Bucking the Rules(90)

“You could have stayed out, since I clearly wasn’t here to answer it.”

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to rescue the dog from his fabric prison.”

“Right. My head’s clear now, so we’re ready for bed.” She stared at him, then the door, then back at him again with a raised brow.

“Uh-huh.” He walked over and knuckled the top of Milton’s head. “Keep it real, dude. No more robes.”

“He likes it,” Bea protested, but Trace was already moving down the stairs, head shaking in denial.

As he passed the stable, he slowed and debated stopping in. Then he kept walking, back to the big house and his son. He’d check on his tack in the morning. But he had a feeling it’d be right back where it started, in good working order. Bea was more of a puzzle than he’d originally thought.

But then again, what woman wasn’t?





Stu followed Jo out the door after her shift. “Mail came while you were dealing with the beer rep.”

“Put it in my office, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” She wanted a hot shower and bed, just like she had the last few days since Trace and Seth had walked out her apartment door. She wasn’t interested in being a Chatty Cathy today. Or any other day in the near future.

If the thought of taking on both father and son scared her so much, and she was past wanting to be with them, why was the opposite hurting just as much? Not being with Trace?

Ignore the pain. It will pass.

She unlocked her door, then turned. “You’re stalking me because …”

“Hey, just ’cause you’re in a breakup funk, don’t crawl up my ass.” Stu held out the stack of mail. “You’re gonna wanna read that one on top.”

The letter looked completely innocuous, with a return address in Marshall, but no name or business to identify it. “Why?”

“I expected it.”

Jo walked in, and Stu followed without invitation, closing the door behind him. She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the sheet of official-looking paper. She scanned it and then her head snapped up. “I have a hearing with the city council next week?”

“Yeah.” Stu, making himself at home, wandered into her kitchen and grabbed himself a Coke. “I knew it was coming, so I’ve been watching for it to make sure it didn’t get buried.”

Jo’s hands tightened around the edge of the letter. She managed to relax her grip slightly as she heard the crinkle of paper. “If you knew it was coming, why didn’t you say something?”

“When? As you served customers? Or while you were stomping up to your place after shift? You’ve had the talk to me and die look on your face all week. So, I waited until there was more concrete evidence.”

She couldn’t argue there. Her mood had been foul, and she knew it. Fingering the studs in her right lobe, she examined the page again. “What the hell do I do about this? Do I need a lawyer?”

“For a city council meeting?” Stu laughed and took a swig. “Nah. You’re not in Dallas anymore, remember?”

“I never lived in Dallas,” she murmured, reading the sheet for the third time.

“Whatever. You just show up and plead your case. Bring in people to stand up for you. It’s real informal around here. I mean, shit can get ugly. Don’t mention anything to anyone about the Founder’s Day float incident of ’96.”

Jo stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. That one drew some blood, and I don’t even mean metaphorically.” Stu killed the can and headed for the kitchen sink and the trash can under the counter. He started out, then doubled back and came out holding the sippie cup she’d bought for Seth. “What’s this still doing sitting around?”

Her heart kicked up a notch, but she shrugged. “Just keep forgetting to toss it.”

“Oh, well, here.” He made to step back to the trash can, but she lunged.

“No!” As her hand closed around the thick plastic, she realized just how pathetic she looked. “I mean, that’s wasteful. It was barely used, you know? I’m sure someone would want it.”

“Uh-huh.” Stu waited while she put the cup back in the kitchen, next to the stove, where she mentally punished herself by seeing it twenty times a day. She was sick. “Maybe you shouldn’t give up on things so easily.”

Jo snorted. “I don’t think it’s giving up to know what you’re good at and what you’re not. It’s called knowing your strengths and running with them.”

“Your parents teach you that?”

“My father, whoever the hell he is, has taught me nothing. My mom, yeah.” Jo sat and started opening mail at random, not even looking at each piece before moving on to the next envelope. “If a marriage wasn’t working out for her, she was gone. New city not turning up any wealthy prospects? Try something else. Why stick with what isn’t working?”