Soon, everyone’s done with their dessert and the pie dish only contains crumbs. Tate gathers his wife, Scarlett, and their teens. They all give me another hug before he ushers them outof the house. He must’ve guessed that I’m here to talk to my brother or Mae.
Myles claps me on the shoulder. “Got a minute?”
My stomach sinks. I punched a guy at a street fair I was at for Foster House, and he’s already heard about it? Fuck me. I didn’t think of that until now. I let my temper take over and justified it as defending Elodie. She warned me about what could happen.
He leads me to the porch. It’s a warm afternoon, but the shade of the overhang keeps it cool. He sits in one of the rocking chairs flanking a small round table, then gestures to the other seat.
When I first met my brother, he was wearing a suit, hair rigidly styled, and his expression set in granite. Now he’s relaxed. He’s the CEO of Foster House, a philanthropist, and a dad. That hardness is still there, but the refinement was all a put-on, just like me. Myles went from awful foster home to okay foster home until he landed at the Baileys’, and then he took off. We can never be easygoing country guys because of the way we grew up. Because of that, we have to be quick to admit when we’re wrong.
I plop myself down, kick my boots out, and readjust my Foster House ball cap. The Bailey ranch sprawls across the countryside. I soak it all in and settle on the barn. Every part of this property holds memories, but there’s a powerful one by that barn. “I fucked up.”
“Sure did.”
“Are we going to get sued?”
He rolls a shoulder, his expression unconcerned. “Did the guy have it coming?”
“He called Elodie a whore.”
“Good enough for me.”
“I shoved him for that. I punched him when he threatened to—” Shit. Everything is her business. What do I say? “Sheknows him, and he and his brother have a grudge against her through little fault of her own. She heaps all the blame on herself though.”
“Sounds like it was self-defense, then.”
“He posed no threat to me.” Reality sinks in harder than before. “I don’t think he’ll leave her alone, and I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”
He squints into the distance beyond the hill and the barn and pastures at the bottom. Horses graze, their tails swishing around them. Chickens dart across the yard by a little shed. “If anyone came for Wynter or the kids, I would dismantle them piece by piece and bury them in the hills. I wouldn’t give a fuck about Foster House.”
That’s the Myles Foster not many people get to see.
He rocks slowly. Faint wings of gray at his temples wink in the light. “Our lawyers can handle any trouble that comes our way. I’m not worried.”
“Damn, I forget that you’re richer than shit sometimes.”
He grins and stretches his jean-clad legs out. “Money helps a lot. I have a feeling that something’s bothering you that money won’t solve.”
“I overstepped with Elodie.”
He lets out a low whistle. “I don’t know her that well, but she seems like she doesn’t put up with bullshit.”
“She didn’t put up with mine for years. She’s an island. Family and friends will do anything for her, but she doesn’t let them.”
“You here to talk to Mae?”
“The last advice she gave me worked.”
He snorts. “The first advice she gave me after I reconnected with Wynter got me laid.”
I bark out a laugh. “Actually, that’s what happened for me too. Eventually.” I fall quiet. “I need to do more this time, orthose guys won’t back off. They need a strong damn message that I will ruin them, and I know Elodie might not ever talk to me again, but at least she’ll be safe.” Those bastards won’t get one more cent from her. “I have an idea, and I think it’s a bad one.”
“Sometimes, those are the most effective.”
“It involves my dad.”
“I feel like we need some bourbon for this.” He disappears inside and returns with two glasses of amber liquid. I don’t bother to ask him what line he poured. It doesn’t matter. The flavor will taste like ash, just like the pie.
I take a drink, letting it burn across my tongue and down my throat. “I don’t even know if my idea will help.”
