Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

W arrick

Did you know snakeskin boots don't protect your feet like steel-toed boots when you kick the side of a barn? Found that out the hard way when I stomped around the house and decided I needed an outlet for all this anger I felt toward the mule of a contractor I hired to remodel Mom's house. Cleveland skipped across the dirt pen with more enthusiasm than he'd shown his entire life, probably thinking he'd found a buddy to headbutt with, but one kick and I was done. I didn't want to give Emmerleigh the satisfaction of seeing all ten of my toes broken because of her obstinance.

"That woman is a menace to society," I said, pointing at Cleveland. He tried to nip at my finger, but I was too fast. Anger made me quick. Bessie mooed but was smart enough to stay on the far end of the pen. "She's liable to get herself killed one day from pure stubbornness."

And she wasn't wearing my ring.

Not that that fact had anything to do with endangering her health, but it still rankled. Maybe if I fashioned one out of a rusty nail, she might wear it. Then again, anything from me was probably not going to go over well. If most women in my life had milked me dry for gifts, Em was the complete opposite. It should have been refreshing, but was proving to be the most irritating thing I'd ever experienced.

Thistle ambled over, chewing on a piece of hay and rubbing against my leg through the fence like some kind of horned cat. It was just enough cuteness to have me settling down and thinking straight. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if my over-the-top anger was perhaps a cover for how scared I'd been when I'd walked around the side of the house and saw Em holding a huge beam above her head and about to fall off a ladder. But that would require examining my feelings for a woman I shouldn't have any feelings for, and I didn't really feel like doing that right now. Stewing in anger felt far better.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and dialed the head lawyer I'd used in my business and then again when it came to the sale of said business. He answered right away and gave me the name and number for a family law attorney he recommended. I hung up and called the new attorney, promising to wire over a retainer today and the papers Cayden had served Em with. The sooner I got this legal battle dealt with, the sooner Em and I could dissolve this sham marriage. My wife didn't seem to have much luck getting ahold of her own lawyer, nor had she asked for my help. Big fucking surprise. For my own sanity, I needed that woman out of my house and back to only being my contractor. Besides, ultimately I was doing this for Georgia, not Em.

Still holding my phone, I decided I needed to get my head screwed on straight. And that required distance.

Me: Heading into town for some errands. Won't be back for dinner .

Of course, Em didn't answer, which was just as well. I didn't really want to talk to her right now. I went back inside the house only long enough to grab my wallet and keys and then I was backing down the driveway, headed for downtown Blueball. My first stop was a jewelry store and the whole time I chatted with the sales person over cases of sparkling jewels, I told myself this was all for Georgia.

Even if it was a lie.

My next stop was Tequila Mockingbird, simply because it was clever and it had alcohol in the name. The restaurant had sprung up sometime after I'd left Blueball in my rearview mirror and it didn't disappoint. The chips and salsa were next level. My mood lifted with the first beer and edged toward euphoric when my server brought over queso on the house. Some people didn't like eating by themselves at a restaurant, but forty-four years of being single meant I had to get used to it. Especially with all the food and wine tastings I'd been to in my line of work.

"Hey! Warrick, right?" came a feminine voice beside my table.

I lifted my head from the trough of chips and queso long enough to see a tall blonde woman and an even taller guy next to her with his hat on backward.

"Yeah, Warrick Wolfe." I wiped my salty hand off on my napkin and offered it. The woman shook it, introducing herself as Paisley and her husband as Gannon, the owners of Glamper's Paradise. I'd seen signs directing people to this Glamper's Paradise, but I didn't know what the hell it was. I hadn't been the camping type since I was a kid. Then again, now that I had Georgia, maybe I should look into it.

"I dropped off a tray of cookies after your father passed but no one was home. I'm very sorry for your loss."

I dipped my head, that pang of grief always below the surface. Probably always would be. "He was a good man and he'll be missed, that's for sure. Thank you for the cookies. I'm sure my brothers and I demolished them and Mom gave us shit about making a mess."

Paisley smiled softly. Gannon piped up, thankfully steering the conversation in a new direction. I'd found out in the last few months that death and grieving were almost always conversation stoppers. "How's the job at the house going? Paisley said Em Slaywright is a new friend of hers and told them about the remodel of your parents' house."

I blinked, not realizing Em knew Paisley. Or anyone in town. Somehow, in my head, she and Georgia were only…mine. "It's going great. It's just Em and Pip, but they get done the work of four men."

Paisley snorted and elbowed her husband in the ribs. "I'd believe it! Women are usually better at, well, everything."

Gannon shot a dirty look at his wife that lacked heat. "I wish M Builds had been around when we were building out our glampsite. I have daughters, so I love that Blueball has an example of women in the trades."

Paisley gasped and I followed the line of her gaze. Right to my left hand which sported a shiny gold ring. "When did you get married, Warrick?"

I sighed, realizing I should have been more discreet. Then again, gossip was sure to get out eventually. I leaned closer, keeping my voice low and hoping I could trust this couple. "Em and I got married yesterday."

At Paisley's second gasp, I winced. Gannon clapped me on the shoulder. "What are you doing here alone? Shouldn't you be locked in the house with your new wife?" He shot me a look that every man understood. A mental image of Em in her nearly see-through pajamas came to mind.

"It's not like that. This is for legal help only, so if you could keep it quiet, I'd appreciate it."

"Oh, I don't know," Paisley singsonged, resting her elbow on my shoulder like we were already friends. "Em was blushing like a new bride when we were talking about you at lunch the other day."

Gannon stiffened. "Why were you talking about him?"

Paisley rolled her eyes and it reminded me of Em. "He's newly back in town and single. Or was. Of course we discussed him."

Gannon folded his arms across his chest, a distinct look of displeasure sliding across his features. I didn't know much about marriage, but I felt the eggshells beneath my feet. Raising my hand for the server, I caught his eye and gestured for two more beers. I had a feeling my new friend, Gannon, was going to need one too.

"Listen, I promise you it's not like that. Em is as hardheaded as a mule being asked to don a coat and tie. She's also been hurt in the past and won't open up about it. This marriage has as much chance of surviving past the legal battle she's facing as this queso has of not being eaten before I leave this restaurant."

Gannon finally glanced my way. "She sounds a lot like my wife."

"Hey!" Paisley put her hands on her hips. Then she turned that obstinate gaze my way. Dear Lord, save me from stubborn women. "You leave that to me. My friends and I are better than any counselor. Okay, maybe not that good, but we're damn persistent about getting you to face the music about your relationship. We've singlehandedly saved at least a dozen Blueball marriages. Give me a night with Em and I'll have her singing like a canary about her innermost thoughts."

"Jesus," Gannon muttered, taking one of the beers the server arrived with. We clinked glasses and each swigged half our glasses down.

Paisley huffed. "Seriously, can you babysit Georgia tomorrow night?"

I thought through my gaping schedule and nodded.

Paisley's grin was terrifying.

I'm not proud to say I snuck around the back of the house to sit on the bench Mom had installed underneath the large oak tree decades ago. The foundation for the screened-in porch was only ten feet away, the ceiling completely framed in with those damn beams of wood that had nearly taken Em out this morning. The light was still on in Georgia's room, and even though I wanted to go in and read her another bedtime story, I had a feeling her mother might not want me anywhere near her.

Instead, I sat back and took a longneck bottle of beer out of the six-pack I'd bought after leaving Tequila Mockingbird. Extending the slight buzz sounded better than fighting. The sky out here was so different than in the city. I could see star formations through the tree limbs, ones I hadn't been able to see since I was a kid. Crickets chirped and little rustles of lizards moving in the brush nearby felt like nature's white noise. It was soothing on a day that had been anything but. I tilted my head back and drank it in. I hadn't figured out what I wanted for the second half of my life, but being back home felt right.

A sound from my right had me tilting my head back up and opening my eyes. The world shifted a bit and I decided I'd had enough beer for the night. The floodlight on the side of the house activated and outlined a slight figure on the back porch.

"Watch out for nails," I drawled.

Em stepped around the tools she'd left for tomorrow's work and came closer. I groaned inwardly. Why did she have to walk around in her pajamas? There wasn't anything inherently sexy about them. They were plain white cotton, for God's sake, but the way they left her legs bare and her small breasts on display felt indecent. Her flip-flops made noise as she walked closer, jumping down from the foundation and coming over to the bench. She didn't sit down, nor did she look me in the eye, choosing to hide behind a lock of hair that had partially fallen over her face.

She looked so goddamn uncomfortable, I had to intervene and help her out. "You know I used to put my work ahead of everything in life. I was the cliche guy who worked sunup to sundown, amassing bigger portfolios, closing deals on golf courses, and attending fancy fundraisers just to rub elbows with other businesspeople who might be useful to me later on." I shook my head and laughed ruefully. "I was a complete dumbass. Definitely earned that nickname of Dick."

Em huffed, fighting a smile.

I stared at the house I'd grown up in. "And then my dad got sick and none of that shit mattered."

Em crossed her arms over her chest. "I know what you're alluding to and it's not a fair comparison. I work my ass off to put food on the table. I have another human being who relies on me. I'm not working my hands to the bone for stock portfolios and yachts and fancy dinners."

I nodded, moving the six-pack to the ground in case she wanted to sit. "I understand. I do. I didn't grow up wealthy. You saw those hideous countertops in the kitchen. I guess what I'm trying to say is that there has to be a balance. I'm still trying to find mine, so I don't have any advice to give, other than to say I regret not spending more time with my father."

She kicked at a rock with the toe of her flip-flop, her voice so soft and heartfelt it made me want to cry over missing him. "I'm sorry for your loss, Warrick."

"If you'd hurt yourself, or God forbid, done worse today with that beam, I just think about Georgia. She needs to grow up with her mama, even if food is sometimes scarce or you can't afford new clothes for her. I just don't want to see you make the same mistake I did. "

I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, picking at the label on the bottle of beer I held. I missed Dad every day, but especially when I found myself married to a woman who couldn't stand me most days. Dad would have had advice. It would have been ridiculous and probably would have backfired, but he would have been there for me.

Em had a seat next to me, our legs just a few inches apart. "Thank you for helping me earlier today," she said quietly.

"So I did help you?"

Her nose went in the air, but she nodded. I grinned, wondering how much that pained her to admit.

"You're welcome."

"I have a scar on my lip."

I was familiar with the one she was talking about, not that I'd tell her I frequently studied her close enough to know.

"I got it from a two-by-four hitting me in the face when my ex didn't brace the other side well enough." She lifted her head, finally giving me her gaze. "Of all people, I should know when to ask for help where safety is concerned."

And now I was pissed again. This time at her dumbass ex for being so careless as to hurt her. Lessons that left actual scars were unnecessary.

"I really can't stand that guy," I growled.

She laughed bitterly. "Believe me, I get it. Do you know he kept my mom's gold cross necklace? He wouldn't give it back to me. Said he didn't have it, but I know just where I left it that night he kicked me out. Pissed me off even more after she died. What I wouldn't give to have that around my neck when I start missing her."

When she finished talking, her voice was thick with emotion. My hand itched to touch her, to offer some kind of support she desperately needed. But I had no right. It felt like we'd reached some tentative truce tonight and I didn't want to jeopardize that by touching her inappropriately. We sat there for long moments, just soaking in the night, both of us lost in memories and grief. I had money, my brothers, and my mom, all of whom were an emotional safety net for me. Who did Em have? Her brothers who lived two hours away? Seemed like she needed someone watching out for her.

"I'm going to call around tomorrow and find more subcontractors," I finally growled.

Em stiffened. "I don't need you sticking your nose in my business."

I stood up. "Oh, really? Seems like sticking my nose in saved your ass today."

If Em could summon fire, I was certain she'd be breathing it right now. She hopped up too, hands on her slim hips. "One misjudgment doesn't mean you get to tell me what to do with my own damn business."

I leaned down, knowing I was using my height for intimidation and doing it anyway. "You are my damn business, wife ."

Her eyes narrowed to slits.

Right before she turned and stormed away without another word. I watched her enter the house, the silence returning. This time it wasn't comforting.

"That could have gone better," I admitted out loud.

Could have sworn I heard Bessie moo her agreement from inside the barn.