“Fine, but there better not be any fancy shit in it.”
Confused, Tate stared at his brother. “Like what?”
“No dishwasher or any of that frosted glass. If I want anyone to see what’s in my cabinets, I’ll leave the doors open.”
Tate laid his head on the steering wheel instead of banging it against it the way he wanted to. “Do you have to be such a hillbilly?”
Greer got out of the truck without answering the obvious.
Tate climbed out after taking a deep breath. Greer would try the patience of a saint, and he sure as fuck wasn’t one of those. He lowered the tailgate, pulling the box that held the groceries toward him, and then each brother lifted several bags into their arms.
“You think she’ll stay around a while?”
“Holly?”
“No! The woman we saw at the hotel.”
His brother had the attention span of a gnat.
“No. She was probably stopping for the night before heading somewhere else.”
“I hope not. I’d like to get to know the woman with those tits and ass.”
“I don’t, and the feeling will be mutual” Tate said, looking over at his brother who was dressed in the faded jeans and work boots he preferred.
Everyone in town thought they were hillbilly trash and wanted nothing to do with them unless they were buying their weekly bag of weed, and the woman he had caught a brief glance of had shouted class and money.
“You never know, I could be her type.”
“Not if she has a brain in her head,” Tate retorted good-naturedly then laughed when Greer shoved him away from the steps leading up to the front porch. Tate held back, letting Greer go first into the house.
Inside, Dustin got up from the kitchen table where he was working on his computer to help put the groceries away.
“Why did you buy so many groceries?” Dustin asked, opening a bag of chips.
“I don’t want to go into town for a while until we find out who’s sneaking around at night. If they know we go into town once a week for food, it’ll throw them off if we don’t go for a while.”
“You still think someone’s watching the house?” Dustin asked, taking one of the beers before Greer could slide the twelve-pack into the fridge.
“I know so. I just can’t figure out who.” Tate answered, taking one of the beers for himself.
“Let me get the fucking things cold before you drink them all,” Greer complained.
“Have to enjoy them while we can. Holly and Logan will be back soon.”
“I don’t know why we can’t drink beer as long as we don’t drink it in front of Logan.”
“We all agreed Holly was right, we don’t want to give Logan a bad example to follow,” Dustin stated as he opened his beer.
“If you’re not careful, she’ll raise him to be a pussy,” Greer griped.
“Shut up. She’s right. Ma never let Pa drink in front of us, either.”
“And how well did that turn out? Remember that weekend they came home from church and caught us all shit-faced?”
Tate and Dustin both winced at the memory of the ass-whipping their father had given them. He had told all three of them they weren’t getting the whipping for getting drunk, but because they were caught by their mother, and he had to listen to her complaints about his beer in the refrigerator.
“Next time, buy your own damn beer,” their father had growled before leaving all three of them wailing while he returned to face a furious wife.
“It was worse than the whipping he gave us when he caught us smoking the weed,” Dustin remembered.
“Because we were smoking profit. We never did it after that, because he wouldn’t give us money for a month.” Tate laughed. “Not even lunch money.”
“He was a hard-ass,” Greer agreed.
“He never had to teach us the same lesson twice,” Tate said, lifting the beer to his lips as he looked out the window and saw it was getting dark.
Placing the beer down on the counter, he picked up his shotgun resting near the door. When Logan was home, all the guns were kept in the gun safe except for the one in Tate’s holster,
“I’m going to go check the field before it gets dark. I’ll be back in an hour. Fry some burgers, Greer.”
“Why not Dustin?”
“Because I don’t want it burnt,” Tate answered, going out the door.
He carefully walked toward the spot where the mairjuana was planted, scanning for any sign of any trespassers. Finding no poachers or issues at the field, he was on his way back to the house when he heard the sound of a motor in the distance. Frowning, he tried to pinpoint the direction of the sound. Quickly he turned on his heels to walk in the opposite direction, maneuvering stealthily through the trees for a quarter of a mile until he came to a stop behind a large tree.
It was almost dark as the car stopped in front of the small house that had stood empty for the last five years. Pap Creech had died, and it had remained untouched since the day the ambulance had taken him away after his heart attack.
The woman from town stood on the porch with a flashlight in her hand. She had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and had pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail.
Tate was about to yell out and tell her she was trespassing when she reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulling out a key and inserting it into the lock.
Tate sucked in a startled breath as she lifted the flashlight higher so she could see the lock, the light illuminating her profile.
Sutton Creech had come home.
Chapter 3
Sutton turned the doorknob. The door didn’t want to open, so she braced her shoulder against the door and gave it a hard shove. It still didn’t budge.
“Need some help?”
Sutton stiffened at the question coming from the wooded forest. Even after all these years, she recognized the quiet voice without having to turn to see his face.
“I could use the help.” Sutton took a step back, turning to the woods to see Tate stepping out from behind a large tree.
His face was shrouded in darkness as Sutton watched him approach the porch indifferently. She had worried about how she would react when she saw him, but she hadn’t needed to. The heart he had once sent pounding in her chest didn’t skip a beat as he walked past her toward the door.
She caught the scent of the pine trees on him, which was different than the cloying smell of expensive colognes she had become used to.
Sutton watched as Tate pushed the door open then stepped out of the doorway so she could enter without brushing against him. Her mouth quirked at the unnecessary movement. She wasn’t anxious to touch him any more than he was to touch her.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem.” He shrugged indifferently. “The electric on?”
“Yes. I called and had the electric company turn it back on last week.” Sutton went through the doorway, her hand going familiarly to the wall switch beside the door. Flipping the switch on, she stared around the home that was the same as when she had last been there years before. Everything was covered in dust, and the smell was musty from lack of fresh air, but she didn’t notice, too lost in thought.
Tate came to stand next to her, breaking her train of thought.
“How long you staying?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Sutton answered.
“Your parents must be glad you’ve come home for a visit.”
Sutton remained quiet as she turned back to the door, placing her hand on the doorknob. “Thanks again for helping me inside.”
Tate’s brow rose at her abrupt dismissal. Going back through the door, he placed a hand on it before she could close it behind him.
“I wouldn’t stay out here too late. It’s not safe,” he warned.
This time, it was her turn to lift a brow in his direction. “Don’t tell me you’re still growing weed and keeping poachers away.”
Tate’s face flushed angrily. “When did you become a bitch?”
Sutton gave him a mocking smile. “I’m not eighteen anymore.”
His eyes roved over her body insultingly. “No, you’re not. I hope you’re not planning on seeing Cash while you’re in town. He’s married to Rachel now, and I don’t want you causing trouble for my sister.”
“I know, and I have no intention of seeking out Cash.” Sutton lost her smile. Cash wasn’t why she was here.
“Good. They’re happy, and they don’t need you trying to stir up trouble.”
“Since you want to talk straight, I’ll reciprocate. I’ll repeat what I said: I have no intention of seeing Cash. I won’t say it was good seeing you again, Tate, because it wasn’t.” Sutton slammed the door and locked it. She held her breath, listening for sounds from the other side of the door. It was several minutes before she heard him walking away.
Releasing her breath, she turned away from the door and walked farther into the house. It seemed as if her grandfather should have been there, waiting for her; but she heard only silence.
She went to his favorite chair, sitting down and ignoring the dust as she leaned back against the soft leather.
“Pap…” Her voice trailed off, unable to go on with the tears clogging her throat. Her hands tightly gripped the arms of the chair as she gathered her control, pulling the emotionless void back around her. “I was hoping I wouldn’t see him again,” she whispered into the comforting silence. “I guess it was a good thing, because I was dreading seeing him for no reason. I didn’t feel a thing.”