Chapter 41

Wyatt had to pull over on the side of the road and put the pickup in Park. “You expect me to believe you made this happen?”

“Believe what you want.” Joe shrugged, unfazed by Wyatt’s death glare. “But do you honestly think Violet wouldn’t want to kick that shithead’s ass, with or without Melanie? Geezus. I had to bar the doors and hide the rifle while I talked her down. And she only gave in after I promised her we could tail you after the science fair.”

Wyatt goggled at him. “You were watching us?”

“Yep. Man, we damn near shit a brick when that cop drove by.”

“I never saw…how did you…”

Joe snorted. “Dude. We live in a house with two kids and still have sex. We’ve got sneaky nailed.”

Wyatt dug thumb and middle finger into his temples. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you make everything too complicated. Otherwise, this would’ve happened five years ago, like it should have. But no, you diddled around until we thought it was too late. When the shit hit the fan with Michael, we figured it was time to force the issue—so we sent you to the rescue.” Joe shrugged again. “Everything after that was pretty much a given.”

“You were so sure that Melanie would cause a big ruckus, and I would offer to take her away from it all?”

Joe spread his hands. “Were we wrong?”

No, they were not. He and Melanie had both done exactly as predicted. But Wyatt still couldn’t believe…

“If this is all true, why did Violet tell Melanie she thought it was best we hadn’t hooked up?” A tidbit Melanie had confessed the previous night.

Joe smirked. “What’s the quickest way to get Mel to do anything?”

“Just—” Tell her she couldn’t. Son of a bitch. She’d talked to Violet, then she’d invited him to drive up to the mountains, proof she could be civilized to him—and it had snowballed from there.

Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you happen to consider that my marriage to a woman like Melanie was a complete disaster?”

“Nope.” Once again, Joe shrugged off Wyatt’s withering glare. “Melanie is independent. Gabrielle was pathological, which is understandable considering how she grew up. But Melanie was raised on the rodeo circuit and the ranch, where you don’t survive without the occasional handout or hand up. You take it when it’s offered and give it when it’s needed. Hell, she didn’t even blow a fuse when she realized that you’d made that lawsuit go away.”

No need to ask how Joe knew. Melanie hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she didn’t keep anything from Violet. “What about the rest? Do you know what’s happening at Westwind?”

“Probably more than Leachman does. Thanks to Gil chatting up the warehouse guys, Violet can tell you damn near down to the fifty-pound bag how much feed has shipped out of the plant since Melanie left, and that the grant application she wrote was accepted—which is a big boost for R&D, whatever that means.”

“And what about Leachman? Did Gil find anything…”

Joe flashed an inscrutable smile. “I’m not allowed to share that information due to the manner in which it was obtained.”

“Jesus Christ,” Wyatt said. “It’s like a Texas rodeo mafia.”

Joe’s eyes lit up. “Violet will love that.”

And Shawnee would have T-shirts printed. Wyatt clenched both hands on the steering wheel. “Did your informants also tell you we found Hank?”

“Found?” Joe’s grin faded. “Was he lost?”

So Melanie didn’t tell her best friend everything. “She hadn’t seen or talked to him since New Year’s. That’s why she agreed to come to Oregon. I promised to track him down.”

“And?”

Joe’s expression got darker by degrees as Wyatt described Hank’s condition. When he finished, Joe swore. “What is she going to do?”

“I’ll hook her up with the best mental health professionals I know, but honestly? I don’t think she can do anything for now. Hank has dug in, and he isn’t going to budge until he’s damn good and ready. There’s a lot more of Melanie in him than you’d think.”

Joe cocked his head. “What are you going to do?”

“Try to help her accept it.”

“And then?”

Wyatt heaved a sigh. “Listen…I appreciate what you were trying to do, and I love you both—”

“Oh geezus.”

Wyatt squeezed a dollop of pleasure out of making Joe squirm, then shook his head. “This is way beyond Hank being an idiot. He’s going through some serious shit.”

“And you’re not?” Joe pointed at the dashboard screen. “What about all that?”

“We’re scratching a very old itch. When she leaves Oregon, it’s done.”

“You’re just going to let her walk away because of Hank?”

Wyatt leveled a stare at Joe. “If it’s me or him, we all know who she’d choose. Even if it was me, how long do you think we’d last if I was the reason he never spoke to her again?”

Joe swore and slammed back in his seat.

“Exactly,” Wyatt said and put the pickup in gear.

Silence reigned for the rest of the drive. When they arrived at the rodeo grounds, Cruz’s El Camino was already parked in their designated area. He stepped out of his ancient travel trailer, arms folded and dark eyes inscrutable as he looked from Joe to Wyatt, then back to Joe.

“We’re fighting bulls with Justin Timberlake?”

Joe laughed.

Wyatt flipped them off, then grabbed his cowboy hat from the backseat and jammed it on his head. As he slung his bag over his shoulder and started toward the locker room, Joe called after him. “Hey, Chuck! You didn’t tell me what happened to your ankle.”

Wyatt yelled over his shoulder. “She pushed me off a damn cliff.”

And he wouldn’t stand close to any steep drops if he were Joe or Violet. Regardless of their good intentions, their little scheme was practically a carbon copy of what Leachman had done to Melanie. The damage he and Michael had done was nothing compared to what she would suffer if this tore her and Violet apart.

Wyatt threw his bag down outside the door to the locker room and kicked it for good measure—with his uninjured leg. Then he sank down on a bench and tried to figure out how to break the news without getting anyone maimed.

Himself included.