Travis and I both bark out a loud laugh, him shaking his head while I nod mine. “For today, you are my poppy, Watson,” I tell him, playfully shaking my finger in his face.
He rolls his eyes and covers my wagging finger with his gigantic hand, gently shoving it away as he tells her the truth. “I’m Fiona’s daytime security detail, but today, it seems that means babysitter too.”
“Bollocks!” I shout, unable to stop giggling in the process. “I’m six years old! I don’t need a bloody sitter! Especially not one who can’t pronounce the word saltimbocca!”
With that, the three of us erupt into a fit a laughter, and it isn’t until we’re finally able to catch our breath that I end up ordering for both Travis and me. The veal saltimbocca, of course. And while we wait for the food to cook, Julia tells us what she remembers from the day Mr. Sexy Eyes came in and left the lottery ticket.
“It was the end of my shift that Friday, and your aunt was running late getting here, so I was a little grumpy when this guy came in. He was by himself, sat right here at this table actually.” She snickers while rapping her knuckles on the table we’re huddled around. “I went up to ask him for his drink order, and when he said root beer, I asked him to repeat himself, because I thought I’d misheard. But I hadn’t. And when he looked up at me and said it again, I remember his eyes being the most incredible shade of blue, like something you’d definitely notice, ya know?”
“That’s what Aunt Finley says too,” I tell her, whilst pouring my drink into the glass. “Do you remember anything else? Maybe initials on his collar or cufflinks? Birthmarks or moles?”
“Nope, just the root beer and those dreamy eyes. Then Finley showed up, so I transferred the table to her and hurried my butt out of here to get home. Had I only known how that all would’ve played out that night, I wouldn’t have been in such a rush.” She shakes her head and sighs. “But I guess it all happens the way it’s supposed to, right? Fate and all that.”
A guy who I assume is a manager stalks over and taps Julia on the shoulder, grunting something under his breath about it not being social hour and food ready in the window, so she’s forced to follow him back into the kitchen and end our conversation. Our food is served when we next see her, but then the cocktail area begins to fill up around us and she’s flitting nonstop from table to table, not getting another chance to come over and talk to us.
When I pay the bill, I leave all the cash I have in my backpack, which is the five hundred dollars I have left over from the thousand I got out of the cash machine after buying my iPad, even though our total is only fifty-eight. I turn the check over, and write, ‘It’s not a winning lottery ticket, but hopefully it makes you smile.’
Travis grabs my hand as we leave the restaurant and squeezes it softly. “That was a really nice thing you did back there, Sherlock. I’m proud of you.”
“I like to make people smile,” I admit. “It’s one of the reasons I like to cook. Nothing makes a person smile quicker than some good food in their belly.”
He hails a taxi without saying anything else, and twenty minutes later, we’re in the suite, neither Mummy nor Aunt Finley back yet. I settle into my favorite spot on the couch and grab my iPad to email Mr. Rector about the root beer thing, but when I open my mail app, there’s a message from him waiting with the subject line reading, ‘I found him.’
“He’s gotta be as mad as a bag of ferrets,” I hiss, not believing he’d found our Prince Charming in less than a day. But then I open up the email and watch the video clips of the man buying the ticket and the man sitting at the table Travis and I sat at earlier today, both with date-and-time stamps that match up to him being in Iowa that morning and in Impasta that evening. And then I compare them with several snapshots Rector has pulled from magazine and newspaper clippings. There’s no doubt in my mind Mr. Sexy Eyes is none other than Teague Goodman, CEO of Goodman Farms, where the home office is located in none other than Cedar Rapids.
Great goobly woobly, I think we’re going to be taking a road trip to Iowa to meet a farmer.
Teague
“DON’T FORGET TO lock up the Ranger in the barn when you finish. There’s a bad storm that s’posed to roll in tonight, lots of wind and maybe even some hail,” Grandpa reminds me, from his rocking chair on the porch.
I nod and hold my hand up in the air so he knows I heard him as I slide behind the steering wheel of the side-by-side utility vehicle. He’s been nagging me since the last farmhand left an hour ago to go out and drive the perimeter of the original two-thousand-acre farm that has been in our family for four generations. It’s a task he’s done every evening since he was twelve years old — I know, because it’s all I’ve heard about since I told him he wouldn’t be making the trek tonight. He hasn’t even been home a full day from his weeklong hospital stint, and he’s already as irritable as a caged grizzly bear. Maybe this temporary moving-back-in-with-him thing wasn’t as great of an idea as I originally thought.
Peering up at the cloudless sky, the shade of blue darkening as the sun chases the western horizon, I shake my head, and tsk to myself, “There ain’t no storm coming tonight, crazy old man.” Then, I turn the key in the ignition and take off toward the northern fence line, hoping like hell I don’t find anything that needs my attention.
While cruising along in the open-aired UTV, I pass row after row of corn crops, memories from my childhood of doing this exact same thing night after night flooding my mind despite my attempt to block them. It’s been eleven years since I last made this journey around the land, and not once have I missed it. The day I left for college, I put my Red Wings away in the dark shadows in the closet of my bedroom here, with plans to never pull them out again. But as I glance down at my feet on the floorboard, I scowl at the sight of the now-too-snug, dingy brown work boots sticking out under my jeans. Looks like never is here.
I reach the property boundary and make a ninety-degree turn to the right, thankful all seems to be as it should, when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. Worried it might be Nancy calling that something’s happened to Grandpa, I hurriedly pull it out and answer, paying no attention to the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Hey, hotstuff,” Jessica purrs. “How’s Grandpa doing? Am I gonna get to see you tonight?”
My foot eases off the accelerator, slowing down once I know Grandpa is all right, and I silently curse myself for forgetting to text her earlier. “Hey, babe. No, sorry. I meant to message you this afternoon, but it’s been crazy trying to get Gramps set up here at the house. We didn’t get home from the hospital until nearly three, after we stopped at the pharmacy to pick up all his medicine.”
She groans sympathetically. “Ugh, that sucks. Does he seem to be in brighter spirits now that he’s back home? I know you said the other day he was planning his prison-break-style escape from the cardiac ward.”
“Hardly,” I scoff, with a surly laugh. “Unless threatening to shove a root beer bottle up my ass minutes after he told the nurse he wanted to poke her in the eye with a syringe is what you consider brighter spirits.”
“No, not quite,” Jessica snickers, “but hey, at least he’s got some spunk left in him.”
As we talk, I keep my eyes honed in on the crops while continuing to cruise by at a relatively slow speed, confirming the workers I pay to tend to the fields are actually doing their jobs, and also checking out the quality of the plants, mentally preparing myself for what we’ll need for fall harvest.
“Oh, he’s got a helluva lot more than spunk left in him,” I grunt. “Ornery old fart… I damn near had to tie his ass to the rocking chair to keep him from coming out with me to inspect the crops.”
“You talking about tying up and crops is making me all jealous. Don’t get any ideas with the nurse lady while Gramps is sleeping.”
The image of Nancy tied naked to a bed flashes in my mind and I cringe, my lip curling up as my shoulders shudder. She’s an awesome nurse, and I love how she doesn’t take shit f
rom my grandpa, but she’s old enough to be my mom… and a MILF she’s not.
“Yeah, I don’t think you need to worry about that,” I inform her, with one-hundred-percent certainty, “but we are going to have to work something out where I can see you while I’m staying out here. Otherwise, I may as well flush my sanity down the toilet along with whatever’s in Grandpa’s bed pan.”
“Ooh gross, that’s a visual I could’ve lived without, Teague,” she protests. “And you’re not planning on coming into the city at all?”
I shrug, like she can see me. “Not really sure right now. We’ve got numerous follow-up doctor appointments in the next couple of weeks, and until Grandpa becomes a little more… tolerant of this new lifestyle, I need to be here to make sure he’s actually doing everything he’s supposed to. I’ve reworked Nancy’s hours so she’s here from eight to eight, but I’d have to hire another nurse to stay overnight to have twenty-four-seven care, and he’s really not into making new friends that want to poke and prod him, nor anyone who tells him what he can’t do or eat.
“What about work? Have you heard back from the asshole people?”
A small smile spreads across my lips, touched that she’s thoughtful enough to care and ask about all the shit going on. Though I’ve never been interested in a serious relationship with Jessica, I’ve always felt more connected to her than I do with Mandy and Ashley, who are simply just fuck-buddies. Jessica and I are, dare I say it… friends. True friends with benefits. Though ever since the rope incident a few weeks ago, the benefits have been suspended.
“They’re still going over numbers, so nothing final yet.” I summarize the back-and-forth bullshit I’ve been dealing with while practically living at Dyersville Regional Hospital the last six days. “Plus, I’ve got my laptop and phone, so I really don’t have any reason I have to go into the office. Next week, during the daytime when Nancy’s here, I’m going to do a walkthrough of all of the equipment, check the parts inventory, and meet with the guys who’ve been with us from the beginning. It’s been a while since I’ve done any of the hands-on, day-to-day stuff, and I’m hoping I get some ideas on improving efficiency.”
“So I’m guessing you haven’t tried to reach out to the girl?” she abruptly changes the subject, triggering a grump from me. With everything else going on around me, my mind has been a little preoccupied so I haven’t been obsessing and fantasizing over Finley Farewell nearly as much as before. Now, I’m limiting it to four or five times a day instead of the twenty to thirty that it was. Too bad it took my Grandpa having a heart attack scare to make that happen.
“No, I haven’t reached out to the girl,” I growl, aggravated at the way my cock stirs in my pants and my heart lurches in my chest at the mere thought of her. “I’ve been a little busy making sure my grandfather is going to live, and saving my company. And we were talking about when I get to see you again. Don’t divert and redirect.”
Laughing softly, she retorts, “I’m not diverting and redirecting. I told you, until you contact your sweet little coed crush and see if there’s any chance for a connection, this hot body is off-limits to you. But if you’re lonely, I’ll be more than happy to make the drive to Dyersville and hang out with you and Grandpa. Hell, maybe I can even put a smile on his face. Parents and grandparents always love sweet, little ol’ me.”
I consider her offer as I make the final turn back toward the house. If I can just get her out here, I have faith in Dimitri’s guide and my overwhelming and irresistible sexual prowess to charm her into my bed. Even if it is the same twin-sized one I had when I was a kid. I’m a clever and creative guy; I can make it work. Grandpa isn’t going to be the only one she makes smile during her visit.
“Yeah, okay, that sounds great,” I reply, with a smug smirk. This is a great plan, if I do say so myself. “What day works best for you?”
“I could actually come Sunday, day after tomorrow, unless you think that’s too soon. After that, I’m not off again until Wednesday.”
Pulling the Ranger into the barn, I balance the phone between my shoulder and cheek while turning it off and locking up the heavy wooden door. “Sunday works for me. Just text me when you’re on your way and I’ll send the address for you to plug into your GPS.”
I disconnect the call and drop my phone back in my pocket, a smile tipping my lips as I stride in the direction of the house. Unfortunately, I only make it about halfway when thunder claps loudly overhead seconds before the once-clear sky opens up and dumps buckets of rain onto me. I take off in a fast sprint, completely soaked by the time I bound up the stairs to the porch, only to be greeted by Grandpa’s mocking chuckle.
“Told ya it was gonna rain, boy.”
Finley
“WHAT’S UP, SQUIRT? Any good Saturday morning cartoons on?” I ask, as I plop down on the couch next to Fiona, waiting for the coffee machine to do its magic.
She looks up from the notebook she’s furiously scribbling notes in and closes it before I can see what it says. “Umm, I’m not sure. The telly is on whatever channel from last night,” she replies, then hops up and scurries over to drop the spiral into her backpack.
Though I love her more than anything in this world, I’ll be the first to admit Fiona is an odd child. I don’t know many six-year-olds whose favorite hobby is cooking and who balances their mother’s checkbook because said dingbat mother can’t figure out how not to overdraft the account otherwise. Although, at least we’ll never have that problem again.
As if she heard my thoughts about her, the door to Farrah’s bedroom opens and the black-haired Medusa shuffles her way across the floor and into the kitchen, cursing when she sees the coffee isn’t ready yet.
“Should only be another minute or two, sunshine,” I chuckle. “Did someone have a late night after I went to bed? I thought you were staying in?”
“I did stay in,” she grumbles, without bothering to look over at me. “Was just up late watching some movie on TV.”
Fiona giggles under her breath, looking like the cat who ate the canary. “Did Dax like the film as well, Mummy?”
My sister’s eyes pop open from tiny crescent-shaped slits to circles as big as silver dollars. “W-what?” she nearly chokes on the word, an equal mixture of surprise and fear painting her expression.
“I asked if Dax liked the film you watched last night too,” she repeats, as she crosses her arms over her chest, almost daring her mom to lie to her.
After several awkward seconds of a silent stare down, Farrah nods, trying her best to pass it off like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, it was a super scary movie and I got spookied… thought I heard a noise under the bed. So I, uh, I called him to come check it out. And yeah, then he, umm… stayed for the rest of the movie to make sure I was okay before he left.” She smiles proudly at herself for the worst attempt at lying I’ve ever seen.
My gaze bounces back over to Fiona, wondering if she’s buying this load of bologna, but I should know better from my smart little cookie.
“Funny, I saw him tiptoeing out the door when I woke up at half of five to use the loo,” the girl, who’s only small in stature, challenges, her British accent stronger than it’s ever been in the last few weeks.
I contemplate jumping in here, saving my sister from this conversation that’s only going to continue to sink into the bottomless sea of uncomfortableness. We’re already at eye-level, but I decide to stay quiet. Curiosity wins every time.
“Oh?” Farrah’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline in her poor attempt at acting surprised. “He… he must’ve fallen asleep while watching out for me. Because I, uh… yeah, I fell asleep during the movie, so he must’ve done that too.”
“You told me the night I wanted to watch Annabelle that watching scary movies will make me not sleep. How did you fall asleep so easily if you were scared?”
Damn, kids remember everything you say. I volley my attention back to my sister, and that’s when I see it. Panic. Glassy eyes wide, nostrils flared, forehead
stretched, lips pursed. She’s drowning, and here comes her last ditch effort at catching a life preserver. I hold my breath for her, silently cheering her on, but I’m not really sure if I want her to sink or swim at this point.
“You know, it’s been happening to me a lot lately. I think I might have that narcopopsy or something. Just fallin’ asleep all the time. Sitting here doing one thing one minute, and the next,” she V’s her arms up in the air for a split second then presses her palms together and lays her cheek on them with her eyes closed, “I’m asleep. Just like that. It’s a good thing we got all this money now, so I can go to a doctor and get it checked out.”
Her head is fully submerged and she’s got a fifty-pound weight strapped to each ankle as she plummets into the dark. I exhale with an audible puff of air, my eyes cutting across the room to my niece, who can only be described as dumbfounded right now. I think I can actually see the word “DISBELIEF” spelled out across the creases in her forehead.
“It’s narcolepsy, for the bloody love of the Queen!” Fiona shouts, as she stomps both of her feet, her real age peeking through. “And you don’t have it! Do you think I’m a wazzock? I can hear y’all in there. I know what’s going on. You don’t have to hide it from me, Mummy.” I gasp and sneak a peek at Farrah, who is now Casper-white. “If you want to have Bible study with Dax and Travis, I don’t have any problems with it. Just because I believe in evolution doesn’t mean I don’t believe in God!”
Farrah yells, “Bible study?” at the same time I roar, “And Travis?” Fiona doesn’t know which of us to look at, caught off-guard by both of our outbursts. My face burns with anger. Sleeping with only one of our security team members wasn’t enough. Noooo, of course not. She needed to make sure to really complicate things. The next thing I know, they’ll find out about each other, and one of them will shoot the other one while they’re both on my payroll. Unless…
“Do you study scripture with them at the same time?” I grit through my teeth, as my eyes shoot death-stare lasers, pinning my sister in place. “Or do you only come to know the Lord better during one-on-one sessions?”