Chapter Fourteen
“YOUdon’t have to cook just because you’re home,” Devin was turning over golden pieces of fried chicken in his mother’s big iron skillet, and he smiled down her and shrugged.
“I really don’t mind, Mom,” he replied. Judging the chicken pieces to be done, he removed them from the oil to a platter that was lined with paper towels. “It helps me feel useful.”
“If the boy wants to cook, let him cook, Mimi.” Buddy Walker paused on his way to the refrigerator for a beer to kiss his much shorter wife on the cheek, then patted her ass, a gesture that made Devin smile. His parents had never withheld their affection from either one another or their children, and even after almost thirty-five years of marriage, they sometimes acted like newlyweds.
Buddy retrieved his beer, then stood beside Devin, looking at the chicken. “Smells good, son,” he said.
At six-foot-three, Buddy was slightly shorter than Devin, but Devin got his tall, rangy build from his father, as much as he’d gotten his golden skin and dark hair and eyes from his mother. Buddy was blond like most of the Walkers, but it was liberally mixed with silver now, and his skin had been tanned by the Texas sun for years. It made his blue eyes, surrounded by laugh lines, look all the more bright.
“Thanks. Here, Mom, carry this to the table, please.” Devin handed her the platter of chicken, then passed a bowl of mashed potatoes to his father. The three of them were eating in the homey kitchen, where the walls were decorated with wallpaper of horseshoes and cowboy boots, and his mother’s copper gelatin molds hung like artwork. It was a far cry from the elegance of thePearl, but Devin needed it at the moment.
As Devin walked past the wall-mounted telephone, it rang. Juggling a bowl of steaming corn on the cob, he picked it up. “Walker residence.”
“Hey, Dev. It’s Beau. Got a minute?”
“Hey, Beau. Sure.” Devin handed off the bowl to his mother, then reached for a dish towel to wipe his hands before bracing the phone against his shoulder. He wasn’t too surprised to hear from his cousin, especially after Liam’s recent call. “What’s up?”
“I hate to drop this on you without warning,” Beau said, his voice quiet and tinged with sympathy. “But there ain’t really a way to ease into it. Paul Mercer just came by the Shack looking for you. He wants to talk.”
Stunned, Devin didn’t reply. Of all the things he had thought might happen, Paul turning up at the Barbecue Shack definitely wasn’t among them. His heart leaped with hope, but then began to pound painfully. Just because Paul was in Buffalo Lick, it didn’t necessarily mean he wanted anything more than to apologize for not telling Devin the truth. Paul seemed to have a conscience, after all. Perhaps he’d heard Devin had quit Triton and wanted to know why.
Licking his dry lips, Devin managed to find his voice. “I see. I think.” He sounded hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m just surprised.”
“Understandable,” Beau said. “I got his phone number and room number. He’s staying at the Holiday Inn. You want ’em?”
Did he? Devin bit his lip. Part of him wanted to see Paul almost desperately—it was a part that Devin had clamped down on ruthlessly for the last week. That was his heart talking, and following his heart had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He had to use his head.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m torn. Beau… damn, this sounds stupid, but… do you think he’s just here to apologize? I mean, I don’t think I can take it if he wants to clear his conscience, then go on his way.” Devin swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do.”
Beau was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke again, he sounded speculative. “Let me ask you this. Do you think you’re a good judge of character?”
Devin laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “I used to. But then there was Brad, and now Paul….”
“What was your take on Mercer before you found out he was using a fake name?”
“I thought he was a good person,” Devin admitted, unable to keep the pain out of his voice. “I thought he might have felt something for me.”
“Y’all were supposed to meet up the night after the cruise, right? Do you think he was waiting for you?”
“I thought he was. But then when I talked to my boss, she thought he’d gone back to Charleston,” Devin said. “I blocked his number, because I didn’t want to have him calling up with some flimsy excuse for not meeting me after all.”
“So let me make sure I got this straight,” Beau said, his deep drawling voice turning sardonic. “You spent two weeks hanging out with this guy and getting a good vibe from him. You were ready to see what y’all could work out after the cruise, but you found out he didn’t tell you his last name, and you cut and run. You jump straight to assuming everything he did and said was a lie and he was gonna dump you because your bossthoughthe was going home? And here I thought you didn’t have much of the Walker temper in you.”
Devin winced. “When you put it like that it sounds stupid, but Beau…. Damn.” He drew in a breath. “It’s not like his name was Paul Smith! Besides, you spent a hell of a lot longer thinking Jake hated your guts, when you two had known each other almost all your lives.”
“Yeah, and we both know how fucking stupid that was, now don’t we?” Beau said tartly. “Me’n Jake could’ve been together ten years sooner, but we let pride and fear get in our way. So if you wanna play that card, Devin Walker, you go right ahead, but know this: your man Mercer wasn’t on his way back to Charleston that night. He was sitting in a hotel room wondering if he should call the hospital because you hadn’t shown up and he couldn’t get in touch with you.”
“Ouch.” Devin grimaced. “Point taken. I just meant you’d known Jake a hell of a lot longer than I’ve known Paul. But, Beau… you realize he comes from enough money that he could buy this whole damned town, right? Oh, never mind. I guess I should be talking tohimabout this, right?”
“Damned right you should,” Beau said. “So what if he’s got money? All that means is he don’t need to come to some small town in the middle of nowhere, Texas, to track down your dumb ass. He could find some hoity-toity rich boy in Charleston.”
Beau never did pull any punches, but while he had a point, that didn’t mean Paul wanted Devin Walker. But Devin only had two choices—keep his broken heart safe by turning his back on Paul, or risk everything by going to talk to Paul. He might be a dumbass, but deep down, Devin knew he had to go. Even if all Paul wanted was to apologize about not telling Devin who he really was, even if Paul didn’t want a future with him, Devin needed the closure. At least this way he wouldn’t spend years like Beau had, not knowing the truth.
“What’s his room number?” he asked finally.
Beau told him, then added, “If you chicken out, let me know. I told Mercer he’d hear either from you or me by the end of the day so he wouldn’t be left hanging.” Theagainwas silent, but it transmitted across the phone line loud and clear anyway.
