rolled his eyes. His brothers didn’t think anything was off-limits when it came to the friendly placing of wagers. “How much?”
“I bet fifty bucks that you’d admit your undying love before the vernal equinox. Make it happen and I’ll split the booty with you.”
“Maybe,” Shane hedged. “What’s the pot up to?”
“Twelve hundred. But only because we made Chandler pony up a thousand on the sixty day over-under.”
Shane gave an exaggerated sigh. “Maybe I should work a deal with Chandler then.”
“Before you get too chummy with him, you should know he bet the over, that it would take you more than sixty days to convince Taylor to accept your sorry ass.”
“He might be right,” Shane admitted, shoulders slumping under the weight of knowing that he wasn’t exactly on the road to success. Forget the road, he hadn’t even left the driveway. That could change, if he could come up with a feasible plan. Until he had one, a switch of topic seemed like a good idea. “How are Savannah and the kids?”
“Savannah is hot and my children are cuter, smarter and growing faster than everyone else’s.”
Shane smiled, knowing full well Seth’s remark was part jest and part fatherly pride. “Speaking with complete impartiality, I’m sure.”
His brother stood and launched the now-empty bottle in a perfect arc into the trash can. “A three-pointer.”
“Not from that distance, girlie-man,” Shane scoffed, tossing his beer bottle behind his back, around his waist, and watching it sail easily into the recycling bin with a satisfying clink. “Now, that is a three-pointer. I am the king.”
“Yeah,” Seth chuckled softly. “The lonely king.”
“That was harsh.” True, but harsh nonetheless.
“Buck up, bro. I’d be happy to give you some pointers if—”
Shane glared his older brother into silence. “Don’t you have someplace to be?”
“Yep. Here.” Seth paused and replaced his Stetson, which bore the official seal of the city of Jasper. “I’m checking on a couple of parolees you hired for the calving season.”
“Anyone I should keep an eye on?”
Seth shook his head. “One did six months of an eight-month stint for bouncing checks, and the other guy’s out on early release on a simple use and possession.” Seth glanced at a small pad he pulled from his breast pocket. “Brian Meyer is the bad-check passer. Luke Adams is the bad driver with the bad habit. He wasn’t bright enough to keep under the speed limit while he was rolling a joint on his thigh.”
“Don’t have to be bright to be a criminal,” Shane said with an expelled breath. “I’ll keep an eye on them. Thanks for the heads-up.”
Seth scanned the notepad again. “I ran checks on both guys when Will sent me their names. Nothing popped in the system. I would’ve called if anything came up. Meyer is a first-timer, so it’s worth giving him a chance. Adams has a few other busts, petty stuff. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Shane shrugged. “Will’s pretty good at screening them. He wouldn’t hire on anyone he didn’t think was a safe bet.”
“I agree,” Seth said. “Still, I want both of them to know I’m in the area. I’ll run out to the barn and just say hi before I head home.”
Shane walked with his brother to the front door. A rush of cold air filtered in and he was distracted for a minute, wondering if Taylor was dressed warmly enough. Of course not. She’d rushed out without a coat.
“Show them your gun and be sure to look mean,” Shane teased.
“Good tip, thanks.” Seth raised one hand and bounded down the steps two at a time. “You have fun tonight! All alone and wandering through the house like a—”
Shane slammed the door, not interested in taking any more of his brother’s ribbing. It wasn’t like he was ready to concede that his hands-off policy was getting harder and harder to maintain. In addition to his staggering fear of rejection, the truth was the growing intensity of his feelings for Taylor scared him. Keeping her at arm’s length was a lot easier than risking everything.
Except that his patience was running out. He felt as if his life had been one big hourglass for the last five years. Finding his parents, after wondering where they were and why they’d left, gave him an odd feeling, a kind of warning bell that there might only be a few grains of sand left.
“She’s going to graduate,” he told himself as he wandered back into the living room and flopped down on the leather sofa, grabbing the remote control. “Get a job and leave.” The thought depressed the hell out of him.
He flicked through the satellite menu without really seeing the images. They had two hundred fifty channels, but there was nothing on. Instead, his mind played visions of Taylor. In the kitchen. Working in the yard. She was as much a part of the Lucky 7 as he was now. Thinking about her impending and inevitable departure weighed heavily on him.
Four hours and fifty-six minutes later, Shane tried again to convince himself that he wasn’t actually waiting up for her. Right? his conscience ridiculed in a taunting little voice that was irritating as hell. Had to be that he was totally engrossed in the infomercial for the miracle herb that promised everything from increased energy to improved sexual function. Plus, if he acted now, he could get a six-month supply for the value price of only three hundred twenty-nine dollars and ninety-five cents. A veritable steal.
“Like I need anything for sexual function,” he muttered, standing up and taking his dishes into the kitchen. “My plumbing works just fine, thank you very much. That isn’t my problem. Sell me a magic pill to read her mind. Now that would be freaking worth three hundred and ninety-whatever dollars! Hell, I’d pay ten times that.”
He had just put a plate with crumbs of her delicious apple pie in the sink and was about to call it a night when he heard the muffled sound of footsteps on the front porch.
A sense of excitement rushed through him as he stilled, listening to the door opening and closing, followed by the familiar rhythm of her moving in his direction.
Taylor’s subtle perfume entered the room a split second before she appeared.
He knew something was wrong the second he saw her. “Fail a pop quiz or something?” he asked, disturbed by the tension in her hazel eyes.
Damn it. Taylor had hoped he’d be asleep by the time she got home from class. She wasn’t up to a verbal sparring match with Shane tonight, she really wasn’t. She’d been on a razor’s edge through the entire class, absorbing nothing. Anger over the knife and the note had claimed her focus for hours.
Somebody had strolled up to her car, in full view of the house, and had taken the time to open the door, stab the knife and note into her upholstery and walk away.
Who? And why make such a cruel and false accusation about a man who’d just buried his parents?
She tossed her purse on the foyer table by rote, then panicked a little—what if Shane suddenly ripped into
