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25 – KINCAID
“So, what did she say?” Shep asks.
He’s laying on my couch with his drink and an arm thrown over his forehead.
I was in no mood to drive, so Shep drove us to my house. I’m not much in the mood for his questions, but Shep rarely takes an interest in anyone other than himself.
“Nothing.”
“Four months and a husband later, and she’s got shit to say?”
“She apologized and said some more things. I said some things, and then her husband came outside to get her,” I say, refilling my brandy snifter.
Shepherd sits up and tosses his drink back, eyeing me warily.
“That old guy that kept eyeing you is her husband?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a gulp of my brandy. “If I’d seen him on the streets, I would have sworn he was too old for her. Hell, I questioned if I was too old for her.”
“Never,” Shep says with a hearty laugh. “As long as the parties are over eighteen and it’s consensual, nothing else matters.”
“Says the man who slept with a mother and her daughter the same night.”
“Consensual,” he says, holding his glass aloft. “Besides, they were stepmother and stepdaughter.”
“Yet, you don’t do married women.”
Shrugging, he says, “Her husband was divorcing her for cheating with his daughter. Doesn’t count.”
Disgusted, I shake my head, go into my bathroom, and grab a couple of aspirin before returning to the kitchen for a glass of water. I down them both and hear my brother’s footsteps behind me.
“Coming to gloat?” I ask, facing him as he sits at the island.
“No. Coming to make a suggestion.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve fallen for this woman.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Yes, you have. You want this woman bad.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s married.”
“There’s got to be more to it, Cade. Clearly, she’s not feeling the old guy. Maybe he can’t get it up for her anymore.”
“Not my problem.”
“Give her a chance to explain what happened. I’m talking about having a lunch date or dinner where the two of you can talk without any distractions so that she can explain herself.”
“Why should I? She doesn’t want me. That much was clear then and tonight.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Ever think there’s something she may be hiding, and that’s what’s keeping her from you?”
“Hiding like what?”
Shrugging, he replies, “I don’t know. Maybe she’s a psychopathic serial killer or has a hidden kid or something.”
