“What promise?”
“You give it an hour, and if you’re not having a good time, I’ll make an excuse. I’ll say I’ve got a call I have to handle, and we’ll go.”
“You’d lie to your family?”
“Yeah, I would. They’d know I’m lying, and understand.”
There, she thought, one of the complications that tangled into social duties and interpersonal relationships. “I think it’s best to avoid all of that and just send a note of regret.”
“She’ll just come fetch you.”
That stopped her slicing again. “That’s not true.”
“It’s gospel, honey. She’ll figure you’re too shy or too stubborn. If she decides on shy, she’ll mother you over there. If she decides on stubborn, she’ll push you every mile from here to there.”
“I’m not shy or stubborn.”
“You’re both, with some of that clucker tossed in.”
Deliberately, she brought the knife down on the board a little harder than necessary. “I don’t see the wisdom in insulting me when I’m preparing you a meal.”
“I don’t see being shy or stubborn as insulting. And everybody’s got a little clucker pecking around, depending on the circumstances.”
“What are your circumstances?”
“That’s a change of subject, but I’ll give it to you. Semiannual dentist visits, wolf spiders and karaoke.”
“Karaoke. That’s funny.”
“Not when I do it. Anyway, take my word. Give it an hour. An hour won’t hurt you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good enough. I’m repeating myself from last night, but that sure smells good.”
“Hopefully tonight will be more quiet and peaceful than last.”
It proved to be, until shortly after two a.m.
When her alarm sounded, she rolled out of bed, reaching for the gun on her nightstand and gripped it before her feet hit the floor.
“Take it easy.” Brooks’s voice stayed utterly calm. “Ease it down, Abigail. You, too,” he said to the dog, who poised at her feet, a low growl in his throat.
“Someone’s coming.”
“I got that. No, don’t turn on the light. If it’s somebody up to mischief, it’s better if they don’t know we know.”
“I don’t recognize this car,” she said, as she turned to the monitor.
“I do. Shit.” His sigh was more fatigued than annoyed. “It’s Doyle Parsins, so that would be Justin Blake and his pal Chad Cartwright and Doyle. Let me get my pants on. I’ll take care of it.”
“There are only two people in the car.”
Brooks jerked on his pants, grabbed his shirt, shrugging into it as he walked back to study the monitor. “Either Chad got some sense and stayed home, or they dropped him off to circle around the back. Since I don’t credit them with that many smarts, I’d say Chad skipped the party.”
Firmly, Brooks laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not about you, Abigail. Relax.”
“I don’t relax when someone sneaks onto my property at two in the morning. It’s not reasonable to expect me to relax.”
