Arrogant Devil(14)

“Will I see you later this week?” I ask, trying to end the phone call on a good note.

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

We both know she’ll cave and make the drive out here. That’s how our relationship works. For two years, she’s lived in San Antonio and I’ve lived here. We see each other once or twice a month, when it’s convenient. It’s not nearly enough for her, but it’s all the time I have to give at the moment. With Helen gone, I’m not even sure I can swing that.

After we hang up, I get going, speeding through a shower before I tug on a worn pair of Wranglers and reach for one of my favorite Blue Stone Ranch t-shirts, except my hand comes back empty. There aren’t any shirts hanging where they should be—I guess that’s what happens when Mary isn’t here to do my laundry. I settle for a pearl snap button-down then reach for my trusty ball cap. Until I make it into town for a haircut, it’ll have to do.

Downstairs, I let Alfred out the back door. Edith is already by the coffee maker, filling up a mug.

“Hope you made it extra strong today.”

She hands it off to me with a trademark sneer.

“It’s somewhere between crude oil and jet fuel. I don’t know how you stand it.”

I take a big sip then tip the mug toward her in thanks. “It’s perfect.”

“I heard you upstairs on the phone. Little early for Christine to be callin’, isn’t it? Some of us would have appreciated sleeping in a little bit.”

“You haven’t slept past 5:00 in thirty years.”

“Not for lack of tryin’, and I’d still like the option.”

She pours some coffee into a mug for herself and cuts it with cream before proceeding to answer most of my questions with more questions.

“Christine was chewin’ my hide.”

“What’s new?”

“Maybe I should put in more of an effort with her.”

“Do you think she’s worth it?”

“I can’t remember the last time I drove out to see her. Must have been a couple months back.”

“You could ask her to move out here.”

“You think I should?”

“Do you love her?”

“I don’t know. She told me this morning we’ve been together for two years—do people usually love each other after two years?”

“It’s hard to say. Generally speaking, seeds don’t sprout in rocky soil.”

“Damn.”

She levels me with a thoughtful gaze. “I could have told you two years ago she wasn’t for you.”

I smirk. “You’re biased. You two never got along well.”

“Yeah? Well, whose fault is that? I get along with everyone.”

I quirk a brow, pointing out the obvious. “Half the town is too scared to love you. The other half is too scared not to love you.”

She chuckles and steps toward the window near the sink. “No, that’s you half the town’s scared of. I’m just standin’ next to you. Oh, look who’s ready for her first day of work.”

I follow her gaze out the window and find Meredith stepping out of the shack. Color me shocked. I didn’t figure her for an early bird, and I feel deprived—I thought I’d get the pleasure of performing a cowbell wake-up call.

She turns toward the horizon and shades her eyes with one hand, taking in the sunrise. I know exactly how beautiful it is from that angle—vivid yellow and orange. The view is made even better by the fact that there are no skyscrapers or high-rises obstructing it. After spending the night in that dreary shack, it’s probably a welcome sight. I’m surprised she stuck around.

I’m still watching her when her gaze snaps to the backyard. Her eyes widen in fear as she lets out a shriek. Her hands go up in defense. She takes a hesitant step back, then another, until her back hits the door.

Shit. Must be coyotes.

I move quickly, yanking the back door open and shouting for Edith to get the shotgun. There are coyotes and mountain lions in this part of the state, and while it’s uncommon for them to stalk too deep onto the property, it’s not unheard of.

“Don’t run!” I shout to Meredith as I step out into the backyard.

Edith isn’t far behind me with the shotgun. She hands it off and I scan the area, trying to spy any animals that don’t belong. When the coast looks clear, I check the tree line, narrowing my eyes and listening for the sound of snapping twigs or shuffling paws.

“Where are they?” I snap.

“Right there!”

I turn to where she’s pointing and spot my golden retriever standing a few yards away from her.

“You mean Alfred?”

He trots closer to her and she unleashes a barrage of Hollywood-style karate kicks and chops at the air between them. “No, no—don’t come any closer!”

Alfred doesn’t listen.

“No!” she demands. “I said NO! Sit!”

Alfred sits.

Edith laughs, yanks the shotgun out of my hold, and tromps back inside, mumbling something under her breath.

“It’s just a dog,” I point out.

“Feral? Untamed?!”

Alfred hops back up and starts to stroll toward her again, tail wagging. He gets right to her and starts lapping at her legs in between flails.