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“And cookies,” she agreed. “And do my food prep for the week. That’s this afternoon. After we go to the store for those clothes.”
“But don’t people, like, relax on the weekend?” Janey asked.
“Sure,” Quinn said. “And part of my relaxation is running and making cookies. What, you want to lie around and watch TV all day? Why?”
“Because I’mnormal?”Janey asked.
“Or just not a swimmer,” Quinn said, not losing a bit of her cheerfulness. “You get the work done, andthenyou relax. That’s how it works in my house.”
“Then that’s how we’ll do it,” Beckett said, and shot Janey what he hoped was a warning look.
“Allright,”Janey said. “I was justasking.”
“I don’t mind helping,” Troy said. “I pick up Bacon’s poos every morning before school, and that’s the most gross thing. You have to do it when it’s light, or you might step in it.”
“When Dadhelpsyou,” Janey said.
“Because I’m learning how,” Troy said.
Janey sighed and rolled her eyes, but she apparently wasn’t done, because now, she said, “Also, I thought bargaining worked the opposite way. Dad’s supposed to try to pay less, and you’re supposed to get him to pay more.”
“Only if you’re bargaining with a reasonable person,” Beckett said.
“Hey,” Quinn said, “do you want to live in my house or not?”
Once again, he found himself grinning. “Yeah, I want to live in your house. And hey presto, we’ve solved the repayment problem as well. Eleven hundred thirty dollars, and we’re all square. Except for two-thirds of those groceries.”
Was he a fool? Quite possibly. But how bad could it get?
23
DEFENDING YOUR LIFE
An hour later, he may have been revising that opinion.
First, there was the fact that her parentsownedthe store, which wasn’t a store so much as an empire. It covered about a hectare of ground and included hardware, gear for every kind of American sport, enough hunting and fishing equipment to outfit Montana, animal feed, housewares, a selection of clothes and shoes that would merit a shop of their own, and quite possibly heavy equipment he hadn’t seen yet. The size of the carpark, not to mention the cars filling it on this early Sunday afternoon, said that it was making some money, which would have been fine—his ego wasn’t fragile enough to care that Quinn came from money and he definitely didn’t—except for the way her dad kept looking at him. Or staring, because the man had some stare.
At the moment, Cash McLaughlin was meant to be looking out a warm coat and boots for Troy. He did that by pulling a puffy coat off a rack and saying, “This one’s best, and you’re, what, five? Get a size six so you can grow into it. Comes in gray, blue, or black. Sorel boots for both of you. Can’t go wrong there. Pick a style. Gloves and hats on Aisle 12F, and you’ll need both,” which took about thirty seconds. After that, he stood beside Beckett in the kids’ boot aisle with his ropey arms folded—he was one of those blokes who seemed made of muscle and sinew, even at sixty-plus-plenty—stared at Beckett out of sharp near-black eyes under still-dark brows and a face that was all angles and weathering, and said, “Explain to me why you’re moving in with Quinn.”
“It’s because our new house isn’t ready yet,” Troy piped up, “and she has a brilliant house. It’s very big and friendly. And she has puzzles and toy cars and an attic for Bacon.”
“Bacon?” Cash asked, with a lift of those brows.
“He’s my dog,” Troy said. “He likes to run and bark the best of anything, and Dad says landlords don’t like dogs to run and bark.”
“Chihuahua and pug,” Beckett said. “Chug. Apparently, it’s a thing.”
“Why would you want a dog like that?” Cash asked. “Watchdog, maybe, except that high-pitched yipping’s not going to convince anybody. Bite the guy’s ankle, I guess, that’s about it.”
“He’s a reallygooddog, though,” Troy said. “He’s the best dog! He likes to lie down by me while I play, and he sleeps on my bed and keeps me company and is so excited when I come home, he stands up and dances! Dad didn’t want to take him home when we found him, but he did anyway, because Bacon was eating rubbish before, and he didn’t get to go inside the house and ran away instead. And my mum died, so it’s lonely sometimes. But I’m not lonely with Bacon.”
Cash blinked. “Your mom died, huh? That’s too bad.”
“Yes,” Troy said. “I like these boots the best, Dad. I like how they’re green and shiny on the bottom, like a duck’s head.” He was, in fact, stomping along in them as if the store were headed for a nasty freeze.
“You’ve got a good eye,” Cash said, his voice a bit gruff now. “You’d wear those for duck hunting.”
Troy looked down at his shiny green feet. “Do you have to kill the ducks?”
