Brant was torn between calling Charlie and simply ignoring what had happened this morning. A text from Kurt said that Charlie had shown up at Talulah’s after he left, so he knew the reason his best friend had been looking for him was to apologize. If he hadn’t spent the night with Talulah, they would’ve been able to put the rift behind them and move on, provided he kept his distance from her in the future, too. That was the catch. And since he hadn’t managed to stay away, he didn’t care to answer any questions where she was concerned.
Or...should he simply call Charlie and tell him the truth? Lay it all out and admit that he might continue to see Talulah while she was in town? He’d never had any reason to lie to his best friend before—never had any reason to keep secrets from him, either—and it didn’t feel good to start now.
But relieving his conscience might make Charlie miserable, and what purpose would that really serve? As Talulah kept pointing out, she’d be leaving soon. If he made a big deal about having the right to spend time with her, he’d damage his relationship with his best friend permanently.
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he mumbled.
“What’d you say?”
Brant stood up and spun around. He’d gone out to the farthest paddock to repair the watering system, so he was surprised to find Miles, the brother closest to him in age at thirty, coming up behind him. “I didn’t say anything,” he replied.
“Now you’ve started talking to yourself?”
He shot his brother a mock scowl. “At least I’m not singing all the time, like you.”
“You wish you could sing like me,” he said with a grin.
Miles was pretty good. He played the guitar, too, and had recently started booking gigs at various bars in Bozeman on the weekends. “What are you doing way the hell out here?” Brant asked.
“We’ve been having trouble with the herd in that front paddock.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Bloat.”
“Every herd faces bloat now and then—”
“I’m saying we have more cows with it than normal,” he broke in. “Ranson and I are thinking we might need to adjust their diet.”
Ranson was the fourth brother, who was three years younger than Miles. He’d skipped college, figured he didn’t need a degree to continue working on the ranch the same way he had his whole life. But Brant felt the degree he’d gotten in natural resources and rangeland ecology at the University of Montana in Missoula had helped them modernize. Although his father had resisted the changes—Clive was as old-school as a guy could get—ever since Brant and his brothers had taken over and switched to rotational grazing, they’d increased the amount of forage harvested per acre by nearly two tons. “They might be getting too much potassium,” he said.
“Or not enough salt.”
“Have we lost any?”
“Not yet. Thank goodness. I nearly had to call the vet a few minutes ago, though. One poor steer was in so much pain I thought he was a goner. But I finally got that damn tube down his throat and relieved the gas.”
Had he not been able to do that, the steer might’ve suffocated. “He’s okay now?”
“Seems like it.”
Bloat was caused by rumen fermentation gases and wasn’t uncommon in cattle who were fed alfalfa or other legume grasses. Without help, a cow with bloat could die in an hour or two, so it was a condition all ranchers took seriously. When a tube didn’t work, they had to stab the animal on the left-hand side to let the gas escape. “I’ll change up the feed,” he promised.
“Okay. I’m going to the feed store to buy a few more salt licks in case that’ll help.”
“Sounds good.”
Miles started to leave, but turned back at the last moment. “By the way, what was with Charlie this morning? Is he mad again?”
After getting sunburned while fixing the roof the other day, Brant had put on a long-sleeved shirt. He used his forearm to mop the sweat from his face. “It’s nothing.”
Miles sized him up. “Kurt told me it’s about that runaway bride with the weird name.”
Brant might’ve referred to Talulah in the same way once, but now he felt immediately defensive and was tempted to tell his brother never to refer to her like that again. Resisting the impulse, because it would only make his brother more interested in what was going on in his life, he said simply, “Talulah Barclay.”
“Yeah, that’s her. So...what’s the deal? Are you really seeing her—the woman who stood Charlie up at the altar?”
“She won’t be in town long,” he replied. Although that didn’t really answer the question, he wasn’t sure how to describe their relationship. And since his loyalties were suddenly split and he didn’t know what to do about it, he’d rather not have this conversation.
“But you’re seeing her while she’s here? Is that what you’re saying?”
Brant’s phone went off. Relieved to have an out, he removed one leather glove and pulled his cell from his pocket.
The second he saw who was calling, however, he wasn’t nearly as pleased. “This is Charlie now,” he said. “You and I will have to talk later.”
Miles gave him a funny look. He’d been dismissed, something he wasn’t accustomed to. Normally, Brant didn’t have any secrets. Even if he did, he didn’t keep anything from his brothers.
“Hello?” he said, answering his phone before it could transfer to voice mail.
“There you are,” Charlie said.
“Give me one sec.” Brant gestured for Miles to allow him some privacy.
“What’s going on with you?” Miles grumbled but finally left.
“I’m here,” Brant told Charlie when his brother was out of earshot.
“Where’ve you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
“Sorry. It’s been a busy day. The watering system in the far paddock broke, so I’ve been knee-deep in mud, and my brothers have been fighting to save several steers with bloat. We almost lost one.”
“That sucks. You were able to save it, though?”
“Looks that way,” he said. “Don’t you have to work today?”
Charlie seemed taken aback by the question, probably because Brant hadn’t entirely concealed his irritation. “I have a couple of house showings, but they aren’t until later.”
As far as Brant was concerned, Charlie didn’t have enough to keep him busy. Maybe he’d worry less about Talulah if he did. “So what’s up?”
“I’d like to apologize for acting like a jealous ass the other day.”
Brant didn’t want an apology. That was part of the reason he hadn’t called Charlie after he got back from Talulah’s, as he’d planned. He’d heard from Kurt, knew his brother had covered for him, so Charlie’s contrition only made him feel guiltier for sneaking around. “It was nothing. Let it go.”
“Really? I mean, dude! I hit you when you already had a concussion. I can’t believe I did that. But you didn’t tell me you’d hit your head. How was I to know?”
He hadn’t given Brant time to say much of anything. He shouldn’t have hit him regardless. It wasn’t as if Brant had slept with Charlie’s girlfriend or wife. But Brant knew that reminding him he had no claim on Talulah would only make matters worse. “My skull’s as hard as granite. I’m fine.”
“How’d it happen?”
He sucked in a lungful of air he silently blew out. “I went down in the basement to see where she wanted the portable cooler and whacked my head on the ceiling as I came back up the stairs.” That was close enough to the truth.
“Why’d you have to go to the basement?”
“That’s where Talulah was working.” Almost naked. It was a sight he’d never forget. But the less said, the better.
“So...did she come on to you or what?”
He dropped his head back to stare up at the wide blue sky. “Charlie, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no reason to!”
“She has a boyfriend in Seattle. You know that, right? How’s he going to feel about her hooking up with you?”
Brant could easily have answered that question. He and Talulah had talked about Paul. But he wasn’t going anywhere close to that land mine. “I have no idea, and it’s none of my business.”
“I bet he won’t be happy about it.”
“I don’t get the impression they’re exclusive.”
“Did she say that?”
“Charlie, please!” Brant said.
“I’m just saying...she never posts pictures of any other guys.”
“Sheila Humphrey has had a thing for you since I can remember. Why don’t you give her a shot?”
“Sheila’s nice. But I’m not attracted to her.”
Charlie needed something or someone to help him move on. “There are other women in town,” Brant said.
“Easy for you to say. You don’t understand what I’m going through because you’ve never been in love.”
Brant pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you with Talulah. I know it’s been rough. But I have to get back to fixing this waterline. It’s hot as hell out here.”
“Okay. Should we play some pool tonight?”
Brant wished he could say no. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, today had been physically demanding, and he wasn’t done yet. But he knew that Charlie was offering him an olive branch and would be offended if he refused.
“Sure,” he heard himself say and was convinced he was doing the right thing, because no matter how exhausted he was, he was afraid he’d sneak over to Talulah’s again if he could.
And if he kept doing that, Charlie would catch him eventually.
Talulah had spent the day trying to forget about Brant, Charlie and the rest of Coyote Canyon while making eight pans of lasagna. She’d just driven them over to the church because they wouldn’t fit in her refrigerator, and was contemplating the type of green salad she’d serve at the funeral when her screen door flew open and Jane Tanner rushed in like a sudden gust of wind.
“I can’t believe you’re back in town for the first time in fourteen freaking years, and I wasn’t here when you arrived,” she exclaimed.
Startled, Talulah nearly dropped her aunt’s cookbook. An old, tattered tome with handwritten slips of paper and cards stuck between the pages, parts of it would’ve gone all over if Jane hadn’t crushed it to Talulah’s chest by sweeping her into an enthusiastic hug.
“I thought you wouldn’t get back until later!” Talulah said. “Why didn’t you text me that you’d be in town before dinner? I would’ve made us something to eat.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” she said. “Besides, we can make something together.” She gestured at all the bowls and pans in the sink that were stacked almost to the ceiling. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting ready for my aunt’s funeral.”
“It looks like you’re cooking for an army.”
“I am. I decided to do the dinner myself.”
“I thought you said Phoebe’s church would be handling it.”
Talulah gave her a sheepish look. “I wanted to do it myself.”
“Why?”
That was difficult to explain. To feel better about herself. To show the town she’d made good in spite of her reputation and to honor her aunt. But maybe it didn’t really mean anything in the end and had been a stupid idea. “I don’t know.”
“Is it too late to change your mind?”
“I’m not going to back out now,” Talulah said. “I’ve already got a lot of it done.”
“I’m happy to hear that, because the funeral’s on Thursday, isn’t it? You only have tomorrow left.”
“I’ll make it.”
“What can I do to help?”
It felt wonderful just to hear that question, was so good to have her friend back. Although Jane came to Seattle almost every year, those few days together weren’t quite the same as spending time with the person she’d been closest to—besides Charlie’s sister—where they’d grown up. “I’m happy you’re here.”
A worried expression jerked Jane’s eyebrows together. “Has it been that rough?”
“Well, no one’s run me out of town quite yet, but...”
“There’s been drama. I know. What the heck were you thinking, sleeping with Brant Elway?”
“It didn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t have been a big deal,” Talulah said, although it seemed like a much bigger deal now that she’d spent two nights with him. Each time they made love felt less casual than the time before.
“So...how’d it happen?”
“We’re starting on this subject already?” she said.
“The whole town’s talking about it.”
Talulah rolled her eyes. “Great. That should make the funeral fun.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”
“No, you won’t,” Talulah said.
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
Jane frowned as she plopped into a chair. “Averil’s got to understand that I’m friends with you, too.”
“Except she won’t. If you go, you’ll have to choose between us, and she’ll never forgive you if you choose me. I don’t want to imagine you lonely and miserable after I leave.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” she joked.
“I’m serious. I can get through one afternoon by myself.”
“But Averil will expect me to be there, too.”
“Why? You barely even knew my great aunt.”
“She gave me piano lessons.”
“So? Come up with an excuse. Get sick or have something happen to a family member that takes you out of town for the day.”
“I’ll feel terrible doing that.”
“It’ll pass. Trust me, you need to stay away.”
“Brant won’t be going, will he?”
“No.”
“He didn’t know your aunt, either?”
“Not really. And he’s in the same situation you are. It’ll be best for both of you to skip it.”
“But you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not as if Brant’s off-limits.”
“Apparently to me he is. How protective of her brother can Averil be?”
“I don’t think this is entirely about Charlie,” Jane confided.
“What do you mean?” Talulah asked.
“The way she’s been talking about Brant lately. It’s sort of making me wonder if she’d like to sleep with him herself.”
Talulah felt her eyes widen. “No!”
“Yes! He seems to be coming up in our conversations quite a bit. He’s giving her son horseback riding lessons. He came to rescue her when she got a flat tire on the way to Bozeman and she couldn’t get hold of Charlie. She thanked him by baking a giant chocolate chip cookie and taking it over to him. She talks about seeing him whenever he comes into the bank, and yet I don’t hear about any other patrons. And on and on.”
Talulah sank into the chair beside her. “Have you asked her if she’s interested in him?”
“I have. She denies it. And he’s been a close friend of the family for years, so maybe I’m reading too much into it. But when she called to give me the latest gossip yesterday, I don’t know...it made me wonder all over again.”
“Wow.” Talulah felt a little sick inside, but she couldn’t really explain why. Her whole life was in Seattle with her dessert diner and Paul. Why would she care if Averil had a thing for Brant? For all she knew, they were perfect for each other. And maybe if they got together, he could convince Averil to forgive her for what she did at the wedding.
“Talulah?”
Talulah had been staring off into space. Blinking, she shifted her gaze back to Jane. “What?”
“Let’s order a pizza and open a bottle of wine.”
Talulah remembered the bottle Ellen had brought over. Ellen had mentioned sharing it with her, but Talulah would simply buy another bottle. “Okay. I just happen to have some pinot noir,” she said—and was somehow more eager than usual to drink it.
Charlie was particularly good at pool. But so was Brant. They enjoyed playing because they were evenly matched. “Damn, I just set you up,” Charlie complained, using his cue stick to indicate the ball he’d accidentally knocked to the brink of the corner pocket.
“And I’m going to take full advantage.” Brant was so immersed in the game and trying to engineer a win, even though he was currently behind, that he was glad they’d decided to come to Hank’s Bar and Grill. Hanging out with Charlie reminded him of all the fun they’d had together over the years and made it possible to forget the recent strain.
He sank the nine and was sizing up a much trickier bank shot when Charlie cursed, making him flinch and send the cue ball into the side pocket. “What the hell?” Brant growled. But then he followed Charlie’s gaze, saw what’d caused his reaction and lowered his stick.
Talulah and Jane had just walked in. The two women were dressed casually in jeans and flip-flops. Talulah had on a red top with short sleeves while Jane wore a pink-and-white one with straps. They were laughing and talking while waiting for the bartender to take their order, and they hadn’t spotted him and Charlie. But Hank’s was too small a place for them not to notice eventually.
“Let’s get out of here,” Brant said.
Charlie frowned. “No way. You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to say anything to her. Besides, our food hasn’t even come. And we’re in the middle of a game.”
Brant eyed his beer. If he stayed, he was going to need a lot more alcohol—except that drinking away the awkwardness he felt being around Charlie and Talulah at the same time was probably the worst thing he could do. This situation was a recipe for disaster even without the alcohol. But wild horses couldn’t drag Charlie away; he was too obsessed with Talulah. “Fine. Let’s finish our game,” Brant said and gestured for him to proceed.
“You want your shot over again?” Charlie asked.
Brant deserved a second chance, but he shrugged. “No, it’s fine.”
Charlie didn’t argue. He was too interested in keeping an eye on Talulah to focus on much else. The penalty Brant would receive would only help Charlie win, anyway. And that was what Charlie wanted. To win—not just the game, but the girl who’d broken his heart.
Brant stood by, watching as Charlie moved around the table, searching for his best shot. He eventually found one he seemed to like, but before bending to take it, he glanced at the bar once again, and Brant couldn’t help doing the same. Talulah and Jane were speaking to the bartender.
Charlie missed, so Brant stepped up and managed to sink the fourteen in the side pocket. He didn’t have a good angle on anything after that. Although he still had the ten and the thirteen on the table, the way they were positioned meant he’d be more likely to sink the eight ball and lose the game if he took a shot at them. So he simply did what he could to block Charlie, hoping he’d have a better opportunity next turn.
Brant stood waiting, on edge as Charlie tested various angles and eyed different pockets. He was taking forever, which irritated Brant, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. As Charlie had said, their food hadn’t even arrived yet. There was no way Brant would be able to convince him to leave, or come up with a good excuse to leave himself, until after that.
Jane caught sight of them first. She nudged Talulah as they were carrying their drinks to a table, and Brant saw Talulah stop walking the second she realized. He smiled and nodded, hoping to put her at ease, but Charlie had been keeping such a close watch on them that he immediately noticed, and she looked away and started walking again without acknowledging either of them.
What were the chances they’d show up here at the same time? Brant thought. But in a town this size, the chances were actually pretty good. There wasn’t a lot of nightlife in Coyote Canyon, and because this place played music that appealed to a younger crowd, Hank’s was the obvious choice for anyone under forty.
Their food couldn’t take too much longer. He’d eat. Then he’d say he was exhausted and go. If Charlie wanted to stay, that was up to him, but Brant was going to remove himself from the situation, hoping that would somehow make things easier on Talulah.
“She won’t even look at me,” Charlie said.
Clenching his teeth, Brant had to talk himself out of telling Charlie to grow up. “She’s just having a drink with an old friend, Charlie,” he said, once he’d regained control. “Give her a break.”
Charlie straightened, scowling at Brant’s words. “Why are you always defending her?”
“I’m not defending her. I’m trying to give you a little perspective. She’s moved on. You need to, as well.”
“I’m sick of everyone saying that, as if I can decide and make it happen like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I wish!”
“Just take your turn,” Brant said, gesturing at the pool table.
Charlie threw him a dagger of a glance before sinking his last ball and following up with the eight ball to win the game. “There you go,” he said tauntingly. “I took my turn.”
“Good for you.” Brant was about to walk out even before the food arrived. As far as he was concerned, Charlie had been feeling sorry for himself long enough, and Brant was tired of putting up with it. But after he returned his pool cue to the rack, he spotted Becky, the waitress who’d taken their order, weaving through the tables, and he could see she had their wings, fries and bacon burgers on her tray.
“Hey,” Charlie said, greeting her when she reached them. “I’d like to send that woman with the long blond hair over there a note. If I give you twenty bucks, will you get me a piece of paper and a pen and take it over to her?”
“Sure,” she said, enthusiastic about the big tip.
“Charlie, don’t,” Brant murmured after Becky scurried off to do his bidding. “Leave Talulah alone.”
“Why? This might be my only chance to let her know how I feel.”
“She’s well aware of how you feel.”
“Maybe so. But I’ve never really had my say, and I’d like to take this opportunity. I think I deserve it.”
Brant felt his muscles tense. “What more is there to say, Charlie?”
“That, my friend, is none of your business,” he said with a cocky grin.
Even if he’d finished eating, Brant couldn’t leave now. No way was he going to let Charlie mistreat Talulah.
Becky returned with pen and paper and Charlie pushed his food back, even though he’d barely touched it, to make room.
Brant watched him write what seemed like a tome, but he couldn’t read it, thanks to the dimly lit room and Charlie shielding the paper. Becky waited beside them. He folded it over and handed it to her as soon as he was done, but Brant snatched it out of her hand.
“What’re you doing?” Charlie demanded.
“Just making sure you’re not being a dick,” Brant replied.
Becky covered her mouth. “I think maybe you two have had too much to drink.”
Brant had only had two beers. This had nothing to do with alcohol. “You’d better get out of here,” he told her, and she hurried away.
“You don’t have any say in what I do,” Charlie said and his stool squealed against the concrete floor as he shoved it back and sprang to his feet.
Brant stood, too, and took a step back, bracing himself just in case. “What’re you going to do? Start another fight?”
Charlie didn’t answer, but his fists were clenched.
“If you do, this time I won’t hold back,” Brant warned him.
“You’re going to let Talulah, of all people, come between us?” Charlie said.
Brant didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he read the note.
Hey Lu,
Remember me? I hope so, because I won’t ever forget the day you walked out on our wedding. I don’t know another chick who could do something like that, but you’re not going to get away with it or what you’ve done since you came back. I’m going to message your boyfriend on Insta and tell him you’ve been fucking my best friend. We’ll see what happens to your dessert diner after that.
Paybacks are a bitch, aren’t they? ;-)
He signed it: The first man you stood up (now what will the others do?)
Brant glared at Charlie as he leaned forward, held the paper over the flame of the candle that was in the middle of their table and burned it. “This is bullshit, Charlie,” he said. “And you’d better not contact Paul.”
“I’ve already done it,” Charlie said.
Brant’s heart leaped into his throat. Everything Talulah had built could be ruined—because of him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“With me! I can’t believe you’re on her side. That must’ve been one hell of a fuck.”
“You know what?” Brant said. “It was.”
Charlie took a swing at him, but his fist never landed. Brant caught his arm, twisted it around his back and shoved him into the table, causing everyone in the vicinity to gasp and step back. “I’m glad she didn’t marry you,” he gritted out. “You don’t deserve her.”
“Get off me,” Charlie yelled.
“You got it. But this time we’re really done.” Giving him a final shove, Brant let go and walked out.