“Deer, maybe.”
“Maybe?” He abandons his chopped veggies and turns to face me. “What kind of answer is that?” Rubbing his finger and his thumb across his lower lip, he stares at the floor by my feet. At least I have shoes on, so he can’t see the socks Sawyer got me for Christmas with Blue’s face on them. I really need to catch up on laundry. “Dad wouldn’t swerve for a deer.”
That was what I thought too. “He lectured me and Sawyer to high heaven about not risking making an accident worse by swerving to avoid a critter.” It may sound heartless, but it’s true. Sometimes, I took that risk. That was one benefit of desolate country roads.
His head is still bowed. I drop my eggs and face him.
“What are you thinking? To be honest, I haven’t checked on it. They’re gone.” My voice cracks on the last word.
“I know.” His voice is caressing. He doesn’t close the distance between us and comfort me. His big chest is compelling. I could curl up on it and let go, cry my heart out.
I give myself a mental shake. I can’t risk thinking he or his brothers will consider me and Sawyer in their final plans for the Cross properties. The princes have their kingdom back.
“Maybe talk to the sheriff again.” I grab the bowl of scrambled eggs, and they nearly slosh over the side.
“Dietz should’ve retired years ago.”
“Right? Don’t expect much support. He just phones it in. One of the Sterlings is a deputy now as well. Finn.”
“No wonder they didn’t look into it,” he grumbles.
The Sterling brothers aren’t bad. They never held my being a Winslow against me. I don’t say that outright. “Duncan Sterling used to come to the place where I bartended in Williston. He’s into craft beer.”
“Is he still a know-it-all prick?”
Scandal seems to produce plenty of those.
“Yes, but he was cool with me. I was a familiar face from home without needing to actually go home, and at that time, I had a boyfriend. I never had to worry about him hitting on me.” Those brothers didn’t vanish entirely like the Cross boys, but it was close, and eventually, Finn came home. After meeting their dad, I can see why. “Would he ask the same about you?”
“His language would be more colorful.” He offers me a hint of a smile. “Once the others arrive, we need to pick up the car.”
My stomach drops. I haven’t had the courage to go see it. After Finn delivered the news, Sheriff Dietz advised me not to worry about a thing. They’d tow it to the impound lot. “Dietz mentioned the coroner would send their personal items to the funeral home. I just want Holly’s camera, but James said he didn’t receive it with her belongings. I thought I should share the info if James didn’t bring it up.”
“He did, but thank you.”
We finish our eggs. Once they’re done, he tosses in sausages. When the food is cooked, we take our places at the table as if it’s something we always do, like an old married couple. A pang of longing stabs my chest. I thought I’d have that by now—a husband, kids, a secure career. Instead, I’m single and living inmy sister’s home. Soon, I might be single and homeless. At least the brewery will keep going. Julia’s sons will uphold her legacy, just as the ranch and Ram’s memory will. I can find comfort in that.
We each load our plates and start to eat.
The front door opens. “Hey, Mer. I’m running to Williston for—” Sawyer stops just one step into the kitchen and scowls at the cozy scene Calder and I create.
Does it look like we’re pretending to be a cozy couple? Or do I look absolutely exhausted, with bags under my eyes, while he appears to have swaggered out of a Hollywood Western? Landry may have been the one who modeled, but Calder and Bowen both could’ve too. Suits, cologne, watches, and now Western wear. Hell, I’d buy a pair of jeans he was selling.
“I didn’t realize it was Cosplay as a Cowboy Day,” Sawyer says, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Oh, I’m sorry. You probably prefer rancher.”
His lips form a troubled line. “What do people think the difference is? Paperwork?”
She barks out a hard laugh. “They think it’s the difference between owning a ranch and working one.”
He shrugs a brawny shoulder, and the shirt pulls even tighter around his pecs. “It seems a bit like swaggering around the taproom announcing that not only do I work here, but I also own it, and that would be a dickish move. I truly don’t care if people know I’m the owner.”
“But you’d care if Meredith owned it,” she shoots back.
His fork stills over the eggs. My heart sinks. He would care, and from his taut jaw, he wouldn’t like it.
“He’s selling.” I should revel in his glower, but there’s no joy. “They’re going to sell, once they know for sure what the will says.”
Sawyer blinks. “You can’t.” A frown ripples over her mouth, and she tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Ram wouldn’t make it so you could do that.”
