Page 127 of Devil in Disguise

Dane said, “All right. I don’t get it. I admit it.”

“You don’t have to admit it,” Waylon said. “We already figured that out.”

“And that,” Dane said. “That kind of crack. What’s that all about?”

Waylon had a pretty good Stare of Death himself, and now, he used it. “Pardon?”

“Sorry,” Dane muttered, a flush mounting on his cheekbones. “But I’m going to ask anyway. What’s with all the little digs?”

“Honey,” Joan said, “do you hear yourself? Now, seriously. Take a listen. What all have you been saying to Owen tonight? Your dad’s trying to give you a hint, that’s all.”

“Too bad you’re not taking it,” Waylon said.

Dyma dished herself up a big scoop of peanut butter-chocolate ice cream and dug in. Defiantly, because he’d bet anything she didn’t really want it. When Dyma got emotional, she tended toforgetto eat. This was being a badass with a pierced eyebrow and an undercut, was what it was. She said,“Greatice cream. Haagen-Dazs is my favorite. You know what? I’ve decided I like being a bachelor. One bowl, one cup, one fork, one knife, one spoon. What else do you need?” So, yes, he was right.

“Let me guess,” Owen said. “Dyma’s not a good ranch girlfriend. Or not a good NFL girlfriend. Which is it?”

Dane said, “You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Well, yeah,” Owen said. “I’m pretty tired of skating around this thin ice. Feels like I’ve been doing it forever. Let’s have it.”

Dane glanced at Dyma, and she waved her spoon in the air and said, “Don’t mind me. Go on and say it. I’ve got a rhinoceros hide, haven’t you heard? A chip on my shoulder. A bad attitude. Whatever. So go on and tell both of us what’s wrong with me.” You could’ve struck sparks off her eyes, and there was a quiver just under the surface of her skin that boded no good at all.

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with you,” Dane said.

“No?” Dyma said. “Let’s see. Feminist. Vegetarian. Non-ranch-dweller. What else? Ooh. Short hair. Possible lesbian.”

“No,” Owen said. “He’d just think that was hot.”

“But I don’t think this is really about me, Dane,” she said. “I think it’s about you.”

And, yeah. There she went. Toe to toe. All five foot two and ninety-nine pounds of her.

“Me?” Dane said.

“Yes, you,” she said. “Or more like … about you and Owen. Why didn’t you come to the Super Bowl? That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard of. Your All-Pro brother’s playing in the Super Bowl, he practically escorts the quarterback to the trophy, he plays that well and is such a beast, he’s paid for your wife and kids to come, he’d have paid foryouto come, and you stayed home? Why?”

Owen glanced at his parents. His mom had her hands folded on the table and was watching. Interested, he’d call that. Or possibly just resigned. His dad was eating ice cream.

“In case you missed it,” Dane said, “it’s a ranch. It was calving season. I know you’re a vegetarian, but that’s a pretty important time. On a ranch. Which is my livelihood, even if it’s just my brother’s hobby.”

“Now, wait,” Owen began, but Dyma was already talking.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Uh-huh. It’s his hobby. He doesn’t love it more than anything in his life. He isn’t prouder of it than any trophy he’s ever won. But that’s not the point anyway. The point is, he’s gotboththings. The ranch, and the NFL. And you don’t have either.”

Dane stood up from the table so fast, his chair scraped on the hickory floorboards. He said, “Seriously, bro? Seriously? This girl’s the best you can do?”

Owen stood up, too. “You bet it is. You watch your mouth.”

“She doesn’t even livehere! She doesn’t even live in Portland!You’re choosing her over your own family?When has she chosen you? You’re screwing this up again, and you don’t even see it!”

“I’m choosing her over everybody,” Owen said. “I’m sure as hell choosing her over you right now. But she’s right, that’s not the point. The point is this. You didn’t make it to the NFL. I did. Maybe that’s because you pushed me so hard, always being older, always being bigger. But whatever the reason, it happened, and I can’t do anything about that. I bought this place because football isn’t forever, and it isn’t a whole life, either. I asked Dad to manage it for me because he’s the best.”

“Yeah?” Dane said. “But why did you givemea job? Because you felt sorry for me? I don’t need your pity!”

“Good,” Owen said, “because you don’t have it. Why would I feel sorry for you? You’ve got a great wife. Great kids. You live in the best place in the world. You’re a hard worker who’s never been out of a job, and, yeah, that’s why I asked you to take this one. Because you’re the best man I could hope to get, and I trust you with cattle. You make a great salary for it, too. Where’s the pity party here?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Dane said. “When you paraded around your supermodel girlfriend. When you invited me to the Pro Bowl inHawaii.”