"Put them on the kitchen table. I don't think they'll fit on the foyer table. I've never seen such a huge bouquet."
Helping to guide his way, Angie led Dean to the kitchen and assisted him in placing the arrangement on the table. As soon as they were down, she threw her arms around his neck and enthusiastically kissed him.
"Glad to see me?" he teased.
"Hell yeah I'm glad to see you." Without releasing him, she glanced back to the flowers. "They are absolutely gorgeous. Thank you," she beamed, filled with giddy delight.
With a sly, half-cocked smile, he said, "I'm glad you like them. You can't imagine how difficult it was to haul them here. I almost considered renting a van."
"I love them."
"I didn't know your favorite flower, so I asked the florist for one of everything."
"You are an incredible man, Dean Murray."
"I'm not nearly as remarkable as the owner of those flowers," he gleamed.
Standing in the door way of the kitchen, Cutter cleared his throat. Blushing, Angie released her hold on Dean and glided to the stove. "I'm making dinner. Would you care to join?"
The invitation was appreciated. After spending the night in his car and the morning at the cemetery, he was famished. "I would. Not that it matters, but what's on the menu?"
"Cutter and I were attempting to recreate Ms. Kay's famous chicken fried steak," she gushed excitedly.
"Well, since I don't know Ms. Kay, I'll have to take your word for it on whether or not you're successful." The mischievous sparkle in her eye was childlike and he suddenly wondered what hers had been like. He wanted to know what her favorite foods were; her likes and dislikes, her pet peeves and everything else there was to know about her, including her favorite flower.
"Did your not so fiancé, fiancé get a chance to tell you about her trip home?"
Dean swallowed back his annoyance at Cutter's snippy remark and noticed that Angela was tossing visual daggers in Cutter's direction. Something had obviously taken place between the two but he didn't need Cutter telling him anything that she didn't want him to know. An uneasy feeling took hold but he kept his cool. "We haven't had a chance to talk since she's been back, so no. I'm sure she'll fill me in later."
Uncomfortable silence hung over the room as Cutter and Angie continued cooking and she continued to fume. He could almost see the steam pipe smoke rolling out of her ears. Dean wasn't sure what had transpired in Arkansas, but he could only assume it involved their past as a couple, otherwise, Cutter wouldn't have been so eager to bust her out.
"How was the drive?" he asked, hoping to lighten the intensity of Cutter's verbal screw-up.
"Long and boring." Her short reply only added fuel to his suspicions but it still wasn't his place to be upset…not yet. He hoped that after tonight he would be better positioned to give Cutter a piece of his mind if he stepped out of line with her again.
Dinner was quiet as the three of them pretended to enjoy the food. "This is really good," Dean offered in another attempt to cut the tension between Angie and her ex.
"I know, right?" Cutter managed to say between bites.
As hungry as she was, Angie only picked at the food. Her appetite had vanished the moment Cutter had displayed his eagerness to tell Dean about the make out session back home. How dare him! she bristled to herself. She should have known after Cutter's vow to not give up without a fight that he would pull something like this. She couldn't wait to get him alone. There were a few choice words she wanted to share and she would make sure to turn her bad language filter off when she did.
After dinner, Angie was too upset to clean, so she poured two glasses of wine and stalked into the living room. Dean followed. Plopping down on the couch, she assumed her normal position, curling a leg beneath her. Dean sat in the same place he had the first time he'd visited. With beer in hand, Cutter fell into the oversized chair.
"This is cozy," Cutter remarked before taking a swig from his bottle.
"If you don't like it, you're welcome to leave," Angie blurted out.
"I like it just fine," he sniped back.
I will huff and puff and blow you a new ass, she thought, glowering at him through slanted eyes. "That's too bad. I was just thinking how much cozier it would be without you."
Cutter's sarcastic laugh cut through the room, pissing her off even more and pushing Dean to his limits. "I bet you were."
Dean had finally had enough. He couldn't tolerate a man talking to a woman so crassly and yet he didn't have much room to intervene since it's wasn't a physical argument. "Listen you two, if I need to leave so you can sort this out, I can."
Just an octave lower than screaming, she belted out, "No. You stay. If anyone is free to leave, it's him." With the exception of his presumed affair with Becky, Angie had never been so furious with Cutter. He was deliberately trying to sabotage her relationship with Dean and it was royally pissing her off.
"I'm not leaving. Not until you tell him about your night."
"How dare you!" Slamming her glass down on the table, not caring that wine splashed over the side, she stood with one fist on a hip, showered the object of her fury with eye cannons and pointed to the living room door. "Get out! Now!"
As if her temper was the least interesting emotion on the planet, he took another draw from his bottle and reached for the remote. "I promised your brother, and you, that I would stay until the fire marshal concluded the investigation. We protect what's ours."
"Get this through that thick head of yours. I am not a piece of property and I don't belong to you. I am my own person and am fully capable of taking care of myself."
"You are preaching to the choir, baby girl." Cutter's smug attitude was infuriating
Some buttons can only be pushed so many times before a bomb goes off and that was the last button on his nuclear panel. Dean leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and in his best warning growl said, "That is enough."
Wearing blank expressions, the quarrelers' heads pivoted to face him. "It's obvious to me that Angela wishes for you to leave. If you feel obligated to remain in the house, which up until now I thought was a great idea, at least respect her wishes and leave the room. This is her house. Not yours."
"This isn't your fight," Cutter cautioned. There was no way he was letting this city slicker slide in under the radar. He had let Angie get away once and he'd be damned if he made the same mistake a second time. If Dean wanted a fight, he sure as hell would get one.
"I'm making it my fight," he stated calmly. "Angela asked you to leave and I would highly recommend that you abide by her wishes. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do and from my limited observations before tonight, you aspire to be a gentleman but have yet to learn how."
Leaning forward to mimic Dean's position, Cutter glared at the one man standing between him and the woman he loved. "I do not respond to threats." Cutting eyes to Angie he beseeched her help. "You've known me for most of my life and you just met this guy. Are you really going to let him talk to me like that?"
"Yes, I am."
"I get it. You don't want to tell your boyfriend the truth about last night so it's easier to kick me out."
With as much enthusiasm as he might use while telling someone he needed to pull over to use the latrine, Dean blankly locked eyes with the man who was insulting Angela and said, "If you're referring to the deep conversation and near reconciliation that happened between the two of you last night, I'm well aware and do not care. Angela is her own person and she has every right to consider all of her options. With that said, she asked you to leave while asking me to stay. It doesn't get clearer than that."
Surprised that she had informed him of their make out session, Cutter pensively analyzed his opponent with a heated scowl before eventually curling his lips into a warm smile. "You're right."
Turning to his ex, he stood, closed the distance between them and offered his version of an apology. "Sorry, Ang. The possibility that someone might be out to get yo
u and then the thought of your brother's tumor has me at wit's end." How's that for clarity, Dean? he thought. He hadn't intended for her to learn about her brother's illness this way, but it was high time she knew and Buddy hadn't told her.
With wide eyed horror, she spouted, "What tumor? What in the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh, shit," he muttered, hanging his head. "I thought he talked to you about it this morning before we left." Buddy had made a point of letting him know that he hadn't talked to her about it yet, but he was backed in a corner and this was one hidden truth that Angie had a right to know. Not only that, it gave him the upper hand in this dispute.
Admissions and truths often turn nightmarish fears into cold, hard realities. Shaking her head, Angie took a step back. "You're lying." Please say you are.
Placing his beer on the coffee table, he tenderly grasped her upper arms. With downturned lips, he looked her dead in the eye. "I wish it was a lie, Ang, but it's not."
"I don't understand. Why didn't he tell me?" she cried as tears welled in her eyes.
"He was supposed to talk to you this morning. That's why he wants you home. He's going to need help with the farm. It's becoming more difficult for him to manage it and Carla can only do so much."
"He's dying?"
Damn it, Buddy. You should be the one telling her this. Not me, he mutely cursed. Even though the news had given him the upper hand in the argument with Dean and Angie, seeing her cry was a bitter pill to swallow, especially since the declaration that caused her grief was tragic. If he hadn't allowed jealousy to get the upper hand, he wouldn't have blurted out the news this way. It was wrong of him and he knew it, but the card had been dealt and now he had to handle it accordingly.
Perturbed by his lengthy pause, she raised her voice, "Is. He. Dying?"
"The doctors at M.D. Anderson gave him six months to a year. The tumor has wrapped around his brain stem. There is nothing they can do surgically, but they are treating with medications in the hopes that it will stunt the tumor's growth."
"No, there's been a mistake. Did he get a second opinion?"
"He's gotten three," he regretfully informed her.
Backing out of the room, she stifled a groan and numbly sauntered to her room as both men watched her walk away.
Once he heard the bedroom door close, Dean pivoted around to Cutter. "What you're doing isn't going to work." The menacing growl was delivered through clenched teeth.
"I'm not doing anything. She needed to know."
"It could have waited until after the fire investigation. She's got enough to worry about without you tossing more kerosene on the fire."
"I didn't realize there was a good time to deliver that type of news."
"Back off," Dean warned.
"I could say the same to you. Once the fire marshal sifts through the evidence, the truth behind the fire will come out and you'll be nothing but a bad memory and a jail house bitch," Cutter barked just low enough that Angie wouldn't hear.
Taking a step forward, Dean shifted slightly so that his left shoulder was facing the other man. With a deadly look, he leaned his head in slightly so that his next words hit home. "You do not want to fuck with me." Without shifting his eyes away from the man, he stood to his full height.
"Are you threatening me?" Cutter wanted nothing more than to punch the arrogant expression off this guy's face.
"Interpret it as you will. As a courtesy to Angela, I thought it reasonable to offer a piece of friendly advice. That was the first and only time I'll be so generous." Taking a few steps back, he softened his face and said, "As much as I enjoyed chatting with you, there is a woman down the hall who has just learned that her brother is dying. I would rather provide comfort to her than continue our discussion." With that said, the man who had quietly tolerated the insolence of another, backed out of the room and causally walked down the hall, perfectly prepared to pick up the pieces of Angela's despair.
The iciness of Dean's voice, combined with the deadly piercing eyes and his ability to switch emotions, sent a shiver of cold dread down Cutter's spine. Angela's boyfriend was not the pushover he had expected him to be. Instead, he was left to wonder if he was in over his head.
Chapter 14
"It's time to up the ante." ~ Mr. Benson
"I talked to our contact. After a little persuasion, he assures me that the construction in front of the club will be finished by month's end."
"That's good news."
Mr. Benson leaned back in his mahogany leather chair and swiveled around to enjoy the skyline view of Houston, TX. His home office was exquisitely furnished and large enough to house a small army. He could easily operate his businesses from a smaller venue, but the expansive space made a statement. It screamed success and money, making the smaller fish in the sea of business and underground networks appear less adequate.
Smacking his lips as if the taste of victory was near, he asked, "Do you have an update on Bare Assets?" If Angie’s place could not recover from the fire, he was prepared to swoop down like the vulture he was and add the thriving club to his portfolio. His attorneys were standing by, ready to process the necessary paperwork needed if the opportunity came available to purchase or invest.
"Nothing yet," his pretty boy manager informed him. "As far as I know, the fire marshal is still investigating. I was told that Ms. Fletcher has promised to compensate her full time staff, as well as her dancers for the lost hours. She's not going down without a fight."
"She's a clever girl. I will give her that. I'll have someone check into her finances. She can't possibly have the means to sustain that promise for long. Not unless she takes on an investor," he said with respectful reflection.
Though she was his business adversary, he admired her tenacity as well as her business sense. If she would grow a gritty set of man balls and stop playing by the rules, he imagined she would give him a run for his money in the underground world of high paid escorts and drugs. As much as she tried to be a hard ass, her high moral standards prevented her from seeing the true value behind her club. She was sitting on a gold mine, yet refused to utilize it to reap the golden benefits.
"It's time to up the ante," Benson told his manager.
"What do you need me to do?"
"For now, focus on keeping my club afloat. I'll have my team do a little digging. I need to see exactly what we're up against. Keep your ear to the ground. If she starts trying to pull investors, I want to be the first to know. I can't imagine that a former stripper has the financials to keep the promise she's made without outside help."
"Yes, Sir."
"Let's show the little girl, how the big boys play." Ending the call, Mr. Benson stood. Walking to the ceiling-to-floor windows, he looked out over the city and smiled. He controlled a large portion of the Dallas, Houston and Austin markets and was expanding into other states, as well.
The Dallas/Ft. Worth airport was a bustling hub of international activity. Adding more women to his escort list would only increase his income as well as his reputation. If the classy, beautiful women were on his list, he'd make a fortune.
Because he appreciated level headed women wanting to make a name for themselves in an established industry of hungry men, he had given Angela ample time to conform to his desires. Playing nice was no longer an option and his plan was coming together nicely.
******
Snatching his keys from the table in the foyer, Cutter stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Jumping into his truck, he pulled out his phone and dialed.
"We have a problem," he said into the phone.
"What kind of a problem?" Buddy asked.
"It's the guy I told you about. He's not easily put off. I thought hard nosing him would be enough to send him running but he's not budging. I hinted about the make out session with Angie but he already knew and didn't seem concerned. I practically accused him of setting fire to her club and he didn't flinch. He's going to be tougher to get rid of than I thought."
"You said she just started dating this guy around the same time you showed up?"
"I did."
"She hasn't had a single relevant relationship since leaving home, and suddenly this guy ranks priority on her dating list? Something's not right. My sister doesn't rush into relationships and she certainly wouldn't become attached so quickly."
"Strong arming this guy out of her life isn't going to happen. He's made it crystal clear that he's in for the duration. I've tried telling her the truth about how I feel. That didn't work. I've tried scaring him away by playing the over protective ex and that didn't work. Even planting the idea that someone might be out to harm her hasn't worked."
"Maybe it's time for you to realize that she's moved on. Maybe you need to let go of the idea that the two of you aren't going to have your happily ever after, at least not with each other."
"Buddy, I don't want you to be upset with me.
"What did you do?" he asked.
Inhaling, he confessed, "I know you wanted to be the one to tell her, but the moment was heated and I was desperate. I told her about your tumor."
Groaning through the phone, Buddy sat down. "I wish you hadn't done that," he said. "I suppose it’s a could've, should've, would've situation now though. I did want to be the one to tell her, but now that the cat's out of the bag, how did she take it?"
Buddy wanted his sister home and that needed to happen sooner rather than later but it was her life to live, not his.
According to the doctor, he was coming to the end of his life but before he took his last breath, he wanted to know that his baby sister was safe. Convincing her to come home was the last major life event needed to complete his bucket list. Knowing she was safely out of the city and comfortably nestled back in their small town was the one thing he wanted before the cancer took what remained of his life. The peace of mind alone would ease his stress.
The love he had for his sister was immeasurable. She was his last remaining blood relative and he didn't want to fall into the late stages of terminal illness without knowing with all certainty she was taken care of, that the family home was taken care of. Carla couldn't do it alone.
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