Texas Thunder (19 page)

“I know it's a lot of money. You probably don't have that kind of cash.”

“I don't. I hand over all the profits to Selma except for a forty-dollar-a-week allowance. She has her dad invest it for us. Last I heard, we own interest in four different RV properties down near Corpus Christi.”

“Corpus, huh?”

“I suppose I could ask her,” Les went on. “But I don't know if that would be such a good idea. You're not really on Selma's radar—you don't even own a pair of yoga pants—but if she finds out that I want to give you money, she's liable to think there's some ulterior motive. Selma is big on ulterior motives.”

“It's fine.” Callie shrugged. “I'll come up with something else.”

“Have you talked to the bank?”

“They're next on my list.”

“I'll put in a good word for you with Howard Toombs. He's the president. Maybe he can work something out.”

But the bank had already worked things out. They'd given Callie the extra thirty days when they'd legally been able to foreclose last month. That, coupled with the fact that Callie had no collateral and only a minimum amount of credit, meant that there was probably little Howard could do.

Little amounted to an extra fifteen days.

“I'm afraid that's the best I can do under the current situation,” Howard told her later that afternoon when she stopped by the bank on her lunch hour. “I'm really sorry about your grandfather, but we've already floated this as long as possible, Miss Tucker. An extra two weeks is all I can do, and that's stretching it.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate everything.”

Two extra weeks.

It wasn't much, but it would give her a little more time to find the recipe which, judging by last night, wasn't going to be as easy as she'd originally thought.

If not impossible.

She ignored the doubt and focused on the all-important fact that they'd barely started to look. She'd burned only four days of the six weeks she now had to come up with the money. She could do this.

She
would
do this.

It was just a matter of staying hopeful and focused and
not
begging Brett Sawyer to have sex with her.

If only that weren't easier said than done.

Not that he pressed her lust buttons. If anything, he went out of his way not to touch her when she showed up at Bootleg Bayou later that evening to continue the search.

No brushing up against her or hauling her close, or kissing the common sense right out of her. He barely even glanced her way as they riffled through boxes and went through drawers.

A pattern that repeated itself over the next week as they continued to dig their way through the massive attic.

Even so, she still felt him right there on the fringes, so close all she had to do was reach out.

She wouldn't.

She was already worried and desperate. She wasn't adding stupid to the list. And that's what she would be if she slept with a man she still wanted as much as she wanted her next breath, a man determined to walk away at the earliest possible moment.

Stupid, stupid,
stupid.

 

CHAPTER 21

“It's a smart deal,” said the man sitting across the massive desk from Brett.

It was Friday afternoon and Brett had come into the house after a long day herding cattle to find the real estate broker waiting for him, along with the stack of pictures that Callie had taken and a leasing agreement.

“I'm willing to take two percent less than the usual commission if you'll sign the papers right now and give me the listing.” Les Haverty pulled a pen from his pocket and slid it across the desktop. “You won't get a better deal with anyone else.”

Anyone being Tanner Sawyer.

But Brett and Tanner had never really gotten along. Tanner was too greedy. Too self-centered. Too much a typical Sawyer.

That, and Les knew his business. The sales sheet he'd put together looked great, primarily due to Callie's beautiful pictures. Brett couldn't imagine Tanner doing a better job. Even more, Les already had a buyer in mind and time was crucial.

Brett took the pen and scribbled his signature on various sections before handing the agreement back over to the Realtor. “Here you go.”

“You won't regret this. I'll move that acreage just like that.” Les snapped his fingers before diving into his briefcase to pull out a custom-printed drawstring sack with the Haverty's logo. “Here's your customer appreciation gift. There's a T-shirt and a koozie, as well as a key chain and a gift card for a free lunch at the diner. Just our way of saying welcome to the Haverty family!”

Brett took the sack while Les gathered up his briefcase. “I'll start showing as soon as possible. If you'll let your people know so that they won't think you've got trespassers.” Brett nodded and caught the hand Les extended for a shake. “And again, I really appreciate this.”

“Just get me my asking price and I'll be the appreciative one.”

“Done.” Les headed for the door while Brett sank down to file away his copy of the agreement.

“Was that Les Haverty?” The voice sounded and Brett glanced up to see his pappy standing in the doorway.

“Yes, sir, it was.” Brett eyed his grandfather. “You know Les?” Last night the man had been convinced he was thirty-five and about to attend his first cattlemen's ball.

“Of course I know Les. He sells real estate.” Pappy's gaze met Brett's and for the first time in a long time, Brett saw the familiar glimmer in the man's eyes that said the Alzheimer's hadn't gotten the best of him just yet. “You're selling, aren't you?”

Brett nodded. “Just one hundred acres on the west side. To catch us up on the bills and get us back on our feet.”

“That'll help.” The old man hobbled into the room and sank down on a nearby sofa. He wore a red-and-white-checkered shirt stuffed into a pair of starched Wranglers and his work boots. “What about the cattle sale? Did you take care of that?”

Brett nodded. “A few days ago, but we were short. Ten head. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

Pappy seemed to think, his gaze intense as he mentally waded through the fogginess that threatened his brain. “I don't know. Did you check the records?”

“The records say we've got ten head missing. I've searched everywhere, but I can't find a trace.”

“Did you ask the men?”

Brett nodded. “No one claims to know anything.”

“They're good men,” Pappy said. “It wasn't their fault. I may not know much here lately, but I do know that. It was probably my mistake. I've made a lot of them lately.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his suddenly misty eyes. “I don't mean to forget, but it just happens. One second I know what I'm doing and the next, it's like I've never seen my own hands before. Things just don't make sense.”

“You're sick that's all.”

“But I don't want to be sick.” His gaze met his grandson's. “I don't like forgetting stuff.”

“It'll be okay. You'll get better. Today's a better day, right?”

Pappy nodded. “It is.”

“If you can have one good day, you can have more. You just have to get plenty of sleep and take your medication. The doctor put you on some new stuff. It helps keep the disease from progressing. It's even stopped it in some cases. That'll happen for you. Everything will be okay.”

Pappy nodded, but he didn't look convinced. “I think I'd like to take a look out in the barn,” the old man finally said. “Did Jewel birth her new calf?”

“Not yet, but it should happen anytime. We're keeping an eye on her.”

The old man pushed to his feet. “I'll go look in on her.”

“I'll go with you.” Brett rounded the desk, but Pappy held up a hand.

“I need to do this by myself.” He eyed the ledgers spread out on the desk. “And you need to do this by yourself. I can't do it anymore.”

But he could, Brett told himself as he watched the old man walk out the door and head to the barn. If Pappy had another good day like today, and another, he could eventually get back to his old routine.

He would.

It was just a matter of helping out until then.

Until things got better.

“He's in good shape today.” Karen's voice drew him around and he turned to find his sister standing in the hallway. “He knew me right away, and he asked about your last ride.”

“He looks good.”

“For now.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” He turned on her.

“That it can't last. You know that, even if you don't want to admit it.”

“I know that there's no rhyme or reason to his disease. That things can go north just as fast as they go south. The doctor said as much. Pappy can get better just as easily as he can get worse.”

“Just because you want him to get better doesn't mean that he will. We don't always get what we want.”

But he already knew that.

He thought of Callie and how badly he wanted her and how she was right there, so close yet she might as well have been a million miles away.

“He isn't gone yet,” he told his sister. “Pappy is still right here even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes. We can't just give up on him.”

“I'm not giving up. I'm accepting the truth. And so should you. He's not going to get better.” She caught her bottom lip and chewed for a long second as if searching for her nerve. Just like that, she found it and her gaze met his. “I'm not going back to school.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I withdrew for the semester.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin an inch. “I'm not going back to College Station. I'm going to stay here and look after Pappy.”

“You can't give up everything you've worked so hard for. You can't give up your life.”

“Somebody has to. You won't.”

But it wasn't that he wouldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't give up on Pappy. Not when the old man had never given up on him. He'd always believed in Brett. Always kept the faith no matter what boneheaded thing his grandson might have done. He'd loved him when no one else had.

“You might be ready to give up on him, but I'm not,” Brett said, stuffing his phone into his pocket and heading for the back door. “He was always there for us.
Always.
”

“It's not about giving up. It's about accepting him the way that he is. The way he's going to be.”

But Karen was dead wrong. One good day meant hope for another. And another. Why couldn't she see that?

Brett did and he intended to do everything in his power to help keep Pappy in the here and now.

Slamming the back door, he headed for the barn.

*   *   *

Talk about stubborn.

Karen ignored the urge to storm after her brother and pound some sense into his thick skull. But that wouldn't help. He was in denial and nothing would change until he changed.

And based on this last conversation, that metamorphosis wasn't coming anytime soon.

All the more reason she'd come home for good. For Pappy. To ease his mind and care for him when he lost what little connection he had left to this reality. And for Brett. So that he didn't have to come home to the one place that held so many bad memories.

That's why he'd left in the first place.

To escape the past with their father, and the time after when he'd been following in the man's footsteps. Accepting Pappy's situation would have brought him back home and forced him to face the man he'd been.

The man he was.

He wasn't ready for that. He might never be ready, and that was okay. Karen could handle things here at home.

She headed down the hallway to her room and the laptop sitting on her bed. She was just about to log on to her Facebook page when she heard the front door.

“Can I help you?” she asked the man standing on the doorstep.

He had dark hair, an easy smile, and an air of surprise that said he'd expected someone else to open the door. “I'm looking for Brett Sawyer.”

“You just missed him. I'm his sister, Karen. Can I help you with something?”

“You could tell him I stopped by.” He pulled a business card from his pocket. “The name's Mark Edwards. I'm with Foggy Bottom Distillers. He called me a few days ago about your family's half of the Texas Thunder recipe. He wanted to know if our offer is serious. I'm here to confirm that it is, indeed, very serious.”

“You want to buy our moonshine recipe?”

“Your half. The Tuckers own the other half, but we're ready to purchase theirs, as well, contingent on finding your half, of course. We can't make it without a full recipe.”

Which explained why Brett had asked about the family Bible and why he'd been up in the attic every night with Callie Tucker. Karen figured they were just spending time together. It had been no secret that he'd always liked Callie back in the day, and so Karen had come to the conclusion that they'd decided to mend fences and see where things might lead. And she'd certainly never thought to ask him. It wasn't as if Karen and Brett had spent a lifetime confiding in each other. They were seven years apart, and while Brett had always been a good older brother and she'd done her best to be the best little sister, they didn't exactly confide in each other when it came to their sex lives.

Or lack of.

But the meetings with Callie hadn't been about that. They'd been about the old recipe.

The money.

A sliver of disappointment went through her. A crazy reaction for a cynic who'd given up on love completely. So what if Brett and Callie weren't rekindling their romance? All the better. Love sucked. Karen knew that firsthand.

Which explained why she handed the business card back to Mark even though he had the most incredible gray eyes she'd ever seen. And he was cute. In a buttoned-up, three-piece-suit, yuppie sort of way that said he'd never climbed onto the back of a horse or stepped in a pile of steaming manure.