Page 33 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

I don’t lie to my dad when he asks a direct question.I never have and never will.He deserves respect from his sons, not lies.So, no matter how much I’d love to lie to him right this second, I don’t.

“I’m taking care of the situation, Dad.”

“What does that mean?”Finn smirks.“Pretty vague, if you ask me.Pet sitters take care of dogs.Bus drivers take care not to run up on the curb.How exactly are you taking care of her?”

“Lay off,” Cal orders.

“Wait,” Declan says, standing.“Something’s happening here.It’s not just my imagination, right?Baby brother’s acting cagey.More than usual.”

“Leave the boy alone.”Aunt Phyllis holds up a large serving dish to distract him.“Here, Declan.Have more ambrosia.Emma made it with extra marshmallows the way you like.And mind your own business and ask your wife if she needs something more to drink.She needs to keep hydrated.”

“I’m good,” Summer plops her elbow to the table and cradles her chin in her hand.She looks at me like a snake eyeing a field mouse.

“Wait a second,” Evander leans in and scowls.“The squatter is still up there?You haven’t gotten her off our land?”

“I’ve noticed you've been acting squirrely.”Summer’s whisper is loud enough that everyone can hear.“What’s the squirrel’s name?”

I rest my fork on my plate, dab my lips with a napkin, and mentally step back, just as Cal advised before.I look at my loving, nosy-as-hell family.“She’s no threat to anyone.Just needs a place to stay a bit.I’ve got it handled.”

My father’s bushy eyebrows rise high on his forehead.“Stay?Up there?For crying out loud, son!No woman should be living up in that woodpile.There’s no power or water or heat.It’s still cold up there at night.”

“Jamie’s right,” Phoebe says, always a nurse and always concerned about everyone’s health and wellbeing.“Why is she even up there?Is she okay?Is she in trouble or hurt?She could come down here and stay with us.There’s plenty of room.”

“Isn’t she afraid to be up there by herself?”Emma asks.

“Where’s she from?”Victoria asks.

“How old is she?”Jasmine asks.

The questions are coming at me fast and furious, giving me a pounding headache.Since I don’t have the answer to any of the questions posed by my niece or sisters-in-law, I shrug and get back to eating.A few seconds pass, and I start to think maybe everyone’s forgotten about me.

No such luck.

“Kevin Eugene MacLaine.”

I look up at my dad, who’s standing with his hands on his hips.His booming voice reaches me down the length of the long table.

“Oh, shit,” Declan whispers.“Special K’s just been Eugene’d.”

“Middleandlast name,” Finn adds.“This is serious.”

“Come on now, Kevin,” Dad says.“If you believe there’s no threat, I trust you on that.But a woman shouldn’t be up there all by…”

He stops.He’s staring over my shoulder into the distance.Everyone turns to look in the same direction.I turn to look, too.

“Are we expecting company?”Aunt Phyllis asks.“Should I get another plate?”

“Whose car is that?”Jasmine asks.“Is it the Washoe Ridge lady’s car?”

I have 20/20 vision, but I have no idea who it is and even less of an idea if the car belongs to Boots.All I see is a late-model luxury sedan of some kind, silver, half-hidden in a cloud of dust as it drives up the ranch lane.

I turn back to my plate.Whoever it is, Dad’ll greet them.I’m not the greeter type.Besides, I’m still hungry, and I want to get more supplies and deliver them to the top of the ridge before dark.I hear the crunch of tires on gravel and the sound of a perfectly engineered car door close, lock, and beep.Only a moron would lock a car on Yosemite Ranch.It’s not like we get a lot of car thieves around here.A moron or a control freak.Either way, I’m enjoying my third pork chop.

“This should be interesting,” Evander says seriously.

“Oh, shit, Special K,” Cal says.“You need to turn around.”

Their focus on me is getting old, but I set down my fork and turn around.