“And you’re good with that?”
Hunter’s question followed Jenna home, to the empty house and the massive bulldozer that sat in the front yard.
“She’s here,” Brody called out to his brother who sat in the dozer seat. “You can rev her up and take her down now.”
The engine fired to a blasting rumble, the tires started to roll, and panic welled inside of Jenna because she’d lied to Hunter.
She wasn’t good with anything. Not with the demolition of the house, or with the cryptic text message that had informed her that he was calling it quits between them.
She wasn’t good.
She was miserable.
As much as she wanted to change her life, she wasn’t ready to lose the one place that housed so many memories.
Good and bad.
She’d loved her grandfather and while he might not have returned that love to the extent that she would have liked, he’d still loved her in his own way
She’d seen it when he’d bought her that first ice cream sandwich, she’d felt it every time he’d laughed at something she’d done or called her a chip off the old block.
A bad thing or so she’d always thought. But to him … She’d been someone special, just as he was special to her.
She didn’t want to forget. To trade the ice cream sandwiches for sorbet for the rest of her life.
* * *
“Stop!” she called out. “Please. Stop.”
The dozer came to a halt just a few inches shy of the front porch as she raced up, waving her arms, desperation bleeding through her. “You can’t take down the house.”
“Sure we can. I’ve got the permit right here,” Brody said, touching a hand to his pocket. “Or maybe I left it on the desk back at the office. Either way, it’s all nice and legal.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, I don’t want you to tear it down.”
“But it’s a mess. It’s an electrical nightmare, not to mention the pipes. They’re rotting as we speak.”
“I know all of that, but surely we can redo all of that without demolishing the entire thing.”
Brody seemed to think. “Well, we could do a renovation, but just like I told you before, it’ll cost you more than just starting from scratch.”
More money for the house meant less money to sink into her business.
Then again, she made a decent salary. If she had to bide her time working a little longer, it would be worth it to save the place. “That’s fine. I don’t care what it costs. I want to keep the house.”
The engine died. Brody smiled.
And it was done.
If only she could hold onto Hunter just as easily.
But he didn’t want her and so it didn’t matter how she felt.
She was Shorty Tucker and he was the elusive Clara Bell.
And the future looked miserable for them both.
* * *
Hunter stood near the corral and watched the next cowboy climb up on top of the bucking bronc. The air horn sounded. The ride lasted all of three seconds because Hell Raiser wasn’t about to let anyone get the best of him.
He tossed the cowboy and nearly stomped him into the ground.
“Tricky fucker,” the cowboy grumbled as he snatched up his hat and dusted it off as the horse bucked his way toward the opposite end of the corral courtesy of the cowboys maneuvering him into the pen.
“Try not holding on so tight,” Hunter called out. “You’re making her nervous.”
The man’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing as they met Hunter’s. “If I don’t loosen my grip, I won’t make it out of the chute.”
But he was wrong. Hunter knew it because he’d ridden horses like Hell Raiser before. Sure, he hadn’t made it to the professional level, but he’d been on his way.
Before Travis had died.
His brother’s image rose up, reminding him of his responsibilities and the all-important fact that he’d been headed to City Hall, not the rodeo arena.
His parents had left right after the funeral and Hunter had made it through just a few minutes of the reception before he’d bailed to get back to work.
To the business of his future.
He turned and crossed the distance back to his SUV. Climbing inside, he stared at the stack of documents sitting on the seat. The check that would pay the filing fee for him to join the ballot in the next election. The application that contained all of his personal information. The required list of constituent signatures to support his run. It was all ready to go.
It was just a matter of dropping everything off.
He keyed the engine and was just about to pull out of the parking lot when Marge’s voice came over the radio.
“I’ve got that address for Boris Miller if you want to pay him a visit. I know it’s not a good day for you, but I also know that you like to bury your head in work. So do you want it or what?”
Later. That’s what he should have told her.
He glanced at the paperwork again. “Give it to me.” He punched the address she read off into his GPS. “Thanks, Marge.”
“You bet. And I know you didn’t eat a thing after the funeral, so there’s a sack lunch in your glove compartment.”
“What would I do without you?”
“Get married and settle down. At least that’s what I’m hoping.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m old. Too old to sit behind this desk and listen to my arteries harden for another year. James and me want to travel. This Clara business has us both thinking about how precious time is. So we’ve decided to pull the trigger and buy that RV we’ve been pining over for years now. They’re running a flash weekend sale down at the dealership and, well, we’re not getting any younger.”
“Which means you’re giving me your two weeks’ notice?”
“Actually, it’s three. We’re springing for a custom outdoor kitchen on our Sandpiper, so they have to special order it from Houston. It’ll be here in two and a half weeks. A day or two to pack it up and you’re on your own.”
“I hate to lose you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, just remember that you’ve got to eat. And it might be nice to do that with a member of the opposite sex, hence the hint about settling down and finding a wife.”
“Message received.”
“Speaking of messages. Bobby’s looking for you. Something about you playing bunko tonight with him and his wife and her cousin. He said you promised.”
“Bunko? Tonight?”
“It might be a good time to start looking for that wife.”
“I hate bunko.”
“Yeah, well sometimes we make concessions for those we love. You watch your six,” she murmured and the mic went silent.
Bunko? With Kaitlyn?
It would be a good time to get to know her.
On the other hand, the thought of sitting with anyone other than Jenna bothered him a hell of a lot more than it should have.
Especially since Jenna wasn’t his woman.
He told himself that, but deep in his gut he couldn’t forget the feel of her hands on his body, her taste on his lips, her voice in his head.
He would find a wife someday.
In the future.
But damned if he didn’t find himself thinking about it today. About Jenna and how it just might be nice to wake up to her every morning.
He punched the address Marge texted him into his GPS and followed the instructions to Farm Road 52. He hung a left and ate up pavement, heading for the small house tucked away at the very end of the dirt road, just past a row of run-down trailers.
With a sagging porch and peeling paint, the house wasn’t much better than the dilapidated trailers. It was the truck, not the house that made him think that maybe, just maybe he might have hit pay dirt.
A brand new 4 x 4 Ford Dually sat in the drive. Shiny black. Expensive.
Too much so for a poor farmer with a falling-down house.
But a moonshiner with a top-notch setup?
Hunter killed the engine, checked his gun, and climbed out.
There was only one way to find out.