Page 47 of Wasted On You

“I already did the deed,” he’d said with a smile.

“What do you mean by that?” He saw the alarm and chuckled to himself.

“We spent Wednesday together.” He wouldn’t give her much to gnaw on, only enough to satisfy her curiosity. He didn’t have all day.

“That so?” She played with the edges of her scarf. “Doing what exactly?”

“What do you think?” He winked, but she didn’t fall for it. She gave him the same no-nonsense look she’d been using since he was five. It still worked.

“She came on the road with me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “To do what?”

“We took care of some business. Visited a few ranches and farms. Delivered a foal.”

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but he changed the subject. “You talk to Cobi today?”

“No. Why?”

He shrugged. “She left a message for me. Asked me to call her. I was wondering if everything was okay, is all.” He left out the part where Cobi had said, no worries, all was well. She just wanted to ask a favor. Did he feel guilty stirring the pot? Hell no. He was looking for an out with his mother, and his sister was going to take the hit.

“That girl will be the death of me, I swear.” His mom checked her phone. “Nothing.”

“It probably wasn’t important.”

“I’ll have to swing by her place and see.”

Operation Distract Mother was a success.

“I have to go.” Melody Darlington left as quickly as she’d come. But Mike Paul knew sooner or later she’d put him on the spot. Corner him like a badger, and he’d have to give her more. But until then, he could relax, knowing he’d bought himself a few days.

Saturday morning rolled aroundlike any other before it. Mike Paul was up early. Took Weiner and Bun out for a walk before the sun was up. It had been cold as hell, but the dogs needed to let off some steam, so he let them have at it. Once they’d sniffed and peed on every lump of snow and tree they could find, he’d wrangled them up and headed back to the house, where he’d enjoyed his coffee from the comfort of his home.

Recently cleaned by a lovely lady named Janelle, it smelled good, and more importantly, there were no balls of fur sticking to his socks or clinging to the corners. Arlene, angel that she was, had brought him a pan of freshly made brownies, a plate of cookies, and something amazing called Christmas Crunch. The brownies and cookies he’d take to the Sundowner. The Christmas Crunch he’d keep for himself.

By seven a.m., he was dressed in warm clothes, and with the dogs on his heels he headed for the barn. Nate, the guy who cleared snow from his driveway and parking lot, was just finishing up, and now that it was light out, he noticed an older model Chevy off to the side. The snow had been cleared around the vehicle, and there was at least an inch of the stuff covering the entire truck.

He knew the vehicle and frowned as he waved at Nate and jogged to the barn. It was quiet, which wasn’t all that surprising considering he currently only housed a potbellied pig that had been abandoned, an old horse in quarantine that would eventually make it out to Taz Pullman’s sanctuary, two mama cats and their kittens, a female shepherd about to have her pups, and two goats with foot rot that he’d been treating for two days.

He glanced at his dogs and gave them the command to stay. No sense in waking everyone up at the moment.

He didn’t bother with lights; there was enough of the natural stuff coming in through the windows, and he slowly walked through the barn, eyes on a prone figure at the far end. Once he got close enough, he knew it was Jacob on a bale of hay curled onto his side. Mike Paul kept the barn at a comfortable temperature, so the kid wasn’t cold, but he was dressed in his winter gear.

He thought back to what Arlene had shared the week before and figured things must be bad for the kid if he was sleeping in his barn.

Mike Paul decided to look in on the animals before he woke him, and with Weiner and Bun following him around, he managed to feed them all without waking the kid, save for the old horse. He’d just filled a bucket with feed and grabbed some hay when a noise caught his attention. Jacob stood a few feet away, hands in his front pockets, eyes averted.

“Hey,” Jacob said, voice gruff and scratchy.

The kid’s clothes were rumpled, and his jeans looked dirty—and not the kind of dirty you paid big bucks for. The kind of dirty that meant he’d been wearing them for days. Mike Paul pointed behind Jacob.

“Grab the wheelbarrow and follow me. We’ll talk after breakfast.”

Jacob complied without a word, and the two of them finished up the barn chores, listening to the soft knickers from Alf, the horse, and the excited bleats from the goats as they fought each other for the last scraps of food. Once everything was done, he locked up, and Jacob followed him up to the house. They both stomped inside, shedding snow from their boots, and once they doffed them, he grabbed Jacob’s winter coat.

“Wash up. The bathroom is down the hall.”

There was still the faintest bruise beneath Jacob’s eye, but Mike Paul couldn’t see any other evidence of abuse. Still, there was a story here, and he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be anything good.

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