Page 84 of Just Say When

“Look, I was going to get you,” Adam protested. “Of course I was. But James wanted the story, and once I told her what was happening, she insisted we call Essie right away. I told her I had promised, but she said if I took one step toward that door, I’d be on the couch tomorrow night.”

“You.” I jabbed my index finger into his chest again. “Are fucking whipped.”

“That I am,” Adam said cheerfully. “Come on. Essie’s out with James, and they won’t be back for a bit. We’ve got some stalls that need mucking.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

Adam shrugged. “Suit yourself. Dad said you were to go up to the main house the second you showed your face, so feel free to mosey on over there and see what he wants to chat about.”

I didn’t have to think long about that.

“Hand me that pitchfork,” I grumbled.

Adam grinned.

We started at the far end, tag teaming each stallrather than working separately. For the first couple minutes, we worked in blessed silence, focusing our efforts—if not our minds—on shoveling shit and spreading clean hay.

But that didn’t last long.

Not that I had expected it to.

“Sure was surprised to get your call last night,” Adam said conversationally. “I never thought I’d see the day when my rule-loving, law-abiding brother spent time behind bars. You want to talk about that?”

“No,” I said. “I do not.”

Adam gave me a long look that clearly said,too bad. I shrugged wearily. “Say it, then.”

“Come on, man.” He shook his head like he was actually disappointed in me. “What the hell were you thinking? Alan Gaffney is trash. Pathetic, drunk trash. You use your brain on someone like that. You ruin their life. What you don’t do is assault them physically. And if you do, you sure as hell don’t send your brothers home first.”

“I’ll tell you what I was thinking,” I growled as I scooped up a steaming pile of shit. “I was thinking,that motherfucker just bit me.”

Adam blinked. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to fight him. You’re right. He’s too pathetic for that. Anyway, Essie was against me smashing my fist into his face. I just wanted to talk to him. Set a boundary.”

“The kind of boundary I set with Steven MacAllister?” Adam asked drily.

About a year ago, Steven had purposefully spooked a horse James was riding. She had been bucked off and bruised her ribs. She was lucky she hadn’t been hurt worse. Adam had fired Steven—and let him understand that if he ever set foot near James again, he’d be in a body cast.

“Something like that,” I admitted. “But then he bit me on the goddamn shin, and I kicked him. He’s lucky I aimed for his ribs and not his head.”

“Hebityou.” Adam’s lip curled in disgust. “That is vile.”

“Still have the teeth marks.” I grimaced and Adam shuddered. “He can press whatever charges he wants, but they won’t stick. I’m not worried about a criminal case.” A civil case might be a different story, but I had a plan for that, too.

We didn’t talk for a couple minutes as I maneuvered the full wheelbarrow outside and dumped it in the manure pile. I paused and looked past the pasture to the copse of trees in the distance. My breath came out in thick puffs of steam in the cold air and I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve.

Still no sign of Essie.

With a sigh, I turned back to the barn, where more shit awaited me.

“I want to know something, Brax.” Adam rested hishands on the end of the pitchfork and leaned his weight into it.

“Yeah?” I grunted.

“Why did you call me instead of Essie?”

I lowered the pitchfork and looked at him. “Why the hell do you think?”

---