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My shoulders bow up.
“You never had cooties growing up, Grady?” Hank asks with another barrel-like chuckle.
“No,” I say coldly, wondering if I’m the only person who never had lice growing up.
One thing’s for sure—it’s an experience I don’t care to have as an adult.
“I did. Every frickin’ summer,” Hank says, looking at Willow with a smile. “My mama shaved my head until I was as bald as an eagle’s egg. To top it off, I got sunburned on the top of my head and it peeled for weeks.”
“Oh, dear,” Willow says, trying not to laugh. “Why didn’t you wear a hat?”
“That’s what happens when you’re a kid who loves swimming more than thinking,” he says, overexaggerating his hand movements like he always does.
“Will you take us to the lake, Uncle Hank?” Avery pleads, her little hands grasping his. “The big one Edison always likes to drink from?”
Hank laughs again, his permanent state of being.
“Sure thing, munchkin, after we get those chores done your daddy drafted you two for,” he says, then turns his eyes to me again. “Man, Drake and Bella are gonna lose it if that damn Einstein of a horse makes another break for Big Fish Lake. They had to catch him two times last week.”
Even I can’t resist smiling at that.
It’s a running joke around here how often the Larkin’s iconic horse, Edison, manages to break into town, the lake, or other people’s barns no matter how much they escape-proof their property. The old horse always finds a way to have some fun traveling, along with his mare, Edna.
“Like I said, we should be back by early evening,” I remind him before there’s another walk down memory lane from Hank. “Willow’s truck broke down, so I’m taking her to pick up her stuff.”
That’s the story I’d fed him when I asked if the girls could spend the day at his place, anyway.
“No problem,” he says. “We have lots to do.” He winks at the girls. “Roberta was making chocolate chip cookies when I left. And I just might’ve mentioned some big important guests coming over who might like them.”
“We do, we do!” the girls exclaim together.
For a split second, I envy what Hank has going.
His life is neat, happy, and peaceful.
It makes sense.
Roberta’s been his girlfriend for years, yet the two still have no plans to tie the knot.
Maybe he learned caution after seeing what happened to me.
I’ll damn sure never tie the knot again, either.
Hank opens his truck door. “Come on in, Thing One and Thing Two. Hurry, so we can eat some cookies while they’re still piping hot!”
After quick hugs, the girls pile into his truck. I wait till they’re out of sight before I get busy loading my four-wheeler in the back of my pickup.
Willow helps me with the ramps, and after one final check on Bruce, we head out.
As we start down the driveway, a shiver nips at my spine.
Not counting the brief drive the other night when I hauled her home, it’s been years since I’ve been alone in a vehicle with a woman.
Damn. I can’t help hoping that helping her won’t wind up being another epic regret.
The silence in the cab is too intense, so I turn on the radio after a few miles.
Good call.
We talk a little as the miles drift by, but for the most part, the radio fills in the silence. Then her singing starts, adding to the muted rock lyrics pouring out of the speakers.
My brows go up at first when she closes her eyes and starts jamming like she’s the only one here.
It doesn’t bother me, I’m just...surprised.
I can tell she’s nervous. On edge. Wondering what the hell we’ll find at the coordinates entered in my phone.
If she can’t clean like a whirlwind to help her nerves, this must be another coping mechanism.
And it’s hard not to grin when “Africa” by Toto comes on and she starts belting out the lyrics. I’ll never know if it’s her inner zoologist or she’s just a freak for karaoke.
Whatever it is, I’m laughing like hell as she holds her little fist out like a fake mic, screaming into it.
“You always sing like you’re on stage in a strange man’s car, or what?” I ask, rubbing at my face.
“Nope. Just when I’m jittery as a bee and you look like you could use a laugh,” she tells me as the song ends, looking at me with a dimpled smile. “You should do it more often, Grady. You’ve got a nice laugh.”
Fuck if I know what to say to that.
And happy distractions aside, I wonder what’s up ahead, too, wondering how this is all going to end.
I haven’t told her everything Faulk suspects. This shit is waist-deep, dangerous territory, the kind that makes him call in some outside help.
His top-secret connections to a mashup of active Feds and retired ones like him working for big security agencies always make me nervous.
