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"Wow, I'm a bit jealous now."
She stood, winced a bit, then limped once as she walked toward Emmy. Ford quickly wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her take the weight off her foot. She hadn't been a nurse for a few years, but she'd need to take a look at her feet soon. He hadn't let her look at them before. He pulled one of the barstools away from the counter and motioned for her to sit down. "Meg cut her foot on the stones outside."
"Why the hell were you walking around outside without shoes on?"
"Never mind, Emmy."
Emmy's dark eyebrows rose into the bangs that framed her petite face, her dark eyes the spitting image of her brother's.
"Hm," she grumped, then walked to her brother, wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him in for a long hug. "Be careful out there. It's more important to come home safe than bring that scumbag back, but I hope you get him."
Ford hugged his sister back, kissed the top of her head and replied, "I'll do both; I promise."
Emmy pulled away, looked directly at her and said, "You call me if you need anything. I'll bring groceries up in a couple of days. Text me what you need, and I'll pick it up."
Patting her brother on the chest a couple of times, she turned and exited as quickly as she entered. That woman was always on the go.
Ford turned to her, his eyes slightly glassy, and her heart raced. "Marge. Margaret June. You asked me earlier, and I didn't get the chance to respond. Waylon's mom's name was Margaret June."
He hurried to his computer and tapped away at the keys as the oven timer sounded. She walked on the outside of her feet to keep from ripping open her cuts, pulled the pizza from the oven and turned it off. Digging around in the drawers, she located a pizza cutter and sliced it in eight pieces. Working as efficiently as she could with minimal walking, she pulled the salads and dressing from the refrigerator and took them to the table. Turning to the counter she managed the salads, and Ford appeared beside her, picking up the pizza with the pot holders sitting alongside and carried it to the table.
"Did Marge have an old hunting cabin in the woods about fifty miles outside of South Pass?"
Oh my God, she'd forgotten about that stupid cabin. "Yes. Shit, I forgot about it. Is that where you think they are?"
"It's where I'm going to start looking. I found it in the real estate records. It was actually an accident. There is a tax deficiency on it. Looks like no one paid taxes on it for about five years now, so the county is foreclosing it out to make themselves whole."
"Oh, wow. Waylon used to just love going hunting every year, and that's where he went. I can't believe he'd just let that place go. Bobby Ray either."
"Well, whatever is going on with those two, it appears they've changed their minds about that hunting cabin."
Eating in silence for a few moments, she glanced at him often. His thoughts seemed very far away. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you before."
When he looked up at her, butterflies came to life in her tummy again. The light from the fixture above them gleamed in his dark coal black hair. The stubble on his jaw and chin gave him that scary Ford appearance, but she was no longer frightened of him. She now knew better.
"I don't blame you, Meg. In your shoes, I wouldn't have trusted me either."
Nodding, she set her napkin next to her plate. "Ready for pie?"
Chapter26
The apple pie was just as good as his mom used to make. This woman is just too good to be true. Emmy would tell him if it’s too good to be true, it probably is, so this would be his secret for a while. Scooping her up from the table where they still sat too full to move, he gently set her on the sofa, jabbed at the fire a bit to get it roaring to life and kissed her on the forehead.
"I'll clean up, then we'll sit and relax."
She started to protest, but he shook his head. Her full lips parted in a blindingly beautiful smile, and his body quickly set itself to blazing. She was impossible to resist.
Heading back to the kitchen, his phone began playing the Wicked Witch theme song. Pulling it from his back pocket, he groaned. Tamra's name and a picture of the witch appeared as her avatar. He tapped "ignore" and silently swore under his breath. She hadn't called him in more than two years now. It figures just as soon as he found someone new, she'd crawl above ground and become a menace.
Making quick work of the dishes, he wrapped up the leftover pizza, covered the pie, refilled their wineglasses and brought them into the living room. As he handed the glass to Megan, he was once again pulled in by her alluring smile framed by her shiny, auburn curls. It never ceased to take his breath away. Their fingers brushed, and he noticed her breathing hitch. Hiding his smile, he gently sat next to her, careful not to jostle her wineglass. As he bent forward to grab the remote for the television from the coffee table, his cell phone rang. Closing his eyes, he silently prayed it wasn't Tamra, but as he glanced at the screen, he again saw the witch staring back.
"I'm sorry about this, Meg." He couldn't look at her, not when he was about to talk to his wife. "What do you want, Tamra?"
He felt Megan begin to scoot away, but he quickly set the hand holding his wineglass on her knee, which thankfully halted her progress. Leaning forward to set his wine on the coffee table, he inhaled deeply, slowly sat back, and circled his arm around Megan's shoulders. It was pure selfishness on his part. He needed the support to get through this phone call which would probably be another of Tamra's rantings about the stupid fucking house on the mountain and why was he so fucking stubborn?
"Stephano told me you're shacking up with one Megan June at MY house. What do you have to say about that?"
"What the hell are you talking about? And where would Stephano get any information about me and who I'm with and why would he give a shit?" He tried keeping his voice even, but it didn't seem to be working. The stiffness in his spine and the dread filling his stomach were the first two warning signs things could get off track in a nanosecond.
