Duke spits out a mouthful of amber beer, attempting to catch it in a cupped palm. "Mrs. Abbot?" he sputters. Beer seeps through the cracks in his fingers, absorbing into the front of his shorts.
Cecily nods. "Old Abby," she confirms.
"I never liked her," Marilyn announces. "She held a grudge against our family for no reason that was discernible to me." She lifts her glass of white wine in the air. "Tell us everything."
Duke and Kerrigan stare at their mother. Cecily stiffens, what can only be shock running through her. She recovers quickly, grabbing a full goblet of water and sucking it down. I do the same. I'm positive we are both dehydrated. It wasn't nearly as hot as it will be in the summer months, but the dry heat can be misleading.
"Well, Mom, thank you for giving me the floor." Cecily glances at me. "Have we got a story for you."
Cecily wore her own pajamas to bed tonight. She placed a pillow between us on the bed, and still she hugged the edge of her side.
A week ago, I would've said she's doing these things because she loathes me.
But now? I know better.
CHAPTER 34
Dominic
We spendone more day at the dude ranch before we set off for Tombstone. Ninety minutes southeast, the Town Too Tough To Die promises a Wild West atmosphere and gunfight reenactment.
Yesterday, during some downtime between morning ax throwing and the afternoon falconry demonstration, I compiled a road trip playlist.
It was a huge miss not to have one ready for the drive down from Phoenix. No road trip is complete without a playlist.
The music is queued up and ready to go the moment we pull out of the dude ranch. My finger hovers over the play button, but I think better of it. I have an idea.
"Have you ever kept a journal?" I ask Cecily. Not gonna lie, she doesn't seem much like the journal type.
Cecily's hands clasp and she holds them next to her face, her expression taking on a dreamy quality. "Dear Diary, yesterday Satan's Errand Boy kissed me."
We're back to the original nickname. We have been since yesterday. It doesn't take a rocket scientist, or even someone with above average intellect, to know what Cecily is doing.Pushing me away. Because in Cecily land, anything is better than letting me get close. Or, said better, than lettingherselfget close.
I deepen my voice as we return on the dirt road we traveled over two days ago. "Dear Diary, last night Chestnut moaned in relief when she took off her bra."
Cecily pokes my shoulder. "Who is Chestnut?"
"You."
"I like Menace."
"I'm sure you do. But I need another name for you."
"Cecily works just fine."
We come to a four-way stop, and since nobody else is around, I take my time, reaching over and fingering a handful of her dark, shiny hair. "Chestnut it is."
She grumbles, something that sounds likeso fucking annoying, but that woman likes her new nickname. The rising corners of her lips give her away.
"I do not moan in relief when I take off my bra."
A vehicle approaches from behind, and I make my way through the stop.
"You did last night," I point out.
"I'm not positive you are right, but let's say, hypothetically speaking, you are.IfI made such a noise, it was due to all the activity yesterday. Ax throwing and underwire do not go together."
"Help me understand the negative relationship between the two."
