Calls get made to more folks we can trust with trucks and trailers, using the recent rodeo and a stolen bull as a cover story. Joyce donates six more decoys herself, with her ranch hands driving them.
I’m thankful as hell I recruited Faulk last year to help scope out her cheating husband and bust his lying ass. What goes around comes around.
Only the folks gathered here right now know the entire truth. The others are just that willing to help with few questions.
That’s the kind of place Dallas is, small-town heart and soul, and one more reason why I’m proud to call it home.
Shortly before noon, an old red car comes racing up the driveway, kicking up plumes of dust.
The late seventies, two-door Chevy Nova—complete with spoiler and mag wheels—looks like it’s in mint shape, only driven by a little old lady. And I know which little old lady as I glance at Tory Faulkner.
“Did you tell Granny Coffey you were here?”
“I, uh...I called her about an hour ago,” Tory says sheepishly. “Sorry, Grady. I didn’t tell her what we’re doing, just that there’s a crowd of us out here needing lunch. You know Granny—if there’s an army to be fed, she wants to be the cook.”
Faulk walks over and drapes an arm around his wife. “You let her pick the menu, right?”
Tory laughs. “No eggplant today, so don’t worry. I finally convinced her to take a break.”
I smile since I’ve heard about the infamous time when Granny’s hate affair with the purple vegetable blossomed into a deep affection in an enemies-to-lovers story for the ages. Faulk told me she’s damn near been eating eggplant dishes three times a week ever since.
Granny Coffey, once again dressed in her usual bright colors, hops out of the classic car as I walk out the front door.
“Hello, handsome!” she shouts. “I brought you all some vittles.” Her laughter rings in the air. “Send some muscles out here to help bring it in.”
The guys help me take care of that, and soon the women and Willow have the kitchen set up with a buffet of food that could feed half the town.
“How’d you manage all this in an hour, Granny?” I ask, while waiting for others to fill plates.
“Easy! I cleaned out the deli at the supermarket.” She slaps my arm. “The tough part was hauling it all home on my bike.”
I laugh, knowing she’s joking—I think?—and snag Willow’s arm.
“Have you had a chance to meet Granny Coffey?” I ask her.
Before Willow can answer, Granny says, “Of course we were introduced! And I told her I’m over the moon happy that you’ve got a good woman in your life. You were right about Miss Linda. She can’t hold a candle to this lady judging by everything Tory’s said. About time you got those little girls a new mama.”
Fuck. Me.
I should have known the can of drama-loving worms Granny would open. It’s her specialty.
Willow laughs and starts deflecting. “Oh, Granny, don’t you know Grady’s secretly been in love with you for years?”
Granny hoots with laughter and gives Willow a hug.
“You just stole my heart completely, you little firecracker.” Releasing Willow from a bear hug, Granny looks at me. “Go eat, both of you, before the food’s all gone!”
“Good idea, I’m starving.” I lay my hand on Willow’s back and steer her to the table. “Sorry about that,” I whisper once we’re out of hearing range.
Her eyes shimmer like blue seas with humor. “It’s fine. She’s adorable and I was prepared. The girls warned me with their Granny Coffey stories.”
“Yeah, no doubt,” I grumble.
I also have zero doubt that Granny’s statement won’t leave my mind anytime soon.
Especially her point about finding a mother for Sawyer and Avery.
Something they’ve never known.
Not with Brittany’s rapidly deteriorating condition when they were little.
I hadn’t realized how much they needed a grown woman in their life until this morning. Sure, they’ve always had Aunt Faye, but she’s more like a grandmother.
Willow handled their anger at me for sending them away with Joyce better than I had. Hell, she’d gotten me to change my mind about them giving Bruce one last sendoff, too. And there’s no denying it helped defuse a bad situation.
Her point about letting them live, good and bad, struck a vein. Ever since this morning, despite all this ruckus and planning, I’ve just been bleeding.
I’m sorry as shit I’ve been so dense for so long, and even sorrier to lose this beautiful, whip-smart, bright-eyed woman.
I never expected Hurricane Willow. Not falling for a desperate chick within weeks of meeting her.
And now here I am reexamining my life, doubting my hardass rules and everything I thought I had a grip on for years.
If that’s not the universe dropping me down on my head, I don’t know what the hell is.
Trying to shut down my thoughts, I fill my plate high with salads and a piece of a sub sandwich thicker than my arm, then try to focus on eating.
That’s nearly impossible with Willow next to me. She’s talking with the others in the room, men and women, and fits in too well.
My heart drops like a swung hammer, looking for something to smash, and missing.
I stare at my plate, ignoring the urge to look at her, knowing every lingering glance just cuts me in two.
Just like those tiger prints she made for the girls, she’s stamped her impression on my soul.
It’s gonna hurt like a knife to the eye when she’s gone, leaving behind memories that hollow me out.
With the meal over, I head outside, hoping fresh air will clear the storm in my head.
Hank is already there, smoking a cigarette around the corner, hiding it from his girlfriend.
“You know she can smell that crap on you, don’t you?”
He grins. “Yup! Roberta knows I smoke, we both just pretend she doesn’t.”
I raise a brow. “And you’re telling me that works?”
“Sure.” He plants a heel on the side of the house and leans back, taking a long drag before saying, “So what’s gonna happen to Miss Willow after all this?”
I heave out a sigh, remembering all the things she’d told me while lying next to me, lost in her own dreams and my arms after I pummeled her senseless.
“Guess she’ll go lookin’ for another zoologist job somewhere, or maybe go to Africa to meet up with her old man. He’s this big expert on rhinos and travels the world.”
“Wow, shit. That’s too bad, man.” Hank sniffs.
“Too bad?”
“Aw, yeah. I was hoping she’d come back to Dallas and hang around a while longer. Your girls love her like the dickens, and if you ask me...”
I wait as he takes another puff.
“And?” I urge when he doesn’t finish.
He drops his cigarette butt on the ground and stomps it out with the toe of his boot.
“Well, it’s not my place to say, but I’ve gotta tell you—I like the changes I’ve seen in you, bud, ever since she showed up. You’re almost the old Grady again.”
I’m human lead.
I look away, my jaw clenched.