The Best Friend Zone

Tory and her ma are in the kitchen, and as soon as I open the door, the tension smacks me clean across the face.

Gloria, a tall woman who still looks like a fashion model in middle age, whips her eyes toward me, a barely concealed scowl on her face aimed like a sword.

For once, I hate the fact that my instincts were right.

My heart goes out to Tory. I try to squelch the anger that fills me at the way her mother glares.

Not even a hello.

Awesome.

Sure, I’ve never met her, so I shouldn’t judge, but…fuck it, I’m judging.

Gloria reveals plenty the instant I walk over to Tory, lay a hand on her shoulder, and feel how she’s wound tighter than a spring.

“Hey, darlin’. You ladies having fun?” I ask, flashing a wink in Gloria’s direction I hope she finds annoying.

“We’re fine! How was your meeting with Powers?” She reaches up, lacing her fingers in mine, and squeezes like a hostage trying to communicate their predicament.

“Fine. He’s on his way back to D.C. now.”

“So that mess is settled then?” Gloria snaps. “I read all about it. You’d think this ridiculous town would get a break after everything that happened with the oil company, and then the movie star…frankly, it’s the reason I’m here. To talk some sense into my daughter, and ensure she leaves this miserable hole in the dirt that’s never been anything but a magnet for trouble.”

Her sharp-eyed look tells me I’m the real trouble she’s worried about, far more than Dallas.

“Mother!” Tory hisses, slapping a hand on the table. “None of it was Quinn’s fault. I told you that, and so did the papers.” Looking at me, she hisses a sigh. “Quinn, this is my mother, Gloria Redson-Riddle-Coffey.”

I nod, and attempting to hide my aversion, plaster on my best Prince Charming smile.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. I’ve heard a lot.”

All bad things, of course.

Gloria huffs out a thick breath and turns away, lifting her nose in the air. Apparently, she’s too good to even feign politeness.

My jaw tightens, but for Tory’s sake, I ignore her mother’s rebuff.

Reminding myself that I can’t butt in—that whatever she decides is her choice—I clear my throat. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything. You ladies must have an awful lot to talk about. I’ll leave you be.”

Gloria’s eyes snap back to me, softening ever-so-slightly like I just graduated from pond scum to ordinary mud.

Giving Tory’s arm a gentle squeeze, I add, “I’ll be in the barn if you need anything. Just holler.”

“We won’t be long,” she whispers, patting my hand.

There’s nothing pressing in the barn, but if I stay here, I’ll say far more than I should. Whatever fireworks they’re bound to have don’t need me igniting the fuse. It ain’t fair to Tory.

Owl shoots out the back door as soon as I open it.

Apparently, he’s also had more than he can stand of Tory’s mother. He walks beside me down to the barn.

The goats are back at the dairy farm to finish the big job and should stay there for a few more days. The Neumans fixed the fence they’d torn down during their great escape to help rescue Tory, with Owl playing field marshal, and thankfully weren’t too upset since it was falling apart anyway.

“You know how to work a shovel?” I ask the dog, trying to think of something to keep me busy for an hour or two. There are several blue landscaping stones stacked up near the side of the barn I’d planned on using to make a walking path down to the creek.

Now’s as good a time as any to lay them down and keep my mind off what’s happening in the house.

He barks once.

“All right, fair enough. You worked your tail off this week.” Grinning, I rub his head. “Guess I get to do all the digging.”

The stones are all laid and I’m tamping down the dirt around the last one when Tory appears, her hands tucked together shyly in front of her.

“These look nice,” she says, stepping from stone to stone.

“Thanks.” I lean against the shovel handle, nodding at Owl who’s sleeping under a tree. “My helper’s on a break.”

“Well, you look like you could use this.” She hands me a bottle of cold water.

“Thanks.” I take it and glug down half before asking, “Is your ma still here?”

“Nope. She went straight back to her hotel room as soon as we were done.”

“Any idea when she’s going home?” I bite my tongue, but it’s an afterthought. The question’s already out.

Tory snickers. “She has a flight tomorrow. Bright and early in the morning.”

Shit, I can’t take this.

“You going with her?” I ask, holding in a deep breath.

For a second, she stares directly at me with a serious, solemn look on her face. “Can you give me a good reason why I shouldn’t?”