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“I’ll try not to be,” Mike Paul retorted.
“Can I get you anything?”
Mike Paul shook his head.
“Whiskey?”
“Nah, I’m good.” Mike Paul turned to Ivy. “You?”
“Too full.”
They wandered back to the living room. Scarlett was curled up in one of the big comfy chairs, while Bent had the sofa, Nora glued to his side. Manley was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Tabitha?” he asked, mostly to be polite.
“She decided to go home,” Bent replied.
“I don’t like her.” That was from Nora.
“Same,” Scarlett quipped.
“Hey,” Benton said, “manners.”
“But Daddy, she’s not nice.” Nora squared her little shoulders, indignant. “She’s only nice when she’s talking to you. She makes faces at me.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t.” Bent sighed and ruffled his daughter’s hair.
“And she rolls her eyes like Danny at school does. My teacher says that one day, his eyes are going to get stuck at the back of his head.” She paused dramatically. “But so far, they always roll back.”
“Nora.” Bent’s voice was firmer.
“She does,” the kid said defiantly.
“She’s not wrong.” Scarlett giggled. “It’s like Dolly Sanders all over again.”
“Geez,” Mike Paul replied. “Whatever happened to her?”
Dolly Sanders was Bent’s first serious girlfriend. The youngest daughter of the richest man in the state, she’d set her sights on Benton when she’d noticed him at a rodeo, and he hadn’t stood a chance. In his defense, the girl had the kind of looks that drew attention, with long blonde hair, creamy skin, and big blue eyes.
To a young man coming into his own, she looked like an angel he’d want to dabble with. Two weeks in and every single Bridgestone, save for Bent, knew she was the exact opposite. She was spoiled, judgmental, rude, and full of herself, a side she hid from their brother for months, until one day, he’d walked into the barn and found her yelling at Scarlett and one of the ranch hands. She’d wanted to ride Scarlett’s horse, but Scarlett had refused. The ranch hand had gotten involved, which had led to the ruckus. He’d sent her packing. Cal smiled at the memory of the angelic-looking girl swearing like a trucker as she hopped into her convertible and drove off, a cloud of dust following her the entire way.
Ivy sidled up to him. “I have to go, Mom’s expecting me, but can we talk before I do?”
Cal nodded and followed her into the hallway. “Everything okay?”
“I think I should be asking you that.”
He didn’t need to ask to know where she was headed. “She was here and now she’s not. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ivy studied him for a few moments. “If you do, call me. Anytime.”
“Thanks.”
Ivy pulled on her boots and searched through the pile of hats and mittens until she found hers and pulled it on. She straightened, then grabbed her winter coat. “We’ve had a hitch with rescheduling three of the European dates, including the one at Wembley. To make them work, we need to shuffle some of the domestic dates.”
“Okay. I’m good with whatever you can make work.”
“The problem is that we have to move two nights from late January to December.” She raised her eyebrows. “Like in two weeks.”
