Legacy of Lies

by Jillian David

  Even if their evening ended with her pride in shambles piled on top of a heaping scoop of Garrison’s regret, she didn’t blame him.

  As the bell rang, she shook the fog of unhappiness weighing her down, and pushed through the endless day.

  After she got home that evening, Sara couldn’t avoid her friend anymore. Time to fess up to Izzy. She thumbed the vibrating phone.

  “Hi, Izzy.”

  “What the heck happened to you? It’s like you dropped off the face of the earth.”

  “Long story.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “So when did we last talk?”

  “Tuesday!” Yowch, her anger came through the phone crystal clear.

  “I’m so sorry, Izzy. It’s been a long week. You want to hang out?”

  “Give me the highlights. I have to stay here with Mom tonight.”

  Sara left out the part where Hank came to her house and tried to break her arm. Izzy didn’t need more stress with her already dysfunctional family life. Besides, knowing Izzy, she’d ream Hank out, and he’d make Sara’s life even more hellish.

  Still, the story flowed smoothly until Sara got to last night’s wild ride.

  “You did what?”

  She held the phone away from her ear until it was safe to continue. “Yeah, well, yeah. We did it.”

  “Details. I’m almost a nun over here.”

  “It was very good. Too good. Okay, awesome.” Stupid tears pricked at her eyelids. Not again. She’d been an emotional mess since meeting Garrison. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re done.”

  “What happened?”

  How could she explain the ten-second implosion of everything good in her life?

  She couldn’t.

  “It just didn’t ... work out.”

  “As in ‘tab A doesn’t fit into slot B’ kind of didn’t work out?”

  Sara laughed despite herself. “No. It’s not like a do-it-yourself project.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it. Some of us have no problem doing it ourselves. No choice, either.”

  The tears rolled but not in sadness. “God, Izzy, you’re so wrong.”

  “Sometimes a gal has to be her own boyfriend.”

  Air. She couldn’t breathe for laughing. It was a small price to pay for this mood elevator. She hadn’t laughed this hard since one of her students shared that inappropriate joke for show-and-tell last week. “Well, now you’ve burned a totally new and equally as uncomfortable image into my brain to mull over tonight.”

  “Happy to help.” Izzy sighed. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Do? There’s nothing to do.”

  “Wait. Stop. You met the hot rodeo star that happens to be a smidge emotionally unavailable and then had a passionate night of epic bronc-riding proportions with him? Who are you kidding with this ‘there’s nothing to do’ bull?”

  “But—”

  “As a personal favor to you, I’m going to come over tomorrow evening. I’ll be bringing a bucket of something greasy and covered in good stuff like lard or barbeque sauce. We’re going to figure out a way to fix this mess. Because you and sexy rancher would be perfect together.”

  “I don’t know ...”

  “About the light snack or the hunk of beefy man? Most women would like both.”

  Sara giggled. “How about put the two together?”

  “You mean ... barbeque sauce on a hot guy? Oh, yes, I’ve corrupted you but good now. That’s fabulous! I’ll see you at six.”

  “Okay.”

  The smile stayed on Sara’s face for hours after her friend hung up.

  Chapter 17

  Garrison’s shitty Saturday tried to pulverize him into fine grit. To be fair, Friday hadn’t treated him any better. The only good thing about Friday was that it was over.

  Like his future with Sara.

  Pausing in his work to clear the remnants of the burnt barn, he leaned on his shovel. Her silky skin, her luscious curves, her taste like ...

  Ah, hell.

  His jeans had become too tight again.

  Gritting his teeth, he adjusted his stance and looked around. Hopefully, Kerr and Eric hadn’t seen anything.

  She’d made her rejection clear.

  Hadn’t she?

  The details of their conversation had blurred. All he recalled was waiting for her to betray him. Like Tiffani.

  Only Sara hadn’t betrayed him, had she?

  He cursed and flung a load of charred wood into the back of a trailer.

  Damn it.

  Shelby stormed out of the ranch house, carrying a tray of snacks and drinks. Shoving the supplies at Eric and Kerr, she came to a stop in front of Garrison. Uh-oh.

  “You have got to stop.” She wheezed then poked him in the chest with a finger. Hard.

  “What?”

  Kerr whipped his head around to stare at Shelby. Then he grinned and relaxed on his shovel handle as he took a leisurely bite of sandwich.

  “This.” She gestured wildly with her hands and shook her head, which only made her ruined curly hair fly out in all directions. “Whatever the heck is going on in your head over this woman, you have get a grip on yourself. I can’t take—” She glanced over her shoulder at Eric. “Uh, the stress.”

  “Yeah, well quit invading my privacy.”

  “Quit intruding on my sanity.” Waving her hand near her temple, she grimaced. “See? Right there. Stop that.”

  Eric frowned. Spotting Shelby’s jaw-jutted glare, he half-turned away from them and studied the gray hillside as though he needed to memorize it for a test later. Smart man.

  Shit piled on shit. Garrison had had it up to here with the whole mess. “What the hell do you want me to do, Shelby? I can’t control what I’m thinking.”

  Poke, poke. “Well, you can sure as hell grovel and apologize for being a total jerk.”

  If she poked him again, God help him, he’d break her finger, sister or not.

  “Apologize to you?”

  “No, idiot. To her.”

  “For what?

  “Freakin’ pick something. Just get it fixed because I can’t handle any more of your depressed mooning.”

  He puffed out his chest. “Well, I’m not the person who was wrong.”

  “You are dumber than a sack of bricks.” She glared at Eric when he sputtered on his drink. “First of all ...”

  Oh shit, she was warming up for a list.

  “First of all, Sara’s a lovely person and you’d be lucky to hang out with her. Second, she’s a hell of an upgrade from Tiffani.” Shelby raised her hand as his mouth came open. “And third, you’re a guy.”

  “What’s that have to do with it?”

  “Your kind is always wrong. You should probably open every conversation with Sara by saying ‘I’m sorry,’ if you know what’s good for you.”

  Kerr piped up, “I already reviewed that information with him, sis.” He pointed at his head and twirled a finger. “Didn’t sink in.”

  “Obviously,” she spat.

  Eric, with his fist pressed hard to his mouth, looked ready to perform his own tonsillectomy. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep his shoulders from shaking with suppressed laughter.

  And Kerr, that traitor? His contribution included siding with Shelby and sipping on a pop. Give the man a scorecard and he’d probably rate this confrontation on a scale of one to ten, just for something to do.

  “But it was her, not me—” He had no leg to stand on with this conversation, especially with Shelby kicking at his ankles.

  “You freaking moron, don’t you get it? It’s always you.”

  Eric’s mouth dropped open.

  Kerr laughed his ass off.

  “But—”

  “Now I’m going back inside to take some ibuprofen because you’re making my head hurt. If the two cells in your pea brain manage, by some miracle, to find each other in your empty, idiot skull, maybe you’ll realize that you need to call Sara and beg her forgiveness.”

  Sh
e stormed off, righteous puffs of vapor in the cold air punctuating her stomping stride. When the front door slammed, Garrison jumped.

  Holy cow, Shelby was a force of nature.

  At least she was on his team. Mostly.

  • • •

  Sara didn’t know which hurt more: stuffing herself with too much fried chicken from the Hungry Moose or laughing herself silly at Izzy’s ridiculous jokes.

  She didn’t care, either. Izzy’s generosity, combined with her warped sense of humor, worked wonders for Sara’s bruised heart.

  “So how did you two leave it, then?” Izzy leaned back and groaned as she nipped the last morsel of meat from a wing. She’d protested the last two pieces but kept eating like she had a hollow leg.

  Sara shook her head. Amazing. Somehow Izzy managed to look country glam, with her tight jeans, form-fitting western button-down, and waves of long, blonde hair, all while she sucked sinew off a chicken bone.

  Propping her arms on the table edge, Sara sighed. “Somewhere during that night, he mentioned how I calm him. And I ignored that statement until after the super-hot sex.” She sighed. “Then I kind of ran with the phrase and might have embellished it into him using me as a stress reliever.”

  “Lemme guess. Buyer’s remorse forced you to reach for that stress-relieving line.”

  “Oh yes. But even if I was just a way for him to relax, I went along with it, eyes wide open.”

  “Can’t claim bait and switch, huh?”

  “If I’m being honest, no.”

  “So?”

  “I kind of blew that statement way out of proportion about five seconds after he woke up from a dead sleep.”

  “Yikes. How’d that go over?”

  “Like a lead balloon.”

  “So now you’re having lukewarm chicken with a girlfriend on a Saturday night?”

  “That’s about right.”

  “Brutal.” Izzy reached for the brownie she’d brought “just in case.” “Sounds like you have some fixing to do.”

  “No way. He was happy to get rid of me that morning.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Sighing, she muttered, “You weren’t there.”

  She pinched off a dark brown morsel and popped it in her mouth. “No. I wasn’t. But I know that you’re a fabulous woman any man would be ecstatic to love. You should go over there and grab that man by his balls and make him realize that you’re so much more than a stress reliever.”

  “Aw, Izzy, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me.”

  “It’s not every day I can work your stellar character and a man’s gonads into the same sentence.”

  “Speaking of pricks,” Sara said.

  “Speaking of pricks, nothing. We’re not discussing my dumbass brother, and based on the way he’s been acting this week, I have half a mind to dump a load of horse hockey on the jerk.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Getting the other guys riled up. Going on about his ‘calling’ or something weird like that. He got so mad yesterday, he shoved his hand through a wall in the house. Talking to himself and doing weird stuff.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Fun times.” Izzy scooped her hair out of her face. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Understandable. Want to watch Bridesmaids?”

  Her friend pushed back from the table. “No, I need to get home and help Mom. Lord knows, the guys aren’t going to do it.”

  Sara waved her off from tidying up.

  As she opened the front door, a thick, tangy, sickening smell assaulted her senses. Sara flipped on the light and peered out into the shadowed porch.

  A dead, rotted animal hung by a thin chain from the railing.

  Chapter 18

  The foul metallic and syrup smell knocked her back a step. She clung to the doorknob to remain upright.

  “Stupid kids,” Izzy muttered as she peered around Sara. After disappearing into the house, Izzy returned with pliers, paper towels, and several plastic bags. With a determined set to her mouth, she approached the corpse.

  “Oh, God, Izzy, you don’t have to do that.”

  “Not a problem. I’ve trapped and skinned animals before. I can handle a”—she used the tool to spin the body around—“prairie dog just fine. Here, come hold this bag for me.”

  In no time, Izzy broke the chain, and the whole mess fell into the bag. Sara double bagged it and tied twice. She ran around the house to throw the mess in the garbage can. Anything to make the disgusting smell stop.

  Who would have done something like this? Oh no. Holy Christ.

  As she returned to the front door, she darted glances up and down the street. The lack of traffic didn’t reassure her. Even the shadows seemed to jump.

  Bang!

  She flew into the house and bolted the door, peeking out the side window.

  Only someone closing a car door.

  A completely normal sound, unless you are losing your mind.

  “Are you okay?” Izzy touched her arm, and Sara jumped again. “Okay, obviously not.”

  “Fine, I’m fine,” she whispered, as they went to the kitchen to wash up.

  “Doesn’t look like it to me. You want me to drive you somewhere else to stay tonight?”

  “No, not necessary. Say, Izzy, you don’t think, uh ...”

  She grimaced. “Hank? I can’t imagine him doing this. I swear. It has to be some prankster kids or something.”

  “Yeah, sorry to even think that.”

  “Hey, you can think what you like. You’ve had a hellish week and capped it off with a dead animal on your porch.” She dried off her hands and hugged her. “Sure you’re okay?”

  Sara nodded. “Go on back home. I’m good. Promise.”

  “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Of course.” She eased the door closed.

  Long after Izzy drove away, Sara remained right there, hand on the locked deadbolt, her back pressed to the wall, frozen. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves, frayed her nerves.

  She could always give Garrison a call. If he ever spoke to her again, he might let her stay at the ranch—

  Absolutely not. No way could she burden him with another person to help and more work to do. Nope, it was time to pull up the big girl undies and manage things on her own. Exactly how she had done before and would do from here on out.

  • • •

  Five a.m. Sunday morning. Sleep wasn’t going to happen.

  Between periods of freaking out at little noises and shadows, Izzy’s advice wormed its way into Sara’s head. Maybe it was the loopy time of the morning where logic got all twisted and warped. Maybe she hadn’t considered Garrison’s insecurities and issues because she was too wrapped up in her own. Still, as fabulous as Izzy’s recommendation to go over there and grab his balls was, a more circumspect approach might be better.

  She flicked on her phone. Was she really going to do this? Yes. So what if the activity fell into the “mooning adolescent” category.

  She’d settle for a rejection text from Garrison at this point—anything to connect with him. How lame was that?

  Sorry to leave it that way with you.

  As soon as she hit send on her text, she scrambled to stop the message.

  Nope. Gone out into cyberspace. Damn.

  On minute later, her phone rang. No texting for Garrison Taggart, no siree. With a sinking sensation, she hit the button to accept.

  “Hello?”

  “Sara?” His voice turned her insides to melted goo, damn that man.

  “I shouldn’t have texted. It’s early.”

  Silence.

  Then he cleared his throat. “I’m glad you did. I was thinking about you.”

  She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

  “Shelby said I was a jerk to you,” he said.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think she’s right.” Rustling sheets transmitted through the phone.

 
; He was in bed. Oh, God.

  “Sara, I ... Look, would you like to spend the day on the ranch? Nothing major, just two people hanging out together?”

  Her heart expanded, about to burst. Then she reeled it in. “Depends. Am I there as a stress reliever for you?”

  “Son of a bitch, I was an idiot, wasn’t I?”

  “I don’t have much room to talk.”

  “Um, can we continue this conversation in person?”

  After ten seconds of internal debate, she had her answer. “How’s nine sound?”

  “It sounds like I’ll have to wait too long.”

  • • •

  Three and a half hours later, Sara sat square in the eye of the hurricane.

  What in the name of the Holy Spirit had happened? What happened to her decision to stay uninvolved?

  Garrison met her at the front door. Although their reunion had been cool but polite, the rest of the family had swept her away into their raucous Sunday morning breakfast. Zach peppered her with questions while Shelby studied her with an odd expression.

  Meanwhile, Kerr dominated the stove, singing loudly as he pretended to take short orders. No one commented on how the elder Mr. Taggart was still in bed.

  Kerr made only a few inappropriate remarks during breakfast—apparently, Shelby’s and Garrison’s dark expressions kept him in check. A few times, Sara laughed, despite herself.

  After the meal, Garrison picked up her plate and dropped it in the sink. Then he walked over to where she sat.

  Shelby coughed several times, then grinned, her odd, gold-glinting eyes so similar to her brothers’.

  “Want the grand tour?” Garrison asked Sara.

  “I thought you’d put me to work.” She grabbed the hand he offered. Holy Mary, the connection of his big, warm hand with hers set her heart fluttering like she’d met her high school crush. Oh wait, she had met her high school crush. In addition, she had enjoyed breakfast at his house.

  “No promises I won’t make you rustle cattle or run fence line.”

  “No promises I’ll know what I’m doing.”

  Kerr snorted.

  Garrison glared a hole into his brother’s head.

  And just like that, Sara smiled.

  Hours later, her mood wasn’t so positive.