Gravel Road

by Walls, Stephie

  13

  Austin

  “What are you doing here, Austin?” Charity must have forgiven my outburst at the diner earlier this week. She raced up to me the moment she saw me standing at the bar.

  We didn’t have a lot of indoor places to hang out in Mason Belle. Well, actually, we had one. The Hut. It wasn’t much to write home about. A handful of local, retired vets had gotten together and started the bar. They only opened on Friday and Saturday nights, and they only sold beer and a handful of liquors. Anyone who cared to call a label from the shelf needed to ride into Laredo, because they couldn’t do it here.

  It didn’t bother me. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and when I did drink, it was Southern Comfort, which they stocked, or an occasional beer. I rarely came into town, and I spent even less time at The Hut. I’d become a bit of a loner since high school, and I preferred my own company to that of others. I saw enough of Brock on the ranch, and I socialized with everyone else in town at church every Sunday. However, today had been especially trying, and I needed to unwind. I hoped a couple of shots and a few games of pool might help.

  Charity wrapped her arms around my waist in an overly affectionate embrace. I circled her shoulder with one arm and downed a shot using the other. I slammed the glass on the bar and looked over Charity’s head for my best friend. If she was here, Brock was, too.

  She tilted her chin toward the back of the bar. “He’s in the corner. Come on.”

  I let her go and followed along through the haze of smoke to a group of people I’d known my entire life.

  Brock pulled me in for a brotherly hug and clapped me on the arm. “Good to see you out and about. I wondered how long it’d take.”

  I didn’t have to ask what he referred to. Apparently, Justin Richert did. He’d been a pain in my ass since high school when he had designated himself the class clown. “You mean Randi being back in town?”

  “Have you seen her?” Charity turned her nose up as though, somehow, Miranda had grown an extra arm or lost an eye. “New York has not been good to that girl.” She was hurt, and apparently, being a bitch was her way of avoiding the pain.

  Brock didn’t want to admit it, and I guessed he never would in front of his wife, but he still had a soft spot for Miranda. They’d been close when she left. He’d always believed she would call him, even if she didn’t reach out to me. When it didn’t happen, it cut him pretty deep. Regardless, I saw how he looked at her in the driveway when I caught them talking. I heard his voice. That wound was raw, but it could heal.

  “Don’t be like that, Char,” Brock pleaded with his wife, although she missed the memo.

  While they debated the changes in a girl none of us knew anything about anymore, I grabbed one of the two waitresses who roamed the place and ordered a drink. I’d nurse it until I left, which wouldn’t be long if this crap continued. “Can you guys stop?” My voice carried farther than I’d intended.

  “You hittin’ that again, Burin?” Justin’s smart mouth might look better with my fist between his teeth.

  Brock pushed against his chest with one hand and scowled. “Grow up, Justin.”

  He laughed as though something was actually funny. And Brock tossed me a cue stick. The waitress brought me a longneck, and Brock racked the balls. He didn’t try to talk, which I appreciated. If I wanted to have a discussion, I’d bring the subject up. I came here for a distraction, and Brock respected that. He’d also carry my ass home if I got knee-walking drunk and couldn’t drive. Then he’d pick me up in the morning on his way to the ranch and laugh at me for having to spend Saturday hung over. That’s what friends did.

  Once the group around us lost interest, I finally opened the floor for conversation. He was kicking my ass at pool; I might as well get some counseling out of this beating. “Jack’s turning the ranch over to me.”

  He spat beer all over the table. “Are you shittin’ me?” Brock wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Nope. I just left him.” I sunk the two into the corner pocket and lined up another shot. “He met with his lawyer Tuesday morning, and the lawyer drew up the paperwork.”

  Brock’s hand suddenly appeared in my line of vision, shielding my target. I stood with the stick in hand and faced him.

  “Do Sarah and Randi know?”

  I leaned down to take the shot he’d prevented seconds earlier, and he blocked it again. “What the hell, man? I can talk and play.”

  “You can’t walk and chew gum at the same time. This is huge. And I take it by your attitude that one of the Adams girls didn’t take the news well. Since Sarah is already legally family, I’m going to assume it was Randi.”

  I grabbed my beer off the rail and took a long pull. “Yep.”

  “I’m not knocking Jack’s decision. To be honest, it doesn’t really surprise me. But you had to know that would cut Randi deep.”

  If we were going to do this, I had to tell him all of it. He was my best friend and the only person I’d ever talk to about anything personal in this town. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he’d never repeat a word I said. And if someone asked him, he’d lie—even to his wife.

  He came around the table, and I leaned against the edge without actually sitting on it. “I don’t think he planned to do it this early.”

  Brock bobbed his head. “I imagine the hospitalization and the problems at the ranch sped that up. Dude, he’s getting up there in age. That place is huge, and it takes a ton of work.”

  “It wasn’t the fire that sped it up.”

  He tossed his empty bottle into the trash can a couple of feet away and waved to the waitress for another. “Then what was it?”

  “Miranda.”

  If anyone else were telling this story and I’d just watched Brock’s face fall flat, I would have laughed. Currently, that wasn’t an option, and I didn’t find it the least bit humorous. “He did it to spite her?”

  I finished my own bottle and tossed it in the same can he’d thrown his. “Nuh-huh. To get her to stay.”

  “I don’t claim to be the brightest man on the planet, but in what universe does that make sense?”

  Pool balls cracked at the table next to us, and people mulled about. Conversations happened all over the place. No one paid us any attention, but I still worried about gossip in Mason Belle. “Jack thinks it will bring her home for good.”

  “Let me get this straight. He’s giving you the ranch that’s been in their family for generations, including the house he currently lives in and that his daughters were raised in, and he believes that will bring Randi back from New York? In what? A legal battle?” He faced me, and his eyes went wide. “Holy shit. Do you think her fancy-pants boyfriend is going to represent her?”

  I pulled back and stared at him like he’d lost his damn mind. “What the hell would she sue her dad for?”

  “Not him. You!”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “I’ve heard about family members suing beneficiaries because they say the person wasn’t of sound mind to make changes to their will.”

  I waited for it to dawn on him that number one, Jack wasn’t that old; number two, he didn’t make any changes to his will; and number three, Miranda didn’t have any interest in Mason Belle. It didn’t come. “Brock, she’s not going to sue anyone. She is, however, mad as an old red hen.”

  The waitress dropped off Brock’s beer. He snickered, shook his head, and took a drink. “I’m sure Jack explained to you whatever delusional thoughts he had about how this would play out.”

  “He did. And I argued with him. He couldn’t be swayed.” God, I’d tried.

  “Give it to me.”

  Brock didn’t need all the gory details, only the gist of what Jack believed. “He doesn’t think she’ll go back to New York now that she’s been home. And he doesn’t believe she’ll ever marry anyone other than me.”

  “He’s trying to blackmail her?” He sounded like a hog in slop when he squealed.

  I turned qui
ckly, checking to see if anyone had been alerted to our conversation. When I didn’t find a soul who’d even heard him over the music and chatter, I said, “Basically.”

  “I’m not sure if you should be insulted or flattered. Either way, I reckon it works in your favor.”

  “If she decides to stay, it needs to be because she wants to be here, not because of who’s running Cross Acres or how desperate she is to keep it in the family.”

  He pushed off the table and stood in front of me. With his beer in one hand, he crossed his arms over his barrel of a chest and loomed over me. “You don’t believe that shit.”

  I didn’t know what I believed anymore. My life had twisted into a pretzel since she’d waltzed back into town, and my heart had gone with it. Depending on the time of day and which way the wind blew, my feelings toward Miranda Adams swayed between strong dislike and bitter indifference—not that any such thing existed—and every once in a while, my brain threw in a hint of uncontrollable lust to balance things out.

  “Maybe you should talk to her?”

  “Miranda?”

  “Why the hell do you keep calling her that? You sound like an idiot.”

  “She insisted that was her name. More than once.”

  His belly shook as the laughter rumbled in his chest, up through his throat, and out of his loud mouth. “You’re still jumping for her.”

  “Whatever.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Austin. You loved her. The question is, what are you going to do about it? You bitched for months after she left. Held a grudge for years after that. Now she’s home, and you’ve been at her throat every chance she’s dared to breathe the same air you did.”

  He didn’t get it. He and Charity didn’t date until after high school. Neither of them was the other’s first, much less their only. Once they’d hooked up, they had gotten hitched a few months later.

  “I’ve moved on.”

  “You haven’t moved on to shit. So, quit being an ass and go talk to the girl.” He tilted his bottle toward the bar where the devil herself sat perched on a stool with two fingers of liquor in her hand.

  Randi spun the ice with a tilt of the glass, and I stood mesmerized. I didn’t have anything to say. I’d tried to talk to her; it was her turn. I hardened myself to her presence and resumed the game of pool that had been halted by this conversation.

  * * *

  I kept watch over her from the corner of my eye. She didn’t talk to anyone other than the bartender to order a drink. The amber liquid never appeared to diminish, but I’d kept count of how many glasses she’d ordered…and consumed. I assumed it was whiskey, although that was nothing more than a random guess. It didn’t matter if it was whiskey, tequila, bourbon, or rum. Unless she’d taken up drinking in New York, the moment she stood from that stool, she’d fall flat on her ass.

  I wasn’t here to keep her from embarrassing herself, but I’d be damned if I would have to face Jack Adams after another one of his daughters nearly killed herself in a fatal car accident. If that meant I had to stay here until last call to ensure she didn’t become a smear on the highway, then so be it.

  Brock kept me occupied with several crappy games of pool, a few rounds of darts, and water in a glass that made it look like vodka without the regret of alcohol. Twenty-four years of friendship and the man could read me like a book. And when she finally moved, my back was turned. He lifted his chin in her direction without calling attention to her.

  Charity bounced around behind him with several of her friends. I didn’t want to fight her off again, and I didn’t want to put Brock in the position to do it, either.

  Miranda left her empty glass on the bar and wobbled a bit before she put her arms out to steady herself. Once she had her footing—I didn’t have a clue how she walked in those damn heels—she dropped her hands to her sides and practically floated the few feet to the makeshift dance floor. The song on the jukebox moved at a beat she could dance to alone, so I eased toward the wall and took a seat on a stool to watch.

  A couple of times since she’d been home, I’d caught glimpses, however fleeting, of the girl I’d known all my life. As soon as I had recognized them, they disappeared. Right now, I could watch her from the corner of the bar, undisturbed, and it was like the last six years had never happened—except for her being drunk. She moved with the music, and I’d swear it was Randi, not the Miranda chick she tried to be. If her hair were longer, she’d be a vision I’d seen a thousand times. Her smile was bright, and she was free. The ability of liquor to wash away the pain had proven itself again.

  I caught the grin on my lips and forced it back. Miranda might look like the girl I once loved, but that was where it ended. Nothing about her remained the same. Nostalgia be damned. That girl had ruined me. She’d taken the most vital piece of me when she’d left Texas—her.

  That one thought flipped my happy disposition to resentment. My jaw ticced, and I ground my teeth together to fight back the desire to let her cards fall wherever they might. Her sister or her boyfriend should be here babysitting her, not me. And just when I’d reached my limit, the song ended, and someone played a ballad on the jukebox. Couples took the floor, Brock and Charity included.

  Miranda swayed by herself in a sea of brides and grooms. There weren’t any single guys here who didn’t know her and what happened, so she wasn’t in danger of someone taking advantage of her. I decided to bow out undetected. Brock wouldn’t care that I hadn’t said goodbye, so I made a pitstop at the bar.

  I knocked on the wooden top to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey, Louis.”

  He faced me with three opened beer bottles in each hand, passed them off to the waitress who waited on them, and then he smacked his hands down. “Burin, my man. You heading out?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to be at the ranch in the morning.”

  Louis glanced at the clock on the register. “That’s in like five hours, man.”

  I hadn’t realized it was already midnight. I felt every minute of it in every muscle in my body, even if my brain hadn’t gotten the message. “Can you do me a favor?”

  He nodded. “Of course, what’s up?”

  “Can you make sure someone takes Miranda home tonight?” I peered over my shoulder to point her out. “Shit—never mind.”

  Charity stood inches from Miranda’s face, and by the animation in her expression, they weren’t talking about getting together for breakfast. Charity did all the communicating while Miranda remained stock still…the way she’d done when I went after her in the driveway. I couldn’t hear anything over the music, but Brock tried to intervene, only to have his wife push him out of the way.

  If I’d left five minutes sooner, if I hadn’t stayed to watch her dance, then I wouldn’t feel any sense of obligation to get her out of here, away from Charity’s wrath, and home safely. I wished I could go back in time and beat the crap out of ten-year-old-me, bind and gag him, anything to prevent him from following Randi into that field and making a promise he couldn’t keep.

  “You can’t leave her to the wolves,” Louis spoke from behind me.

  I didn’t have to turn around. He was talking to me. Louis had been around since the dawn of time and was one of the owners of The Hut. Damn, people needed to mind their own business. “I know.”

  When I pushed off the bar, I told myself this wasn’t for Miranda. It was for Jack, and for Brock, who pleaded with me from across the room to do something so he wasn’t forced to pick between Charity and Miranda. I was reasonably confident of which one he’d choose, and it might not bode well for his marriage if Brock defended the girl who’d trashed my heart and crushed his wife.

  I didn’t care to play peacemaker any more than Brock did, but I could get away with it. When I reached Miranda’s side, it blew me away that I hadn’t overheard every word Charity screamed. I stepped between the two women with my back to Charity. She attempted to move me aside, but she didn’t stand a chance in hell at budging two hundred pounds of de
ad weight. She could nag Brock all she wanted, but I didn’t sleep with her at night, so she had nothing to use against me.

  “Miranda, why don’t you let me take you home?” It took every ounce of self-control I had to remain pleasant. There were a bunch of people in this town who wanted a shot at her, and I wanted to let them take it. But at the end of the day, I just couldn’t do it.

  She cut her eyes over my shoulder and stumbled when she looked back at me. I caught her by the elbow to steady her, and her hands landed on my chest. Miranda tilted her chin, and her eyes met mine. The heat of her breath warmed my skin, and the scent of liquor filled my nostrils. The corners of her mouth rose in what I assumed would be a smile, but at the last second, she parted her lips. “Dance with me.” Those three words were crystal clear, without a hint of a slur.

  The rest of the world faded away the same as it always had with Randi around. I shouldn’t have conceded. I should have told her that I needed to go. But I’d never been able to tell her no, and tonight wasn’t any different. I held up my left hand, she placed her palm to mine, and my other went to her hip. I needed to look away, because getting trapped in her gaze wouldn’t end well for me.

  Just when my eyes flicked away, she rocked my world without a hint of a warning. “Eason’s not my boyfriend.” She shrugged when I stared down my nose at her. She’d pulled the pin, and the bomb was about to explode. “He’s not. Never has been.” The little sigh that followed wasn’t exasperation; it almost came off amused.

  My brow furrowed, and I was certain she saw my confusion.

  “I don’t have the equipment he requires.”

  I quit dancing, although I didn’t move my hands. I pondered what she’d just confessed. There was no way that man liked men. “No.”

  Her head bobbed. “Yup.”

  “So why does Sarah think you guys are a couple? Why have you let everyone think you were a couple?”

  “No one ever asked.” She had to be kidding.

  Of course no one asked. Sarah was terrified she’d upset Miranda and lose what little contact she’d regained over the years, and no one else had any right. Even if I hadn’t known they lived together, the man had brought her home. Friends didn’t leave their jobs for an undetermined amount of time to fly across the country together for moral support. Although, it now made more sense why he hadn’t kept close tabs on her while she was here.