Arrogant Devil
Page 9
“Your grandson?” I ask, cutting in.
“Was that another question?” She pauses her work and glances over to me. From this proximity, there’s no pretense between us. I can see every shade of blue in her hard eyes, every wrinkle etched in her tan skin. I have no doubt she can see the absolute despair reflected back at her. She can probably also smell the peanuts on my breath. “Oh, hell. All right. We haven’t been properly introduced.” Her hand darts out for mine. “Edith McKnight, the devil’s grandma.”
I take her hand and shake it, surprised by how strong her grip is.
“Meredith Wilchester—er, Avery. Meredith Avery,” I say, catching myself and dusting off my maiden name, the one I’ll be reverting back to from this day forward.
“Pleased to meet you, Meredith. I wish it were on better terms, but we’ll make the best of this situation. Now here, take this. It’s too heavy for me or I’d help you.”
She hands me the bag and pushes to her feet. She brushes her hands on the back of her jeans then turns to walk away, just like that, as if she didn’t just turn my entire day around.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I call after her. “Why are you helping me?”
Without bothering to turn around, she rambles off a string of countryisms. “My grandson is a good man, but he often thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow. He could strut sittin’ down. I mean, I love him, but sometimes it’s like hugging a rose bush.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m helpin’ you because I know he can’t yet, but when you get to be my age, you learn that a wounded bird eventually needs a peaceful nest.”
It’s like she’s speaking a foreign language.
6
Jack
I’ve got big plans for today: I’m going to keep my temper simmering near a low boil, I’m going to avoid the princess, I’m not going to let my ranch hands pull any shit like they did yesterday with the pigs, and I will have my inbox empty by the end of the workday. This is the plan—at least, it was. My alarm clock is still due to go off in five minutes, but I’m already up on the edge of my bed in my boxer briefs, listening to Christine talk my ear off. Alfred is snoring at my feet. I think dogs sometimes like to rub it in.
“You promised you’d come to San Antonio later this week.”
I blink sleep out of my eyes and chance a glance at the clock beside my bed: 5:10 AM—too damn early for a fight.
“And I explained that it’s just not possible. Helen left last week and—”
“You’re kidding me. Jack, do you know the last time you made the effort to come here? To show me you care even the tiniest bit?”
I rest my elbows on my knees, squeeze my eyes closed, and pinch the bridge of my nose. I really could’ve used those last five minutes of sleep. “I’m sure I could come up with a good example if you hadn’t called at the crack of dawn. I haven’t even had my coffee.”
That response doesn’t go over well.
“You are the most emotionally vacant man I’ve ever met. We’ve been together two years—TWO YEARS—and I get the feeling you wouldn’t care if I broke up with you right here and now.”
Has it really been that long?
“Chrissy, c’mon—”
“No. Don’t bother.” She pauses, inhales a deep breath. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, sweet. “I’m just…I’m upset. I miss you, that’s all. We hardly see each other.”
“You know I’d be there with you if I could.”
“Would you?”
Just then, my alarm clock starts blaring loudly. BEEP BEEP BEEP. My eyes pop open and I reach over to slam my hand down to turn it off. Alfred hops up and starts wagging his tail, flaunting the energy from his extra sleep.
“Chrissy, I gotta—”
“Yeah, I know, you gotta go. Going’s what you do best.”
Her words are meant to sting, but they don’t.
“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.
“Was that another question?” She pauses her work and glances over to me. From this proximity, there’s no pretense between us. I can see every shade of blue in her hard eyes, every wrinkle etched in her tan skin. I have no doubt she can see the absolute despair reflected back at her. She can probably also smell the peanuts on my breath. “Oh, hell. All right. We haven’t been properly introduced.” Her hand darts out for mine. “Edith McKnight, the devil’s grandma.”
I take her hand and shake it, surprised by how strong her grip is.
“Meredith Wilchester—er, Avery. Meredith Avery,” I say, catching myself and dusting off my maiden name, the one I’ll be reverting back to from this day forward.
“Pleased to meet you, Meredith. I wish it were on better terms, but we’ll make the best of this situation. Now here, take this. It’s too heavy for me or I’d help you.”
She hands me the bag and pushes to her feet. She brushes her hands on the back of her jeans then turns to walk away, just like that, as if she didn’t just turn my entire day around.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I call after her. “Why are you helping me?”
Without bothering to turn around, she rambles off a string of countryisms. “My grandson is a good man, but he often thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow. He could strut sittin’ down. I mean, I love him, but sometimes it’s like hugging a rose bush.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m helpin’ you because I know he can’t yet, but when you get to be my age, you learn that a wounded bird eventually needs a peaceful nest.”
It’s like she’s speaking a foreign language.
6
Jack
I’ve got big plans for today: I’m going to keep my temper simmering near a low boil, I’m going to avoid the princess, I’m not going to let my ranch hands pull any shit like they did yesterday with the pigs, and I will have my inbox empty by the end of the workday. This is the plan—at least, it was. My alarm clock is still due to go off in five minutes, but I’m already up on the edge of my bed in my boxer briefs, listening to Christine talk my ear off. Alfred is snoring at my feet. I think dogs sometimes like to rub it in.
“You promised you’d come to San Antonio later this week.”
I blink sleep out of my eyes and chance a glance at the clock beside my bed: 5:10 AM—too damn early for a fight.
“And I explained that it’s just not possible. Helen left last week and—”
“You’re kidding me. Jack, do you know the last time you made the effort to come here? To show me you care even the tiniest bit?”
I rest my elbows on my knees, squeeze my eyes closed, and pinch the bridge of my nose. I really could’ve used those last five minutes of sleep. “I’m sure I could come up with a good example if you hadn’t called at the crack of dawn. I haven’t even had my coffee.”
That response doesn’t go over well.
“You are the most emotionally vacant man I’ve ever met. We’ve been together two years—TWO YEARS—and I get the feeling you wouldn’t care if I broke up with you right here and now.”
Has it really been that long?
“Chrissy, c’mon—”
“No. Don’t bother.” She pauses, inhales a deep breath. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, sweet. “I’m just…I’m upset. I miss you, that’s all. We hardly see each other.”
“You know I’d be there with you if I could.”
“Would you?”
Just then, my alarm clock starts blaring loudly. BEEP BEEP BEEP. My eyes pop open and I reach over to slam my hand down to turn it off. Alfred hops up and starts wagging his tail, flaunting the energy from his extra sleep.
“Chrissy, I gotta—”
“Yeah, I know, you gotta go. Going’s what you do best.”
Her words are meant to sting, but they don’t.
“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.
