focused on the delicious meal.
Ryan ate heartily as well, though he kept shooting Eric questioning looks while he ate. Finally, he shook his head. Putting down his ribs, he licked his fingers before wiping his mouth with his paper towel. “All right, spill. You’re superdistracted. What’s wrong?”
Since there was no way Eric wanted to give his brother more ammunition with which to tease him, he shrugged and said the one word that always made Ryan change the subject. “Work,” he lied, and went back to devouring his meal. When he could eat no more, he used the finger wipes and cleaned his hands.
“That was good.” He leaned back in the chair and gave a sigh of contentment. Even now, in the back of his mind, he could picture offering MW a plate of ribs and watching her eat. Then he remembered she’d asked for a sliced beef sandwich, and got lost again contemplating her charms.
“There you go again.” Ryan’s sharp comment brought Eric out of his reverie.
“Sorry,” Eric apologized, meaning it. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Working too hard, probably.”
Because he had been and he hoped that was the reason for his unexplained preoccupation with his pretty houseguest, he nodded. “Probably.”
“You been home lately?” Ryan asked quietly, meaning the Lucky C ranch.
“No.” Eric refused to feel guilty. Both brothers had escaped the family ranch as quickly as they could—Eric because he’d never fit in, Ryan because of the never-ending drama. “How about you?”
Ryan sighed. “I’ve had to run out there a few times. I’m still investigating the attack on Mother. Since she’s unconscious, she can’t tell me anything. And there have been a couple other instances of vandalism, mostly minor.”
Eric grimaced. While he loved his mother, Abra Colton had always been one of those women who always seemed to be on edge. Everything made her nervous, including her children. Thus a series of nannies had raised Eric and his siblings. None of the Coltons had felt particularly close to their mother growing up, though not from lack of trying. Greta in particular. Eric had hated watching how often Abra’s careless indifference hurt his sister.
But these past several years, Abra had begun to mend the fences. She and Greta had become close. She’d even reached out to Eric, hoping to try to forge a tentative relationship. Unfortunately, this had been right before she’d been attacked, and Eric and she hadn’t made up.
“How’s Dad holding up?”
Ryan shrugged, his expression grim. “Oh, you know Big J. He’s devoted to making sure Mother is comfortable, as long as the hired nurses take care of her.”
Lately their father had been showing signs of early dementia, though he refused to see his doctor and get tested. Big J had always been larger than life, with his booming voice and his raucous laugh. Though he never spoke about it, all his sons understood he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Some days he seems better than others,” Ryan continued. “Jack’s keeping an eye on him.”
Their oldest brother, Jack, managed the Lucky C. Nothing mattered more to him than family, especially his son, Seth. The ranch came in a close second, though.
“You need to try and pop out there when you can,” Ryan said. “Even though Abra won’t know you’re there, I know Jack and Seth will be thrilled to see you.”
“I will,” Eric promised, meaning it. He adored his five-year-old nephew, Seth, and hadn’t seen him in too long. He couldn’t remember the last time Jack had brought his son into Tulsa.
Once they’d finished, Ryan announced he’d decided not to order his customary peach cobbler. Instead, he kept checking his watch. “I’ve got to run,” he said. “I’ve got a couple of reports I need to fill out and email in.”
Even though turnabout would be fair play, Eric resisted the urge to tease his brother about his own work. Truth be told, he felt relieved Ryan wasn’t inclined to chat. He wanted to get home and make sure MW was okay.
He ordered the extra sliced-brisket sandwich, paid for it as well as his own meal and gave his brother a quick hug goodbye before taking off.
The Porsche begged to be driven fast. Sometimes he had to force himself to travel relatively close to the speed limit. With all the afternoon traffic, this was one of those occasions. Nonetheless, he made it home in less time than it had taken him to go the opposite direction, mostly because rush-hour traffic went out of the city rather than in.
After parking in his private garage underneath the townhome, he grabbed the bag and hurried outside. He winced as the late-afternoon August heat blasted him the instant he left the garage. Sadly, the cooling rain of the previous day had turned into a distant memory. Oklahoma summers could be tough. The relentless sun and constant wind sometimes made him feel like dust coated everything, even mixing with the blood inside his body, turning it sluggish. Fanciful, certainly, since as a physician he knew such a thing wasn’t possible. He gave himself a mental shake. It was just a typical Oklahoma summer, and he wasn’t often given to such flights of abstract fancy.
Again he had the nagging feeling that taking in this mystery woman might change his life in ways he never could have anticipated.
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