by Shey Stahl
Sev kicks my seat again. “I’m hungry.” She has no patience. I have no idea where she gets that from.
“You keep kicking my seat and you’re going to be more than hungry,” I warn. I’ve yet to spank the girls, but it’s threatened daily.
After we drop Camdyn off, I head to the shop but stop by the bar to get coffee. My aunt Tenille, or Tilly as we call her, owns a bar near the ranch. Another family-owned place that she took over when my grandparents passed away.
It’s not open yet, but she serves coffee to the locals in the mornings, and she quite possibly has the best espresso in town.
Sev comes in with me. It’s nothing new to be in this bar with them, and where I go, Sev isn’t far behind. She’s been my shadow since she was born, and I doubt that’s changing anytime soon. She claims she’s not going to school. “Got food, girlfren?” Sev climbs up on the barstool and smacks her hands on the wood. “I’m hungry.”
Tilly smiles at her and slides a donut toward her. “I do for you, girlfren.”
Sev’s eyes light up. “Yes!”
While Sev devours a donut and wears most of it, Tilly sweeps her black hair from her chocolate eyes. She takes a cup in her hand, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Did you hear—”
Here we go. Small-town shit. “I don’t care.” Holding up my hand, I stop my aunt Tilly before she continues. “Whatever it is, I don’t fucking care.” I wave my hand to the espresso machine. “Just give me coffee.”
Her eyes flick to mine, amused. She’s used to me being in a bad mood. “What’s up your ass today?”
The sound of laughter leaps from Sev’s lungs as she plays with Tilly’s dog on the floor.
I look down at her and then back to Tilly. “A stuffed lamb named Looper spent some time there last night. But lack of sleep,” I mumble, leaning against the bar with my elbows rested on the lip. The smell of fresh ground coffee beans invades my senses as I run my hand over my face. “I got three hours and slept in a bunk bed with Marilyn Manson staring me down.”
Sev pays no mind to me, nor does she care how much sleep I got.
Tilly smiles, pouring hot water into my Americano. “Did Sev have a bad night?”
I don’t even have to tell her which kid; she knows which one has a poster of that dude. “I just told you I slept in a toddler bed. With Marilyn Manson. Sevyn’s fine.” Adjusting my hat, I point to my chest. “I’m not.”
She laughs it off and slides my coffee toward me. “You might want to check on Morgan this morning.”
I take the cup, warmth hitting my palms. “Why? It’s late. He’s probably in the field by now.” Morgan, my older brother, he’s a lifetime cowboy. He’s been working on the ranch since he was old enough to walk. Left for college, returned, and is still working the ranch. Us Grady boys, we can’t seem to make it out of Amarillo for long.
Desperate for the one who set my heart on fire, I left for a couple weeks back when Sev was only a couple months old. Between off-the-rails crazy and rock bottom, I went to California to beg a girl to come home and turned around at the border, knowing my priorities didn’t lie with her any longer. Too much her, too little us. She made her decision, and I never looked back again. Okay, I still look back and stalk her Instagram page, but whatever. You get my point. Us Grady boys belong on the ranch.
“Trust me.” Tilly leans into the bar when I step back, a napkin in her hand that she hands to my chocolate-cheeked toddler at my feet. “Check on him.”
I groan, sighing. “Cut the bullshit. I remind you, toddler bed, three hours. Marilyn Manson.”
“He left the bar with Lil last night, and it didn’t look like they went their separate ways.”
Shit.
Morgan, he’s… a dick-in-your-face kind of blunt, stands up for what he believes in, a damn good brother, but he has a weakness. Lillian Taylor. She’s a mean-as-fuck country girl, a farmer’s daughter, his high school sweetheart, and not his wife.
“And…” Tilly continues when I grab Sev off the ground.
“Ugh.” I groan, looking over at her, the dog jumping up and planting his paws on my waist. In the process, his fucking claws scrape my junk. “Stay down,” I growl at the dog and step back, fighting through my urge to punch a dog in the face for being an asshole. I level Tilly her own glare. “I don’t care.”
“Alexus was asking about you again.”
I scowl, my annoyance kicking up, as does my breathing. Sev tries to reach for the dog, smears my jacket with chocolate icing, and then taunts the dog with her hands. “Also don’t care.” I right Sev in my hands. “Stop provoking him.”
“Why are you so mean to her?”
“I’m not mean to her. That damn dog nailed my nut sac.”
Sev lifts her eyes to mine. “What a nut sac?”
Shit. “Get that word out of your head.” Told you I’d said it a time or two.
My three-year-old simply blinks slowly at me, as if she’s burning the word into her memory for later.
Tilly laughs. “I meant Alexus.”
Ah, yes. Alexus. The chick my aunt set me up with a couple months back. “She tied me to a goddamn chair and left my ass, that’s why.” I don’t like to remember that night and actively try to push it out of my memory. Unfortunately for me, when your friend comes into the shop and finds you tied to a chair, half-naked, you remember it.
“She said she had an emergency.”
“Uh-huh. Not buying it.” I step toward the doors of the bar, lifting my coffee in one hand and holding Sev with the other. “Do me a favor. Stop setting me up. I don’t want to date.”
“You’re twenty-four, with two kids, you should date.”
I nod toward Sev. “The two kids part is why I don’t date.”
“Barron….”
“Tilly,” I mock. My aunt means well, but she gossips too fucking much. Do not tell her anything unless you want everyone from your vet to your dentist knowing by noon. “See you at dinner on Sunday.”
“Oh, I know. You should ask out Serenity.”
I make a face. I’m sure it’s a disgusted one. “She’s seventeen.”
“Oh, well, she’ll be eighteen soon.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s unfuckably nice.”
“What does that mean?”
“If you don’t know, I’m not explaining it. I’m late.”
Story of my life. I have two little girls. I’m late to everything, all the time.
“Bye, Sev!” Tilly yells as I walk toward the door.
Sev waves to her, more concerned with the dog. “Bye, Lucifer.”
If you hadn’t guessed, the black lab that’s a permanent fixture at the bar, Sev renamed him.
Inside my truck again, I start it after buckling Sev in her seat. Holding my steamy coffee in hand, I think about wishing I could go back to bed, and Morgan. Why would he have left with Lillian? He’s fucking married. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s cheating. You get married, you made a vow, for better or worse. Morgan believes that shit, too, so why? Why would he have done that?
Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he drove her home and that was it. Maybe… I don’t care.
Unfortunately for me, Lillian works at the shop. Bishop Repair is my dad’s business he gave to me when he realized the ranch was too much to handle doing both. I’ve been working there since I was fourteen and love turning wrenches.
What I don’t love is drama, and it always seems to find me.
“Play dat song I like!” Sev yells, motioning to my phone center console.
“What song?”
“Dat one I likes.”
I smile. She loves “Tennessee Whiskey” by Chris Stapleton. Don’t know why because she thinks Marilyn Manson is the greatest singer in the world, but I’ll take anything over “Beautiful People” played so loud my ears ring later.
It’s five miles back to the shop, and for those fifteen minutes it takes us, I sing to my little girl.
Sev sways in her seat. “You’d the best singer, Daddy.”
I wink at her in the mirror. I can carry a tune, but I wouldn’t say I could have made a living out of it. Okay, I might have been able to be a country singer, but my life is on a ranch with two little girls who call me daddy and make me chase monsters for them. “I love you, darlin’.”
Her smile widens, my name for her and her sister always evoking that cheeky smile and the reason why this country town will always keep me here, regardless of the small-town rumors.
At the shop, Sev takes off into the office where she hangs out during the day. I don’t have a babysitter for them, and honestly, I like having them where I know what they’re doing.
Inside the shop, I run into Lillian first, trying to avoid her as I rip the repair orders off the counter and twist toward the door.
“Barron?” she calls out.
Fuuuuuck. I spin around on my heel to face her, regretting it instantly. I don’t like people crying. I have two girls, so it’s a daily occurrence, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me. They work me over with tears too. Get anything they want with a shake of their chin and glossy eyes. Don’t believe me? I stopped for that damn bear on my way here. Its dirty, limp body is sitting on Camdyn’s booster seat, waiting for her.
“Hey, mornin’ Lil,” Please don’t want to talk about it. I stare at her, waiting. She says nothing as she sips her coffee. “Well, I’ll be in the shop.”
“Hey,” she begins, and I cringe. I hate girl talk. It drives me crazy. Like I want to pull my hair out. Also, don’t confide in me. I don’t want to know things. I might tell someone, and I don’t want to be responsible for spreading rumors. You know I don’t like them.
I watch Lillian and know where this is heading by the heavy breath she takes in. She’s preparing to spill her girl guts to me. What I wouldn’t give to be back in that toddler bed staring at Marilyn Manson. That’s how much I enjoy talking about problems with women.
“Last night, Morgan and I were at the bar and—”
“I’m going to stop you there.” I hold up the repair order in my hand. “If this involves my brother’s dick, I’m out. There are some things I don’t want to know, and that’s one of them.”
She pauses for half a second, looks around for Sev, who is fully enthralled in a drawing of witches and Halloween, before blurting, “We slept together.”
I stare at her. Blankly. Hell, even Sev looks up from her drawing, shakes her head, and goes back to coloring. She has no clue what that means, but her expression is priceless. I drop my eyes to the repair orders. I think I swallow and shift my weight, maybe sigh, but I don’t know for sure. I’m counting the steps to the door, wishing I could take them and leave the conversation.
“Are you going to say something?”
I smirk and continue flipping through the orders. “No, but I bet his wife will.”
“Barron…” She starts hysterically crying. I mean, full-on goddamn sobs.
Stepping forward, I pat the top of her head. “Stop crying.”
“What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know, nor do I care. That’s between you two.”
Her face rearranges in anger that I won’t talk to her. “I just want someone to talk to.”
“Talk to Sev. I’m sure she’ll listen.”
Sev smirks, much like me. “I won’t.”
You’re starting to understand my little spooky-loving monster is a lot like me, aren’t you?
Lillian goes on to tell me that Morgan won’t return her calls this morning, and she’s worried. “I don’t have time for this. I have enough to worry about.” I level her a serious expression. “Yesterday, Camdyn googled Barbie sex. You fucking around with my brother is the least of my concerns this week.”
Her mouth falls open, and now it’s her turn to blink rapidly. Like how I threw that tid-fucking-bit of information on you too? That’s how I felt when I looked at her damn iPad and found that. I’ve yet to ask Camdyn about it because, yeah, I’d like to avoid that conversation.
Sev takes her drawing and a handful of crayons with her, heading toward the door. “Stops sayin’ a hundred words. My head hurts.”
Lillian watches her walk away, her tears drying. “Did Camdyn really google Barbie sex?”
“Yes.”
“Is that like, a thing?”
I frown, disgusted to even consider it and curious at the same time. “I have no idea.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
I raise an eyebrow. “What was I going to say?”
“So many things come to mind. You should talk to her about it.”
“All things I probably don’t want to discuss.” I tape the orders against the counter. “Now leave me alone. I have work to do.”
As I reach the door, she sighs. “If you hear from Morgan, tell him to call me.”
I open the door. “I won’t.”
I find Sev sitting in front of my toolbox, coloring on the concrete floor. I stand in front of her, sipping my coffee. She holds up a piece of paper with lots of black and purple. I look down at it. “What is it?”
“A witch. She sleeps with Morgan.”
Laughter rolls through me. Jesus Christ. It’s only nine in the morning, and look at everything we’ve done today. “Morgan’s having a bad day, huh?”
Sev’s shoulders lift. “I’m hungry.”
Of course she is.
We all got ’em.
BARRON
“Stick this in the mail for me.”
Serenity takes the envelope and smirks at the address written on it. It’s the third time she’s sent these papers back to California. “Wonder if she’s going to send them back again?”
“Seeing how I didn’t sign them, probably.”
She laughs, rolling her eyes. “You’re so relentless.”
“When I want something, yes.”
Her cheeks flush. I know Serenity has a crush on me. She’s made it known, but I’ve also made it known, she’s seventeen. And even if she wasn’t, she’s not my type.
“He’s a shrimp.” I stare at the space where Serenity is occupying. Twirling her golden-brown locks around her finger, she takes a drink of her water and then screws the cap back on it. “He thinks with his heart.”
Serenity answers the phones at the shop, and while she’s a nice girl—too nice if you ask me—she’s completely fucking random. Pretty, but again, seventeen. She graduates this spring, can talk your ear off about useless shit, barrel races horses competitively, and wants to be a large animal vet. One, never trust a barrel racer chick, they’re trouble, and two, she knows entirely too many animal facts.
Like shrimp, and octopus sex. I didn’t want to know this, but I do now, so you get to as well. Female octopuses are cannibals and eat the males when they fucking feel like it. Especially during sex because they’re so close to one another. I’m all for some kinky sex and biting, but eating me, uh, no thanks. Could you imagine? Anyways, Serenity informed me one afternoon how this exactly happens. The mating, that is. The male octopus puts his arm penis (yes, one of his arms is actually a dick) into the female’s mouth and prays not to be eaten before he gets off. And if he’s really scared, he detaches his arm, throws it at her, and tells her to go fuck herself. Then he dies a lonely death of exhaustion. Actually, they both die after sex. It’s like a fucked up aqua version of Romeo and Juliet.
Anyways, fearing that’s where this conversation is heading, I don’t like talking to Serenity.
But, despite this, I ask, “Who’s a shrimp?”
Serenity smiles, knowing she’s hooked me in a conversation I want no part of. “Morgan.”
Do you see the way I’m staring at her? The “what the fuck” face and the annoyance. I look at everyone like that, but today it’s pissing me off. I don’t care about Morgan’s shit.
Have I mentioned I hate drama? Yeah, I thought I had, but still, it keeps fucking finding me.
Groaning, I rip my frozen burrito from the microwave, fully intending on eating it cold rather tha
n listening to the office drama.
“You know how they say think with your head, not your heart?”
“Nope. Never heard the saying before.” I eye Sev, who’s sitting inside an excavator pretending to be driving it. I shouldn’t let my kids play on heavy equipment, but I do. Jace, one of my mechanics, is beside her, so I’m not worried.
Serenity throws a plastic fork at my head. “Well, a shrimp’s heart is in their head.”
“Don’t care,” I mumble, taking my burrito with me out the door and into the shop, wishing I’d gotten more sleep.
Here’s another fun animal fact for you. A snail can sleep for three years. Why wasn’t I born a snail?
In the shop, the sounds of air tools and metal hitting metal fill the air. It’s a slow morning, and even slower afternoon, which leaves too much down time to think about all the shit I don’t want to. Like octopus and shrimp. And Morgan. If Tilly knows, and Serenity… I can imagine Morgan’s wife is going to find out soon too.
Jace finds me, the last few months wearing on him, hair all over the place and eyes tired. “Sev’s up there,” he says, nodding to the excavator.
“I saw. You get Virgil’s oil pump done?”
“Yeah, it’s ready for him to pick up.” His eyes land on mine, and then away.
I can tell by the look on his face, he’s tired and pissed off. “You get the invitation?”
He nods.
My heart beats a little faster, knowing the pain he’s probably in. “Shitty. You gonna do somethin’ ’bout it?”
He chews on his lip, his hands shoved in the pockets of his Carhart jeans. “Haven’t decided.”
Jace Vaughn, he’s another country boy who let the girl go thinking it was best for her, not him. Although I wouldn’t say Abbi had a mean bone in her body when she left. Poor timing on their part, maybe, but it doesn’t stop him from being in love with the girl. Now she’s getting married to another man.
Drawing in a weighted breath, he motions to the office. “Lil said Earl called. His backhoe’s stuck in his field again.”
Earl… he ignores every single warning sign that there’s something wrong with his equipment until it quits. “Okay, I’ll stop by after I pick Camdyn up from school. I’ll be back later.”