Page 38 of Tethered

“Okay, that’s only around the corner.” He pulls out into the road and starts heading in that direction. “So dare I ask what Doyle and Mary ordered from you?”

“Why, I don’t know what you’re implying, Austin,” I say, channeling my inner southern belle.

“Sure, you don’t. So no love potions or curses?”

“I don’t make love potions. And even if I did, I’m not sure Doyle and Mary would need it.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. I’ve walked up behind her in the grocery store while she’s been plotting her husband’s murder out loud. I was so intrigued, I stopped to give her tips.”

“Of course you did.” I sigh. “Firstly, if she were serious about offing her husband, she wouldn’t say anything at all. Women tend to be smart that way. Secondly, love potions are bullshit. I’ve never attempted to make one, and I don’t plan to. You can’t force someone to love you, not without taking away their free will. That’s not something I’ll ever agree to.”

He swallows and nods, and I realize I’m on touchy ground for both of us. I change the subject. “Now, curses on the other hand…that might be something I’m willing to branch out with. At the moment, though, I mostly stick to cosmetic, holistic, and medicinal therapies. Which is why Mary ordered a cream to help with her arthritis, and a supplement to help get Doyle’s dick hard.”

He chokes on his tongue in surprise, making me laugh. “I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing that.”

“Well, you did ask.”

“Lesson learned,” he mutters, making me grin again as I look out the side window.

We drive to the next place, and I’m lifted out once again after Austin opens my seatbelt. This time, he lowers me slowly, my front dragging down his, making us both suck in sharp breaths.

Okay, so none of this is my imagination. He’s flirting with me, right? That’s what this is.I think.God, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do here. I have Riggs, and he’s more than enough, but then I can’t forget about Shepard either. Austin was never supposed to be anything but an enemy, but this doesn’t feel like enemies. Not anymore. Though it feels just as dangerous.

I take the package he hands me and head up to the house with the pretty blue trim and knock. This time, when it opens, I’m greeted by a man I do recognize. Christian Palmer. He worked at the ranch for a little while when I was a kid. I don’t know what went down, but I know he just didn’t come back one day. I wasn’t surprised, though. My father might have run one of the most successful cattle ranches around, but he was a tyrant to work for, and his staff turnover was insane.

He opens his mouth to greet me before his eyes open comically wide. “Calliope,” he whispers almost reverently before I find myself tugged into his arms, the parcel squished between us.

I stand frozen in shock as he hugs me, not sure what to do. He pulls back and cups my face. I swear, if he tries to kiss me, I’m gonna send a jolt through him bright enough to set his beard on fire.

“It is so good to see you. I worried a lot for you over the years.”

“You did?”

“You’re surprised?”

“I didn’t think anyone cared what happened to me,” I tell him, not trying to be anything but brutally honest.

“Showing we cared was often the worst thing we could do.” I tilt my head, wondering if he thinks I’m buying this bullshit. “He fired me when he found out I reported him to CPS. I called the police one time I saw you sporting a bunch of bruises. But the then-sheriff brushed me off, saying you were clumsy, which was bullshit, excuse my language. After that, nobody would hire me. I don’t know if it was your dad or the sheriff who blacklisted me, and in the end, it didn’t matter. My daughter Leah was sick, and I needed the money to cover her hospital fees, so I had to travel farther afield for work. That left my wife Bettie dealing with the brunt of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. You were just a kid. I wasn’t the first ranch hand to call the cops over the shit that happened to you, and I wasn’t the last. But none of us ever got to stay and watch over you, and somehow that made it worse. You did what the rest of us wish we had the guts to do. I just wish you didn’t have to lose a chunk of your life doing it.”

“It worked out in the end. How’s your daughter now?”

His face clouds over with sorrow, and I find myself reaching for his arm.

“Leah didn’t make it. I hadn’t even heard of Juvenile Myelomonocytic Leukemia until she was diagnosed with it. By the time Leah was in palliative care, I knew everything I could ever need to, but it wasn’t enough to save her. Then bills were piling up, and nobody here stepped up to help. I had to head back out to work across the state, leaving Bettie to drown in her grief alone. For a while there, I thought I was going to lose her, too.”

Almost scared to ask, I swallow. “But you didn’t?”

He offers me a soft, sad smile. “Not then, no. I got to spend another twelve years with the love of my life before we realized the bouts of forgetfulness were more than just menopausal fog. Bettie was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. Now I lose her one day at a time.”

I feel tears prick my eyes, this man’s heartbreak stealing my breath.

“Goodness me, my wife always did say I could talk the hind legs off a donkey. What can I do for you, Calliope?”

I cough to clear my throat before handing him the package.