Page 8 of Baker (Bastian Brothers #1)

“I suppose. Went to college, got a degree in photography, and set out to make a name for myself. My first stop was in Myanmar. I had nothing but my camera, my bachelor’s degree, and a backpack with my clothes and passport.

I spent three months there sleeping in the jungles and helping locals out with food and medicine.

Man, there are so many ways to get sick in the jungle during the rainy season.

Mosquitoes big as softballs.” I smiled around a bite of oats, honey, and raisins.

“It was worth it, though, because I ended up with some shots of red pandas that sold for some pretty decent money. I even managed to pick up some Burmese along the way. After I sold those images, I moved on to Thailand and stayed there for about a year. Met a glorious man named Kiet, and we had a mad affair.”

Ah okay, so he was into men. Good to know. The mad fuck in the barn still had possibility.

“You’ve seen a lot of the world,” I commented and washed down the sticky oats with some cold water.

“I have, but it’s nice to be back home. I’ve not been in America for close to eight years.”

I wondered what he was hiding from but kept my question to myself.

I wasn’t my grandmother. My cell vibrated in my back pocket.

We both fell silent. I debated long and hard about ignoring it, but Granny could need me for something.

It was a reflex to think that way, even though there were four people in the house with her right now. The text was short and concise.

Bella give me her phone. Come back home. We need to talk. Your granny.

“Trouble?” Hanley softly asked as I read what was probably the first text message Eleanor Alice Bastian had ever sent in her life.

“I’m needed at the house.” I popped the last bite of granola bar into my mouth as I rose. Prissy tossed her head at me. She would have to wait until tomorrow for a ride. “Thanks for the snack and the ear.”

“Anytime. I’ll probably see you around here and there. Thanks again for your permission to shoot on your land. You should hear from my publisher in the morning. They’re pretty generous about paying a nice fee to landowners when I venture onto private property.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice.”

“Yeah, you have some great land here. I can’t wait to explore it more closely.”

I nodded since I didn’t know what to say in reply.

Requesting a hot screw in the hayloft seemed kind of pushy.

“Night then,” I finally settled on before I left the stable and the far-too handsome photographer.

The house was dark on the second floor, but the kitchen light was on.

I blew out a hearty breath and trudged forward to get what I assumed would be an earful.

***

The house was silent when I slipped in the back door.

Toeing off my boots, I heard Granny humming in the kitchen. Rolling my head in a circle like a boxer about to touch gloves with his opponent, I strolled into the kitchen to find Granny making yet another pot of coffee. She looked at me and motioned to the now empty table.

“They’ve all gone to bed upstairs,” she informed me as she made her way from the coffeemaker to the fridge.

I was sorely tempted to make a snide comment about there being a hotel in town but bit it back.

Instead, I waited by the pot until there was enough brown liquid to fill a mug, then turned to see Granny holding a plate with the last slice of cake covered in seal wrap.

“What’s that?” I asked and got a look.

“Why it’s carrot cake, Studebaker.” She placed it on the table, lowered herself to her favorite chair—it had a thick cushion that padded her backside—then tapped at the tabletop with a finger.

“I knew it was cake,” I said as I moved to join her, pushing the pretty cloth placemat aside not to leave a coffee ring on the gingham material. “I was wondering why you didn’t feed it to one of the others.”

“Because I’m not going to punish you by withholding your favorite dessert over a temper tantrum.”

“Never stopped you when I was a kid, and it wasn’t a tantrum.” I removed the cling wrap and used the spoon in my coffee to cut off a moist bite.

“What would you call it, then?” Oh, she was feeling her oats tonight. The stern set of her lips was a dead giveaway that she was put out with me.

“Exiting a tense situation to gather my thoughts.” I shoved the cake into my mouth and nearly fainted at the deliciousness resting on my tongue.

“Back in my day, they called it storming out with a wild hair up your ass.” She stole my coffee to wet her whistle. I rolled my eyes. “So, now that you’ve made your brothers—”

“Half,” I said around the mouthful of homemade cream cheese icing and cake. “ Half -brothers. I think that’s a pretty big distinction to make.”

“Why?” She sat back to fold her arms over her yellow robe.

“Why what?” I spooned up more cake even though I’d just had a granola bar. I was an adult. I could have two desserts.

“Why is that such a big distinction to make?” She took another gulp of coffee.

I thought about reaching for it, but given the set of her jaw, I opted to let her have it.

When she was in a contrary mood, trying to take coffee from her was like trying to remove a fish from a hungry bear. You might pull back a bloody stump.

“Because they’re not my brothers.” Her gaze grew stony. “Not my real brothers.” Cold silence fell. The old pipes rattled. Someone on the second floor was using the bathroom. “They’re strangers to us, Granny.” I lowered my voice so as not to be overheard by whoever was tiptoeing around above us.

“Bull dangles.”

“Granny, they are, really.” I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand as the old fridge kicked on. “Sure, they have half our blood, but—”

“Half is enough to make them family, Baker. You know what the good book says.”

“Don’t covet your neighbor’s ass?”

“Now you’re just being a shit.” Yeah, I was. I hurried to eat more cake. “It says to bear your brother’s burdens.”

“Granny, honestly, I don’t think we can bear any more burdens.” I placed my spoon on my dish. I didn’t want to chance her swiping it back as I was being lippy. “And they are not really my brothers. You know your brothers and sisters. Those three could be mobsters.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Baker. Mobsters. You watch too many shows on the Netflix,” she huffed. “One is a dentist.”

Oh right. “That could be a front. He could be laundering money for a crime syndicate.”

Her lips puckered. Ruh-roh. “You’re talking nonsense. All three of those men are just lovely. They’re looking for family connections and fresh starts. You, of all people, should be willing to offer someone looking to begin again a chance to do so.”

Damn. She had pulled out the big guns. I lowered my gaze to my plate as she waited for me to say something. The fridge hummed along as a floorboard over our heads creaked. My shoulders sagged in defeat. She was right. Fuck me. I ate the last bite of cake then swallowed before speaking.

“Okay, fine, I’ll talk to them in the morning.” I glanced over the table. She was nodding. “But we’re not just flinging open our doors and asking them to move in. Family, they might be, but we don’t know what kind of luggage they’re bringing with them.”

She gave me a smile. “That’s a gracious first step. We’ll talk more over breakfast.”

With that settled, for now, I rose and carried my plate and empty mug to the sink to rinse them off before putting them in the dishwasher. Then I turned to her. She looked tired. It was way past her usual bedtime of nine p.m. sharp.

“I’m really not trying to be a jerk, Granny. I just wish Cash had left us all alone. He was good at that. Why try to be a decent human being at the end? Why ask four grown men to play at being brothers this late in life?”

“Could be he just only figured it out at the end.” She slowly got to her feet with a soft moan.

“You have a chance to right the wrongs he brought to you and your brothers by being a better man than your father was. Try to look at their arrivals as a blessing instead of a curse. You just might realize that having them around is a good thing. A person can never have too much family.” She gave me a pat on the cheek before heading to the door.

“Oh, and I gave Dodge your room. There are blankets and a pillow on the sofa.”

Off she went to her bed, leaving me staring at the ceiling where my sibling snoozed away comfortably under my covers. I’d had three younger brothers for a day and they were already taking my shit.

I could barely wait to see what they tried to grab tomorrow.