Spurs 'n Surrender (Operation Cowboy Book 2)(19)

Apparently the imaginary Wydell was inviting himself to dinner.



*



With a big country meal of fried chicken and biscuits on the table before him, made by Danica’s own hands, and all of his closest buddies around him, Wydell should have been as happy as a pig in mud.

Instead, he felt like a dog who didn’t get to take a car ride. He held a biscuit but didn’t bring it to his lips. The jam he’d spread inside it dribbled down his palm.

Boyd nudged Brodie. “What’s up with Hard Ass?”

Wydell’s mind came into focus and he licked the jam away. “Nothing’s up.” He bit off a huge chunk of biscuit to keep from answering through his full mouth.

It didn’t work for Garrett. He had no trouble talking with his mouth filled like a chipmunk. “He’s crushing on the Los Vista benefactor.”

“Benefactor?” Boyd looked around the table at them. “You mean that sexy blonde?”

Wydell glared at his friend. “If you’d keep your ass in Los Vista, you’d know.”

“Wydell, Boyd doesn’t have anywhere to stay. His home’s gone and he’s staying with family. You know that,” Brodie said quietly.

“Yeah, but we’re in the same boat and we’re all still here.”

Almost all of us.

Danica looked down at her plate, her eyebrows pinched together. Suddenly, Wydell felt like an ass for hurting her with her brother—the one person who would want to be in Los Vista and couldn’t. “I get that, but there’s work to be done here, Boyd. Why don’t you set up a damn tent like the Kents and help out?”

He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. What was going on with the man? He looked as if he wanted to crawl out of his skin whenever he was around them.

Either way, Wydell didn’t have time to find out. If Boyd wanted to talk, he knew where to find him. Pushing away from the table, Wydell got to his feet.

Everyone looked up. “What are you doing?” Brodie asked.

“Thank you for the meal, Danica, but I’m not feeling that hungry.”

“Wait, Hard Ass,” Garrett said. “For once we’re all together and Anya did bring me that six-pack she promised.” Garrett jerked his head toward the kitchen where the brews were probably in the fridge alongside some good dessert that Danica had made for them.

Wydell shook his head. “Sorry, guys. I don’t feel like socializing tonight.” He left the big dining room where they’d often gathered as kids around the same long table to eat some hearty meal Brodie’s momma had fixed.

When he got outside, he filled his lungs with the fresh air. Damn, he was on edge, but why? The world felt too small. Hell, even the darkening sky seemed to sit on his shoulders, pressing him down.

In the back of his mind, he knew part of his problem had to do with his friend Boyd and why he’d been staying away from their hometown. It felt as if he’d given up caring, just like most of the rest of Los Vista. With one less person to give a shit, what did they have?

He got in his truck and headed back toward town. Where, though? Maybe he’d turn the headlights on the tiny house site and work until dawn. He had nothing better to do. Sleep sure wasn’t an option.

When he reached town and spotted the gathering outside of Anya’s trailer, a tightness settled in his chest. What was going on there?

Sawhorses and sheets of plywood had been set up outside the trailer, along with some folding tables and benches that had been brought over from the Kents’ tent. The woman seemed to have strung some outdoor lights along the trailer, which glowed like fat fireflies.

As he drove near, she looked up, her face aglow in the twinkly lights and her hair a pale moonbeam. His heart did a wild staccato that left him feeling weak.

She waved for him to come join them.

For a moment, he panicked. Driving on wouldn’t be good for relations with her. But joining her might be worse, especially since he wanted to grab her, bend her over his arm and kiss her like she’d never been kissed before.

He applied the brakes and put the truck in park. It gave a sputter and died before he could cut the engine. For a heartbeat, he stared at his white knuckles around the steering wheel. He wasn’t good company tonight, and putting Anya in the line of fire couldn’t end well.

Mrs. Fletcher came across the turf, a beer in hand and a grin on her face. “Oh it’s my favorite cowboy.”

Well now, he couldn’t just drive away. He got out and greeted the woman with a smile and tug of his hat brim. She insisted on a hug and invited him to find a beer in the cooler.

When he met Anya’s stare, she nodded. “Come join us.”

He looked at the spread, half-devoured on the tables. Platters of turkey and casseroles. A silver pot of gravy that made his stomach growl with thoughts of his momma’s gravy.

“What is all this?” he asked.

She stood close—too close. He could reach out and grab her. But that might result in all the good food being overturned on the ground and the table creaking under their writhing bodies.

Guess the kids had to learn it somewhere.

“I made dinner.” A blush was in her voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to invite you.”

He looked into her eyes. With the sun faded to nothing, her eyes were the deepest, darkest blue he’d ever seen. “Why should you invite me?”