Finding Hope (Nugget Romance 2) Page 17
“I’m sorry,” Rhys said. “That’s all I can say. My guess is plenty of people already know—with or without Owen crying it all over town. Sure, the townsfolk like to gossip, but they also have big hearts, Clay. Give ’em some credit.”
Clay let out a mirthless laugh. “I believe that was my line eleven months ago, when you came home hating this place and everyone in it.”
“Times have changed.” Rhys smiled. “I’ve got me a good woman, a good job, and a good house. I can afford to be charitable.”
Clay picked up the Nerf ball and chucked it at Rhys. “How does someone flunk a lie-detector test? That’s what I want to know.”
“Happens all the time. That’s why they’re not admissible in court. Of course, that’s hypothetically speaking.”
“You really think the folks here are big enough to leave her alone?”
“I do. Anyone looking at her can tell how devastating this has been on her. Then there’s the fact that people really like Emily. My wife included,” Rhys said, giving Clay a hard perusal. “Something going on between you two?”
“What? I can’t be protective of someone living on my ranch? We’re friends. I told you, I’m seeing Lauren.”
“Okay.” Rhys made a surrender gesture with his palms and fixed Clay with a sardonic smile. “No need to protest so much.”
Clay stood up and returned Rhys’s mocking grin. Only Clay’s was smugger. “Have fun buying maternity clothes.”
Chapter 14
Fixing Lina’s transmission under the watchful eye of her big brother wasn’t exactly Griffin’s idea of a good time. It had taken more than a week for the transmission to come in. So here they were, in the Shepards’ front yard on a beautiful day, playing grease monkey together while Lina sat on the front porch in a short summer dress, looking hotter than a souped-up Mustang.
Every so often, Griff managed to slyly look her way. But he thought it too risky to linger on those shapely legs, tanned to Coppertone perfection. Not with big brother hovering like a killer drone.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Rhys asked for the third time since they’d started.
“Of course he knows what he’s doing,” Lina insisted. “He’s a mechanic. And he owns the Gas and Go.”
Griffin smiled, tickled that she’d come to his defense. Lina didn’t seem one bit intimidated by her brother. Griff, on the other hand, was intimidated as hell. The dude was big, packed a gun, and from the stories he’d heard in town was an excellent shot. Hey, that’s the way it should be. If Griffin had a little sister, he’d be just as protective.
Maddy came out of the house and Griffin waved to her. Now there was a nice lady. All smiles and sweetness. Nothing like her surly-ass husband. Since he’d lived in the Lumber Baron they’d become pretty friendly. Unlike Rhys, who treated him like he was a seedy punk, Maddy always seemed pleased to see him.
“This is so nice of you, Griffin,” she said. “You have to let us pay you for your labor.”
The police chief grumbled something Griffin couldn’t make out.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just spread the word about what a great mechanic I am. I need the business and your endorsement would go a long way.”
“Well, of course we’ll talk you up,” Maddy said. “That goes without saying. Do you know how thrilled we are to finally have a reliable gas station and mechanic in this town? It’s huge. But we still want to pay you.”
“Dinner is good,” Griff said, and noticed Lina beaming like he was already part of the family. Oh boy, time to put on the brakes.
“When do you think you’ll open?” Maddy asked.
“I’m still waiting to close escrow and then I have some upgrades I want to make. Maybe late fall.”
“What kind of upgrades?” Maddy sat down next to Lina, while Rhys tinkered under the hood doing something Griff knew he’d have to undo.
The guy didn’t know the first thing about a 304 V-8. As far as Griffin could tell, Lina’s brother didn’t know much about engines, period. But if the dude wanted to bang on things with a wrench, far be it from Griffin to give him lip.
“The shop needs a complete redo—the equipment in there is ancient,” Griffin told her. “I’m also thinking of adding a car wash, a BAR-97 Emissions Inspection System for smog checks, and possibly a tow truck.”
This got Rhys’s attention. “A tow truck?”
“Yeah. Why? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s a friggin’ great idea. You know who’s doing all the damn towing in this town right now?” When Griffin shook his head, Rhys said, “You’re looking at him. Every time someone gets stuck in the snow, my officers get called out. Some idiot parks in a red zone, guess who gets called? It’s a waste of police department resources. I’ll tell you what, you get a legitimate towing service off the ground and I’ll work on getting you a city contract.”
“Appreciate it.” Griffin continued changing the mounts. “Dink said something similar.”
Rhys squinted at him. “How do you know the mayor?”
“We hang out at the barbershop sometimes—play a little cards.” Griffin gazed over at Lina, who continued to look pleased as punch at how cozy this had all gotten. Maybe someone should remind her that she was going off to school in a few weeks. And until she stopped getting carded, she and he were never going to happen.
“Where’s Sam?” he asked, surprised that Lina’s little brother was the only one missing from this little family tableau. He’d met the boy at the Lumber Baron several times. Nice kid.
“He’s over at the McCreedys’,” Maddy said. “Have you met Clay and his sons?”
“Met him yesterday.” Clay had given the impression that he wasn’t the type to tangle with. He’d certainly put Owen and the old farts in their place about Emily. If Clay hadn’t done it, Griff would have. Harmless gossip was one thing, but whispering behind Emily’s back about her kid getting snatched was twenty kinds of wrong. “Haven’t met the boys yet, though.”
He was almost done with the tranny and wished Rhys would stop fiddling with shit. It’s not like he was accomplishing anything.
“That’s the great thing about Nugget. Eventually you’ll meet everyone,” Maddy said, leaning back in a nice-looking rocking chair. “Are you thinking about getting a permanent place?” she asked, and quickly added, “Not that I don’t love having you at the Lumber Baron.”
“Yeah, I am.” What the hell, Griffin thought. It was just a matter of time before they found out, anyway. “I’m considering one of those houses in Sierra Heights.”
“Oh,” Maddy said. “Those aren’t for sale. There’s a whole bunch of legal stuff going on with the place and it’s keeping the developer from selling any of the homes.”
He was about to make the legal problems go away. Yup, Nugget would soon be having a housing boom. “I’m buying the subdivision,” Griffin said, and stuck his head back under the hood.
Silence.
Rhys finally asked, “Did you just say you’re buying Sierra Heights? As in the entire development?” At least he’d put his wrench down, giving Griff room to finish the job.
“Yep.” Griffin nodded.
“You mean invest, right? With dozens of other people?”
“I thought about going that route,” Griffin said, wiping his hands on a rag. “But too much hassle. I like doing things my own way.”
They gaped at him. Three pairs of eyes glazed with shock.
“Griffin?” Lina asked. “Are you like totally rich?”
“Yep.” He slammed down the hood. “The transmission is done. Should we try her out?”
Rhys and Maddy continued to stare at him in mute fascination. But Lina jumped up, giving him an enthusiastic nod. She was probably hoping that they could get a little alone time by taking the Scout for a spin. Griffin was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the state of his bank account. Nope. From the get-go, Lina Shepard had made it crystal clear that she was into him.
But before he could get in the truck, Griffin’s cell phone rang. His father’s phone number popped across the display. He considered letting it go to voice mail, like he’d done the other dozen times the tribal chief had called over the last week.
Maybe the guy needed a kidney. That’s the only reason Griffin could figure for the sudden urgency.
So against his better judgment he answered the phone, which turned out to be a big mistake. Because by the end of the call, Griffin had agreed to do something he promised he never would. Meet the man who had given him life.
And a butt-load of money.
Like clockwork, Cody delivered Emily’s milk and eggs by eight in the morning on Monday and she fed him breakfast. It had become their weekly routine. Although she had a sneaking suspicion that he ate twice. Once at his house and then again at hers. She didn’t know where he put all that food, but liked having such a good eater around. Today she experimented with cheesy grits and made him play guinea pig.
“What do you think?”
“Good,” he said, fanning his mouth. The boy didn’t wait for food to cool, just shoveled it into his mouth. And frankly he wasn’t that discriminating, which made her wonder what Clay fed the kids. “Is this for the second book?”
“Yep.” Della had insisted that grits gave her gas and didn’t want it in the book. But Emily had nudged. You couldn’t do a down-home country cookbook without the Southern staple. The good thing about Della was that she had the attention span of a Jack Russell terrier, so Emily got her way on most recipes. She just had to put up with the prima donna’s occasional meltdowns.
For some unfathomable reason, Della had decided that Emily was her new BFF. She called regularly to either confide big news—“I had sex with Kenny Chesney last night”—or to bitch her out for an imagined slight. The woman was certifiably nutso.
Unlike Della, the founder of Le Petit Déjeuner knew food, was sane and a joy to work with. Unfortunately, that book only paid a fraction of what she would make off Della’s project. Marge had hopes that doing an übercelebrity cookbook would catapult Emily into the big leagues.
“Justin’s off restriction,” Cody said, washing down a second helping of grits with a glass of milk. “He can hang out with his friends again.”
“Oh yeah?” The last few weeks the boys had been coming to the Hot Spot to swim and inner tube. Restriction seemed to have agreed with Justin, because he acted a lot less morose. She suspected that not being around the culprits who’d been gossiping about his mother had helped, and worried that it would start all over again. “How ’bout you and Sam? You two have any big plans before school starts?”
“Nope. Just hanging loose.”
Funny kid. “Sounds good.”
“Justin says my dad’s gonna marry Lauren.”
Emily nearly choked on her coffee and had to wipe the dribble off her apron. “Did your dad tell him that?”
Cody lifted his shoulders. “He went out with her Saturday night and got in real late.”
Well, that didn’t mean he was marrying her. “How would you feel about that?” she asked.
Another shrug. “Whatever.” His nonchalance seemed pretty feigned to Emily.
“Cody,” she said, “I wouldn’t read marriage into a late-night date. But if you have questions about it, you should ask your father.” And then you should come back here and tell me. In the meantime, she needed an antacid to soothe the burning in her stomach. The man definitely made her feel again. And what she felt right now was a sickening amount of jealousy. Even if the boys had exaggerated all this nonsense about marriage.
Before his trip to New York, she’d gotten the distinct impression that it wasn’t serious between Clay and Lauren. Correction. He had led her to believe it wasn’t serious. But she supposed the situation could have changed.
Cody checked the time on his cell phone. “I have to go, Miss Mathews. Thanks for the grits. They should definitely go in the book.” He grabbed his empty egg basket and flew out the door.
Not five minutes after Cody left, Clay called. “Hey. You have a few minutes? I was hoping to come over. I need to talk to you about something.”
Oh my God. Justin was right. The acid churning in her stomach spread to her chest and up into her throat. “Sure,” she said. Of course he’d want to tell her. They had become friends. Confidants.
A short time later he knocked at her door. She hadn’t even had time to fix her hair.
“Hi.” She ushered him in. “Cody just left. He’s my official taster, you know.”
“What did he taste?” He looked over her head into the kitchen.
“Cheesy grits for the new cookbook I’m working on. You want a bowl?”
“Hell yeah,” he said. “I’ve been running all morning on coffee and pound cake.”
“Where did you get the pound cake?” She presumed Lauren had sent it home with him. Given the cupcake fiasco, she knew Clay couldn’t bake.
“A chick named Sara. Sara Lee. You ever hear of her?”
Emily laughed and ladled a generous portion of the grits into a dish. “I could poach you an egg. It’s the least I can do, since they’re your eggs.”
“Well, in that case, poach me two,” he said, sitting at the breakfast bar, watching her cook. “I like when we do this . . . it’s nice.” Like Cody bringing the milk and eggs, this too had become a routine of sorts.
Emily liked it too. More than she ever knew possible. Still, it struck her as a peculiar thing for a newly engaged man to say. Not really appropriate. “So what did you need to talk to me about?”
She removed the eggs from the pot of water, laid them on top of the grits, and passed him the dish with a side of buttered toast. He ate greedily while she stood back to watch. There was something sensual about the way his large hands dipped bread into the yolks. The way he twisted the grinder to pepper his grits.
“You already eat?” he asked, looking up from his food.
“I nibbled,” she said, and cocked her head toward his plate. “If I ate like that I’d be big as a house.”
He gave her an appraising look. “If you ask me you could use a few extra pounds.”
Like Lauren, she presumed, who had plenty of curves and lots of cleavage. He cleaned his bowl and pushed it aside.
“You want more?” she asked, leaning against the refrigerator.
“I’m good. Thanks. Come sit down.”
She would prefer to stand and act busy. Otherwise he might see the raw disappointment in her eyes. But she grabbed the stool next to him.
“I was in town yesterday,” he said. “Went over to the barbershop. Owen knows about Hope, Emily. He started talking about it in front of a few of the guys waiting for haircuts, including the mayor and that fellow, Griffin. I debated on whether to tell you, but ultimately I figured you’d want to know. I’m sorry, honey.”
She weaved her fingers together, remembering the rhyme she and Hope used to recite together. Here is the church, and here is the steeple. Open the door and see all the people.
She swallowed hard. “Do they think I’m a horrible mother?” How could they not? Even though many of the media reports were erroneous, even complete fabrications, Hope’s abduction had been Emily’s fault.
He lifted her chin. “Emily, don’t do this. You yourself suspected that people already knew. So it’s out there. Hopefully it will bring more awareness to the cause and make parents step up their game. Everyone around here is too lax about safety.
“And by the way,” Clay continued, “Owen thinks you were railroaded, like Patsy Ramsey.”
She had been railroaded. Not by the police, but by the court of public opinion. Why would it be any different here? “What do you think I should do?” she asked in a panic. “Maybe I should leave.”
“
You’re overreacting.” Clay gave her a stern look, then immediately softened. “This is a good place for you, Emily. You’ve got friends here . . . You’ve got me.”
Her eyes got watery and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Thank you. Do you think Owen has known for long?”
“I don’t know,” Clay said. “It seemed like it was news to the others, though.”
“Griffin knew,” she told Clay.
“You told him?” There was an edge to Clay’s voice, like he didn’t approve.
“When he took me home, he saw Hope’s picture.” Her gaze moved to the fireplace mantel. “I don’t think he’s the type to spread hateful rumors.”
“I don’t think so either.” He moved his hand up her arm in a conciliatory fashion. “You want to go to the Ponderosa tonight for dinner and celebrate your Della James contract? We were supposed to do it after New York, but time got away from me.”
“I thought you were going to grill steaks,” she said, reaching across the bar for a napkin to wipe away her sniffles.
“Tater’s steaks put mine to shame.”
Maybe so. But she knew a public dinner would be his way of sending a message to the town that he stood by her. The gesture moved her to tears again. Clay McCreedy was one in a million.
“What about the boys? They can come too.”
“They’re okay on their own for a few hours.” He took his empty dish to the sink, came back and kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got to get going—have some ranch business. I’ll pick you up at six.”
When he left, Emily realized that Lauren had never come up in the conversation.
Clay tucked his shirt into his nicest pair of jeans and put on his best boots—kangaroo leather embossed with the McCreedy brand. Justin came into his room just as he finished cinching his belt.
“You two work out what you want for dinner?” he asked Justin.