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Porter had better figure out a way to do the same. Maybe he could go into construction or selling cars—he could even run rodeos. He had to do something to help support Cadence’s child. He didn’t care what anyone said. He meant to marry that girl.
“That’s some heavy troubles you’ve got there, friend,” Funches said. “My advice is to kick off them boots and come fishing with us.”
“What?”
“You ain’t doing no good chewing at your bit like a mad horse. You’re just going to run yourself into the ground. Believe me, I’ve done my share of that over the years, but the fact of the matter is I come up with more solutions when I’m not stewing on them. Invite your girl over tonight. Get her mind off things.”
Funches was clinically a madman, but he was making more sense than anyone had in a very long time.
Porter sighed. “It’s just that I haven’t been the man that she needs.”
“You sure about that? She sure seems to be hanging around you a lot, or maybe you just don’t trust her judgment.”
“I trust hers, just not mine. We’ve hit a few rough patches.”
Funches held up a wriggling worm. “You wanna know how to go up against WhiteBoulder? Set your bait on your hook, and let that gooey worm just soak in that juicy lake. Then when you least expect it, your fish will pop up. And just like that, all your problems are solved.”
If only life worked that way. “And when they aren’t?”
Funches grinned. “You get your shotgun out and you shoot that critter out of the water. Of course, it don’t make for good eating after that.”
And this coming from the guy who chased him and his brothers around with a shotgun his entire life. “Thanks for the advice on how to solve all of life’s problems, Funches. I’ll take it into consideration.”
“C’mon, you know how it’s done,” Funches said. “You’ve pulled a good prank or two in your lifetime. I’ll give you that, at least. That ain’t too far off from going into a real fight. If you want to take down WhiteBoulder, you just got to find your prey’s weakness and exploit it.”
Porter knew Lacy’s weakness all right—Cadence. And there was no way she was going in as bait. It was time to take Funches into his confidence. “Have you met the guy who owns WhiteBoulder?”
“Sure have!” Funches brought his eyes up to the shimmering sky in a show of disdain. “Lacy Lynch.” The other men laughed like the name was a riot. “Right? Weirdest name I’ve ever heard,” Funches crowed, “but that’s a city fella for ya. He sure has a lot of money to throw around. He’s more worm than fish, in my mind.”
“He’s a slug,” Porter said heatedly. “He used to date Cadence… uh, Angel. Angel goes by Cadence actually, anyway, Lacy’s… well…” Porter stopped himself from saying more, measuring the stoic expressions as the old men listened intently to his story. None of them, except Funches, were from Harvest Ranch, and Funches knew when to keep his big mouth shut. Porter needed someone to confide in. He lowered his voice. “He’s the father of her child, and she ran here to get away from him.”
Funches’s eyes narrowed. The grin on his face ran off and his brows drew in like a thundercloud. His friends muttered amongst themselves at the injustice. Porter knew how Funches was a sucker for a damsel in distress—truth be told, they all were.
“It gets even worse,” Porter continued. “You ready for this? Lacy says he’ll back off from Harvest Ranch if Angel comes back to him. If she doesn’t, then we’re all going to rot here. And he’ll do everything in his power to make our lives miserable.”
Funches had already dropped his fishing pole into the hull of his boat. He took out his shotgun. “Well, what are we waiting for?” His voice had turned into the dangerous growl of a bear. “Let’s shoot that critter out of the water.”
Yes, but how? Porter was running out of tricks. He shoved his Stetson back on. “I’ll bring Cadence back for NASCAR tonight. I don’t want her thinking too much about that offer.”
Chapter Thirty
If Funches could be believed, NASCAR night fixed everything. Not to say that Cadence hadn’t enjoyed every minute of getting away from her stresses, but she felt miserable seeing Porter trying to make up for everything that Lacy had done.
She could’ve been made of glass the way that he’d handed her into his truck and found her seats at Funches’s and supplied her with snacks. Porter’s laugh had sounded a little more reckless and forced than usual… and he’d turned incredibly protective.
Oh Porter. She didn’t deserve him. The unhappy truth kept bursting to the surface of her consciousness. His whole family was going down because of her. Poor Lily would lose her home. Could Cadence really allow that to happen? The stress might kill Porter’s mother.
And Cadence would bet the last shreds of her privacy that Funches knew what was happening to them. The old man had fallen all over himself to make sure that she was comfortable. Her heart warmed with affection at his clumsy attempts to make her feel at ease.
That cantankerous army vet was growing on her. She wished she’d done more to warn him off of WhiteBoulder. A niggling shadow of guilt whispering through her mind let her know that this was her fault. No one blamed her, of course, but she’d had those papers from the beginning. She should’ve actually looked through them.
And now there was something that she could do about it. Lacy’s offer had been unexpected and odd.
She shivered.
Going back to Lacy was unthinkable, but… well, was there a way to get him to see reason? An image came to her of Lacy’s face contorting into a scowl of rage after Porter had hit him.
Porter got to his pride, not that Lacy didn’t deserve it. He might’ve forced her into his car if Porter hadn’t come. He wouldn’t have gotten too far with her—he wasn’t anabsolutemonster, but she hadn’t liked that look in his eye.
