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“Okay.” I don’t know what else to say. “Thank you.”
She gives me a gentle smile. “I know I’m not your real mother, Kaity but—”
“You’re the only mother I’ve ever known,” I tell her quietly, my throat suddenly and unbearably tight. It’s not something we usually talk about. Something we don’t really acknowledge. “That makes you real enough for me.”
For a moment, we just sit here and look at each other. Eyes glassy with tears, my mother gives me a bright smile. “So, what’s he like?” When I don’t answer her right away, she prompts me. “The young man staying up at Northpoint. Damien told your father he was an artist.”
I give her a jerky nod. “He left some of his work out once, so I saw it while I was cleaning. He’s actually really good.” Went isn’t good. He’s phenomenal. I’ve never seen anything like his artwork before.
“Is he famous?”
The question catches me off guard. “No… I don’t think so.” The confusion must show plainly on my face because she winces slightly before answering.
“When he wired your father the money for his stay, there was an NDA attached. No one’s to know that he’s here and if anyone finds out, your father will have to return the money.” My mom gives me a sheepish look while she stirs sweetener into her iced tea. “The only people I’ve ever heard of using NDAs are celebrities and since he’s from California, I thought maybe…” She lets her explanation trail off.
“Oh.” So it isn’t just that Went values his privacy. He actively doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s here.
Because he’s hiding.
Before I can ask her if there were any more stipulations attached to the money, a long shadow falls across our table.
“Hey, Kaitydid.”
Looking up to find Brock standing over our table, I’m too stunned to do or say anything when he leans down and kisses me. There’s beer on his breath and my stomach instantly starts to turn. Allowing a few seconds of contact before I pull away, I force a smile onto my face. “Brock…” Looking around, I catch sight of the pool tables through the open doorway that separates the diner from the Saddle. A group of his friends are clustered around it, pool cues in hand, longnecks scissored between their fingers. “What are you doing here?”
Something hard flashes in his eyes that reminds me that Brock doesn’t like being questioned. That he’s still very angry about what happened Friday night. The only reason he answers me instead of telling me to mind my own fucking business is because my mother is sitting here, listening. “Shooting pool with the guys. I stopped by the house earlier to see if you wanted to come but Abbey says she hadn’t seen you all day… where you been?”
My pulse spikes when he says my sister’s name but before I can lose it and tell him to stay the hell away from her, my mother speaks up. “She’s been with me all day, planning the wedding.” She gives him a cool smile. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to eat our dinner and keep planning—in private.”
Brock blinks at her, probably trying to decide if he heard her correctly. If she really had the audacity to dismiss him. Like she can read his mind, my mother reaches up and gives him a firm pat on his arm, practically pushing him away from the table. “Go on back to your friends, Brock and let me have this time alone with my daughter. I have a feeling I won’t get much, once this is all over.” Dropping her hand away from his arm, she dismisses him completely. “Now, I really liked that dress you tried on today. I know you said it was too busy but if you can’t be busy on your wedding day then, when can you be?”
“If you like it then it’s the one—I trust your judgment. Lord knows, I don’t know the first thing about dresses,” I tell her, playing along while Brock openly stares at the two of us for a second before he clears his throat.
Leaning down, he grunts softly, the only indication that he’s suffering repercussions over what happened with Went Friday night. Dropping a quick, hard kiss on my mouth, he straightens. “I’ll see you Friday morning. Be ready by ten.”
I stare at him for a second before I answer. “Friday morning?”
“We have a 10:30 appointment with the county clerk to apply for our marriage license.” Annoyance flashes in his eyes again. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
I didn’t forget. He just didn’t tell me.
Instead of arguing with him like he wants, I give him an apologetic smile. “I must’ve. No worries—I’ll be ready to go when you get there.”
Completely unsatisfied with my answer, he gives me a tight-lipped smile. “I hope so—if we miss our appointment, we’ll have to wait a whole month and I know how you feel about waiting.” He gives me a smirk before looking at my mom. “I apologize for the interruption, Mrs. Barrett.”
“That’s alright.” She gives him a bland smile. “You tell your mother hello for me and that I’ll meet her at the church, bright and early, tomorrow morning. Dottie will be there to let us in so we can talk logistics.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He bobs his head in deference but I know Brock. He’s seething inside. “Kaity.” He touches a finger to the brim of his cowboy hat before he walks away.
Home and putting groceries away, I pull the paper bag filled with Abbey’s weekly batch of celebrity gossip magazines out of the bottom of the box. Stacking her milkshake on top of it, I start to leave the kitchen to take them to her when my mother stops me.
“Kaity, Peggy told me something that I’d like to ask you about,” she says while putting the milk away. “It’s about what happened with you and Brock, last Friday night.”
The second we walked into the grocery store, Peggy pounced on my mom. Cornering her near the register, Peggy gossiped non-stop while I shopped and mother attempted to pretend she cared that one of the waitresses at the Saddle is dating one of the McClintock’s hands. Remembering the threat Brock made Saturday afternoon—that he was prepared to tell everyone that he found Damien and I in the bathroom at the Saddle, Friday night, I feel my gut clench. Even though it’s as far from the truth as you can get, it doesn’t matter. A lie out of a Morris’s mouth is gospel around here.
Hugging the bag full of magazines to my chest while Abbey’s milkshake melts in my hand, I give her a nod. “Okay.”
“Well…” Closing the refrigerator door, she suddenly looks as uncomfortable as I feel. “I guess Doug Sherman went out to where Brock says he hit the deer after church to destroy it but he couldn’t find it.” Deer and Elk are strictly monitored because they carry disease that could infect the cows. The fact that my father once kept Northpoint stocked with them caused a huge uproar amongst the ranchers.