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“Everything go okay?”
“It did—thank goodness.”
As Ellen drew closer, the light from the porch illuminated her pixie-like face, and Talulah could see that she’d changed the color of her hair to a whitish blond. “What’s going on here?” she asked, gesturing at the men with her cigarette. “Are you having some sort of disagreement?”
“Who are you?” Paul asked.
Talulah frowned at him for not being more courteous. From his perspective it had to be a bit odd that this person would seemingly materialize out of nowhere. He didn’t know she and Ellen were neighbors. But still... “Ellen, this is my business partner—Paul Pacheco. He drove here from Seattle. Paul, Ellen lives next door.”
Paul glanced around as though he was surprised there was another house in the immediate vicinity. It was hard enough to see the structures on the adjacent property during the day, since so many trees and the garage obstructed the view. He probably hadn’t noticed it earlier. And at night, it was virtually impossible.
“Why are you trying to fight Brant?” Ellen asked him calmly.
Paul stiffened. “That’s none of your business.”
“Well, maybe it isn’t,” she said, exhaling on a long stream of smoke. “But it’s lucky I came by. I might’ve just saved your ass.”
“He’s lucky indeed,” Brant said and picked up his toolbox. “I’m out of here. Good to see you, Ellen.”
“You wouldn’t have to fight anyone if you want to come tomyhouse,” she joked, but there was too much tension for any of them to laugh. They all watched Brant stalk away, climb into his truck and drive off.
“Looks like you’re busy,” Ellen said. “I’ll come over sometime when this guy is a little more open to company.” She indicated Paul with her cigarette before dropping it, stamping it out and picking up the butt. “’Night.”
Talulah sagged, completely exhausted, as she studied the screen door Brant had left leaning up against the house. “Youhadto almost cause a fight?” she asked, finally turning her attention to Paul.
He looked somewhat abashed. “Maybe I went too far.”
Talulah didn’t say anything. She just walked past him, pulled the key out of her purse and opened the door. “There are two bedrooms besides the master upstairs. You’re welcome to get your bag and take one of them. I need some time to myself,” she said and wearily climbed the stairs to her room.
Seventeen
Brant couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten himself into such a mess. That night at Talulah’s, when he’d had the concussion, was supposed to be a onetime thing. Easy. Fun. No repercussions. It might’ve ended that way. But one night had turned into two, and two had turned into three, and they’d been some of the best nights he’d ever had.
Added to that, Charlie or Averil had thrown that rock through her window, cutting her and making him mad, and he’d had to take a stand against that sort of behavior, which pulled him further into Talulah’s life. That was the reason he’d had to go to the funeral, to keep an eye on them. He knew no one else would make sure she got through it. And he’d decided to fix her door because...
He couldn’t say why he’d decided to fix her door.
Anyway, here he was, lying in bed, feeling like a fool—as if Paul had hit him in the stomach even though the confrontation hadn’t come to blows. And the crazy thing was...it bothered him much more than it should to think that Paul was the one who was with Talulah right now, sleeping...where?
“I’m turning into Charlie,” he muttered, punching his pillow.
With a sigh, Brant rolled over to check the time on his phone. Nearly three. On weekdays, he got up in two hours, but tomorrow was Saturday. He could sleep in if he needed to. At least he had that going for him. He had to do a few things around the ranch—move the cattle to another paddock for Kurt, since Kurt had taken his last turn—but he’d have most of the day off. He could finally change the oil in his truck. And after lunch, he and his brothers could take the boat to the lake and enjoy one of the last days of summer.
That should’ve sounded like fun. Boating and water-skiing were some of his favorite activities. But knowing Paul was in town, and that he couldn’t see Talulah again, had changed him in some way. Nothing seemed to have the same appeal it did before, even going to the lake.
This had to be what a crush felt like, he decided. He was miserable. Everything that’d once been important to him—everything he used to love doing—no longer seemed to matter. He’d give up the lake in a heartbeat if it meant he could go over and hang out with Talulah.
Emotions aren’t that simple, Brant. She’s a man-eater. And if you’re not careful, you might find that out the hard way.
Averil had told him that. He didn’t believe Talulah was a man-eater. She just happened to have more than her fair share of sex appeal. Thanks to that, and her beauty, and her sweetness, and the fact that she wasn’t remotely clingy or grasping, she attracted more than her fair share of men. And because he’d never run into anyone else who’d captured his attention quite like she had, he’d fallen right into the trap Averil had been warning him about. That was all. He didn’t find what Averil had said there to be too significant. But his response that day was:Trust me, I can take care of myself.
He’d been too cocky for his own good.
You’ve never had your heart broken, have you?
Not really. I guess I’ve been lucky.
Yeah, well, let’s hope your luck isn’t about to run out.
