for a family member. Anne was kind enough to meet with me for a tour today instead of trying to find a time during the week around my schedule.”

  Dillon latched on to a way to get Elle alone. “When you’re done with Anne, why don’t you stop by and interview a resident? Gram will tell it like it is.”

  Anne chuckled. “That she will. Agnes Walker won’t hold back.”

  Elle’s smile was the same he’d see in her office. “Thank you, but I don’t—”

  “Oh, what an offer, thank you,” Anne talked over her. “We’ll only be a few more minutes.”

  Elle blinked and glanced at him as Anne tugged her away. Getting to know Elle Brady would be an uphill battle, but his gut told him to keep trying.

  Her hips swayed in worn blue jeans. A maroon Minnesota Gophers sweatshirt and Nikes looked as good on her as her skirts and blouses. Her hair hung loose and wavy, not in the sleek straightened style she’d worn at their last appointment.

  He liked the casual look.

  He wandered back into Gram’s room.

  “Where is she?”

  Damn, Gram was sharp.

  “She might have a family member moving in here. Anne’s giving her a tour, then I invited her back here to interview you.”

  Gram nodded in understanding. “That’ll work.”

  How many guys could claim their grandma was their wingman?

  They chatted about the weather. She reminisced, all stories he’d heard for the last twenty years. He filled her in on the repairs Brock did for him. He left out the vandalisms and how they began locking the doors. If she heard from someone else first, he’d catch hell. So would all his cousins. Still, the risk was worth not worrying her.

  More time ticked by.

  Elle wasn’t going to show. The first woman he’d met in years who made him think maybe coming home to an empty house wasn’t his only future and he’d fucked it up before he’d even met her.

  Yeah, I need to set up five sessions with Elle Brady.

  A soft tap at the door cut Gram off mid-sentence.

  He rose, a smile on his lips. Elle was in the hallway, looking ready to bolt. Anne wasn’t with her. Perfect.

  “Elle,” warmth infused his voice, “come on in and meet Gram.”

  Elle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She crept forward and held a hand out to his grandmother.

  Her lush lips turned into a genuine smile. “Nice to meet you, uh…”

  “Agnes,” Gram answered, “but Gram’s fine, too. You’d be surprised what I’ve answered to over the years.”

  A burst of laughter escaped Elle; she visibly relaxed.

  He’d better jump in before Gram became too inquisitive. “Have a seat. Ask Gram anything. She’s lived here for four years.”

  “The first three were in the assisted living unit.” Gram settled back in her recliner, happy to have someone new to talk to. “But these old bones are getting too weak to do much on my own. I moved into this room about a year ago.”

  Elle asked a few more questions pertaining to the units Gram had lived in. Dillon was content to watch, settled in the seat next to Elle.

  “Who do you have moving in here?” Gram asked.

  Elle smiled faintly, her gaze darting to the window. “My father. He had an accident and needs a place to recover. Once he’s well enough, he’ll move into an assisted living apartment.”

  He leaned forward, resting his hand on hers. He didn’t know what happened, but his experience with his own father propelled him to comfort her. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

  Her gaze touched on him before drifting back to Gram. “Thank you, Agnes. I appreciate your openness.” She faced Dillon. “I feel much better talking with someone so knowledgeable. Thank you.”

  When she stood to leave, he rose with her. Not willing to miss an opportunity. “I’ll walk you out. Be right back Gram.”

  Elle was going to refuse, but Gram interrupted.

  “Take your time. We don’t play cards on Sundays; I’m
not going anywhere.”

  Elle set a brisk pace down the hallway like she was scared to be seen with him.

  “I can find my way out, thanks.” Her curt tone didn’t dissuade him.

  “It’s no problem.”

  Once they were outside, she rounded on him. “Dil—”

  She was going to play dirty and let her counselor degree block him from getting to know her, he knew it.

  “Elle, it was really nice seeing you outside the office.” His charm, rusty as it was, blazed through his smile. “I know you think I came in because my dad was concerned about me,” his smile dropped as the subject grew too personal, “but truth is, he was worried about everything in his last days. He left lists for me.” He tried to chuckle, but it died off.

  “I’m sorry. What’d he pass away from?”

  “Pancreatic cancer. Shortly after I got out of the Army, he told me he’d been sick. My uncles decided to sell after that. That way they could enjoy retirement, but be around to help us kids learn to run the farm.”

  “It was five uncles before five cousins?”

  Her curiosity seemed genuine and not clinical. A refreshing change. “One kid from each family. So happens we’re all the oldest, too. I’m an only child, but I have other cousins outside of the Walker Five.”

  “I always wished for a big family.” Her expression shuttered and she took a step back like she’d said too much. “I’d better get going.”

  “Wait.” He couldn’t let her go. When would they cross paths again? “I’d really like to talk with you again. Person to person.”

  Regret filled her features. “I’m sorry, Dillon. It wouldn’t be appropriate. And…I really think you should continue seeing someone.” She looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Have you thought more on AA?”

  “Why would I need to?”

  “I can’t answer that for you.”

  “Quit being a therapist, Elle. Are you interested in me or not?”

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  “I’m not your patient anymore.” He took a deep breath. Showing his frustration would only scare her off and she really was trying to do the right thing in her world. But what if she was the right thing in his world? “Okay, yes, I’ve thought about AA.” After his dad’s funeral, he had. “It’s too easy to talk myself out of it. What if you go with me? I won’t change plans on you.”

  She recoiled. “Oh God, no.”

  Whoa. For someone who touted the benefits of the program she seemed horrified at the thought of going herself.

  As if sensing how insulting her reaction had been, her eyes widened. “I mean—”

  “It wouldn’t be appropriate?” He earned her chagrinned expression. “I’m not your client anymore. I’m not a client at all. I’m just asking a friend who knows a little about the subject. Come on. Come with me to break the ice.”

  “Those meetings are serious, Dillon,” she said, her tone chiding.

  “I get it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  So was he, but he wasn’t giving up on her. “How’re you adjusting to Moore?”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “It’s different, but I like the slower pace. Less traffic.”

  “It only gets backed up if there’s a combine hogging the highway.”

  She chuckled. Her tentative smile twisted his gut in knots. “I haven’t experienced that yet.”

  “Where’re ya from? No wait. The maroon sweatshirt gave it away.”

  “Right? I have at least three of these.” She paused. Great, she was going to make a break for it— “Your grandma was really nice.”

  Thank you, Gram. “She’s a card. I come see her every Sunday. How’s your dad?”

  Worry flared in her eyes. “Better. I-I think he’ll like it here, at least when he gets to assisted living. It gets lonely for him when I’m at work all day and it’s just me and him at night.”

  Confirmed she was single. “He can’t live in senior housing?”

  Her sad smile threatened to break his heart. “Perhaps he’d qualify, but he’s had cancer, too. Leukemia and combined with the…chronic illness he had before that, he needs assistance.”

  Had it been just Elle through all that? What had happened to her mom? “Why Moore? Wouldn’t a city have more options for him?”

  She shook her head, silver glinting off strands of her hair in the sun. “Well, yes, but really expensive. I could make more there, but wouldn’t have the flexibility to check on him. Medical bills are still rolling in, so…”

  “Their loss, our gain. Don’t worry, Gram will get him introduced around. When do you think he’ll be released from the hospital?”

  “Maybe by next weekend if there’s no complications, but probably the week after. He’s young yet, and fairly healthy since chemo forced him to quit— They’re optimistic.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Her eyes glistened.

  “Are you all right?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to hold her breath.

  He stepped forward, his first instinct to comfort. Would she shove him off, deeply offended?

  When she dragged in a shuddering breath, he couldn’t just stand by.

  “Hey,” he said softly and wrapped his arms around her. “Hey. It’ll be all right.”

  She tensed in his embrace, then relaxed into him. Her shoulders shook and a squeak escaped her as she struggled to hold in her cry.

  “When he gets settled,” he rubbed her back to soothe her, “Gram and I’ll give him a proper housewarming.”

  She abruptly pulled away. “Oh…thanks.” Wiping her eyes, she continued putting distance between them. “I need to go.”

  “Elle.” He started for her, but stopped. It’d send her running. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so,” she mumbled before rushing for her car.

  ***

  Elle held it together until the grocery store parking lot. She didn’t need groceries, she just needed off the road.

  After finding a parking spot at the edge of the lot, she parked and slammed her head back on the head rest.

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  He’d hugged her? She’d broken down in front of him.

  “Oh God,” she groaned.

  What if someone saw? Good-bye job.

  Putting her hand to her forehead, she worked through the worst-case scenario. She’d get fired. Couldn’t pay bills. Bankrupt. Move back to the cities and find a good job and put her dad in a cheap-ass home where he’d get shitty care.

  Okay. She could survive that.

  Likely scenario. No one saw and if they did, only a few knew he was a previous client. Technically, she was no longer involved in his care.

  Why had she curled into him for comfort—in public?

  Because his touch had felt so good and she’d held in her worries for so long. Out in the open, in the light of day, after a, dare she admit, enjoyable conversation with Agnes, she’d been vulnerable. Because after the cheer and seeing a man bantering back and forth with a clearly loving grandma, she left the nursing home only to have the reality of her dad’s situation crash down on her. And she’d been heading home to an empty house to deal with it all.

  Rolling her neck, she sat for a few more minutes. Her barren house still waited.

  She blew out a breath and threw the car into drive. No amount of waiting would shake the warmth and security of Dillon’s arms.

  Chapter Six

  Dillon swerved to miss a muddy patch on his trip back from town. The weather couldn’t decide what it wanted. Freezing rain, followed by sunny but cool days, and rain/snow mix in the forecast.

  It’d been two days since the incident with Elle in the parking lot. The urge to call her and see how she was doing rode him hard. But he hadn’t dialed her number. Part of him wanted her to let her fingers do the talking.

  He’d check with Gram on Sunday. Have her keep an eye out for Elle’s dad.

  Approaching his h
ouse, he spotted Brock’s truck parked by the shop.

  Brock spoke as soon as Dillon killed the engine and opened the door. “Where the hell have you been? The sun’s shining and you’re wasting daylight.”

  Dillon climbed out, but left the case of beer in the cab. No need to repeat Brock’s interrogation of the previous week. “Excuse me, Brock, I didn’t know I had to call and ask permission to wipe my ass before I take a shit.”

  Brock stood next to his Ford, glaring at him. “You do when I’m holding the toilet paper, waiting to use the bathroom. You asked me over here to check out the equipment before you worked on the north quarter tomorrow.”

  “You know where it is, you could’ve started whenever you wanted.” At Brock’s stubborn glance at the door, Dillon figured out why his normally mellow cousin was annoyed. “You don’t know where your keys are, do you?”

  Brock grumbled something unintelligible. Dillon chuckled and was shot a dirty look.

  Brock adjusted his hat. “Cash said he called and offered to help get the fields ready before the weather moves in next week.”

  Dillon’s grin faded. “Yeah. Don’t need it.”

  “You haven’t needed his help since you two came back home.”

  “Because I realized how unreliable Cash is.” When it counted the most. He worried enough with Cash in charge of the ranching portion of their operation, but at least he’d only cost them money. Dillon didn’t want to see a cow or horse get hurt, but it wouldn’t keep him up at night like—

  “I’ll let you into the shop,” Dillon grumbled. When he reached the door, he stopped and swore.

  Brock craned his neck around him. “No fucking way! They broke in?”

  Dillon nudged the open door with its dented metal and gouged wood. The lights were off and a chemical tang hung in the air.

  Both he and Brock sniffed. Brock guessed the smell first. “Paint?”

  Dillon flicked the lights on. Words flew out of their mouths that their mamas would’ve used a bar of Ivory soap on not too long ago.