Page 24 of Omega’s Fold

I am already shaking my head. “Thank you. I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“You might as well join in a little bit of town life while you’re here.”

“Donna, I really —”

“Matthew says you’re an architect.” She says it flat. “You understand how these projects get sold to people like us. Maybe you can help us understand what’s going on here. Be useful to have your perspective.”

I keep my face still. My jaw has gone tight again.

“I don’t think I should get involved,” I say. “Briggs doesn’t want me there.”

She shrugs. “Wyatt doesn’t always know what’s best for him. Besides the whole town’s heard that Wyatt’s got a prime match holed up at his ranch. Best they take a look at you there before the whole town turns up at your doorstep with an excuse to take a gander.”

I hear the mudroom door open. Wyatt stalks in, nods at Donna and then makes his way past me. A moment later, I hear the shower go on upstairs.

Donna watches me over her coffee. There is no way she is going to let me get away with staying here. I try to remember who they picked as representatives in town. Brent Payley was one. He’s a dickhead but he owes me a favor. I’ll send him a Teams message and just explain the situation, ask him to tell everyone to ignore me.

They’ll probably find it hilarious but they won’t want to rile up the locals any more than I will.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll come, but just give me a minute. I have a few work things I need to finish off.”

She smiles. “Wonderful.”

I take my laptop up to the bedroom and ping over a quick message to Payley. He doesn’t respond right away but it should be fine. The man is a workaholic. He doesn’t ignore Teams messages.

I close the laptop and head back downstairs.

Twenty minutes later Briggs comes down. He is in a fresh shirt, a clean flannel I have not seen before, dark green over a plain white undershirt. His hair is damp and combed back off his forehead and he has shaved.

He smells like soap and water and utterly, utterly delicious.

He stops when he sees me. His eyes move from me to Donna.

She says, “Julian’s coming to the meeting.”

His eyes move to me again. There is a small tightening at the corner of his mouth.

“Mmm,” he says.

“Not enough room in my truck for all five of us,” Donna says. She is already standing now, briskly pulling her coat back on. “I’ll take the boys. I’ll give Caleb some money to take them to the diner while we’re in the meeting. You two follow in Wyatt’s truck.”

Briggs opens his mouth to object but Donna has already turned toward the stairs and is calling up.

“Matthew. Caleb. Boots. We’re going.”

There is the thunder of two pairs of feet on the floor above. Matthew yells something down the stairwell. Donna disappears outside. Briggs and I are, for a very brief window, alone in the kitchen.

He does not look at me. He goes to the stove and lifts the foil on the casserole dish and looks down at the lasagna. He puts the foil back.

“You don’t have to come,” he says to the casserole. It has to be the longest sentence he has ever said to me.

“I don’t think she was going to let me say no,” I reply.

He turns around, finally, and he looks at me for what is probably the longest he has looked at me directly since I walked into his house four days ago. His eyes are a darker gray than I had registered.

“Hmm.”

His truck, a faded old Ford, is parked behind the barn. The passenger door sticks. He comes around without a word and yanks it open for me, one hard pull, and steps back.