He wasn’t going to talk to her. That’s what Tyler told himself as he climbed into his truck and glanced at the passenger seat where she’d already settled in.
No talking.
No glancing at her, watching her worry her bottom lip.
No wondering what she was thinking when she caught the plump fullness and stared mindlessly through the windshield.
“This recipe really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” The question was out before he could stop himself.
She didn’t look as if she wanted to answer any more than he’d wanted to ask, but then she shrugged. “It’s everything. The bakery is barely scraping by right now. Another month like this last one, and we’ll be losing money. I have to make sure that doesn’t happen. That means I need another source of income to expand so that we’re not just competing with a doughnut shop. We need to be a go-to cake venue for everyone in the Hill Country. That won’t happen without another oven and another specialty decorator. And neither of those will happen if I don’t run this mash and present a product to Foggy Bottom Distillers by Friday.”
“That’s four days away.”
“Which is why I couldn’t wait around for Kenny Roy. At least you’ve got a few extra days to play with. I’m down to the wire. My mash is just about ready to go. Then I’ll have less than twenty-four hours to run it before it sours. That means I need to talk to someone now.”
“I’m sure Ryder Jax can hook you up. The question is—will he?”
“I’ll bribe him if I have to.” She glanced out the window, her brow furrowing. “Let’s hope he likes brownies.”
“There isn’t a man out there who can resist your brownies, sugar.”
She slid a glance toward him, a grin tugging at her lips and easing the worried expression. “Why is it I get the feeling you’re not talking about an actual baked good?”
“Oh, it’s good, all right.”
“You’re a horn dog.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’ll just bet.” Quiet settled between them for a few moments, but it was an easy silence. Her worry had faded and she seemed to have relaxed just a little. “You still haven’t heard from your brother?” she finally asked as if the easy silence bothered her as much as the uneasy silence had bothered him.
“Not yet. Kenny said he might be back today, but I’ve got a few people at the local bars—the usual haunts—keeping a lookout for him. So far, nothing. It’s looking more like tomorrow. If he even shows up at all.”
“You really think he might have taken off for good?”
“Not so much as I’m thinking he might have gotten himself into some deep trouble. More than he can handle. These dudes … They’re no good.”
“Still, folks have seen them together. It seems stupid for anyone to hurt him when they’d more than likely be the most obvious suspect.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me feel better.”
“Maybe I’m just returning the favor. So how’s your mom?”
They spent the rest of the drive talking about the falling-down porch he’d reframed just that morning and about the woman who seemed oblivious to anything but her spiked coffee.
“It had to be hard for her, growing up with so much and then having it all taken away when she married your dad.”
“True. My grandparents hated my dad.” To the point that they’d disowned not only their daughter for marrying poorly, but her offspring, as well. They’d gone to their grave hating their daughter and her two mistakes. “But she made that choice willingly.”
Because that’s what it was—a choice. His mother hadn’t had to fall in love with his dad. She’d made her choice, and then she’d blamed the world for it.
Not Tyler. He took responsibilities for his own actions, and he wasn’t making the same mistake. His mother couldn’t let go of the past even though the past had let go of her. Not Tyler. He was letting go. Getting away. Forgetting. Once and for all.
But first he had to make sure that Cooper was okay.
That, and finish the damn porch.
“I hear Callie’s tying the knot,” he added, eager to change the subject.
“Next month,” she said. “If she can make her mind up about a bridesmaid’s dress. I’ve got a fitting on Thursday, but so far there are over six possibilities and nothing for sure.”
“Maybe she wants you to choose for yourself.”
“If she wanted that, she wouldn’t have hooked me up with her photographer.”
“Come again?”
“Nothing. It’s just a lunch date that I got wrangled into because Callie wants perfect pictures and her top candidate wants me.” She shook her head. “You’d think after ten years, things would have changed.”
“Are you kidding? Nothing changes in a small town,” he murmured, voicing the one fear that lived and breathed deep inside of him, that no matter how well he did, how much money he made, or how much fame he gained, he would still be that worthless Tyler McCall.
“I don’t know about that. I think people change. It’s perception that doesn’t change. And that doesn’t mean anything anyway. Who cares what someone else thinks?”
“Sounds like you’ve forgiven all those boys for all that writing on the bathroom wall.”
“Forgiven, yes. Forgotten, no. But no matter what they wrote, it didn’t make it true. It didn’t,” she said, more to convince herself than him.
“Here,” he said, eager to change the subject. He handed over his cell. “Type the first address into my Google Maps and let’s see if we can find this guy.”
* * *
They didn’t find Ryder Jax.
But they did find out where he was living. At least, according to the neighbor who happened to be watering her plants when they pulled up outside the small clapboard house that sat just beyond the interstate, about ten miles north.
“You can try him back, but good luck with that. He keeps terrible hours. Nothing like his mommy or daddy, God rest both their souls. They would be beside themselves if they could see the way he’s let that house fall to ruin.” She pointed to the dried-up rosebushes that lined the front porch and the overgrown grass. “You’d think he could at least mow. Keep up the property values and all that, but no. Even flipped off Martin Jenkins—he’s the president of the neighborhood association—when he stopped by and kindly suggested it. Then he fined Ryder and the war started. The more notices he got, the higher he let the grass get until Martin got tired of looking like an ineffective idiot and cut it himself. At least that’s what folks are saying. Martin says he got tough with Ryder and convinced him to mow last month, but there ain’t a one of us alive who buys that nonsense. That Ryder is a stubborn one. But then so was his daddy. Mean, too, so it makes sense his boy would be just as bad. Runs in the family, it does…” Rose Hamper went on for the next five minutes about meanness and families and her own ungrateful children until Brandy interrupted her.
“Brownie?”
“Why, I don’t mind if I do.” She took the bakery box and opened the lid. Taking one goodie out, she started to hand it back, but Brandy waved her off.
“You keep those. It’s the least I can do for putting you to so much trouble.”
“All I did was answer a few questions.”
“And graciously agree to call us if Ryder shows up. We really need to talk to him.”
“I suppose I could do that,” the woman said after swallowing a mouthful. “I surely could.
“That was useless,” Tyler said when they climbed back in the truck.
“Are you kidding? That woman will be sitting by her window all night.”
“For a brownie?”
Brandy shrugged. “What can I say? They’re that good.”
“You’re that good,” he heard himself say. She slid a glance his way and their gazes locked and Tyler knew that there was no way he was taking her back to the bakery.
Instead, he turned and headed for the rodeo arena. It was early, but he didn’t care. He needed her.
Now.
And everything else would just have to wait.