Texas Thunder (24 page)

“No, but Les Haverty is bringing by a buyer tomorrow. He thinks we'll sell the acreage pretty quick. That should push us into the green for the short-term. I was thinking we might consider out-breeding a couple of our bulls. We've got some prime stock. That might be an option to add to our revenue in addition to the cattle.”

“Breeding, huh?”

“Pepper has quite a few contacts who'd pay through the nose for some good semen. We can start with Red and Mack. They're the best of the best. Grade A and registered. One dose of their sperm would surely bring a nice chunk.”

Pappy nodded before a melancholy expression slid over his face. “Red was one of Pirate's calves. He was your daddy's first bull. He always said he'd breed the best stock if we ever wanted to open our doors. Seems like he was right.”

“I guess there's a first time for everything.”

“I know you don't like to talk about your daddy.” Pappy pushed the ledger aside and leaned back in his chair. “And you got good reason. He was a hateful SOB sometimes.”

“More like all the time.”

A sadness touched the old man's expression as he nodded. “Toward the end, he was. But there was a time when he had some goodness in him. Why, I remember when he came home with your first horse. That pretty little filly named Charlotte. You were only two years old at the time and your mama liked to have had a fit, but your daddy just knew you could sit a horse. You were his boy, after all, and he'd been riding since he'd been in diapers.” Pappy's gaze held Brett's. “You didn't disappoint. You grabbed hold of the reins with one chubby fist and held tight like you'd been born in the saddle. Your daddy laughed so hard. Why, I don't think I ever seen him that happy.”

“Happy? Dad?”

“I know it's hard to believe, but he was a decent father at one time. All of this just got the best of him.”

“You mean his pride got the best of him.” That's what had motivated Berle. He'd wanted the biggest and the best, and when anyone had threatened that, he'd taken his anger out on his wife. Or his son. “You can defend him until you're blue in the face, Pappy, but it's not going to change my opinion of him.”

“I know that. I just want you to know that he never intended to hurt you. It was the liquor. I know 'cause my daddy had it bad for the shine. He managed to kick the addiction thanks to my grandmamma, but some just ain't so lucky. I wish I had seen it getting the best of Berle in time to do something about it, but I was so busy with this place. I know he was a hard man, but he loved you.”

“I don't want to talk about this.”

“Maybe you don't want to, son, but you need to. You need to remember that this house doesn't hold just bad memories of him. He had his good moments.”

“And because of them I'm just supposed to forget all the shitty things he did to Mom? To me and Karen?” Brett shook his head as bitterness welled inside of him. His chest tightened and his throat constricted and it was all he could do to sit still and let his pappy talk.

He wanted to get up, to walk out, to leave.

He needed, to, but the hope in his pappy's eyes held him and so all he managed was to push to his feet. His boots thudded on the hardwood floor as he walked to a nearby bookshelf. He put his back to the old man as the memory of that last night overtook him.

He closed his eyes, hearing his mother's scream, feeling the urgency as he caught his dad's arm and tried to hold the old man back. He could still feel the hard tendons of the man's forearm tight with rage, the crippling pain as the man's fist made contact with his head. The crack echoed in his head and then … nothing.

That had been the last time he'd seen his father alive, the last time he'd felt the man's rage, the last chance to say good-bye.

The thought struck and he shook it away. The last thing he'd owed his sorry-ass dad was a decent good-bye. Or a thank you for all those horse shows the man had taken him to when he'd been younger. Or that one Christmas when he'd put on a Santa suit and bounced Brett on his knee. Or the time he'd helped him catch his first fish down at the creek.

All those moments that had faded in the face of so much abuse. Good times all but forgotten.

Or so he'd thought.

But they rolled over him as he stood there, looking at the books, his pappy's voice echoing in his ear, reminding him of the man Berle had once been. Of the father who'd tucked him in at night and tickled him awake every Saturday morning.

Not that it changed anything. Berle had still chosen alcohol over his own family, and while Brett might eventually forgive the man for his sins, he would never forget. Berle had deserted him. He'd deserted them all.

While Pappy had been the one who'd toughed it out, raising his grandkids all by himself, loving them.

For that reason alone Brett forced a smile and turned toward his grandfather. If it eased the man's mind to know that Brett didn't hate Berle, then so be it. “I know it wasn't all bad, Pappy. I remember.”

“You do?” Hope fired in the old man's gaze and Brett nodded.

“I remember everything Dad used to do. I also remember everything that you used to do.” His gaze locked with the old man's. “I don't know what I would have done without you, Pappy. I never said thank you, but I'm saying it now.”

While he still had the chance.

The doubt struck and Brett forced it aside. Things were getting better. Pappy was getting better. And Brett was this close to working Callie out of his system.

Hell, forget better. Things were great.

At least that's what Brett tried to tell himself as he spent the afternoon tending cattle, riding fence, and trying not to count down the hours until Callie Tucker showed up to continue the search for the recipe.

 

CHAPTER 27

“We need to talk,” Brandy said when Callie walked into the kitchen later that afternoon.

Callie dumped her purse on the counter, along with a stack of fliers and a platter of leftover pinwheels from the open house. “If it's about the cupcake apocalypse in the living room, I can explain.”

“Actually, it's not about that, but I'd still love to hear your explanation. Especially since I've spent the last two hours trying to get crème filling off the couch cushions.”

“Well, see, Alex showed up with Arnie.”

“Arnie? That guy's a moron. Why did Alex bring him here?”

“It seems he's recently earned his certification in acupuncture. Alex brought him hoping to help Jenna with her claustrophobia.”

“Jenna doesn't have claustrophobia.”

“You know that and I know that, but Alex thinks that's why she broke up with him. You know, when she told him she needed her space.”

“Okay, that makes sense. In a weird, twisted sort of way, but still. That doesn't explain the cupcakes.”

“Well, see, when the acupuncture didn't work, he brought Arnie back to try hypnosis.”

“Arnie did acupuncture on Jenna? I saw her yesterday just before she left for the horse vaccinations. She didn't tell me that.”

“That's because he didn't do the acupuncture on Jenna. He did it on me.”

“Because you're trying to kick the cupcakes.” Brandy stated the obvious.

“Sort of. I mean, I did do the acupuncture to kick my addiction, but it didn't work. So when Alex showed up this morning with Arnie again and said he wanted to try hypnosis—on Jenna, not me—I figured I might as well give that a try, too.”

“And so he destroyed a bunch of cupcakes in front of you to deter the bad behavior?”

“Not exactly. Apparently, I'm the one who went crazy on the cupcakes. He was just holding up a box and making a suggestion. I took the suggestion and bam, no more cupcakes.”

“That's wild. Understandable, but wild.” Brandy eyed her. “So the cupcake thing actually worked?”

“Not really.” Callie had scarfed a pack of cupcakes on the way home from the open house. And she'd had sex with Brett at the open house. So clearly the hypnosis hadn't worked. “But it was worth a try.”

“Maybe you just need a little time. By tomorrow you might kick the craving completely.”

“You really think so?” She latched onto the hope and held tight. “Arnie did say it could take a little while to see results.”

“Definitely. But cupcakes aside, we still need to talk.” She caught Callie's stare and held tight. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Callie averted her gaze and busied herself grabbing a glass from a nearby cabinet.

“That you're trying to sell the Texas Thunder recipe because you desperately need money.”

Callie's head snapped up and her gaze met her sister's. “How do you know that?”

Brandy reached beneath the table and pulled out a small drinking glass filled with the telltale gold liquid.

“Where did you get that?”

“From the Mason jar on your nightstand. The one I gave to Mark Edwards when he stopped by looking for you.” Brandy swirled the liquid and watched the bubbly funnel that developed. “He said he made it to town early and he was so excited about this stuff that he couldn't wait until your meeting this afternoon.” She set the glass down on the table. “He stopped by on the off chance that he might catch you here. He caught me instead and filled me in on what Gramps was doing, and how you've been trying to find the rest of the recipe. He didn't say it, but I'm assuming you're killing yourself working with Brett Sawyer, the one man you hate above all, for a good reason. I just don't know what it is.” Her gaze narrowed. “Yet.”

“I don't hate Brett.” If only, but that ship had sailed long ago and now she was drowning in a sea of desire with no lifeline in sight. “He's an alright guy.”

“You're avoiding the issue.”

“Which is?”

“Why are you killing yourself?”

She wasn't going to tell Brandy. That was Callie's first thought. She would make something up and keep Brandy in the dark. But her sister looked relentless and Callie had never been a good liar. “We need the money.”

“Why?”

“Because James Harlin spent the tax money and now I've got six weeks to come up with it.” She tore her gaze from her sister's and busied herself filling a glass with water. “Four now that two have already passed.”

“When did you find out?”

“The day before the funeral.” She felt the telltale burning behind her eyes, and blinked away the sudden moisture the way she always did. “I guess the bank heard about his death and figured they needed to send an official notification.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because you've got enough on your plate with the bakery. You don't have time to worry about this.”

“I'll make time.”

“No, you won't, because I'm handling this.” Her gaze went to the glass and the few inches of liquid. The scent of apple pie mingled with something much stronger teased her nostrils. “Why did you keep some?”

“Because my new assistant has the palate of a Michelin star pastry chef. With her taste buds and my knowledge of ingredients, we might be able to figure out what's in this stuff.”

“You mean if it's even the right stuff. Brett and I found it in his attic. It could be any shine from here to Arkansas. We have no proof it's
the
Texas Thunder.”

“You'll know eventually. Edwards said he's handing it off to his guy, but it could take up to four weeks for them to get to the sample. He's trying to move it along, but he's calling in a favor of a friend of a friend, so he's not at the top of the priority list. That means we have to wait. I just figured that maybe Ellie could cut down on the wait time. If her results match the recipe, there's a good chance this is the real stuff. At least then you can stop worrying and destroying innocent cupcakes.”

“I don't want you to worry about this.”

“Why? I'm a big girl. I can handle the worry. I learned from the best.” Her smile disappeared. “You were always there, Callie. Killing yourself for us. Sacrificing. You don't have to do this alone. I'll do what I can to help. My oven is paid for. So are my mixers. I could try for a secured loan on all of it. I don't know how much that will be, but it's enough to put a small dent in what we owe.”

“But you need that money for an extra oven.”

“The oven can wait. I'm okay for now. I'd rather hand the money over for this.”

“But I don't want—”

“It's not about what you want,” Brandy cut in. “I live here, too.” A stern expression slid over her face. “And I'm going to help.”

“What about Jenna? Did you tell her?”

“She has enough to worry about with stalker Alex. Besides, she's barely making her car payment. She can't help now. But one day…” She grinned. “When she has her own veterinary practice and is raking in the cash, we'll call in a return on the favor. Right now, we can handle this. Together.”

Callie wanted to believe her sister, but she'd been going it alone for so long that she wasn't so sure she could stop. She still felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, pushing her down, pulling her in a million different directions. Even so, she hugged Brandy, holding her tight for a few long moments and relishing the warmth of her sister's embrace.

And thinking of how she was going to miss it when she finally left Rebel behind for good.

*   *   *

After her talk with Brandy, Callie fed Jez and the other foster animals before jumping into the shower. She meant to wash away the feel of Brett's touch, but it only served to heighten her awareness. Her skin tingled as the water washed over her. Her nerves vibrated with the slick feel of the soap.

She pulled on a T-shirt and jeans and tried to pretend that tonight was just like any other night. Strictly business.