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calloused fingers accidentally brushed hers, she pretended not to notice. Instead, she took a drink right away. It burned all the way down. She closed her eyes but managed not to squeal.
“By the way, that’s really hot.”
“Thanks for the warning.” After setting the cup on the table, out of the reach of either baby, she pressed her sore tongue to the roof of her mouth.
“I still can’t believe you showed up. I figured I’d scared you off by throwing out that question.”
“It was only reason I did come.” Unless curiosity counted, which it didn’t. “At least one Colton needs to hear what I have to say.”
Asher set his drink in the middle of the table, next to Willow’s, settled back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“Then hit me with it. There are plenty of reasons someone in Mustang Valley might not be in the Colton fan club. Probably dozens.”
Her expression must have given away her surprise because he laughed.
“No powerful business ever became that way without its leaders stepping on some toes, necks and even a few heads in the process.”
Though Asher didn’t mention that someone must have had something significant enough against Payne Colton to want him dead, his silence suggested that he was thinking about his dad.
“This ‘stepping’ happened closer to home.”
“Which of my brothers is responsible?” He held his hand across his rib cage in a mini bow. “Whatever he did, I apologize on his behalf.”
“It was your dad.”
“Oh, God. You’re not his—you’re not my...?”
“Your sister? Hardly.” She couldn’t bring herself to say father’s lover, which probably was what he’d meant at first. Her chuckle couldn’t have sounded more awkward. “Now that would have complicated all those genetic markers that Anne was talking about earlier.”
“I don’t even want to think about that.”
Neither did she, especially after she’d been checking Asher out when he’d first arrived. “It’s plenty screwed up already.” He lifted his cup off the table, popped it open and took a drink from the top, getting whipped cream on his lip. With the back of his hand, he wiped it away. “Then what did my dad do?”
Though he’d seemed to give voice to her thoughts, Willow blinked over the second part of what he’d said. From what she’d heard about the Coltons, right or wrong, they always circled their wagons whenever one of them was under attack.
“My mom worked as a maid at the Triple R. For years.”
He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin in the vee he’d formed between his hands. “I probably should apologize just for that part. It can’t be easy cleaning up after some of the animals I live with. What’s your mom’s name?”
“Kelly Johnson.”
“Johnson. Johnson?”
He appeared to be searching his memory for the name, but his gaze narrowed with a different question. One she was familiar with.
“My mom was Scottish. She never married my father, who was Latino. I got my coloring from him, but I don’t know many specifics about him, other than he was a ranch hand on the Triple R and blew out of town right after she told him she was pregnant.”
Asher squinted. “I still don’t recognize your mom’s name or remember hearing this story.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-three. Why does that matter?”
“Because it happened two years before you were born.”
Besides clearing up why she’d been unable to remember him from the short time she’d attended Mustang Valley High, it also made her two years older than he was.
“That makes sense.”
