Duck (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 8) (7 page)

“I don’t know if you could ever be ready for something like that. Like a gopher hole, it’ll catch you off guard, throw you off balance,” Reuben offered, and the kid’s gaze swung to him. Lips pursed tightly, he gave Reuben a solemn nod, then stared at the picture for another minute before turning to walk out. Reuben stopped him with a gentle, “Eli, if you need or want to talk to me? You can. Anytime, kiddo.” Without looking back, Eli nodded, then slipped quietly outside, the screen door’s wooden frame absorbing all sound as it closed softly behind him.

As Reuben turned to look at the pictures again, the room faded away and he had eyes only for Bee’s face. After everything she had been through, she deserved some goodness in her life. He would make her go with him tonight, see to it that she had a chance to laugh.

Boots discarded in the mudroom, Brenda stood in her sock feet and stared up at Reuben for a minute, unable to decide if there was a joke behind the question. Finally, she asked, “I’m sorry. What does that mean?”

“It means I want you to come with me to Mitchell’s.” Reuben shook his head at her, staring into her face with an intensity he didn’t try to hide. “Not a hard idea to fathom, Bee.”

“But you’re meeting your friends.” She allowed her confusion to shadow her voice, and he looked annoyed.

“They’re your friends, too,” he countered, but she quickly shook her head.

“Nope, they’re yours, Reuben. Steve’s married to my friend, but it doesn’t sound like Chelsie is going. So that will make it one awkward evening I’d really rather skip. Thanks for the invite, but no thanks. Will you be eating at Mitchell’s or with us?” She turned to the sink, reaching for a glass from the drain board. She filled it with water from the tap, drinking about half the liquid before she realized he hadn’t answered her. Twisting back to look at him, she saw his eyes had narrowed on her. “What?”

“If Chelsie comes, would you go with me?” He was being persistent about this, and she wasn’t sure why he was digging in this way.

“No, I have to cook for the ranch hands. It’s part of the manager gig, making sure everyone has food in their bellies. Then there’s the evening feeding of the bottle calves, and I’m pretty sure I saw a half dozen invoices in today’s mail that need to be entered into the computer, along with the breeding results for those new heifers.” Shrugging, she quipped, “Normal for a Tuesday,” before drawing back slightly at the dark scowl her words seemed to provoke.

“Hands can cook for themselves for once,” he offered, but she silently shook her head, still not sure why he was chasing this so hard. “Well, then, they can do the bottle feeding for you.” She snorted at the thought, shaking her head again and his features darkened even more, brows lowering over narrowed eyes. “Invoices can wait for tomorrow morning.”

“Reuben, it’s not a big deal. There’s always work and chores that need doing. Today isn’t any different from the last thousand days.” She shrugged, pulling the pan of marinating pork chops out of the refrigerator, setting it on the countertop. Shuffling around the kitchen, she gathered the rest of the things needed for supper before realizing he had left, as soundlessly as ever. The way he moved was graceful and quiet. “He’s not a Mexican…he’s a Ninjacan,” she muttered with a smothered giggle.

Thirty minutes later, the meal prep was done and supper was in the oven with the timer set. Resting for a moment on the mudroom’s built-in bench, she pulled her boots back on with a groan, yelling up the stairs, “Elias, come help with the calves, honey.” She waited until she heard what sounded like an agreement, before standing and walking outside. Halfway to the pen where they kept the calves, she heard a commotion and picked up her pace, hitting a quick trot. There had been trouble with predators in the past, but it would be unlike them to come up this close to human activity in broad daylight.
Unlikely, but not impossible
, she thought, heart rate spiking with a sudden push of fear,
which is why I’m running
.

Rounding the barn, she stumbled to a halt, a surprised shout of laughter escaping her lips at the sight greeting her. Reuben, Gill, and a half dozen of the ranch hands were in the pen, each wielding a bottle in either hand. Which was all well and good, but there were fifteen calves more than the men had hands between them, leading to a free-for-all melee among the hungry calves not currently attached to the nipple of a bottle.

Slowly walking the remaining few feet to the fence, she propped one foot on the bottom board, silent laughter still shaking her shoulders. Brenda was trying hard to hold it together, and was succeeding until one of the calves became more impatient than its pals, walked up to Reuben and butted him with its head. She knew from experience how hard those bovine noggins were, and given the location the calf was aiming at, the pained grunt from Reuben wasn’t unexpected. She lost control over her laughter when she heard him mutter, "Jesus. God. Stop it. You could still be called veal, you turd calf."

At the sound of her amusement, he twisted and looked over at her, a hopeful look on his now light green face. “Help,” he pleaded, and she laughed again at his desperate expression.

Moving to the gate separating the pen from one of several smaller ones next to it, she dragged it open and whistled, calling one of the dogs from the barn to her. She and the dog put a half-dozen calves in that pen, and then repeated the process for the next two enclosures, effectively separating the hungry calves from the ones being fed. This left the ones already on a bottle in the larger pen and no longer having to fight for their hold, they made quick work of the bottles.

She lined bottle holders along rungs of the gates for the small pens, and began loading the rest of the pre-mixed bottles into them, creating an assembly line of food for the divided groups of self-sufficient calves. By the time Reuben walked over to her with an embarrassed grin on his face, she had already moved back to the first pen to release the fed calves back into the larger one.

“Hilarious, Reuben. Best show I’ve seen in a while. What were you thinking would happen?” She grinned at him and caught up in the moment, acted without thinking, reaching up to wipe a streak of dirt off his cheek with the pad of her thumb. Brenda wasn’t prepared for the look of passion that filled his eyes at her touch.

He quickly lifted his hand to cup her palm against his cheek, holding it in place before she could pull back. She glanced away, having to press her lips together, pushing down a responding heat of her own at the look on his face. They stood like that a moment, their bodies close enough for her to feel an exposed intimacy. His voice held a sheepish note when he spoke softly. “I forgot how demanding the little boogers can be.” Tone deepening, his voice was rough when he continued, ”I just…want you to come with me tonight, so I thought if I took care of feeding the calves, you’d be able to find the time.” Releasing her, he reached out, resting a hand on either side of her waist. “Brenda—“

“Calves are already done, Mom? Why’d you call me then?” Reuben’s words were interrupted by Eli’s irritated questions and she looked down to see her son’s eyes narrowly focused on her middle, where Reuben’s hands were touching her.

“They weren’t done when I called you,” she explained. “It’s just
someone
took his sweet time getting ready for chores.” Eli rolled his eyes and she snorted, turning and twisting out of Reuben’s hold. “No worries, the job’s not finished. You can help me wash bottles.” Her son sighed, lifting his still-narrowed gaze to Reuben when the man blew out a frustrated sounding breath.

“Brenda, stop it.” Reuben reached out, flattening his palm at the small of her back, the heat of the contact warming her skin through her clothing. “Gill, get the hands to wash the bottles.” He shouted across the pen towards the men, who had all begun to walk away, and she heard a collective groan from them as they turned to slog back to where she had tossed the bottles on the grass outside the pen. “Brenda’s working on dinner. I’ll be in the office for a half hour, and then meet y’all up at the house, yeah?” Reuben looked down at her with a grin. “I’ll have invoices entered before supper. Then there are no excuses left, Bee.”

Shaking her head, she frowned at him before asking, “It matters that much to you?” She watched as he pulled in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he blew it back out with a silent nod. Staring into his eyes for a moment, she saw the hope rising in them, and gave in with a soft, “Okay, then. Okay, I’ll go.” She looked down at Elias and smiled at her son, “I guess I’m going out tonight, Eli. You’ll need to clean up the dishes after the men get finished.” He groaned as loudly as the ranch hands had a moment ago, pulling another laugh from her. “If you can rinse them and load the dishwasher, I’ll take care of everything else when I get home. Essa will be just down the hallway, so you’ll have company if you want it.”

As she spoke, he cut his eyes towards Reuben, frowning. Without looking back at her, he muttered, “Yeah, whatever.”

“Elias Thomas Calloway, is that any way to speak to your mother?” His attitude surprised her because he wasn’t a sullen child. His moods were generally easy, even right after his fa—her brain stuttered for a minute, and she realized what was wrong.
Reuben. Eli has to be upset about him being here
, she thought.

Before she could say anything else, he responded with a contrite sounding, “Sorry, Mom. I can handle the dishes.” He paused and the sound of his swallow was loud. “You…you’ll be back before I go to sleep?”

“Yeah.” With one soft word, she promised him he wouldn’t go to sleep without her telling him goodnight. It was a ritual they’d started back when Tommy’s condition had worsened to the point he couldn’t be part of their daily lives. She thought of it as droplets of normality, a few stolen ordinary moments out of the day when it could be just him and her. The predictable routine meant he always had a chance to talk to her about his dreams or fears, or just the funny things that happened to him throughout the day. Or, as often transpired, they could say nothing at all, sitting in companionable silence while he fell asleep, head on her thigh, her fingers running through his hair. “Wouldn’t miss it, Eli.”

Nodding, he turned away and she jolted when the hand at her back flexed, fingers digging into her skin, closing around her shirt and tugging her sideways. Twisting, she saw Reuben looking down at her, having stood silently throughout the exchange. He released his grip and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against his side. Gruffly, he said, “He’s a tough kid.” Turning back to watch Eli walk towards the house, she nodded, knowing Reuben was right.

***

Leaning back in his seat, Reuben shook his head in disgust.
I shoulda listened to Brenda
, he thought. Steve had already been a few beers in when they got to the bar, and over the past forty-five minutes, his assholeness had grown to such proportions, it was impossible to ignore. Chelsie hadn’t been able to accompany him out tonight, and he didn’t know if Steve’s behavior was because he was an unhappily married man, or just an ass, but Reuben had suffered through about all he could stand of the man’s obnoxious flirting, hitting on every woman around. Including Brenda.

He placed his mouth near Brenda’s ear, inhaling a hint of her perfume as he whispered, “I’m ready to go if you are, honey.” Drawing back in time to see her relieved smile and nod, he laughed quietly. Catching the waitress’ eye, he offered her a couple of bills and got a sweet grin in response to his apologetic, “Thanks, darlin’. Sorry.”

“It’s just Steve,” the waitress muttered, underscoring for Reuben that Steve was an ass. She leaned around him and, her tone friendly, said, “Good to see you out, Brenda.”

“Good to be seen,” Brenda responded with a fond smile as she stood.

When Reuben stood as well, Steve and Donny complained a bit, but they let it go fairly quickly, saying their goodbyes. Mostly because Reuben had just bought another pitcher for the table, and if he and Brenda were leaving, it meant more beer for the two men.

Hand possessively pressed to the small of Brenda’s back, he steered her out of Mitchell’s and into the parking lot, both of them sighing loudly as the noise and heat of the bar receded. Curving his fingers around her waist, he steadied her against his side as they walked to the truck, shortening his strides to match hers. “Sorry that wasn’t more fun, Bee.” He sighed. “Those guys were jackasses in high school, too, weren’t they? I just didn’t see it.”

She laughed good-naturedly and tilted her head up to look at him. “Yeah, they were, but it’s okay. I still had fun tonight with you.” Her gaze dropped back to the gravel at her feet, focusing on careful navigation of the uneven surface in the short heels she had paired with a sleeveless sundress.

He liked seeing the expanse of skin when she came down the stairs at the house, her shoulders, arms, and legs on display. Sideways glances on the short drive into town gave him opportunity to appreciate it even more. But, once realization hit that every man in the bar would be enjoying the same view, he had been surprised at a sudden jealous anger that burned through him. She was so beautiful, and his greedy reaction underscored how much he wanted her for himself.

Dragging his attention back to the conversation, he grinned and shook his head, saying, “Liar.”
God, I like her
, he thought, not surprised to find he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. Reuben thought for a moment before asking, “What time does Eli go to bed?”

“Nine o’clock,” she said, glancing up at him again with a questioning crook of an eyebrow. That expression fled her face as she stumbled, but his arm around her waist kept her from falling. Without taking her eyes from where they had locked with his, she found her footing and softly said, “Thanks.”

“Let’s go see what’s showing at the drive-in. It’s still open, right?” This would be another experience from high school, but not something he and Brenda had ever done together. At what he hoped was an eager nod, he moved them a little faster towards the truck, reaching out to open the door for her. Helping her into the seat, he watched as she tucked the full skirt closely around her thighs, feet primly lined up side-by-side on the floor of the truck, eyes fixed on her knees. “What do you say, Bee? Want to go see what’s playing?”