center of the sky was dimming to a purplish blue, the edges around the trees a kind of dusty pink by the time Clara’s truck pulled up the long driveway into the house. She stopped, turning off the engine, staying in the vehicle. She was looking at him like she was shocked to see him, even though he had told her he would be there.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning against the support for the porch, not moving until Clara got out of the truck.
She was such a petite little thing. And she had definitely lost weight since he’d seen her a few weeks ago. He couldn’t imagine her taking on a place like this, and suddenly he felt like the biggest ass on the planet. That he had stayed away because she was going to be angry, when she had clearly been here working her knuckles to the bone.
Jason had been clear on what he wanted. The fact that Alex had screwed it up so far seemed just about right, as far as things went.
“Big wine-tasting day?” he asked.
Clara frowned. “No. Why?”
“You’re home late.”
She raised a brow, then walked around to the back of the truck and pulled out a bag of groceries. “I had to stop and get stuff for dinner.”
“Good. You do eat.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You’re too skinny.” He felt like a dick for saying it, but it was true. She was on the sadness diet, something he was a little too familiar with. But he’d learned not to give in to that in the military. Learned to eat even when his ears were ringing from an explosion, or the heat was so intense the idea of eating something hot was next to torture. Or when you’d just seen a body, bent and twisted under rubble.
Because food wasn’t about enjoyment. It was about survival.
A lot like life in general.
Clara Campbell needed help surviving. That was clear to him.
Clara scowled even deeper as she walked toward him. “Great. Thanks, Alex. Just what every woman wants to hear.”
“Actually, in my experience, a lot of women would like to hear that.” He snagged the paper grocery bag out of her arms as she tried to walk past him. “SpaghettiOs? What the hell is this?”
“I call it dinner.”
“Sure, for a four-year-old.”
“I’m sorry they don’t live up to your five-star military rations. But I like them.”
She reached out and grabbed hold of the bag, trying to take it out of his arms.
“Stop it,” he said. “You’ve been working all day. I’m going to carry your groceries.”
She bristled. “You’re insulting my groceries. I feel like you don’t deserve to carry them.”
He snorted, then turned away from her, jerking the bag easily from her hold. “Open the door for me.”
“I thought military men were good at taking orders,” she said. “All you seem to do is give them.”
“Yeah, well I’m not in the army now, baby.” He smiled, and he knew it would infuriate her. “Open the damn door.”
Her face turned a very particular shade of scarlet but she did comply, pulling out her keys and undoing the lock, then pushing the door open. He walked over the threshold, and a board squeaked beneath his feet. He made a mental note to fix that.
“The dining room is just through there, set the bag on the table.” She walked in behind him. “See? I can give orders too.”
“While eating SpaghettiOs.” He set the bag on the table she’d indicated, then took a look around the room. It was sparse—the floor, walls and ceiling all made with rustic wood paneling. There was a red rug on the floor with a geometric design that provided the only bit of color to the room, other than a big, cheery yellow cabinet that was shoved in the back of the kitchen, packed full to the brim with white plates. It seemed a little incongruous with the rest of the place. And at odds with the rickety dining table and its mismatched chairs.
He had never been to Jason’s house before. They had met when they were in high school, and consequently, had spent their time hanging out away from the watchful eyes of parents and guardians. After that, they’d wound up serving together in the military.
The place was...well, cozy was a nice word for it. Eclectic badger den possibly less nice but more accurate.
“I’m hungry,” Clara said, fishing one of the cans out of the bag. “Don’t taint my SpaghettiOs with your judgment.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He watched as she moved around the efficient little kitchen, making small economical movements, getting out a blue-and-white speckled tin bowl and a little pan, then opening the SpaghettiOs and dumping them in it. She put the pan on the front burner, turning it to high, then whirled around to face him.
“Okay. What are we talking about?”
“Do you want to wait until you’ve eaten your dinner?”
“No.” She turned around and opened the fridge, pulling out a can of Coke before popping it open and taking a long drink. She didn’t offer him one, he noticed.
“I was contacted by your family lawyer shortly after Jason’s death.”
Clara crossed her arms, her lips going tight. “Okay, why did he call you?”
“Why didn’t he call you, Clara? I expected you would have talked to him.”
She bit her lip. “Well. He did. But we didn’t talk.” Alex stared her down and her cheeks turned increasingly red as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I’ve been busy,” she added defensively.
“Well, if you hadn’t been too busy for the lawyer, he might have talked to you about the fact your brother’s will concerns me.”
“Excuse me?” This was the part he had been avoiding. The thing he had not been looking forward to. Because his friend had left him with property, had left him with his earthly possessions and a letter explaining his feelings, which ultimately were only that: the feelings of a dead man. Alex had to try to fill in blanks he wasn’t sure could be filled. He’d tried to reason it all out to decide if he could justify defying Jason’s wishes. He hadn’t been able to. So here he was.
“He left me in charge of the estate,” he continued. “The ranch, everything on it, everything in it, the house—until things are stable or until one year has passed.”
Clara didn’t move. The only indication she was reacting to his words at all was that her face had gone completely waxen.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Clara? I have a stake in this house now. And in this ranch. Your brother left me in charge.”
