Dead Man's Bluff

by Adriana Law

  Movement came from the other end, the sound of a door closing. 10:30AM she’d be at the office and closing the door would ensure no one would over hear and start gossiping about what was none of their damn business. “Jonathan, have you tried to contact her?”

  “No.” He stiffened. “It’s been too many years…”

  “You should go see her.”

  He mulled it over in his mind. Should he? “What are you wearing? Is it the red bra and panties I bought for you?”

  She softly laughed. “You’re hopeless. Go see her. I need to get off here… I have a meeting in five minutes. Take care of yourself…”

  “Wait,” rushed out, “Lilly?”

  “I’m still here.”

  His voice cracked with emotion that was foreign to him. “I’m glad you didn’t choose me… I would have only tore you down and made you feel worthless.”

  “I wouldn’t have let you.”

  “You couldn’t have stopped me. I would have found a way. You should know I’m a persistent fucker.”

  “Do yourself a favor and go see her. What can it hurt?”

  Me, a little voice in the back of his mind screamed. ♠

  Eight

  “How about seeing if there is a 5/8 socket somewhere in that tool box,” Drew called out from under the 1962 Chevy Nova. The back of his black T-shirt and the butt of his jeans were soaked from drinking up the moisture in the ground, his legs and feet the only thing Griffin could see sticking out from under the car.

  The socket was handed under. Griffin asked, “Sure you know what you’re doing? You don’t look like a mechanic to me. You’re too much of a pretty boy to know shit about cars.”

  “You calling me pretty, Griff?”

  “You like to think you are. Don’t go getting a fat head. It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “I think I can handle working on a car.” Drew grunted applying pressure against the socket and then something broke loose. Oil dumped into his face. “Mother f…!” He gripped the bottom of the car and maneuvered his way out from underneath. He reached for the rag Griffin had waiting for him.

  Griffin leaned a hip against the car, smirking down at Drew. “Like I was saying…you don’t look like you know shit about cars. Need my help?”

  “You know how to fix up cars?” The white cloth had turned black from the oil Drew cleaned off his face. The rag had gotten most of it, but there were still streaks of grime on his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose.

  Griffin shrugged a shoulder, “I used to help my uncle steal cars. We would turn around and fix ‘em up. Sell ‘em. It’s not that hard.”

  Drew pushed up from the ground and brushed the dirt off the seat of his jeans. “So why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Why’d you let me make a fool out of myself?”

  “It was fun to watch.” Laughter touched Griffins eyes.

  They both heard gravel crunch under tires and turned their heads. A cab bumped down the dirt drive stopping as it reached the house. Car doors opened and closed. To anyone else the distance from the side of the barn to the house would have been too much distance to make out who the guy and girl was, but not Drew. He knew immediately who she was; his hunch confirmed the minute Birdie came barreling out of the house, clopping down the steps with her apron on pulling the girl into a hug.

  “Megan,” Drew muttered.

  “No way in hell, for real? What’s she doing back here?” Griffin observed from beside him.

  An elbow struck Drew’s stomach causing him to release the air he was holding in his lungs. Griffin asked, “Dude, are you okay. You look like someone just walked over your grave. You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

  At that exact moment, Birdie pointed in the direction of the barn and Megan turned glancing his way. He caught a glimpse of the face that had haunted him for most of the last two years and couldn’t have answered the boy if he wanted to. The cab started backing out of the drive and the three of them walked in his direction. His heart hammered in his chest, all his focus on the guy with her. “Son of a bitch. Do they really need to come over here?”

  “If I were you I’d act busy, at least appear uninterested.”

  Griff had a point. Drew tore his gaze from the trio headed his way and bent retrieving the socket and rag from the ground. He tossed the tool back in the box with a clank and used the rag to clean off his hands.

  “Look who’s here,” Birdie cooed, tucking Megan into her side. “Can you believe it?”

  There was no mistaken it, Megan was as uncomfortable as he was. She had every reason to be. She absently chewed on a corner of her lip, avoiding looking in his direction. Two years, that was a hell of a long time to not see someone. All he wanted to do was stare at her, watch her bite that bottom lip for hours, for days, maybe even weeks, but he couldn’t. He divided his gaze equally between Megan and the guy standing next to her, the fiancé. The guy was exactly what he’d pictured, the complete opposite of him: clean cut, blonde hair, a mouth full of perfect white teeth he’d love to plant a fist in, and he had a bookish smart appearance about him. Shit. If this was Filly’s type, then why the hell did she ever get mixed up with a loser like him?

  The prick extended a friendly hand to Griffin first, “I’m Conner.” After he shook the boys hand his hand slid to the left, hovered mid-air. “Meg’s fiancé”

  Drew eyed the polite gesture being offered to him and decided no way in hell was he shaking the guys hand, so he held up his hands, a white rag showing in one of them. “Sorry, better not unless you want to get grease on you.”

  Meg? It looks like with all those smarts the guy could be more original. Drew hadn’t realized he’d made a disapproving noise until Birdie scowled at him. After that it just got worst. He opened his damn mouth. “Nice haircut, Meg. What’s that look called? Uptight, anal school teacher?”

  One of her hands automatically went to her silky locks. Her fingers combed through the top allowing strands of chin length hair to fall back into place framing her face. Her new hair cut was actually cute as hell, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He studied her reaction, waiting for the witty comebacks to start rolling. Her green eyes connected with his, and he caught a shimmer in them that could only be unshed tears. His chest constricted and he felt like the biggest ass on the planet. He did the first thing he could think to do. He laughed it off and kept going. “Let me guess, you came to sell the ranch?”

  It was a joke.

  Nobody laughed.

  Her fiancé cleared his throat. Birdie focused on the ground. And Filly, well she still hadn’t said a damn word to him. “Am I missing something?” He asked, confused.

  Megan explained, “Drew, Stratford has decided to sale…for real this time.”

  Not this again. “How much?” he snapped.

  “Two hundred and thirty thousand.”

  Shit. He was short a hundred and thirty thousand.

  “Can’t afford it, can you?” she returned with the tilt of her chin, a gleam in her eye and this time it wasn’t tears it was enjoy, enjoyment of doing just what his father had predicted, grabbing him by the nuts and bringing him to his knees.

  “I guess you haven’t changed as much as I thought. You’re still the same ol’ conceited bitch you’ve always been, hell bent on destroying my life.” He was pissed, but more than anything he wanted some kind of reaction, a reaction to prove that deep inside she was still the same Megan. His eyes darkened and locked with hers. He took a step towards her, then another, challenging her. He couldn’t have stopped moving if he’d wanted to, something more powerful than his stubborn pride was drawing him to her or the it was the two years of missing her. His pulse raced and he felt a hunger, a hunger to taste that bottom lip she had extended, substitute his teeth for hers. Hell, he’d bite that bottom lip for her in a heartbeat. Right here, right now. Screw whoever was a spectator.

  Obviously she felt it too. She matched him step for step. There it was… what he’d been waiting on. “And you’re the same
broke asshole you’ve always been.”

  “Filly, you’ve got that stick shoved up your ass clenched so tight, it’ll take a…”

  “Whoa! You need to back the hell up!” Her fiancé stepped in front of her, cutting off Drew’s view of her, but he still couldn’t break the connection. He jabbed a finger at Drew’s chest.

  A corner of Drew’s mouth turned up. “Put the finger down before I break it off.”

  He was praying the guy ignored his warning, so he’d have a reason to bloody his nose, right after he snapped the finger.

  Sadly, the guy took orders well. He dropped his hand back to his side. “You’re not going to talk to her like that. Not while I’m around.”

  Birdie came to the rescue. “Megan, why don’t you and Conner come inside for some tea? You can tell me when the wedding is.” Birdie shot Drew a disappointed look over her shoulder as she ushered the couple towards the house.

  After the screen door slapped closed, Griffin released a long breath, “What the hell was that? Are you an idiot? You looked like you were about to throw her over your shoulder and drag her back to your man cave. Her fiancé didn’t appear none too happy about it either. I don’t think that guy likes you.” ♠

  “I don’t like him,” Conner said as soon as they were alone. Birdie gave the couple Megan’s old room, saying Drew could use Tink’s old room. Conner had carried in her luggage and had slammed the bedroom door, turning around to face her. “Do you and that guy have history, Filly?” He sneered the endearment, obviously thinking it held some kind of importance.

  She took a deep breath still rattled from what happened outside. “Yes. History. Past tense.”

  He rested his shoulder blades against the door and ran his hands down over his face. She’d never seen him so frustrated. In fact, Conner and her had never had a fight, not a single one. Ten minutes at the ranch and Drew Mackenzie had already managed to put them right smack in the middle of one. “Did you not think to fill me in on you two’s history, WHILE we were discussing you coming out to the ranch? If I had known all the facts, I never would have agreed to it.”

  “Drew wasn’t supposed to be here!” She returned with conviction. “I swear! I’m just as shocked as you are.”

  Conner inhaled a deep breath. “Okay, now what? You know I have to leave tomorrow. I’m on call at the hospital, Meg, that comes with major responsibly, but I’m also not comfortable leaving you here with Mr. Personality. If I do, I’ll be distracted at work, which can’t happen. You understand that right?” She nodded. “I think you should come back with me and let Stratford handle the sale of the ranch.”

  She sighed. “We discussed this. A realtor is only going to care about making a quick sale. I came here for all the wrong reasons the first time. I owe it to Birdie, Emma, Griffin, Ms. Susan and…” she paused, her eyes tearing up. “And I owe it to Tink to find someone who will take charge, but also love that the ranch comes with a built-in family.” She closed the distance between them and pulled him to her saying softly, “maybe I can find a loner, someone searching for what is already there. Maybe he will need them as much as they need him…or her.”

  He engulfed her with his arms and gently kissed the top of her head. “You have a good heart, Meg.” He pulled back forcing her to look him in the eye. “But I still don’t like the idea of leaving you with him.”

  “I understand. If this were reversed I would have a huge problem leaving you with an ex…but I promise you can trust me. I regretted getting involved with him two years ago and I’m not interested in history repeating itself. You’re the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, not Drew Mackenzie.” Her hands slid up from his chest to circle around his neck. She placed a tender kiss in the corner of his frown, “Besides, I know exactly how lucky I am, nothing or no one can change that.”

  “Are you sure you don’t still have feelings for him, because honestly, after what I just witnessed out there…I don’t know what to think? That was not the calm rational Meg I adore.”

  “I was reacting to an asshole. Drew is good at pushing people’s buttons.” She grinned. “You are not an asshole. I have absolutely no feelings for him other than annoyance.”

  The tension left Conner’s shoulders. “Okay. Please don’t make me regret saying this, but I trust you… just find a buyer quick and put this place behind you so we can get on with our life together.”

  Megan stood on her tip toes and closed her eyes, squeezing Conner tight. How did she ever get so lucky? It wasn’t a lie. Drew had been a huge mistake and today only made her realize that even more. She’d imagined what it would be like the day the two of them ever accidently bumped into each other again. His father and Stratford had made a bet, and Drew had followed through on it with the callousness of a true Mackenzie. It was obvious he didn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse. And she was over him. ♠

  Chapter Eight

  Jonathan Mackenzie hated Boonville, Arkansas.

  But it was his roots, where he came from.

  He’d spent most of his adolescent years knowing he didn’t quit fit, a square peg in a round hole. Cliché, but true.

  He could remember his grandfather boasting about what a great place it was to raise a family. Thankfully, his father had had other notions. He’d built an empire of fortune from the ground up and relocated his family to Nashville. Mackenzie had been eighteen when the move had taken place, eighteen and an arrogant-know-it-all. Combine the two with parties, money, drugs, and sex… and what you get is a walking disaster. Even worse he’d already fallen in love with a girl who lived back in Boonville, Arkansas—Clarissa.

  Five years after the move, after sowing his wild oats all over Nashville, a very smug Mackenzie showed up on Clarissa doorstep with a five carat oval engagement ring buried in the deep pocket of his dress slacks. He’d come to possess many things, but never a woman, not fully. Clarissa had the right blend of every quality a sensual woman should have, best of all she was loyal and soft spoken... easy to control. And he was certain the girl loved him. Five years without him had probably primed her; put enough fear of losing him into her to make her willing to do just about anything for him.

  For some insane reason he trusted Lillian. She believed he needed to face his past head on, so here he was… Mackenzie shoved the cab fare in the direction of the cabby “This shouldn’t take too long. I expect you to be on standby…I don’t want to have to wait whenever I’m ready to leave. ” The cabby mumbled in agreement as one of Mackenzie’s polished shoes splashed in a stream of rain water gushing along the curbing. “Dammit!” He hiked up a pants legs, shook the water from his Berluti two thousand dollar loafers, careful to step over the dirty water during his second attempt to reach the dingy walk.

  His gaze narrowed on the small white frame house before him: the paint was chipping and peeling from its rotten lap siding, glass panes were sporadically busted out of the windows along the front, a broken down tan couch and two rusted metal chairs was the porches only furniture.

  This was going to be harder than he thought. He smoothed the wrinkles out of his waistcoat and white dress shirt and climbed the steps leading to the front door. The metal screen door moaned stiff on its hinges. Swung fully open the door stayed put held by the cupped porch boards as Mackenzie rapped on the door with his knuckles. He wasn’t one for patience and kept up a steady beat until someone flung open the door. “Yeah, whatever you’re sellin’ mister… Auntie C ain’t gonna buy it. She says we’ve already got enough crap.” The girl looked near eight and was smacking a wad of gum with her hip jutted out, a hand settled atop it as her gaze traveled up the guy towering over her. She sniffed as if she was unimpressed.

  His gaze narrowed on the girl’s freckled face. She sure looked like a Miller, a sorry bunch of bottom feeders waiting for a handout. He turned his usual air of arrogance up a notch. “Does Clarissa still live in this dump?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “Look, I have a low tolerance for bullshit. Who are
you? Clarissa’s rude little niece or another illegitimate cast off?”

  The girl folded her arms over her pebble size chest. “I don’t like you. You’re not nice.”

  “The feeling is mutual, darling.”

  And then he heard it… a voice he hadn’t heard for years coming from inside the house. “Might as well let him in, Olivia, he won’t leave until he gets whatever wants.”

  “But…” the girl stammered.

  “You heard me! Let him inside!”

  The girl sneered, “You’re the devil. If it were my house I wouldn’t let you come in. “She pushed the wood door open wider allowing him to squeeze by. Her shoulder defiantly shoved against his ribcage as he passed. If Clarissa would have had half the girl’s stubbornness and her radar for detecting a smug asshole with a world of issues, then they wouldn’t even be in this mess.

  Clarissa never would have said yes to his proposal.

  Mackenzie leaned down and whispered in the girl’s ear. “Then, I’m thankful it’s not your house. How about grabbing me a cold beer from the refrigerator... preferably, a Lager, if you have it.” He patted the top of the scowling girls head and sauntered toward the den/kitchen/dining room combo. He didn't have far to go.