“That’s what you’re holding in your hands.” The bald-faced lie unashamedly flew out of his mouth.
“You work for The Last Riders by growing weed for them?” she asked skeptically.
“Have you seen how many there are?” A pot grower always had to have an excuse ready to be one step ahead of the law. Not only was he the best grower in the county, but he held the title for the best bullshitter, too.
Growling, she handed him the rest. “You need to tell them you quit, then.”
“First thing in the morning,” he lied without shame.
“I’m going to hold you to it,” she warned.
He lifted his hand in a scout’s promise.
“Were you in the boy scouts?”
“I need to go check on Ema.” He started toward the house.
“I don’t want that stuff in my house!” she screeched.
Greer turned on his heel, heading toward his truck.
“Where are you going?”
Greer bent down to pick one of the packages he had dropped. It was getting harder to make a living. He added this to the minus list that he had made in his head to decide if he liked being married.
Opening the truck, he raised the seat to raise the false floorboard to hide his stash. When he heard Holly, he jerked, adding another minus to his list. It was a sorry day when a man was afraid of his own wife.
“Give me one.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to try to bribe Diamond to let us on her island.”
Handing her a small one, she just stared at it, not moving away.
“Are you planning on going with me?”
Taking it back, he handed her a bigger one. “Satisfied?”
Her fingers closed around it. Then, rising to her tiptoes, she smashed her lips onto his, provocatively thrusting her tongue inside to salaciously kiss him.
He grabbed her arms to pull her to him, kissing her back passionately.
Sucking air when she dropped back down to her feet, she left him staring after her with an open mouth.
Closing the floorboard, he closed his truck and locked it. That kiss was definitely in the add column.
Whistling, he went back into the house to check on Ema.
Grabbing a six-pack of beer, a cola, and the bottle of wine, he carried them outside, setting them down on the porch before getting the water hose, pulling it toward the front of the house.
Motioning Logan back, he poured a small amount of gasoline onto the pile of wood. When he was done, he took out a pack of matches. Lighting it, he then tossed it onto the wood.
With the hose in his hand, he sat down on the side of the porch, satisfied that the hose would be able to cover the distance if the fire started to get out of control.
Cracking a beer open, he handed Logan a soda as they sat and quietly watched Holly, Rachel, Tate, Cash, Sutton, and Dustin tirelessly work, determined to tear the old barn down.
Logan opened the tab of his soda. “Why are they tearing the barn down?”
“They’re replacing a bad memory with a good one,” he explained.
Leaning on the side of the house to get more comfortable, he raised one of his legs up to rest an arm on, holding the beer on it.
“Tearing a barn down is a good memory?”
“It is when you’re not doing it alone.”
Fire sparks flew out when one of the boards slid off the top of the pile, spraying tiny sparks onto the ground. Greer aimed the water hose at the grass, extinguishing the glowing embers. Ashes from the fire danced in the wind.
“You don’t want to make a new memory?”
“I am.” Greer reached his hand out toward Logan. The little boy hesitated before laying his on top. Holding his eyes, he almost stopped, seeing the terror in Logan’s, but he had waited to regain his strength for this.
Concentrating, he latched on to Logan’s spirit, sending him into the night. His nephew tried to pull his hand away.
“Hold on,” Greer told him as he had done when they had ridden the tilt-a-whirl.
He sent them dancing in circles upward, sparks from the ashes surrounding them, lifting them higher.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ve got you. Look around.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw Logan’s fear melt away and his curiosity grow as he stared around him. Experimentally, Logan blew away an ash that had landed on his hand. When they reached the place he wanted Logan to see, the boy stared in awe.
“I didn’t see that far before … It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, it is,” he whispered reverently before he started to bring them back down.
“Wait.” Logan tugged on his hand.
“We have to go. It’s bad manners to stare.”
Greer twirled Logan like one of the ashes spinning around them, gradually lowering them down back to the porch as the sparks cascaded down with them. When Logan blinked, he released his hand.
“Let’s do it again,” Logan begged.