Kissin' Tell

Page 35

“Drunk? No. High? No.”
“Pissed?”
Tell shrugged. “Getting there, since my mommy called my big brother to make sure I wasn’t being naughty or pouting. So maybe it’d be best if you skedaddled on home to the wife and kiddie.”
Brandt didn’t budge. “What’s goin’ on? You never have words with Mom.”
“Wasn’t really an exchange of words—except for the one word she didn’t wanna hear when I said no to drivin’ to Casper to take care of Landon tonight.”
“She mentioned it, and I don’t see what the big deal is.”
That got Tell’s back up big-time. “Yeah? Then why don’t you hop in your truck and do it?”
“Because I have a wife and a kid to take care of.”
“And because no one believes I have a life outside of ranch work, my free time is up for grabs? Ask Tell to make a three-hour trip, he won’t mind. Guess what? I do fucking mind.”
Brandt’s mouth dropped open.
“What? You were expecting I’d be cracking jokes?”
“I guess I was.”
“Too bad I’m fresh out of funny.”
They stared at one another. “How many times has Mom asked you to watch Landon in the last year?”
“At least twice a month. Except it’s gotten more frequent since calving ended.”
“And you say yes every time she asks.” A statement.
Tell nodded. “Except for today. That don’t mean I’m gonna stop helping out entirely; I’m just not doin’ it today.”
“Now that I’ve heard your side, I’m glad you stood up to her, because Mom has gotten…pushy lately.” Brandt sighed. “Some days, she reminds me of Dad.”
“Glad I’m not the only one who’s seen it.”
“I’ve noticed it and so has Jess. But I know you, Tell. That alone ain’t enough to set you off.”
Set him off? He’d been downright pleasant to his mother. How would people react if he really went off?
“You poke at me until I start talkin’, so I’m gonna do the same to you, bro. What else is on your mind?” Brandt asked. “‘Cause you’ve been actin’ pissy. I suspect it’s got something to do with me.”
Tell counted to twenty in an attempt to temper his response, but maybe it was better to let fly. “Fine, Brandt, here it is. You’ve been a shitty ranching partner the last six months. I understood your distraction when Jessie was pregnant. But now that Tucker is here, I’ve waited for you to step up and do your part and it hasn’t happened yet. I’m frustrated and tired of cuttin’ you slack. I’m forced to make decisions because you won’t, and then you question me on every damn thing I decide. Me’n Dalton are tired of it.”
Brandt’s face turned a mottled red.
A few excruciatingly tense moments passed and Tell wondered if Ben had given him bad advice all around: about confronting the family problem head-on with his mom and Brandt, as well as staying away from Georgia.
Then Brandt dropped onto the couch. “Fuck. When did I become that guy? The guy who does the minimum amount of work, who comes in late, leaves early and puts his life ahead of everything else?” Brandt chewed that over for a bit. “Christ. I’m actin’ just like Luke did.”
“I wouldn’t have said that, but since you did… Yeah. Maybe a little.”
”I’m sorry, Tell. There ain’t no excuse.”
“Nope.”
“Won’t happen anymore. I promise.”
“Good to know.”
Brandt pushed to his feet. “So, you tired of riding herd on me yet?”
Just like that, Tell knew Brandt’s slacker days were behind them. Neither needed to beat this issue to death; it was over and done with and they’d move on. Now he wished he would’ve said something sooner. “Maybe a little.” He grinned and lightly punched Brandt in the arm. “Hey. Maybe Dalton will fuck up and you’ll be off the hook.”
“Wouldn’t put it past that kid. He’s always got some damn secret.” He snorted. “Kid. Now I really sound like Luke. Anyway, thanks for the kick in the ass before you had to kick my ass.” Brandt cuffed Tell on the arm. “So as long as we’re bein’ all touchy-feely and shit… Jess wants you to come over for supper tomorrow night.”
“Thanks, but I can’t. I’m working a rodeo in Belle Fourche all day tomorrow that lasts into the evening.”
“Guess I deserve to do chores by my lonesome for a change, huh?” He smiled and punched Tell in the arm just a little harder than the first time, which was a sign things were getting back to normal. “Come by anyway if it ain’t too late, because we’re usually up.” Brandt smirked. “I promise we won’t ask you to baby-sit.”
“Not that it ain’t great to see you, Thurman,” Tell said, sliding into the booth at Ziggy’s, “but you don’t normally call on league night lookin’ for a drinking buddy. What’s up?”
Thurman swigged his beer. “I’m not lookin’ to get drunk. I’m headed outta town tomorrow and I wanted the lowdown on you and Hot Lips, since you guys took off so fast Saturday night. How’re things goin?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Planning that trip down the altar yet?”
“Fuck off. She’s busy this week so I haven’t seen her.” That sounded plausible. Casual. Not like she’d dumped his ass. “I’ve been dealin’ with ranch stuff and the always fun family shit anyway.”
“Does the fun family shit have anything to do with Dalton?”
“No. Why?”
“I’ve heard a couple of things. Normally I don’t put much stock in rumors…but this one about Dalton caught my interest.”
Thurman wasn’t the type to gossip, so Tell immediately went on alert. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Evidently he rented a motel room in Hulett sometime in the last month. Claimed he was trying to set a new McKay record for the most women fucked in a single night.”
“Jesus. There’s a life goal. And he’s makin’ it sound like all the single McKays ever did was sit around bragging about female conquests.”
“Your family has a reputation, Tell. Whether it’s bullshit or deserved, ain’t my concern.” Thurman shrugged. “I just wanna make sure somebody knows what Dalton is up to and that he ain’t knocking up half the young ladies in the damn county.”
Their food arrived, which gave Tell time to consider this news regarding his brother.
Something had changed with Dalton right around the time their father had checked into rehab. With so many other things on his mind, maybe he hadn’t paid as much attention to his little brother’s escapades. But Dalton was a twenty-five-year-old man, not a child. He didn’t need a baby-sitter.
“You’re awful quiet, Tell.”
He looked at Thurman. “Just debating on whether it’s my responsibility to check up on him.”
“No, it ain’t. I didn’t tell you this because I expect you’ll stake out the Shady R Motel in Moorcroft to see if Dalton’s truck is in the lot.”
“I appreciate it, even though it don’t make me happy.” Tell signaled for another beer. “Curious, though. Did your source say how many women Dalton…serviced that night?”
“Why? You think your record might have his beat?” Thurman teased.
Tell flipped him off.
“I heard Dalton was with thirteen different chicks.”
“Thirteen? Holy shit.”
Thurman shoved his plate aside and leaned closer. “But that’s not the kicker. My understanding is he did it with all thirteen women in the room with him. And these ladies were giving him pointers and feedback.”
“Like a sex focus group?”
“Or a sex seminar.”
Tell shook his head. “Damn. I don’t even wanna think about twelve women standin’ around, watchin’ me have sex with another woman and critiquing my performance.”
“You and me both.”
“Even when I was a teen and my dick was hard all the freakin’ time, I don’t think I jacked off thirteen times in one day, say nothin’ of getting it up and getting off that many times in a few hours.”
“Boggles the mind, don’t it? I’d guess he’s beat Chase and Colt, who I’d lay odds were previous McKay record holders.”
“It’s not like I’m gonna ask them.”
“Dalton might. Just for bragging rights.” Thurman drained his beer. “Come on. Forget about it. I’ll let you lose a game of pool to me before you lose at darts.”
On the drive home, Tell realized he hadn’t managed to put Georgia out of his mind, even for three hours. He’d found himself looking around the bar, hoping she’d show up.
He missed her. Given his schedule, tomorrow was a wash as far as reconnecting, but if he hadn’t heard from her by Thursday night, he was showing up on her doorstep.
Wednesday morning, Georgia tackled the businesses on the other end of the Sandstone Building. First stop: Healing Touch Massage.
A soft chime sounded as she walked through the door. The space had been decorated with western touches—fake cowhide print chairs in the reception area, a coffee table crafted from logs. With mocha-colored walls and plush carpeting, the area embodied a sense of calm.
From the back, a voice trilled, “I’ll be out in a sec.” Then a drawer slammed and the pregnant blonde Georgia had met at Dairy Queen ambled around the corner.
Oh hello, hostility. This was going to be a fun sale.
Georgia smiled brightly, hoping it didn’t look cheesy. “Great place you have, AJ.”
“Thank you. Are you here for a massage?”
“No. I’m selling advertising space for the Devil’s Tower Rodeo program guide.”