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For once, Parker set aside the bullshit and the posturing that came so easy to him. A posturing that had as much to do with his being a male as his being a Benedict male.
“Working, making our way, that’s nothing. I mean, neither of us have ever had any grand career ambitions. We’re ranchers, and we can work anywhere doing practically anything as long as we’re ranching. Jobs are interchangeable, you know? But family? Hell, man, we don’t even know what real family is. What would I wish for if I could have anything in the world? It would be to have a home, a family, a place to live where people are decent to each other, where there’s no such thing as alternative facts, and those around you want to build you up instead of tear you down all the damn time.”
Dale sighed. “Yeah, me too. You don’t think we’re kind of living in a fantasy world, do you, Parker? Wanting all that?”
“Hell, bro, I hope not. I really, really hope not.”
The waitress delivered their drinks—they’d both opted for Cokes—and then, just a few minutes later, their steaks and twice-baked potatoes were laid before them.
Parker picked up his utensils and cut into his steak. The beef was done just the way he liked it. Taking that first bite, he closed his eyes and savored the flavor. There wasn’t anything better than good beef done right. He opened his eyes and tucked right into his meal.
Parker was barely half way through his lunch when he caught a glimpse of a woman who’d entered the restaurant and was being led to a seat—a seat near them—by the hostess.
“Shit.” He’d whispered that one word, hoping his wide-eyed stare at Dale would warn him.
The woman was led to the booth directly behind theirs. He didn’t feel the pressure of her sitting, so he figured she must have sat down on the opposite bench. Thank God, the seat backs were high. Otherwise, she’d get a full-on look at Dale.
“Seven and seven. I’m expecting a friend.” The woman’s voice, a particularly grating tone not helped by her curtness, was kind of hard to mistake for anyone else’s.
What the hell is Aunt Norah doing here? He’d have sworn the woman would have considered this perfectly good eatery a dive to be avoided at all costs. After all, it wasn’t anywhere near the prissiness of her country club.
Dale looked from Parker to his cell phone. Then he picked up the phone and began to key.
Parker’s cell dinged, announcing a text.
Dale: What the fuck is that bitch doing here?
Parker smiled then texted back.
Parker: Damned if I know. She’s fucking with my appetite. The good thing is, I don’t think she recognized us.
Dale: Why do you think I’m texting you? I didn’t want to take the chance she’d recognize our voices. That message was accompanied by an eye-rolling emoji.
Parker: Well, let’s pretend we didn’t see her, either, and just eat our lunch. Then we’ll leave as soon as we’re done.
Dale: Good idea.
Parker returned his attention to his steak. The food was damn good, and Parker really enjoyed the potato. As he ate, he fought a grin. He felt a bit ridiculous, playing this game. But sometimes, and with some of the Benedicts, pretending ignorance was not only the best defense, it was the only defense.
He thought of the woman sitting behind him and of some of the despicable things she’d done over the last couple of years. No wonder Cord and Jackson don’t come around anymore. In fact, over the last few years, every one of Norah and George Benedict’s kids had fled to Texas, where they’d married and settled down.
He couldn’t blame them, though he did feel sorry for his Uncle George.
Proving his brother was on the same mental page, Dale texted him.
He read the message.
Dale: Gotta feel sorry for Uncle George. Feel sorry for the cousins, too. I mean, Dad’s a bit of a bastard, and our big brother is right there with him, but neither of our folks are as bad as Norah.
Parker: Agreed.
More movement caught his attention, and he surreptitiously glanced at the well-dressed woman who came into the restaurant. He put his head down and hoped, again, that Dale caught his cue.
It didn’t surprise him when she was shown to the same table as their Aunt Norah. The booth jostled slightly as their aunt’s best friend, Elizabeth Maxwell, took her seat.
