Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) (24 page)

"Last time I checked I was."

"You know what I'm talking about. I didn't need a boyfriend. This was your—" She peeked around the corner to be sure they were still alone. "You need to get comfortable with being around my family—my whole family—including Tom's father, no matter how weird that makes you feel."

He glanced down at her hand, holding him in place. "I don't know what you're talking about." He pulled away and began putting the condiments back in the refrigerator.

Bren scrubbed the dishes, jammed the plates into the dishwasher, and slammed the door.

Rafe came up behind her. "You forgot this." He held the serving fork from the roast beef, and Bren was tempted to grab it and shove it up his ass.

Instead, she gave him a tight smile, snatched it from him, and tossed it in the sink. "Outside." She motioned toward the back door. When he didn't move, she yelled, "Now."

"Mom?" Finn peeked around the corner. "You guys all right?"

"Just fine." She smiled sweetly for Finn.

Finn gave a nervous glance toward Rafe. "Paddy's going to show us my daddy's room. You want to come?"

He pasted a phony grin on his face and turned to answer Finn. "Sure, partner." He made a move to follow and stopped, giving Bren a derisive look. "We done here?"

"Oh, we're done." She wiped her hands on the tea towel and tossed it in the sink.

Bren went in and sat with her father while Aiden, Finn, Rafe, and Paddy visited what had become, in Aiden's words, Tom's museum. She didn't need to see his trophies from Little League, the basketball he'd used to throw the winning shot for the Clear Spring Panthers, their high school alma mater.

She'd lived it.

She didn't need a stroll down memory lane to tell her just how awesome Tom Ryan was as a friend, lover, and father.

Bren leaned against her father's portly frame and wrapped her arm around his belly. "How you doing, Dad?"

He hugged her tight. "I was just about to ask the same of you, sweetheart."

She smiled up at him. "Sometimes I feel like that little girl growing up. I'm just trying to find my way."

He squeezed her. "You will, Bren. You're life has been a true upheaval recently, to be sure."

Try train wreck.

She nodded against him. "It hasn't been easy for you, either. Losing the house."

"It worked out. We got a dog out of the deal. And you and Rafe seem to be getting along." She didn't miss his double meaning, except today she wasn't feeling too friendly toward Rafe.

The familiar click of Rafe's cowboy boots made Bren glance up. He stood in the doorway of the hall leading from Tom's old bedroom, his expression grim. "I can't stay for dessert."

Bren stood and went to him. "You sick?"

"No. I just need some space," he said under his breath.

Bren waved him toward the door. "Take all the space you need, cowboy." The day he'd found her in the broom closet of her father's kitchen, he'd told her his intentions.

Family's not something I'm looking for.

She should have been thankful for his candor. Too bad she'd forgotten Rafe Langston's warning until now.

He touched her arm. "That's not what I meant."

Bren pulled away. "Go." She walked toward the door, her head held high, and opened it for him. "Paddy can take us home. Have a nice life, Mr. Langston."

His expression hardened. "You do the same." He cleared the doorway, and Bren slammed the door. She turned and stopped midstep. Aiden and Finn stood in the hallway with Paddy frowning.

"I take it he had other plans?" Paddy asked.

Bren shrugged. "Who's ready for dessert?"

P
addy turned the suburban around slowly, trying to avoid a cloud of dust, and stopped in front of Bren's house. The boys piled out, saying their good-byes over their shoulders.

"Thanks, Paddy." From the back seat, her father rapped Paddy's arm with his hand. "Next time we do dinner here. And I'll not take no for an answer, do you hear?"

Paddy smiled back. "Looking forward to it."

Her father headed toward the house, the boys ahead, their coats unzipped, flapping in the wind as they climbed the front steps.

Bren kissed her father-in-law on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner. It was delicious." She grimaced. "And the ride." She reached for the door handle when Paddy grabbed her arm.

"What do you know about this Rafe Langston?" There was an edge to his voice, ill suited to the Patrick Ryan she knew and loved.

Bren let go of the handle, eyeing him suspiciously.

He shrugged. "He doesn't like me much. Does he?"

Bren's eyes widened. She'd been telling herself it had something to do with Rafe competing with Tom's ghost or realizing he was getting too close to something he had no intentions of ever having—a family. Or maybe what she experienced in the barn with him after the "cattle drive"
was
real. She threw her hands up. "Any ideas?"

He shook his head. "None. I've never met him until the night you called and we rescued those horses."

Bren pulled on her bottom lip. "That's what he said."

Paddy's gaze hardened. "You sound like you don't believe him."

Or you.

But that was insane. How was it possible Rafe could know Patrick Ryan and he not know Rafe?

Drawn in by Paddy's caring brown eyes, she had no reason to question his truthfulness. So that only left Rafe. "I want to. But he's not my favorite person right now, considering how he's behaving toward you."

He patted her leg. "I'm a lot tougher than you think, missy."

Yes. Patrick Ryan had suffered tragic loses in his life, and Bren would do what she could to spare him any more hurt. Meaning this thing between her and Rafe was at a dead stop until he 'fessed up as to his odd behavior. Bren patted his arm. "I'll get to the bottom of it."

He smiled. "I have no doubt."

Bren reached for the door again and stopped. "Paddy? When Rafe was in Tom's room, how did he act?"

He shrugged. "What do you mean?"

"What was he doing?"

"The boys were showing him some photos—mostly when Tom was small. A few of you and Kate, Tom, and Kevin when you were teenagers. Why?"

"Before dinner he picked up the photo of you and Pamela."

"The wedding photo on the end table?"

She nodded.

"And?"

"Nothing. He stared at it and put it back."

"Huh. Not that it's odd."

"No. I know." She'd done the same many times. Photos were like a looking glass into one's past. But what was Rafe looking for in Paddy and Pamela Ryan's past?

Bren shook her head and laughed. "I think I'm letting my imagination have its way." Bren glanced at the clock. "I'm a chatterbox. It's almost nine. I should let you go." She hugged him. "Let's keep this between you and me. Not that there's really anything to tell. I just don't want the boys thinking I don't trust Rafe." She grimaced. "That sounded bad. You know what I mean."

"Oh, sure. My lips are sealed." He patted her knee. "I know you'll figure it out."

Bren hopped out. The Suburban turned around and headed down the driveway. Glad Paddy had such faith in her abilities. Too bad she didn't. Right now she didn't even want to see Rafe, let alone talk to him. Bren took the steps and rounded the porch, taking the door that led into the kitchen.

"Where are the boys?" she asked her father.

"Getting ready for bed. I promised them popcorn, and we're watching
Transformers: Revenge of the
... something." He twirled a spoon in his hand and grabbed a steaming cup before sitting down at the table. "I've a need for some hot tea. How about you join me, then?"

Anger always tended to increase her body temperature. "I'll just have water." She grabbed a bottle from the fridge, welcoming the chill of the plastic against her hand. She sat down next to her father.

"He likes you, you know." Her father stirred his tea. "Men, when they're in..." He cleared his throat. "Like. They act like jackasses." His blue eyes twinkled, and the smile he tried to hide made her uneasy.

"Well, he can stay a jackass."

Her father laughed. "You're a hard one, Brenna Maeve Fallon Ryan. I know you're angry with him. But I witnessed the whole ugly affair, sweetheart. The man's hurting. If you care about him, then make it your trouble to find out what's ailing him."

"I don't."

He dropped back in his chair. "Now you're telling tales, my girl. I see the way you look at him. You're in... like with him, too."

The front doorbell rang, and they both jumped.

He glanced at the clock on the oven. "Almost nine thirty—'tis a bit late for visitors."

Bren stood, and her father grabbed her hand. "Getting back to our conversation, and no, you're not saved by the bell." His blue eyes, usually full of mischief, hardened. "I know what I see, even if you can't. So don't go wasting your breath denying it, then."

The doorbell rang again.

He nodded toward the foyer. "Go on. Get the door."

His warm fingers released her hand, and Bren rushed to get the door, trying to gather her thoughts. If it was Rafe, she'd more than likely slam the door in his face. He'd caused her quite a lot of trouble tonight. She'd just gotten a talking-to from her father. Somehow she'd reverted back to that teenager. Awkward didn't begin to describe how she felt discussing her love life with her father.

Bren grabbed the door handle and opened it, prepared to throw him off her porch. But all that bravado dwindled.

"Hey, what are you guys doing here?"

Jeremy and Jo stood huddled in winter coats. Jeremy gave her a peculiar look. "Who were you expecting?"

Not rehashing it. Not with Jeremy and Jo.
"No one."

"Uh-huh." Jeremy craned his head and peeked inside. "Where's Rafe?"

"He has his own house, remember?"

Jeremy peered around the corner.

"I'm not hiding him. He's not here."

Jo stepped forward with her cane and pushed Bren aside as she entered the house. "I'm too cold to play twenty questions."

Jeremy followed, and Bren was left holding the door. Frowning, she shut it. "Dad's in the kitchen. Want some hot tea or coffee?"

Jeremy eyed her. "You're awful testy tonight." He motioned with his hand. "You said Daniel's in the kitchen?" He headed in that direction.

Jo reached for Bren's hand. "You can tell me later."

Bren smiled. "Deal."Then, on second thought, she gently held Jo in place. "How's that investigation going?"

Jo gave her an odd look. "Investi... oh." Her expression changed to one of mutual understanding. "You mean Rafe?"

"Shh." Bren glanced around. "Yeah. That one."

Jo frowned. "Don't be mad. I thought with the way things were going you wouldn't want me poking around."

Bren fell back a step. "Going?"

Jo gave her a quizzical look. "You know what I'm talking about."

Bren's cheeks warmed.

Jo leaned in. "Has something happened I should know about?" she whispered.

Their first fight.

Those three words gave her perspective. But he still wasn't forgiven until he explained himself, and she wouldn't be sharing with Jo until she knew herself what was really going on.

"No. He just made me mad."

Jo smiled. "Don't they all."

She remembered not too long ago Jo wasn't feeling too charitable toward Jeremy, either. Bren laced her arm through Jo's. "It was silly. I'm over it." She steered her toward the kitchen. "So what are you two up to?"

"We're going to the Purple Cow and thought—"

"That's a dive."

Jeremy glanced over his shoulder while he prepared a cup of tea. "The last time we went you didn't seem to think so."

The last time had been a lifetime ago. She'd been with Tom.

"Why don't you go with them, honey?"

"Yeah. Call Rafe, and we'll make it a foursome," Jeremy said.

"That be a sore spot," her father added.

"Dad." She gave him the evil eye.

"Oops." Her father stared down into his tea cup.

Jeremy looked from her father to Bren. "What's up with you and Rafe?"

"Tonight he's a jerk. Let's leave it at that." Bren glanced at the ceiling above and the bedrooms beyond. "You'll be all right with the boys?"

"Popcorn and a movie. We'll be fine. Go with Jeremy and Jo and try not to think about, you know."

He made it sound like she had an incurable disease. God save her from herself. She was freaking lovesick over her stupid cowboy. She nodded toward Jeremy. "You buying?"

He laughed. "You coming. I'm buying."

Bren didn't bother changing. Jeans and a sweater and her leather jacket, she was good to go. The three of them climbed into Jo's Tahoe, and they arrived in no time. The Purple Cow on Main Street was sandwiched between the drugstore and barber shop. An obnoxious, brightly lit purple cow, its legs made to look like they were dancing, greeted them high above the entrance.

Jeremy paid the cover charge, and they stepped inside. A Garth Brooks tune filled the bar. Just like the sign outside, the inside decor was purple. Tiny purple lights twinkled in the ceiling. Round tables were stuffed around a dance floor, the band on a small stage in front and a pool table to the left with pinball machines shoved against the wall. She'd called it right: It was a dive, but a friendly one. All the locals hung out here, effectively making it a neighborly kind of place.

Jeremy squeezed through the crowd, greeting those he knew, which, because he was the equine vet in western Maryland horse country, numbered many. He motioned Jo and Bren forward when he found a table.

They took their seats, and Bren relaxed, glad to be sitting in the dark.

A pretty waitress made her way to them. "I'll have whatever's on tap," Jeremy said. "Wine or beer, Jo?"

"White wine."

Jeremy nodded. "Bren?"

"Miller Lite."

Bren took a sip of her beer when the waitress set it down. Jeremy started a tab and scooted his chair in. "What do you think of the band?"

One of the lead singers, a woman dressed in jeans and a sparkly silver top, began to sing Gretchen Wilson's "Redneck Woman." Bren nodded.