Chapter Five
Eli tried to shake the feeling that he’d been too hard on Piper.
She’d robbed him of the chance to raise Tristen. There was no disputing that. But she’d looked so regretful yesterday, as if she understood fully the magnitude of her mistake.
His instincts had been to draw her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. But it wasn’t okay. It might never be okay.
From the paddock next to the temporary barn, Eli saw Tristen trudging toward him. Tristen didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry, although he was definitely late, and the clouds darkening the sky meant the rain would likely catch them on their ride.
The kid claimed he wanted to learn to ride, but he didn’t seem particularly respectful of Eli’s time.
“You’re late,” Eli said as Tristen came through the gate.
“Yeah,” Tristen said shortly, barely looking up. He headed inside, turning for the tack room.
Eli swung his saddle onto Cinnamon, trying to keep his temper in check. He could cancel the lesson. But Tristen needed to learn to sit a horse. And spending less time with his son wasn’t the answer. Changing Tristen’s attitude was the answer.
Making up his mind, Eli headed into the barn.
“Hey,” he said to Tristen.
“Yeah?” Tristen responded without turning.
“You do know more than one word, right?” Eli asked his frustration mounting.
Tristen turned around to face him, lifting his hands defiantly to his hips.
Eli did a double take.
Tristen’s left eye was swollen almost shut.
“What happened?” Eli asked, moving closer, his anger replaced by concern.
“Nothing.” Tristen’s nostrils flared with an indrawn breath.
Eli reached out to tip Tristen’s chin for better light.
Tristen swatted his hand away.
Eli didn’t actually blame him. “At school?”
“Yeah.”
“Who was it?”
Tristen looked like he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, “Barry Johnston.”
“What started it?”
“He said I looked at his girlfriend.”
“Did you?”
Tristen frowned. “Not like that. She’s pretty, sure. But he was just looking for an excuse to be an ass…to be an idiot.”
Eli let the cuss word slide. “You’ve had trouble with him before?”
“You can either suck up to Barry Johnston or have trouble with Barry Johnston.”
Eli understood. “I know the type.”
“Mom was freaking out. That’s why I’m late.”
Eli immediately felt like the biggest jerk in the world—jumping to such an unfair conclusion about Tristen. The kid had a valid excuse for being late, but Eli had simply assumed he was slacking.
“What did your mom say?” Eli asked.
“She made me promise not to escalate it.”
“Were you planning on escalating it?”
Tristen gave a noncommittal shrug then turned away, busying himself by gathering Misty’s halter and bridle.
“Well, did you hit him back?” Eli asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Tristen mumbled something as he started for the door.
“Why not?” Eli repeated, cursing fate all over again that he hadn’t been around to raise Tristen.
“It happened really fast.”
Eli wasn’t even sure he understood the answer. “Uh-huh,” he said following Tristen outside. “That’s really the only way to throw a punch.”
“I wasn’t expecting it,” Tristen said, approaching Misty and sliding her bridle into place.
Eli waited, standing his ground until Tristen was finished.
Finally Tristen turned around.
“Tristen.”
Tristen looked embarrassed, humiliated and painfully self-conscious.
Eli was willing to bet the kid wanted the ground to swallow him whole. But to his credit, he mustered up the grit to look Eli in the eye.
“Son,” Eli said. “Your mom’s a good mom. We respect her. She’s kind and loving and smart.” Eli paused, not wanting to say more but knowing he had no choice. “But you need to listen to me on this one. When somebody takes a swing at you, there’s only one way to react. You need to escalate the shit out of it.”
Tristen’s embarrassment turned to astonishment.
“Somebody hits you, you hit him back. And I mean right away. And I mean just as hard as you can.”
Tristen blinked like he was trying to make sense of the words.
“You might not win the fight,” Eli said. “You might only get in one good punch. But, believe me, if you even half ways connect, he’s not coming after you again. But if you take it and you walk away, and you’re in his sights for life.”
Tristen’s shoulder drooped. “Then I guess I’m in Barry Johnston’s sights.”
“Make a fist,” Eli said.
“What?”
“Make a fist.”
Tristen hesitated, but then closed his fist.
Eli corrected his grip. “Like this. Thumb here, fingers tight. You’ve got calluses and some muscle tone from working on the fences and the irrigation pipe. That’s good. Your skin is tough, and your hand is strong. Now, pull it back.”
Tristen pulled back his fist.
“Elbow up,” Eli said, coming around Tristen’s side to show him. “It’ll give you more leverage. When you thrust, punch through his face. Don’t pull back on the power when you make the connection.”
Tristen turned his head to look at Eli in amazement. “You’re teaching me how to punch a guy in the face?”
“It’s not something you want to get wrong.”
“I’m allowed to punch Barry Johnston in the face?”
“If he punches you first, hell yes.”
“What happened to not swearing?”
“Swearing has its place,” Eli said. “Fist fighting is one of them. But not in front of your mother. Or any other woman, for that matter. And not in front of children, or teachers, or preachers. But if you and your buddies want to go out behind the barn and swear up a blue streak, go ahead.”
Eli moved back in front of Tristen and held up his palm for a target. “Hit me.”
Tristen threw a punch.
“That’s nowhere near hard enough,” Eli said.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not going to hurt me. And if you do, well, I asked for it. And I’ve been hit a lot harder.”
Tristen threw another punch. “Better. But you’re pulling your punch. Remember, punch through my hand.”
Tristen hit him again. “Now, you’re getting it. Try another.”
“Is it true that you punched Chase?”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard Mom making a joke to Maddy.”
“It’s true.”
“What happened?”
“I thought he’d disrespected my sister.”
Tristen looked confused. “Maddy?”
“It was before they were married.”
“Did he hit you back?”
“No call to hit me back. He knew I was right.”
Tristen balled up his fist, pulled back his elbow, and socked Eli’s palm. It hurt. Eli smiled. “Just like that.”
Tristen looked a hundred times more confident than he had walking into the paddock.
“You think you can take a punch standing up?” Eli asked. This would all be worthless if Tristen fell down or cowered at the first sign of pain.
“I think so,” he said.
“What happened when Barry Johnston hit you? Did you stagger back, fall over, cover up?”
“I staggered back.”
“You stayed upright.”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Whatever you do, don’t cower. You don’t cover up or show fear. If it hurts, suck it up. Plant your back foot, rebound, and use the forward momentum to hit him back.” Eli held up his palm. “One more time.”
Tristen hit him harder still.
“Do that and I guarantee he’ll think twice about taking another swing.”
Tristen grinned and shook out his hand. “We going to tell Mom about this?”
“Not unless we have to.”
*
Tristen hated Monday mornings. When the school year had started, he thought going into Marietta every day would be a break from the hard work on the ranch. But school was even worse than working on the ranch.
Boarding the bus Monday morning meant he had ten trips to go that week in the loser cruiser. The bus was dank and dim. It smelled like sweat and depression, probably because most of the windows didn’t open. The green vinyl seat covers were faded and torn, the stuffing long since flattened out of them. So it was a treat for his butt every morning to bounce along the rutted road to the main valley highway.
Add to that Barry Johnston and his cadre of minions who taunted Tristen from the bus ride to the lunchroom and back again. Running fence and laying irrigation pipe was quickly becoming Tristen’s preferred activity. At least the air was fresh and if he worked hard nobody hassled him.
Sean Constance and his older brother, Leroy, got on the bus before Tristen. Sean was a fellow junior. He seemed like a decent guy who mostly kept to himself. Jon-Jon McKenzie got on right after Tristen. Jon-Jon was too much of a chicken to do anything on his own. But once Big Evan Stoddard showed up, the games began.
Today Evan slowed down as he sauntered past Tristen’s seat in a middle row. “Nice jacket you got there, Beauregard.”
The bus driver, Mr. Samuels, frowned in the mirror, but Evan didn’t rush to take his seat.
“Buy it at some fancy boutique in Chicago?”
Tristen glanced down at his patterned windbreaker, wondering what Evan found to mock about it.
“Didn’t come in pink or orange? Couldn’t get more girly?” Evan chuckled at his own joke.
Jon-Jon laughed with him.
Evan was mocking the color red? As insults went, it was pretty lame.
Tristen didn’t bother answering.
The bus started rolling, and Evan took the seat behind Jon-Jon, making a big show of doing a complex bro handshake.
Cissy Henderson got on next with her little sister. Cissy was tall, blonde, and gorgeous. She dated Barry Johnston, but all the guys had the hots for her. She could date any one of them with the crook of her little finger. Tristen included.
When Tristen fantasized about girls, they looked exactly like Cissy. In real life, though, he tried to keep his interest to himself.
At the next stop, five kids got on. Three were the Vosberg family, plus Lucy Norton and her younger brother, Cameron.
Cameron was a science geek. He was a freshman and small for his age. He might have been a target of bullying, but everybody knew he could hack their phones and social media accounts, so they pretty much left him alone. Lucy was a junior and Tristen’s lab partner in first period chemistry. She was usually cheerful, and she seemed smart enough.
Lucy was smaller than Cissy, more athletic, and a whole lot less voluptuous. She had brown hair that she put in a messy knot, wore no makeup, and preferred androgynous clothes. Cissy ignored her.
After that the kids got on in bigger groups and mostly blurred together—only a few stood out. Patrick Angle and Marty Pensacola joined Evan and Jon-Jon at the back, the gang growing more boisterous by the mile. And Cissy’s best friend, Matilda, got on at the last stop. They giggled, whispered, and touched their shoulders together on the bench seat as they gossiped and plotted their day.
And then they arrived at school, streaming out to join students from two other bus routes, the town kids who walked or got dropped off by their parents, and the few lucky seniors who drove themselves there, mostly in battered pickup trucks.
Tristen slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the main doors.
Sean came up behind him. “You coming to the Halloween dance?”
Tristen was surprised by the question. He liked dancing, but he was hardly tapped in to the school social scene here in Marietta. “Hadn’t thought about it.”
Back in Chicago, he’d taken break dancing lessons at the community center. He and his friends had formed a crew and got pretty good. They’d once come second in an under-fifteen battle put on by WQFC Radio. He’d come across the trophy in one of the moving boxes last week.
“My dad’s letting me use his pickup,” Sean said. “I could swing by and get you on the way.”
The idea of getting away from the ranch for something other than school appealed to Tristen. “Sure,” he said.
“You want to pitch in for a six-pack?” Sean asked.
Tristen couldn’t help imagining Eli’s reaction to Tristen drinking beer, but Tristen didn’t want to be the guy who sat on the sidelines. He’d just have to make sure Eli didn’t find out.
“Sure,” Tristen said again. “What kind of music do they play?”
There were posters up for the band Holdover all over the school. In the picture the band members wore cowboy hats, but this was, after all, rural Montana.
“It’s gonna be mostly country,” Sean said, a thread of laughter to his tone as they mounted the stairs.
“Line dancing?” Tristen asked, bracing himself.
“Afraid so. Some anyway. The girls really get into it.”
So much for Tristen impressing people with his break dancing skills. “I guess I better watch a how-to video.”
Barry shouldered Tristen on his way past up the stairs. Barry was a couple of inches taller. And although the ranch work had bulked Tristen up a bit, Barry probably had twenty pounds on him. Luckily, the hit hadn’t made Tristen lose his balance.
“That guy’s such an asshole,” Sean said, frowning at Barry’s back.
“Yeah,” Tristen agreed, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed the insult.
“He only stays away from me because of Leroy,” Sean said.
Tristen couldn’t help but wish he had a Leroy in his life. Eli wanted him to stand up for himself. And Tristen understood the logic. And he wished he could do what Eli had told him.
He wanted to. He’d intended to. But when it came down to it, he was just plain afraid.
“We’re going to be late,” he said to Sean, picking up his pace.
Tristen ditched the red jacket in his locker and made it into the chemistry lab just in time. He took the high stool next to Lucy at their black-topped workbench.
“I trust you all read chapter three,” Miss Knutson said from the front of the class. “You’ll need to get the benzoic acid sample and your ice from the front of the room. The hot plate and beaker stand is in storage cupboard A below your benches. You’ll find the beakers, stirring rods, and filter paper in your individual drawers. You have forty-five minutes to complete assignment 22B. Remember to use the experimental method. Start with a hypothesis, document your procedures and observations, and make sure your conclusion is complete.”
Everyone started to move and talk.
“Safety goggles, please,” Miss Knutson called above the din, pointing to the bold red-lettered safety poster at the front of the room.
Tristen located the hot plate and the stand, while Lucy assembled the other equipment.
Since he was finished first, he headed for the front of the room. Barry was getting his benzoic acid sample so Tristen, hating himself for the dodge but doing it anyway, went for the ice instead. He took his time, going after the acid once Barry had returned to his workbench.
“You want me to get the distilled water?” Lucy asked Tristen.
He glanced up to see Barry at the water bottle. It was almost like being stalked by the guy. Tristen didn’t think Lucy knew he was avoiding Barry. But he’d be mortified if she’d figured it out.
“I’ll get it,” he said, telling himself to quit being such an idiot.
He marched up to the water bottle, and stood behind Barry, waiting until Barry finished.
“Dweeb,” Barry muttered, shouldering Tristen.
This time, Tristen braced himself and didn’t move.
Barry sloshed his beaker of water.
“Barry, pay attention,” Miss Knutson said.
Barry snarled at Tristen.
When Tristen returned to the workbench, Lucy was grinning. “He didn’t expect that,” she said.
“Who?” Tristen asked, surprised that she seemed to have observed the exchange.
“Barry’s a jerk. You should ignore him.”
“I’m trying,” Tristen said.
“You made him mad.”
“He made me mad.” As he said the words, Tristen realized they were true. In the moment beside water bottle, he’d been more angry than scared. He seriously hoped he could do that again.
“You going to the dance?” Lucy asked as she lined the funnel with filter paper.
“I think so.” Tristen followed the experiment directions and poured some of the distilled water onto the paper to make it stick to the funnel.
“Holdover’s supposed to be good.”
“Are you going?” Tristen asked.
“Sure. Not that much happens around here. You’ve got to take the fun when you can. What are you going to dress up as?”
“I don’t know.” Tristen hadn’t given any thought to a costume. “Does everybody wear costumes?”
“Pretty much. Are you too cool to wear a costume?” Lucy set the temperature on the hot plate.
“I could dress up as a cowboy.” He knew it would have worked in Chicago, and he had all the right clothes now.
Eli had even bought him a pair of riding boots.
“Nice try,” Lucy said.
“Break-dancer?”
“That’d be good.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
“What about you?” he asked her. “What are you going to wear?”
“Do you really break-dance?”
“I do.”
“Are there girl break-dancers?”
“Yeah. Some of them are really good.” Tristen couldn’t help remembering the girls in his club, and some of the ones he watched at the battles were even better.
“Maybe I’ll do that. What do they wear?”
“Anything.” There was a huge variety.
Lucy gave him an impatient look. “Like?”
“Loose jeans, tight tank tops, maybe a hat or a headband, colorful runners.”
“Like boyfriend jeans.”
“Yeah.”
She nodded. “I’m going for it.”
“You know any moves?”
“I do not,” she said. “Will you show me some? At the dance, I mean.”
“Sure.” Tristen wouldn’t mind an excuse to bust a few moves. It was definitely something Barry wouldn’t be able to match.
*
Piper heard music coming from Tristen’s room. She stopped outside his door to listen.
“What are you doing?” Eli asked. He’d come up the stairs behind her.
“That’s Alan Jackson,” she said.
“So?’
“So, Tristen doesn’t listen to Alan Jackson. He’s more Jay-Z.”
“Maybe Montana is changing him.”
Piper knocked on the door. “Tristen?”
“What are you doing?” Eli asked. “Give the kid some space.”
“Country music can be a sign of depression.”
“Or a sign of improving taste. I like Alan Jackson.”
“I like him too. But it’s a sudden change for Tristen. He’s a teenager. We have to be alert to signals in his behavior.”
Eli obviously fought a smile. “I don’t think country music is a sign of recreational drug use.”
Piper knocked again. “Maybe a girl broke up with him.”
“Was he dating someone?”
“Not that I know of.”
The bedroom door came open.
“What?” Tristen asked, glancing at Piper then at Eli. “What’s going on?”
“You’re listening to Alan Jackson,” Piper said.
Tristen looked confused. “Is that who that is?”
“You don’t know who you’re listening to?” Eli asked.
“It’s a video. A dance video. Some stupid line dancing thing.”
Now Piper was completely confused. “You’re watching a line dance video?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, lifting his chin. “What about it?”
“You’re learning line dancing?” she repeated.
Tristen had been an avid break-dancer in Chicago. This was a pretty dramatic switch.
“There’s a Halloween dance.” He jabbed behind himself with his thumb. “I’m told this is a thing around here.”
“Our son’s learning to line dance,” Eli said with an exaggerated note of pride.
“It’s pretty lame,” Tristen said.
“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it,” Eli said.
“You guys know how to do this stuff?”
Piper demonstrated a few steps. It had been a while, but it wasn’t something you forgot.
“We can teach you,” she offered.
“This is embarrassing,” Tristen said.
“Embarrassing that your parents know how to line dance?” Eli asked. “We grew up in South Dakota. It would be embarrassing if we didn’t. Come on out here.”
Piper laughed, looking forward to line dancing. She hadn’t done it in a long time.
Tristen gave a mocking shake of his head. “Fine. I’ll get my laptop.”
“Forget the laptop,” Eli said. “I’ve got the right downloads.”
“This gets worse and worse,” Tristen said on an exaggerated note of disgust.
Piper kicked off her shoes and pulled out her ponytail, fluffing up her hair while Eli dialed up his playlist and hooked up to the speakers.
The sounds of classic Alan Jackson boomed through the sitting room. Piper lined up with Eli, and motioned Tristen over.
When the song ended, Maddy called up the stairs. “What is going on up there?”
Piper immediately felt guilty. “Are we bothering Riley?”
“Riley’s out like a light.” Maddy entered the room. “Are you having a party?”
“We’re teaching Tristen to line dance.”
“He’s got a knack for it,” Eli said.
Tristen rolled his eyes. “It’s pretty simple.”
“I’m in,” Maddy said. “But we should take it downstairs on the hardwood floor.”
“You people are nuts,” Tristen said.
“You started it,” Piper reminded him.
“I have to do it. You’re all volunteers.”
“And aren’t you glad to have such a supportive family?”
“Thrilled,” Tristen drawled.
“Hey.” Eli threw him an elbow. “Don’t be ungrateful.”
“Thank you, Mom, Dad, Auntie Maddy.”
Tristen and Maddy headed down the stairs, but Piper caught the stagger in Eli’s step. It was the first time she’d heard Tristen call him Dad.
She wrapped her hand around his upper arm. “You okay?” she whispered.
“Yeah.” Eli’s voice was slightly breathless.
“That was the first time?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s great.” She watched Tristen’s retreating back. “I don’t think he even realized.”
“Yeah.”
She turned in front of Eli, facing him. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Just surprised is all.”
It was obviously a huge moment. Piper put her arms around Eli’s neck, giving him a hug.
As soon as she felt the heat of his body against her own, she realized her mistake. Her arousal was instantaneous. She softened, molding against him. She wanted to kiss him. She desperately wanted to kiss him.
His arms engulfed her, his body hard against her. He cradled her hair with his hand, and he cursed under his breath.
She couldn’t stop herself. She tipped her head back, lips tingling then softening, then parting in anticipation of his kiss.
He didn’t disappoint. His lips came swiftly down on hers, hot and hungry, pushing all rational thought from her mind, tossing the world away.
She missed him. She missed him so, so much. She couldn’t imagine how she’d stayed away so long. He’d been right here. This had been right here.
“Eli?” Maddy called from the bottom of the stairs.
Piper sprang from his arms. What were they doing?
Eli stared straight into Piper’s eyes. “Be right down,” he called to Maddy, his voice sounding surprisingly normal.
Piper didn’t know what to say. It seemed as though Eli didn’t, either. They both stared at each other in silence, drawing deep breaths.
“We better go,” he finally said.
“Yes.” She managed a nod, forcibly pulling her gaze from his, turning for the staircase.
He touched her arm, stopping her.
She held her breath.
But he didn’t say a word. After a moment, he let go, and she started walking again.
Chase was quick to join in the dancing, along with Wyatt who was only at the ranch overnight. And soon Tristen was learning the routines.
While they danced, Piper caught Eli’s smoldering looks. They both aroused and terrified her. They were playing with fire, and she knew if they didn’t stop, they were definitely going to get burned.
When the dancing wound down, she fled for her bedroom. She didn’t dare chance Tristen beating her to it and leaving her alone with Eli.
*
In the early morning, Eli tossed a duffel bag into the box of Wyatt’s pickup truck and climbed into the passenger seat.
Wyatt had waited two days for the weather to clear, and was finally heading back to Utah.
He gave Eli no more than a glance before turning the ignition key. “Are you coming as far as Livingston or all the way to Granite Vale?”
“I need a few days away.”
“Having trouble with Tristen?”
“Nope.”
Wyatt put the pickup in gear and started down the ranch driveway. “Piper?”
Eli didn’t answer.
“Might as well start talkin’,” Wyatt said. “It’s a long trip to Granite Vale.”
Eli wanted to talk. He needed to talk. And Wyatt had always been the brother with the brains.
“I can’t keep my hands off her,” Eli said.
“Piper?”
“Of course Piper.”
“She’s willing?”
“If she wasn’t willing, I wouldn’t have a problem.”
“I’d think it would be the other way around,” Wyatt said. “But that’s just me.”
“If she’d tell me no, I could stay away. But she doesn’t. She just sits there or stands there, or talks or walks, or—”
Wyatt burst out laughing.
Eli frowned at his brother. “Seriously? That’s what I get from you?”
“Sorry.” Wyatt sobered. “But you’ve got it really bad.”
Eli was well aware of the problem. What he was hoping for from his supposedly intelligent brother was a solution.
“This is probably an obvious question,” Wyatt said. “But why not go for it?”
“Because of Tristen. Because of Lucas. Because we gave in to it last time and look where it got us? I can’t imagine how badly we could screw things up now.”
“Are you in love with her?”
The question jolted Eli. He hadn’t been expecting it. “No. It’s not like that. We barely know each other. It’s a chemistry thing, just like it was in high school.”
“High school was a long time ago.”
“I know.”
“She’s not Lucas’s girlfriend anymore.”
“I know that too,” Eli said. He drummed his fingertips on the denim covering his thigh. “Lucas says he’s okay with what happened.”
“You don’t believe him?” Wyatt asked.
“I think he wants it to be okay. He’s trying to do the right thing. But she was his. And he gave her up. And he’s got to be second-guessing that.”
“Because no guy in his right mind would give Piper up?”
“Exactly.” Eli was glad that Wyatt understood.
“Does she know you’re coming to Utah with me?”
“Not yet.” Eli had made sure to be out before Piper was up this morning.
If her rush into her bedroom last night was any indication, she’d be relieved to find him gone. He’d text her from the airport. He’d text Tristen too.
He’d be back before Tristen needed him for anything. They’d have to skip a riding lesson or two. But Tristen was already improving in leaps and bounds. They’d easily catch up next week.
If Tristen was worried about riding, Eli was sure Chase would take him. Chase would look in on Piper too. Not that he’d need to. They were all in the same house after all. And Lucas would be home soon too.
Lucas.
“When did Lucas say he was getting in?” Eli asked.
“Next few days, I think. Maybe next week.”
Eli didn’t like the sound of that. “You don’t know for sure?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s not really fair to leave Piper to face Lucas alone.”
“I thought the three of you had settled it all in New York.”
“Well, yeah, basically. But you know Lucas.”
Wyatt looked confused. “What about Lucas?”
“He’s unpredictable.”
“Our Lucas?”
“He is when it comes to Piper.”
“Are you talking yourself out of coming to Utah?”
“No,” Eli said emphatically. “The situation hasn’t changed. I need to get away for a while.”
“Okay,” Wyatt said with obvious skepticism.
They finished the drive to the airport, and Eli forced himself into Wyatt’s plane. With every mile, his psyche had protested against being separated from Piper and Tristen. But he knew his mind was playing tricks on him, or maybe it was his hormones.
Instinct told him to stay close to Piper—the closer the better. Inches apart was bad enough. Miles apart was excruciating.
By the time Wyatt pulled the plane into his rented hangar at Granite Vale, Utah, Eli was all but twitching with restlessness.
“Well, you’re here now,” Wyatt said.
“You say that like I might not have noticed.”
“I say it like you might be freaking out.”
“I’m not freaking out.” Eli was fully cognizant of his decision. And it was the right decision. He was staying in here in Granite Vale.
“Then let’s go.”
Wyatt secured the plane, and they took the well-used little sedan from the airport a ten-minute drive to an aging but stately old house, pulling past an unkempt hedge along a cobblestone driveway.
“You live here?” Eli didn’t know what he’d expected—a bachelor apartment maybe but certainly not this.
“I rent a room,” Wyatt said. “The landlady is doing a bunch of renovations, so it’s cheap.”
“It’s certainly unique,” Eli observed.
The place had to be over fifty years old. It looked like it hadn’t been maintained since it was built. The shutters were hanging off the walls. The railings looked like they were rotting into dirt. The concrete stairs were cracked and chipped. And the walls looked like they’d once been white but were now a kind of mottled green.
“Exactly how long has your landlady been renovating this place?”
“Long as I’ve been here. She’s nice. A little quirky, and she’s definitely a dreamer. But she works hard if not particularly smart.” Wyatt seemed to smile to himself. “Lord help anyone who tries to give her advice.”
Wyatt unlocked and opened the front door. It gave way with a groan, and they were greeted by the sound of an orbital sander. Sawdust hung in the air, dancing in the sunbeams that shone through the big windows. They were in a huge, octagonal, arched ceiling foyer.
The sound of the sander died away.
“Amelia?” Wyatt called out. “I’m back.”
There was a shuffling sound of footsteps, and a five-feet-nothing woman came around the corner. Her eyes shone bright blue above a dust mask that covered her mouth and nose. Her hair was covered in a white painter’s cap, but whisks of bright red curls stuck out around it.
“Hey, Wyatt,” she said, pulling down the mask.
She was young, way younger than Eli had expected. And she was pretty in an elfin sort of way. Freckles dotted her pert little nose, and her chin seemed too small for her full lips. She peeled off her cap and shook out a mane of wavy, red hair.
Her attention went to Eli.
“This is my brother, Eli,” Wyatt said. “Eli, this is my landlady, Amelia.”
“You are not at all what I expected,” Eli said, offering his hand.
Hers was dusty, but she shook. “You’d heard of me?”
“Not until just now. I was going by the age of the house.”
“Well, I’ve heard all about you,” she said.
“Really?” Eli looked to Wyatt.
It surprised Eli that Wyatt had told the woman about his family, particularly since he’d never mentioned her to them.
“We get a lot of power failures around here,” Wyatt said. “We have to talk about something.”
“He’s being kind,” Amelia said. “I make a lot of mistakes with the electrical repairs. It’s not the power company’s fault.”
“But she is not deterred,” Wyatt said. “Never deterred.”
“That’s admirable,” Eli said.
“That’s one way to put it,” Wyatt said.
“Oh, don’t be a poop,” she told Wyatt good-naturedly. “How long are you staying?” she asked Eli.
“As long as he can stand to be away,” Wyatt said.
Eli shot him a warning glare, which Wyatt blithely ignored.
“Woman trouble,” Wyatt finished.
“Seriously?” Eli asked his brother in disbelief.
“Piper?” Amelia asked. “I have a theory if you’d care to hear it.”
“Seriously?” Eli asked his brother again.
Wyatt gave an unapologetic shrug. “She’s a good listener.”