Unraveling Him: A Small Town Family Romance (The Bailey Brothers Book 3)

by Claire Kingsley

  Evan looked away and I could tell this topic bothered him. Surprisingly, he didn’t shut down and change the subject. “It was bullshit. The state argued that Asher should have stopped before the guy died, especially because of his martial arts training. They charged him with murder, but he took a plea bargain for a lesser charge, so it didn’t go to trial. He served seven years. Came home about a year ago.”

  “Wow. That must have been terrible for everyone.”

  He met my eyes and my breath caught at the hurt in his expression. “It was fucking awful.”

  This time, the temptation to reach out and touch him was too strong to ignore. I put my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  We stared at each other for a long moment and my heart fluttered.

  He turned away and finished the last of his beer. “He’s home now, so it’s fine.”

  Realizing I was still touching him, I jerked my hand away, leaving me with the memory of his warm skin.

  Warm and inviting.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have had that second beer after all.

  But the moment—if there had even been one—had passed. He was back to being as closed-off as ever. Although for a second, I’d seen through his barriers. I didn’t want to admit it, but every time that happened, I really liked what I saw.

  21

  Evan

  My phone was ringing way too early for a Monday morning.

  I was already up and working on the Pontiac, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Granted, I’d talked to Fiona, but that was different. Why? I had no idea.

  Didn’t matter.

  It was Levi, so I turned down the music and answered. “Yeah?”

  “We have a problem.”

  It was hard to hear him through the background noise on his end. “What’s going on?”

  “The Havens hit the Caboose. Gav and Logan are on duty today, so we could use a hand getting this cleaned up.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. What’d they do now?”

  “You won’t believe me. Just get your ass down here. And bring your truck.” He ended the call.

  Fiona poked her head out of the office. She was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of leggings that made it very difficult to think about anything but her ass.

  Her existence in my world made it difficult to think about anything but her ass. Apparently that was just my life now.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Haven prank. They did something to the Caboose.”

  “You mean the feud thing?”

  “Yeah. My brother Levi needs help cleaning it up.”

  “Cleaning it up? What did they do?”

  I shrugged and slipped my phone in my back pocket. “He didn’t say.”

  She rocked up onto her tiptoes, then back to her heels. And it wasn’t one of the cutest things I’d ever seen when she did that. Not at all.

  “Can I come with you?”

  Yes, because it’s impossible to say no to you when you look at me like that. “If you want.”

  She bounced on her toes again and clapped. “Yay.”

  Leaving Sasquatch at home, we got in the truck and headed into town.

  “So, why did they pull a prank at the Caboose?” she asked. “Is the owner a Bailey?”

  “Hank? No. But the Caboose is our territory—where we hang out a lot. It’s not the first time.”

  “Do they have a place where they hang out? The Havens, I mean.”

  “Timberbeast Tavern.”

  “Have you guys pranked that place?”

  “Yeah, a bunch of times.”

  She tilted her head. “Doesn’t anyone get in trouble for this stuff?”

  “Not usually. The cops ignore it as long as no one does any real damage.”

  “So it’s not serious?”

  I glanced at her. “No, it’s serious. But there are unspoken rules. No injuries or property damage. And nothing too personal.”

  “What was the last prank you guys pulled on them?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. My brothers are usually the ones doing it.”

  We pulled into the parking lot of the Caboose to absolute chaos.

  “What the fuck?” I muttered.

  In front of the restaurant was a structure built of hay bales. Some of the hay had spilled out into a wide arc and at least a dozen goats meandered around, happily munching.

  But that wasn’t even the weirdest part.

  Birds were everywhere. There had to be at least a hundred of them flying around, sitting on the roof of the restaurant, or dive bombing the goats. They circled, flitted around, and darted in, picking at something on the goats’ backs, then flew up again, out of reach.

  In the midst of the birds inexplicably trying to land on the goats were more squirrels than I’d ever seen in my life. They appeared to be in a battle with the birds for… the goats?

  As if that weren’t enough, people were trying to herd the goats—goats that clearly didn’t want to be led away from their snack. All while tripping over squirrels and being dive-bombed by birds.

  I had no idea what was happening.

  “Shit.” I started to open my door.

  “Wait.” Fiona put a hand on my chest. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Fuck if I know.”

  Levi ran up to the truck and I rolled down my window.

  “What the hell did they do?” I asked.

  “It’s like the birdseed prank we pulled last year, only they went nuclear with it. Whatever they put in that hay is goat crack. We can’t get the stupid goats away.”

  “Where’s the birdseed?”

  “On the goats. They smeared their backs with peanut butter and put birdseed on them. Then turned them loose.”

  Fiona gaped at the scene, her mouth open, eyes wide. “When you said pranks, I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this.”

  Levi glanced at Fiona, then raised his eyebrows at me.

  “This is Fiona,” I said. “Fiona, my brother, Levi.”

  Smiling, she waved at him. “Hi. Oh, you must be the other twin. I met Logan already.”

  “So what’s the plan?” I asked.

  “Fuck if I know,” Levi said. “Round up the goats and dump them in Josiah Haven’s living room?”

  “Where’d they come from?”

  “They’re Harry Montgomery’s.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Does he know the Havens took his goats?”

  “Yeah, but he’s pretending to be pissed at us about it.”

  I shook my head. “Asshole.”

  “I’m so confused,” Fiona said.

  “The Montgomerys are another old Tilikum family,” I said. “They act like they’re Switzerland or something, but it’s bullshit. They’ve helped both sides, they just won’t admit it.”

  “Harry probably accidentally left his gate unlocked,” Levi said, making air quotes.

  “Maybe the Havens and Baileys should team up and prank the Montgomerys,” Fiona said.

  “Yeah right,” I said. “Okay, we need to deal with these fucking goats. I’ll back up to the hay bales and we’ll see if we can herd them into the bed of the truck. Harry’s place isn’t far. I can just drive them over there.”

  Asher pulled up in Grandad’s old truck, so we debriefed him, then each backed up at an angle to help pen the goats in. They happily munched hay, oblivious to the birds and squirrels coming after all the birdseed.

  I got out and we moved a couple of hay bales behind the trucks to act as steps and scattered loose hay in the beds. I grabbed a handful and tried to coax the closest goat into following me. It looked past me with those creepy goat eyes, its jaw working a mouthful of hay.

  “How the hell do you get them to move?” I asked.

  “Come here, good boy. That’s it. Come on.” Fiona slowly walked backward, holding out a bundle of hay. A goat followed. “Up, up. That’s it. Get up there.”

  I watched in awe as she convinced the goat t
o climb on the hay bale and into the back of my truck. The goat I’d been trying to move stood still, like its feet were cemented in place.

  A squirrel ran past and a bird swooped so close to my face, I felt a brush of air from its wings. “Damn it.”

  Fiona was on her second goat. Asher was trying to herd another one onto Grandad’s truck, but having about as much luck as I was.

  Levi managed to coax one into my truck before a squirrel ran up his leg, clinging to his jeans with tiny claws.

  “Jesus,” he shouted, kicking the squirrel off.

  “How much you want to bet they’re recording this,” Asher said.

  “Undoubtedly,” Levi said. “Assholes.”

  Another goat followed Fiona like she was the fucking goat pied piper.

  “How is she doing that?” Levi asked.

  I just shook my head. “No idea.”

  The goats in the truck started licking the peanut butter off each other. In the time it took me to get one stupid goat loaded up, Fiona got four more. She gave them compliments in that sweet, cheerful voice, telling them how good they were.

  I was surprised she hadn’t named them already.

  Finally, we got all the goats loaded in the two trucks. Hank and a few other guys were busy moving the hay bales, so Fiona and I left with a truckload of bleating goats. Asher followed me out to Harry Montgomery’s place and thankfully we had an easier time unloading our cargo. A bunch of the birds followed, but the goats clearly didn’t give a shit. They wandered around, finding new things to chew on and licking each other, while the birds darted in and picked off the last of the birdseed.

  “There goes my fucking morning,” I said when I got back in the truck.

  Fiona laughed. “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. Are all the pranks like that?”

  I shrugged. “It varies. Both sides like to put up fake signs around town and my brothers put a beard on Lola all the time.”

  “Lola?”

  “The statue of the pinup girl outside the Dame and Dapper Barber Shop.”

  “Oh, I’ve seen her. Are you guys going to do something to get back at them for this?”

  “My brothers will, yeah.”

  “Not you?”

  I shrugged again. The pranks weren’t really my thing. Although after this, I kind of wanted to get them back. I’d lost a lot of time because of their bullshit, and I had work to do.

  We got back to my place and Fiona offered to take Sasquatch out for a trail walk so I could get to work. I thanked her and went straight out to the shop.

  She’d only been gone about twenty minutes when Chief Stanley pulled up outside.

  I went out to meet him, wondering what he was up to. He was dressed in street clothes—a flannel shirt and jeans. His dark hair had a sprinkling of gray and his eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile.

  “Hey, Chief.”

  “Evan,” he said with a slight nod. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping in on you.”

  “No, come on in.”

  Chief Stanley had hovered around the periphery of my life since I was a kid. He’d been my dad’s best friend, and after my parents died, he’d quietly stuck around. I was the only one of my brothers who hadn’t wanted to follow in our dad’s footsteps and become a firefighter, but Chief had been there for me just the same.

  We went into the garage and he whistled at the Pontiac.

  “That’s going to be a great looking car when you’re finished.”

  “I hope so. I already have a lot invested in her.”

  “She’ll turn out. You do good work.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s actually why I’m here. I wanted to talk to you about restoring a car for me. If you have time, of course.”

  “I’ll make time. Do you have the car already?”

  “Not yet. I have my eye on a few, but I wouldn’t mind your help with that too.”

  “Of course. What are you looking for?”

  “A ’59 Cadillac series 62 convertible. Or a ’60, they’re similar.”

  I nodded my approval. “Good choice.”

  “I had one once, back when Skylar was little. I used to take her and her mom for long drives on sunny days. We’d stop for ice cream, enjoy the scenery, that kind of thing.”

  “Good memories.”

  “Exactly. I thought it might be fun to share with Skylar. Maybe a way to reconnect with her a little bit.”

  “I bet she’ll love it. I’m honored you’d let me work on this for you.”

  “No one else I’d trust with this.” He wandered around the Pontiac. “So tell me, what’s new around here?”

  I leaned against one of the work benches and crossed my arms. “What have you heard?”

  “I think my favorite story is that you rescued her from a cult, but a close second is the theory that her parents thought the world had ended and she spent her whole life in an underground bunker that you didn’t realize was on your property until she emerged and wandered over here.”

  I laughed. “Jesus. I thought the mail-order bride story was bad.”

  “I did wonder about that one for a minute or two.”

  I scowled at him.

  “I’m kidding.”

  “She’s not a mail-order bride. Fiona’s a friend, I guess. Just someone who needed a hand.”

  “It’s good of you to be the one to reach yours out to her.”

  “She made it hard not to. She’s the reason I have that Pontiac.”

  “Like I said, beautiful car. And it’s probably good for you to have some company.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but realized I kind of agreed with him. For years I’d been persistently telling myself I was better off alone. But Fiona was making me question that.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Chief’s mouth twitched in a knowing smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re busy.”

  “I’ll get to work looking for your car. Or, Fiona will. She’s pretty good at that.”

  “Thanks, Evan. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chief Stanley left and I went into the office to put a note on the bulletin board. Fifty-nine Cadillac series 62 convertible. Those looked amazing in glossy red with a red and white interior. I could add some custom touches, like the TFD emblem, to really personalize it for him. It was going to be a great car.

  Half an hour later, while I was back at work on the Pontiac, Fiona came in with a happy-looking Sasquatch. My traitor dog loved spending time with her.

  Not that I blamed him, really. I did too.

  “I need to run into town,” she said.

  “Sure. Want me to drive you?”

  “No, I think it’s better if I go alone.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to see your mortal enemy.”

  I put my wrench down. “What?”

  “I need to go talk to Luke and let him know I took another job.”

  The corner of my mouth twitched in a smile. When I’d offered her a job, I’d been consumed with one thought: make her stay. The fact that I’d inadvertently stolen her out from under Luke was just a bonus.

  Still, did she have to go see him? “Can’t you just call?”

  “I feel like I should talk to him in person. Unless you think they’ll take me prisoner or something. I don’t want to become a POW in the Tilikum feud.”

  As much as I didn’t like the idea of her going to Luke’s shop, I didn’t have a good reason to tell her not to. Luke was an asshole, but he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Although he very well could hit on her. Thinking about that made a coal of anger flare to life in my chest. But what could I say? Fiona was—what, my friend? My employee now? I didn’t have a reason to be territorial over her. Not like that.

  Hold on. Was I feeling territorial over her?

  Fuck.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

  She brushed her hair off her face and smiled. “No, I think I’ll avoid that kind of anta
gonism, but thank you. I’m a big girl. I can go talk to big scary Luke Haven by myself.”

  I grunted a reply. She was probably right. But I didn’t have to like it.

  She left and my eyes were glued to her ass when she walked out the door. I shook my head to clear the image of that ass naked in my bedroom.

  Bent over my bed.

  My hands all over her.

  Sasquatch’s eyes were on me, like he knew that I was fantasizing about her. Again.

  “Stop judging me. You’re neutered. You have no idea what this is like.”

  He went over to his bed to lie down.

  I adjusted myself through my pants. Damn it. A two-minute completely non-sexual encounter with her had me all riled up, my blood running hot. Did she have any idea what she did to me, just by existing?

  I hoped not.

  But fuck, I was getting close to my breaking point. I had to figure out a way to be around her without imagining her ass.

  Her tits.

  All those fucking curves.

  I was doing it again. Jesus, I was in big fucking trouble.

  22

  Fiona

  Luke’s shop could not possibly have been more different from Evan’s.

  Evan worked alone. Luke had a bustling garage with several mechanics and other employees. Evan’s shop was secluded and difficult to find if you didn’t know what you were looking for. Luke’s was right in town with a big sign out front.

  What they had in common were good reputations in the car world. Like Evan, Luke’s shop was known for being up-front and honest, as well as doing good work. Evan had said Luke played dirty, and maybe he did when it came to their rivalry. But from what I knew, he ran an honest business.

  After working for my dad for so long, I had to respect that.

  I parked outside and went into the front office. No one was at the desk, so I did a slow circuit, wandering around the small room and looking at the photos on the walls. Most were cars they’d restored or customized. Some I recognized—I’d seen them at car shows over the years. A cherry red 1952 Corvette. A badass 1969 Charger. An old Ford Model-T.

  Behind the desk were what looked like vintage car racing pictures. They were faded black and white, and from the look of the cars, taken in the early 1900s. One had a man sitting in what was probably a homemade race car, wearing a leather helmet and goggles pulled up onto his forehead.