Page 59 of Downpour

Christian lifted his hands. “We don’t know if it was theft. The site foreman said he’s checking out his crew to make sure someone didn’t take something home that they weren’t supposed to. It used to be easy to spot someone who shouldn’t be out here. If they weren’t a Griffith or one of CJ’s boys, it was a red flag.” He sighed. “But there’s all kinds of people coming out here every day. The construction crew. Inspectors. Investors. The energy company that rents the land where they put up that cell tower and the solar panels on top of the barns. Cass is about to get the equine program going, and that’ll be a whole other thing. Random people coming in to ride or board their horses.”

“CJ’s gonna have an aneurysm.”

Christian cracked a smile. “That’s the truth.”

We were all possessive of the ranch, but CJ took it to a whole other level. I was fully convinced that he would never leave the ranch if he didn’t have to. He probably had a nice patch of dirt already picked out to be his grave when the day came.

“You wanna come up to the house for dinner?” Christian asked. “Cass is cooking.”

Honest to goodness, I was half-tempted to. “Nah. I think Brooke’s coming back tonight. I don’t know when she’ll get in.”

He cracked a smile. “You’re sweet on her.”

“Her car’s a piece of shit. I just wanna make sure she gets here in one piece.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

I shook my head. “She’s too young for me.”

“She’s what—twenty-five?”

“Twenty-two.”

He stroked his beard. “I mean, that’s young, but she’s not a kid. She’s not even in college.”

“I’m twelve years older than she is. That’s too much.”

He crossed his arms. “Same as our folks.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Because you’re in a wheelchair? So?”

I was done with this conversation. “Thanks for hanging the swing. Tell the girls they can come use it whenever they want.”

“Ray—”

It didn’t help that I did want Brooke in ways I shouldn’t. It didn’t help that every time I saw my nieces, I was reminded that having kids of my own was a bad idea.

Christian could hit me with all the well-meaning, well-adjusted, therapy-induced platitudes he wanted. It didn’t change reality.

“Ray, stop.”

“What?” I snapped as I headed for the ramp up to the deck.

“I don’t think I ever said I was sorry for everything you lost.”

I paused as Christian caught up to me. He went up the stairs and sat in one of the deck chairs while I took the ramp.

“I’m not saying I understand, because I don’t. After what happened to Nate in Mosul and losing Gretchen, I coped by working and moving forward. I had the girls to think about, and I had to hold on to the good moments to deal with the downpour. And I’m sorry for putting that expectation on you.”

I rolled it around in my head. “Did Cassandra put you up to this?”

He chuckled. “No. But she may have had a few choice words for me the other day and reminded me that she works through things by throwing knives.”

“You sure you wanna marry that woman?”

He grinned. “Yeah. I love her. She keeps me on my toes. I have to make sure we always go to bed on good terms so I don’twake up with one of those knives in me instead of the target in the office.”

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