“For Pete’s sake. It was no big deal. Four kids—teens—showed up here last night and tried to get in so they could drink their cheap garbage liquor. The front door was locked, and they were having a debate about going someplace else or breaking a window to get in when I scared the crap out of them. Most of them peeled out like it was the zombie apocalypse.”
“What happened to your toe?”
“Jammed it on one of the stones on the terrace when I snuck around the side of the house.”
He looked up and counted backward from ten. It didn’t work. “You confronted a gang of trespassing criminals in the dark when they tried to break into your house?”
“They were teenagers with a bottle of Mad Dog, not mastermind villains,” she argued.
“Did you call the cops?” Her hesitation had his blood pressure skyrocketing again. “Did you call Dean? Me? Anyone to come over so you wouldn’t be alone if they came back?”
“No. I handled it.”
“You need to get it out of your stubborn head that every single thing has to be handled by you.”
She yanked her foot off his knee. “I don’t like being handled, Wright.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t like you taking unnecessary risks just because you think you’re safer depending on yourself.”
She scrambled to her feet on a gasp of indignation. “This is exactly why I don’t tell people shit. You open up to some good-looking, landscaping jerk one time, and he can’t wait to throw it in your face.”
He rose to his full height. “Get over it, Nichols. And sit your ass down.”
“You sit your ass down. In your truck. And drive away from here. Far away from here.”
He reached for her and caught her because she was off her game. Cupping her chin in his hand, he leaned in. “This is one of those signs from the universe I was telling you about. You tell me you feel like you can’t depend on anyone when really you’re too scared to ask for help. And now you’re paying for ignoring that sign with a busted-up toe and a pissed-off boyfriend.”
His dog wedged himself between their feet and grumbled about the lack of attention.
“You are not my boyfriend. I really don’t like you right now,” she seethed.
“Be as pissed off as you want to. You know I’m right.”
“Go home, Silas,” she said. “If you’re lucky, your crew will be allowed back on Monday.”
They turned at the crunch of gravel. Dean pulled in next to Sy’s truck and hopped out of his snappy little Mini Cooper.
“You two should be more careful with those sparks. You could burn this dump down,” he said, clapping his hands and calling Kevin to him. The dog joyfully barreled into the man, and the two exchanged enthusiastic greetings.
“What’s with the one shoe?” Dean asked. “You playing Cinderella?”
“Oh, allow me,” Silas told Maggie with malicious glee.
She growled at him.
“Maggie here decided to bust up her big toe while trying to get the drop on a bunch of trespassers that tried to break in,” Silas informed him.
Dean straightened up from the dog and shook his head. “Yeah. That sounds about right.” He eyed the power washer. “You cleaning the shit you scared out of them off the porch?”
Kevin let out a bark and trotted a few yards down the driveway, where he stood his burly ground against a visitor that had shown up out of nowhere.
He was tall and gangly. His blond hair was in dire need of a cut, as a cowlick stood straight up at the back of his head. He’d seen the kid around town. Cody Moses. Rough family. There’d been some gossip recently that he couldn’t quite remember.
“Kevin!” Maggie and Silas said together. The dog trotted back toward them, throwing interested glances over his shoulder.
“Do you want me to come back?” the kid asked.
“You’re right on time, Cody,” she said. “Come on in. Grab a doughnut. I’ve got a couple of questions for you when I’m done here.”
Dean and Silas exchanged shrugs as Cody made his way up onto the porch. Kevin trotted over, gave the boy’s jeans a sniff, and, deeming him safe, demanded pets.
“Dean, meet Cody. Cody stopped by last night to volunteer his services around here,” Maggie said.
The kid didn’t so much as wince as look resigned to servitude.
Silas ignored the “I told you so” look Maggie shot him.
“Well, isn’t that nice of him?” Dean said, clearly trying to decipher the unspoken conversation happening between Maggie and Silas.