Ridiculously pleased, she said, “I could come to your place tomorrow night and cook you supper?”
“A hot woman and a hot meal? Gonna be another great day.” He pecked her on the mouth and moved her aside. “I’ll hafta draw you a map. My place is a little hard to find.”
Carolyn waited as he dug around for a piece of paper and a pencil. He pressed the paper against the window and sketched out a very detailed map and handed it over.
“Easiest way to get there. I wrote my phone number on the bottom if you get lost, not that it’ll help ya since you’ll have to drive into Sundance to find a pay phone.”
“I’ll find you.”
“Good.”
She stayed in the driveway until he pulled onto the road, watching him go. After his truck was out of sight, she returned inside and wandered to the sun porch. She crawled onto her bed and sighed. The sheets smelled like him. She may never wash them again.
Chapter Eight
Carson
Exhausted, Carson sat on the tailgate, drinking beer number two and smoking his third cigarette when Cal pulled up.
His twin hopped out of his truck and ambled over. “That bad, huh?”
“Yep.” Cal knew Carson only smoked when something weighed on him. Strange as it sounded, smoking always cleared his head.
And the shit going round and round in his brain wasn’t making a bit of f**king sense.
His brother grabbed a bottle of Coors out of the paper sack, and sat opposite him on the old stump. “What’s up? You’ve been awful damn secretive this week.” He twisted the cap off the bottle and drank. “Speaking of…I covered for you with Dad today.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“You were trackin’ down parts.”
Some piece of machinery was always busted so Carson wasn’t surprised their dad hadn’t asked specifics. “Thanks.”
“I reckon what goes around, comes around.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll remember that.” He took another drag and held it in his lungs before blowing it out.
“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on with you?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause you’ll laugh your ass off, then I’ll hafta to beat on you and I don’t feel like mixin’ it up today.”
Cal shook his head. “There’s a first.”
“Fuck off.”
He laughed. “And you’re touchy about it too. Gotta be a woman involved.”
Carson ground out his smoke before helping himself to another beer.
“Come on. Gimme something. Quit actin’ like a girl with the ‘should I or shouldn’t I?’ bullshit and start talkin’. You tell me everything because you know you can tell me anything.”
No lie there. Maybe it was some twin bond crap, or the fact they’d lived together and worked together, but he and Cal never kept secrets from each other.
But Carson couldn’t force the words out.
When he heard the sarcastic voice cooing about those sweet and sentimental words being so tightly wrapped around his heart, he said screw that and blurted, “I’m in love with her, okay? Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t f**kin’ think without my thoughts turnin’ to her.”
“Who?”
He sent his brother a fiery look. “You know f**kin’ who.”
“Jesus, Carse, you can’t be. It’s the whole forbidden fruit shit that’s convinced you it’s love and not lust.” He pointed with his beer bottle. “Take her to bed. That’ll get her outta your system.”
“Already did that and it’s just made it worse. Or better. Fuck if I know.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Bein’ with her…it’s different. I feel different. It’s like nothin’ that happened to me or anything I did before I met her even matters anymore.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
They drank in silence.
After a bit, Cal said, “So what’re you gonna do?”
“Drink until I pass out.”
“Great plan. If you pass out, I ain’t carryin’ you inside.”
“Then what good are you?”
Cal laughed. “No one else would put up with your shit, so you’re stuck with me until I pass you off as someone else’s problem.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You really wanna know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?” When Cal started picking at the label on his beer bottle instead of answering, Carson snapped, “Well?”
“That right there is what I mean. You are a hard man like Dad in so many ways. Always focused on getting the work done, makin’ sure it’s done right and movin’ onto the next thing. But you’ve got a reckless streak a damn mile wide. It’s your way of thumbing your nose at your responsibilities. During the week you’re Carson McKay, heir apparent to the McKay ranch, driven to succeed. But on weekends, you’re that wild McKay, always lookin’ for a good fight or a fast f**k, and f**k anyone who stands in your way of havin’ a good time.”
Yeah. Not a whole lot he could say to that because it was dead on.
“How many times you been asked when you’ll settle down and stop the fightin’ and the drinkin’?”
“Asked by Dad? Or asked by the people I hang around with on the weekends?”
“Both.”
“My drinkin’ buddies are worried I’ll settle down so they don’t say nothin’. Every once in a while Dad will mention it ain’t my job to answer every challenge with my fists, drink up all the alcohol in Crook County and sample every pu**y in Wyoming.”
Cal choked on his beer. “Jesus. Dad said that to you?”
“On more than one occasion.”
“That shocks the hell out of me.”
“Why? Dad ripped it up plenty in his day. He didn’t marry Ma until he was thirty-one.”
“You ain’t gonna last until you’re thirty-one, the way you’re talkin’.” Cal got a gleam in his eye. “What happens after you admit your undying love for Carolyn West and beg her to make an honest man outta you?”
Carson grinned. “First thing I do is kick your ass out. Then when my beloved and I can force ourselves to leave our bed, we’ll hit the dancehall and the bars. Just ’cause we’re married don’t mean we gotta act like them old couples who stay at home and stare at the damn walls for fun.”