I search for a topic that won’t twist me in knots, or make me feel like that dirty little kid people loved to hate. “What took you so long to finish cutting?”
“I stopped by Langley’s place. He was burning his garbage.”
“Goddammit.” The last time our neighbor burned his trash, he added way too much of everything and then passed out.
Lane nods. “Damn flames were jumping his firepit and he was passed out next to it.”
My stomach clenches. When we bought land from Hutch Langley, we were warned he’d only drink the profits away. People said he’d be a bad neighbor and that his irresponsible ways had cost him his kids when they were young. Langley has no visitors, and his remorse is eating up whatever life he’s got left.
I don’t have the tolerance for him that Lane does. I try to be a bigger person, but I just see a guy who’s so lost in himself that he doesn’t have room to care about others. The past rears up and I’m eight again, asking Mom when she’ll get out of bed and feed us. I’ve already watched one adult destroy themselves with some form of addiction. It’s hard to do it again.
At least Langley reminds me more of our mom than our explosive, narcissistic dad. Otherwise, I would’ve insisted we buy land on the other side of town.
As for being a neighbor, Lane and I take turns stopping in to check on him. I do it only because I don’t want him falling asleep with a cigarette and lighting up his whole place, causing a fire that could spread to our property. Lane does it out of the same sense of responsibility that didn’t leave my petulant ass in the dust.
Lane runs his fingers under his collar. “I called the vet. She’ll be out to check his gelding in the morning. And I fed his chickens since I was close.”
That’s the other reason we both won’t steer clear of our neighbor. His animals shouldn’t suffer because of him. Sometimes that means feeding the chickens he keeps for eggs that he sells for beer money. Or under-the-table vet care for his horses. The local vets know the drill, and Hutch might get cranky about it, but he waves us off and toddles inside rather than argue about a hoof abscess that needs draining.
Besides, he can still do some farming, growing wheat for the distillery. We’re taking a hell of a gamble doing any business with him, but Lane insisted and the Hennessys don’t mind. Langley was a friend of their dad’s.
The old man accepts help a whole lot better than a certain pretty baker.
Over Lane’s shoulder, Elodie pulls into the lot.
“Let’s go in and get some cake,” I say, already opening the door.
He flashes me a perplexed look before he sees Elodie scurrying across the lot with a gift bag. “I see. Ditching me for yourfriend.”
“Yup.”
CHAPTER NINE
Elodie
The bakery is closed, but I’m sitting with Campbell in one of the booths, poring over ideas for a Christmas showcase she wants to throw for local crafters and vendors. She brought it up at the baby shower last week, and I told her to swing by today. When I close on Sundays, it’s time for my cleaning and baking frenzy for the week.
“Since the street fair cross-promo was such a hit,” she says, looking over my numbers from the event, “I could talk to them about doing it again. Or do you want me to wait until after the Taste of Springs event?”
There’s a lot I want to talk to Foster House about doing again. Mostly, there’s one man I want to do something with one more time—a lot more times—and it involves his tongue and that hard body. “I can reach out.”
“That would be to me.” She smiles.
I lift a brow. “You work for them? What about your family’s guest ranch?”
“I’m there too, but all the events are smaller scale than what I’ve done in the past—not as time-consuming. A lot of the wedding parties who’ve booked with us have their own planners, so I coordinate with them.” She props her elbows on the table. “Go ahead. Make me earn my wages.”
I snort. “I bet Durban does that.” Horrified, my eyes fly open. “I’m sorry?—”
She’s too busy laughing to see how mortified I am. “Oh my gosh, Elodie, I’ve missed you.”
“What do you mean?”
She sobers. “Sorry, it’s just that you’ve been so subdued lately. Just, you know, different than when we were growing up.”
“You were always getting in my business.” She’s Clem’s age, and I’m a little older than Jamison.
“And you didn’t put up with it. Clem and I thought you were so cool.”
