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“All what?”
Wanda looked up and down the street, making sure we were alone before she’d dish the dirt. “Apparently, he took a swing at your brother and then passed out—dead to the world. Al, the maintenance man at the VFW Hall, saw it all. Even helped load Mr. California into the back of the cruiser.”
The feeling I’d not been able to identify was rage. The emotion surged like a tidal wave, clearing away my morning fog like a direct hit from a tsunami.
“I have to go.” I shoved my half-full coffee cup and unread paper into Wanda’s hands and bolted for the house. My car keys hung on the hook by the back door, and I snatched up my purse from the table. I didn’t even slow down long enough to leave a note for Bailey or find a bra.
In a red-rage-filled haze, I drove to the sheriff’s office, giving zero fucks about the traffic laws I broke. An ear-piercing squeal of tires heralded my arrival at the station. I parked half on the lawn and half on the sidewalk right out front by the flagpoles with the US and Texas flags.
I slammed through the door in a whirl of messy hair and slapping flip-flops. My brother sat at his desk, and I was coming for him. If he’d been smarter, he’d have run. But no worries, he wasn’t.
“You put Wilson in jail. I’ve been looking for him since yesterday.” I yanked a ponytail holder off my wrist and bundled my hair up into a half-assed bun. I longed to throttle Colton.
“We’re taping today.” Massive understatement. It was more than the TV show I was worried about.
“That producer lady mentioned as much. But...” He took a long, slow sip from his oversized coffee mug. “Public intoxication is a crime.” He shrugged, implying that he, a lowly servant of the law, couldn’t do anything about it. Jerk!
“He’s my client.” I trembled with the effort to suppress the visceral urge to shake my brother.
“He’s an entitled asshole from California.” He crossed his arms, and I’d swear I could hear the starched fabric of his uniform crinkle in the silence that had descended on the office. Everyone watched us, and for once, I didn’t care.
I’d had it with worrying about the town and what they thought of me. And I was done accepting help from everyone, including my brother and my grandma. This wasn’t them helping; it was them complicating my life.
“He signed a contract to buy Blue Star yesterday.”
For once, I’d struck my brother speechless.
“You could have cost me the commission. That’s Bailey’s education paid for in one real estate deal. How can I replace that?” I crossed my arms and tapped my foot, waiting for his rebuttal.
“People like him are ruining Elmer. You heard him and all his underutilized talk yesterday. I’d love it if that producer packed up her show and left town.”
“No, we’re not having this argument again. People like him are bringing money and life to this town. They buy big homes, building our tax revenues and keeping out developers that want to cover the hillsides with cookie-cutter zero-lot line communities. And when he closes on Blue Star Ranch, he’ll be more than a vacationer. He’ll be a business owner and my biggest client ever.”
“A client. You’re still saying that’s all he is to you.” His eyebrows climbed dangerously close to his slightly receding hairline. “I’ve never slept over at my accountant’s house, and I’ve been herclientfor over ten years.”
“What business is it of yours?” I leaned over his desk, my teeth bared. “Why do you suddenly care about my love life or lack thereof?”
Jethro had been panting after me for over a year, and Colton thought it was funny. But Wilson deserved a night in the drunk tank for showing a little interest. I didn’t need his kind of help.
“He looks at you like you’re, you’re...” He rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off a headache. I waited to hear his half-assed reasoning. “He looks at you like you’re... his.”
The observation hit like a Mac truck.
Do men have some kind of secret language we women haven’t been able to crack? Because that was basically what Jude said. What the hell? One orgasm and I carried Wilson’s brand. I’d have to check my ass in the mirror later.
The most astonishing part of this revelation was that Jude, not Colton, was the one encouraging me to take a risk on Wilson. A few weeks ago, I’d have predicted the opposite.
“But I’m not—“ I tossed up my hands, clueless how to continue this conversation.
Even in my rage, I had limits to what I’d say. No way I’d tell my brother and the whole station that Wilson Phillips wanting me was the hottest thing to happen to me in years. That when he looked at me with possessiveness, it wasn’t off-putting. It was exciting and had been since the day I strutted naked across that pool deck in front of him.
“You know what? Never mind. Not doing this with you. Not here.” I waved a hand at the room of rapt spectators. The deputies and office staff had the good grace to pretend to look busy.
“We’re having this conversation at some point.” He stood to glare at me from his considerable height.
“Okay. Right after we talk about how you look at Lara.” Hands on my hips, I dared him to go there.
His muffled curse ended our confrontation. Poor guy didn’t like a dose of his own treatment.
