One More Taste (One and Only Texas #2)(23)

“I knew that was what your dad was doing, but I wasn’t mad,” Granny June continued. “I was grateful that you three knew I was thinking about you on your birthdays. The truth was, I was thinking about you all the time. Every day. You were always in my heart.”

Through the window, only darkness was visible where Knox knew the lake to be. Above the silhouette of the hill on the opposite bank, the lights of Briscoe Ranch glowed like a golden beacon in the wilderness, rather than the hell his father had painted it to be.

What other secrets did you keep from me, Dad?

As soon as Knox thought that last question, guilt dropped like a stone in his gut. He expunged the words from his mind. No, he refused to entertain such a disloyal accusation. This family dinner was getting under his skin. His grandmother with her photo albums and old stories, his sister’s melancholy, Emily’s stew.

That was it. That’s was had started this whole mess tonight. For all he knew, it was Emily who’d tipped off Granny June that Shayla was having dinner with him. For all he knew, she’d masterminded this dredging up of ancient pain as a way to weaken him, to throw him off his game.

Movement of light on the deck caught Knox’s eye. It was the faint blue glow of a cell phone. Emily. Coherent thought was impossible as Knox flung the door open and stormed outside. His hands curled into fists. He planted his shoes on the decking and stared her down, ready to call her on her manipulation.

Emily shot to her feet. Even in the dim light from the window, he could see a look of innocent concern on her face. “Is something wrong?”

Hell, yes, there’s something wrong.

He opened his mouth. Then it hit him how out of control he was acting. More than his treasonous thoughts about his father keeping secrets, Knox was allowing his emotions to run roughshod over his self-control—and that was just as disloyal to his father’s memory. Was Knox really so weak-willed that a tasty bowl of stew and the ramblings of an old woman would make him crumble?

On his next breath, he looked into Emily’s searching eyes. His fight wasn’t with her or his grandmother or even his father. The only person he was fighting was Ty Briscoe. One more breath, and he’d found the strength to wrestle his anger back into its box and lock it closed.

“The stew was exceptional,” he said.

The stiffness in her shoulders drained away. “I know.”

Her reply diffused the last of his misplaced anger, it was so Emily.

He nodded to the empty bowl on the bench where she’d been sitting. “You and I have a deal. Tomorrow night, you’ll dine with me, and every night after that until the challenge is done.”

Her attention drifted to the view beyond the deck railing. “Why?”

It was a question he refused to investigate too deeply. “Because it suits me.”

The door to the kitchen creaked as it opened. Shayla stood in the doorway. “Hey, Knox, I was going to wait until you came back inside, but I’m tired. I’m headed to bed. I’ve got a long drive back to Dallas in the morning.”

It was only nine o’clock, but Knox knew his sister well enough to know she was as emotionally drained from the meal and Granny June’s stories as he was. But rather than deal with discomfort and painful memories of their past, Shayla was checking out. She’d been that way their whole lives. Perhaps that was the reason she’d avoided the anger issues that plagued Wade or the overdeveloped sense of responsibility that Knox had cultivated.

“Understood. It’s been a long day.”

Shayla offered Emily a little wave. “Dinner was great. Thank you.” And then she was gone.

“I’d better head back in, check on Granny June,” Knox said.

With a nod, Emily stood and gathered her dinner dishes, then followed him to the kitchen.

Granny June was up from the table and shrugging her coat on. “Emily, my dear, you outdid yourself with that meal.”

Emily helped her smooth down her coat collar. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Ready to leave? I don’t know how you got here, but I’m happy to take you home,” Knox said. Of course, he’d have to borrow Shayla’s car, since Granny June lived in the Briscoe family compound in the northwest corner of the resort grounds and Knox wasn’t about to take a chance that his truck would agree to get her all the way home.

Granny June took her cane in hand. “I’ll certainly take you up on that offer, but first, I’m curious. Is the old boathouse still standing?”

“It is. You know a thing or two about this house,” Knox said.

“The Madisons, the couple who lived in this place for ages, were good friends of Tyson and mine. They had a boy, Jacob, who was your daddy’s best friend. Those two were inseparable right up until Clint left.”

Knox sifted through his memories but came up blank. Then again, his father rarely spoke of his childhood, and he especially never reflected on happy memories. The sellers hadn’t been the Madisons, but the Rozcowskis, and his dad had never mentioned a friend named Jacob. Had his dad been forced to give up his best friend when he was banished from the family? “What happened to the Madisons?”

“After Jacob and his sisters graduated and moved on with their lives, Agnes and Chuck decided it was time to move on, too. We’re friends on Facebook. They’re in Florida, doing well.” She took Knox’s hand in hers and her eyes twinkled with fondness. “I don’t think it was an accident that you ended up buying this house. I think God brought you back to us and set you down here in this very house for a reason. If that boathouse is still here, then it has a secret I’d like to show you, something about your daddy that I think you’ll appreciate, if you’ll walk with me down there.”