“So, you don’t think they’re good men?” Amber asks, following me as I make my way around to the driver’s side.
“I think you’re better off looking for someone who doesn’t come home with shit under their fingernails.” Amber flinches again, this time at my language. She’s a rancher’s daughter, so she’s familiar with the life, but she’s not hands-on. To be a rancher’s wife, she’d need to be. “I don’t even know if the Bradfords are looking to date, but if they were, I’m sure they’d need someone prepared to muck in.”
“Someone like you, you mean?” Amber’s eyebrows quirk, and I internally curse myself for stumbling into the line of focus.
“I’m not interested in dating,” I lie. “Life’s complicated enough without adding a man to it.”
Sliding into the truck, I slam the door shut, lowering the window to say bye to Amber. She might be annoying, but I won’t lower myself to blatant rudeness. “Have a great day,” I say, starting the engine.
Amber blinks, and then a smile spreads across her face. “Thank you, Mel. And maybe I’ll drop in on you at the Bradford ranch, you know, to talk about old times.”
Ugh. I can think of many things I’d like to do more than that, like removing my own tonsils. “I’m not sure I’m allowed guests.”
“Nonsense.” She waves, beginning to turn. “The Bradfords can’t keep you prisoner up there.” Amber doesn’t just walk away. She wiggles her hips as though she’s hoping for men’s eyes to watch her.
As I drive out of town, I’m annoyed by the complex feelings that are swirling around my heart and chest. I have no claim over the Bradfords. I don’t want to have a claim over them either. They’ve gotten their hands on everything I ever cared about. I might not be at Jethro’s level of bitterness and hatred, but there is still something dark and creeping inside me when I think about it.
That, and the fact that the idea of them entertaining other women makes me seethe with jealousy. Now, what is all that about?
7
"They're ten minutes away," Sawyer says, with a hint of urgency in his voice. "I just called Holden to check."
"Ten minutes!" I'm flapping. The food is nearly ready, but somehow the addition of guests is making this meal a high-pressure task. But I am looking forward to the arrival of the Bradfords' cousins. From what I can tell, the Bradfords are antsy about their arrival. They haven't met Connie or the baby yet, so they're almost as in the dark about this unusual relationship set-up as I am.
"Can I help?" Sawyer asks. Maybe he's sensing my anxiety.
"Yes. Take this and put it on the table. Cover it with plastic wrap," I say, handing him a large bowl of potato salad. I've made it just like my momma did, with scallions and a little mustard in the dressing. It smells like heaven laced with happy memories.
There is a large joint of pork in the oven that's basted with honey and mustard, and I've made a huge circular sausage that looks so pretty I don't want anyone to actually eat it.
"I'm so hungry," Sawyer says, hanging around like a dog waiting for his master to toss a bone. In fact, Big Boy is less demanding. He's sleeping in the corner, oblivious to the excitement around him.
"Here, break these up," I say, passing Sawyer the tray of freshly baked rolls and searching out a basket for him to put them in. I bought some pretty check cloths to line the baskets. The Bradfords' kitchen was stocked, but not with the touches that make entertaining easy.
"Are you trying to kill me," he says, breathing in the scent of fresh bread, practically drooling.
"We'll eat when they get here," I huff impatiently. "Can you just hold on for ten minutes?" For all my scolding, I secretly love how much the Bradfords appreciate my cooking.
"Stop tangling yourself in Mel's skirts," Cash says as he breezes through the kitchen with a bag of trash from the den.
"I'm not wearing skirts."
"He probably wishes you were," Colt says from where he's currently slouching in a chair in the corner, watching everything with interest. Cash shoots him a look that could kill and disappears outside.
The noise of a truck approaching has Sawyer drifting to the doorway. "It's only Cary," he says.
"Oh, great. He's back." I ran out of black pepper and had to send Cary into town for some more, much to Scott's disgust. He disappeared after that, trudging off toward the stables. This whole family reunion thing has ruffled his already-disturbed feathers.
I manage to get the food ready, wrapping everything in foil to keep it warm, before a big black truck pulls up to the house. I wipe my hands on a dishcloth, watching through the kitchen window as the doors all open and four men emerge.