“No, he didn’t.But it don’t mean he had his sons do it either.He could have just as easily paid off his ranch hands, locals, or outsourced that work from drifters travelling through.”
“Bullshit, Rhett.You know as well as I do, they’ve been trying to get their hands on Winchester land since before Caleb’s great granddaddy and my great granddaddy were in school.”
“I know it, but without proof and a warrant, I can’t do shit.Maybe having me on the property will deter more slayings from happening though?I’ll be sure to have a chat with Wilma Withington next time I see her in town.That oughta get the word out that I’m close by and watching.”
“Finally, a use for that damn social media page.”I sigh, resigned, and shake my head.“It couldn’t fucking hurt.”
“Look, I know this isn’t the news you wanted, but, West, my being here don’t mean I’m gonna go along with all the bullshit you and your boys get up to.This badge means something to me, and I won’t compromise it.So if you’re planning on hitting the Thorntons where it hurts, just know I’m your friend, but I’m also bound to uphold the letter of the law.”
“Understood.”I nod, and wonder if I haven’t just invited the devil to bed down for the night.I wouldn’t put this past Caleb, but without proof, I won’t start a damn war we’re not ready for.
Rhett finishes his beer and pats his flat stomach.The bastard is in better shape now than he was playing varsity.“You realize this means I’ll be close enough for supper every night?”
“Not on your fucking life, Rhett.You know how to fish and build a campfire.I’d say you’ll be just fine at the cabin.”
He laughs and props his feet up on the outdoor dining table, looking over the property.“I could get used to this.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
West
After Rhett leaves, I tuck Ham in for the night and head inside.Daisy is in the bedroom getting Waylon off to sleep.I don’t want to mess with whatever magic she possesses that allows her to put him down as if he’s live ammunition and she’s a vital member of a bomb disposal unit, so I turn the TV on and queue up our latest episode ofThe Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
Her open mail sits on the coffee table, and I shuffle the papers into a neat stack.I’m not trying to pry into her business, I would never, but a flashy letterhead catches my eye.A blue, red, and white logo with some lengthy French words I don’t comprehend glares back at me.Before I can stop myself, I pick up the letter and read.
Dear Daisy-Mae,
Thank you for your application.We’re delighted to invite you to ready your apron, supplies, and chef’s hat to begin your certificate diploma in the fall on our Dallas campus.
Should you wish to accept this offer, please reply to this letter by emailing or phoning our campus...
I quit reading and drop the letter to the table as if it burns me.Daisy creeps out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her.She leans against it with a sigh and then smiles when she notices me sitting on the couch.
“Hi,” she says in that bedroom voice of hers, and walks closer with a deliberate sway in her hips, and damn if it doesn’t have my dick thickening a little in my jeans.
I pick up the letter.“When were you gonna tell me about this?”
