“Why would you want to keep it? Your life is here in California.”
What life? Sutton thought to herself.
“I can do my job anywhere there’s internet.” Sutton shrugged off her roommate’s concern. “What, Treepoint doesn’t appeal to you? You could go with me. You have plenty of hours saved up.” She tried not to smile when Stella’s expression turned to one of horror.
“Over my dead body! What’s the population there, three?”
This time, Sutton didn’t hold back her smile. “A little more than that, but it doesn’t have a mall or the nightclubs you love.”
“Then that’s a definite no.” Stella smoothed back her already perfectly styled hair with her manicured hand. “Are you going to see your dad while you’re there?”
“No, and I’ve told you not to call him my dad.” Sutton’s voice was ice-cold.
Stella winced. “Sorry.” She waved her hand airily. “It’s getting embarrassing turning all his calls away.”
“Then tell him to quit calling.” Sutton began signing the paperwork she had already read through and making notes on those orders that needed to be recounted. Then she handed the pile to Stella when she was finished. “That’s it. You sure you don’t mind dropping those off at the office for me on your way to work tomorrow?”
“It’s only a few blocks away, and I can see that hot boss of yours. It will make my whole fucking day.”
“Just don’t be late to work. You’re already on probation,” she warned.
Stella winced. “Don’t remind me. You just had to take the fun out of it, didn’t you?”
“That’s what I’m here for.” She rose from her desk and stretched. She had begun working early so she would have plenty of time to get on the road and get at least six hours of driving in before dark. Even after all these years of being away from Kentucky, her body still clung to the time zone that was three hours ahead, sending her to bed long before others in the evening and rising early in the morning, which worked well with her work schedule that dealt with various time zones.
“I’ll keep in touch on my drive in.”
“You better. I don’t want to have to come up there and check on you.” She shuddered in mock horror. “You should have some fun, maybe fuck someone. It could improve your sense of humor.”
“I’ll be too busy cleaning up the house to have any fun, at least for a couple of weeks.”
Sutton hugged her good-bye before picking up her purse. “Make sure the house is locked up when you leave. I’m going to be worried about you while I’m gone. Who’s going to remind you not to be late or set the alarm?”
“Hopefully your boss,” she wisecracked.
“Just don’t get me fired for forgetting about that paperwork,” she reminded her again.
“I won’t. Be careful, Sutton.”
“Always.” Sutton headed outside of her large home to the car she had rented. Her own car sat in the garage, it would stick out like a sore thumb in Treepoint, and didn’t want to draw attention while in her hometown. The only person she intended to see had no idea she was coming, and certainly wouldn’t welcome her back. She was determined to see Rachel Porter and set things straight. Only then could she finally leave the weight of the past behind to move forward with her life.
Sutton put the key in the ignition, her stomach already clenching with nerves. Sliding her sunglasses on, she put the car in drive.
Her hometown had been calling her more and more each day. The constant niggling feeling becoming more forcefull, wearing on her determination to stay away. It was time to answer the call.
Chapter 2
“Who’s that?” Tate turned at Greer’s low whistle.
He glanced in the direction that Greer nodded his head, seeing a woman pull a red suitcase from the trunk of her car before slamming the trunk closed. Both men watched as the slim brunette rolled the suitcase to the hotel door, sliding the card into the card reader.
“I don’t know,” Tate answered his brother. There was something vaguely familiar about the way the woman moved, but Tate couldn’t place her, and was unable to get a clear view of her face.
“Do you think she’s staying long?”
“How in the fuck would I know? Let’s get these groceries loaded. We need to get home. I don’t like leaving Dustin home alone for long.”
The brothers finished loading the groceries into the bed of their truck before climbing into the cab. His eyes went to the closed hotel door the woman had entered. He had no idea who she was, but Tate could understand his brother’s interest. The woman had on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt that had showed her tanned skin and perky ass. If her face was half as good, Greer would be in Heaven. The man got a hard-on for brunettes, while Tate preferred fair-haired women. He had only dated one brunette, and she was a memory he wished he could forget.
Tate drove the old pick-up toward the mountains where their house was located.
“You going out tonight?”
“No, why?”
“Thought I would meet Diane at Rosie’s,” Greer explained.
“Why do you want to step in that dog shit? We have enough enemies without you adding her to the mix.”
“She swears she isn’t seeing anyone except me,” Greer argued.
“Which doesn’t mean shit and you know it. That lying whore would swear on a stack of bibles she was a virgin if she had a reason. You want to piss the Hayeses off? I heard she’s been fucking around with Asher.”
“There isn’t going to be a fight. He didn’t start a fight when she was hanging around The Last Riders, so why would he give me trouble?”
“Maybe because you don’t have a clubhouse of bikers backing you up,” Tate replied.
“I don’t need those pussies to back me up. I have my rifle, you, and Dustin.” Greer looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Besides, she told me she hasn’t seen him in a couple of months.”
Tate’s mouth tightened into a grim line, knowing Greer would do what he wanted, regardless of the consequences. Greer would never back down from trouble, and sometimes, he deliberately sought it out. This was one of those times.
He sighed. “Try not to shove it in their faces.”
“Why would I do that?” Greer gave him a shit-eating grin.
“Because it’s what you do. This time, I’m telling you to take it easy. If you get us all killed, do you want Holly raising Logan alone?”
Greer lost his grin. “That will never happen. I’ll see to that.”
“Not if your ass is buried six feet under,” Tate said as he carefully maneuvered the truck up the rutted driveway that led to their house.
“Isn’t going to happen. I don’t know why we still need her hanging around, anyway.”
“Because Logan’s attached to her. To him, she’s his mother.”
Tate didn’t harbor any ill-will toward Holly. He had saved all his hate for Samantha Langley, Logan’s biological mother who hadn’t told Dustin he had knocked her up in high school. Her father had taken her to Jamestown where she had the child in secret. Then he had hired Holly to care for the child, leaving her alone to raise Logan, while Samantha returned to Treepoint without anyone in town realizing she had a child. When Samantha died, Holly hadn’t told anyone of Logan’s existence to afraid of losing the child that had become like her own. If not for Diamond, the town lawyer, defending her now husband Knox, Tate doubted they would have ever found him. Holly planned to leave town when she discovered what inherited illness was making Logan so sick. Greer wouldn’t forgive her for her deceit in keeping Logan hidden.
“He’s old enough that we don’t need her anymore.”
“You going to drag your ass out of bed to take him to school in the mornings? Wash his dirty clothes? Fix his dinner? I don’t notice you putting up a fight when Holly washes your dirty clothes, and you sure as fuck don’t have a problem wolfing down those meals she cooks.”
Greer shrugged. “She’s earning her keep.”
Tate snorted. “What keep? That small bedroom she sleeps in, or the house where you refuse to remodel the kitchen? The floorboards are so thin one of us will go through them one day.”
“It’s fine.” Greer crossed his arms against his chest stubbornly.
“It’s a shithole, and you know it, but you’re hoping to run Holly off. I thought you were smarter than that. Holly won’t leave Logan. She’d die for that boy, which is more than I can say about you.”
“What in the fuck does that mean?”
“It means, after we sell the pot, we’re getting a new kitchen,” Tate stated firmly.
“You’ll be using your share, then. I have better uses for my money.”
“What? Drinking or whoring?”
“Both.”
Tate’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, controlling the impulse to punch his brother in the face. Bringing the truck to a stop in front of their house, he turned to stare coldly at Greer.
“We’re getting the fucking kitchen.”
Greer opened his mouth then closed it, smart enough to realize Tate’s mind was made up.