Page 87 of Buried Beneath Sin

My head whips around to face her. She shoots me a sweet, teasing smile before she faces the road again. The tension in my body lessens.

“I get this way when I’m hangry,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “I need food. Preferably something sweet.”

“Then let’s feed you. I know the perfect little bakery.”

33

THATCHER

“—so at this trajectory, I think in the next five years, Bright Starr will have quadrupled in revenue,” I say, stabbing at the caprese stuffed chicken Knox graciously made us for dinner. I plop it into my mouth and thank my lucky stars we have Knox around to cook.

Across the kitchen table, he rolls his eyes. “It’s Saturday night,mustwe talk shop while we eat? I can’t think of anything more boring than numbers.”

“If we weren’t so busy the last few days, we’d have talked about it during the day down at the funeral home,” I shrug. “It’s not my fault Beatrix has been sewing up bodies left and right, all day long.”

Knox flashes me a grin. “Think we can hope for another bus crash in the future? All those tears and the wailing get me so fucking hard.”

“That’s so weird, Knox,” Beatrix mutters sleepily.

“And yet it’s the least weird thing about me, Starr Girl,” Knox replies with a snicker as he finishes his meal.

She lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m starting to see that.”

Knox laughs outright at this. Their banter pleases me. Over the course of the past week now, these two seemed to have foundtheir footing with one another. I’m a little surprised at how swiftly Knox has taken to my stepsister, given his reservations before he’d met her. But while he’s getting along with her, he’s been acting strangely. His moods have swung back and forth more dramatically than normal, and he’s been distracted—well, more so than usual. Keeping Knox’s attention on anything tends to be a chore.

I’m surprised he hasn’t opened up to me or Sagan about whatever has been bothering him. He knows the rules. Communication is the key to our survival when it comes to the games we play. If he doesn’t come to me soon, it may be time to remind him how this works between us all.

“Thatcher, are you taking into consideration the county wants to do a six-and-a-half percent increase on land tax?” Beatrix asks.

I frown as I lean back in my seat and look down. On her knees, between my legs, Beatrix lifts her head off my thigh and looks up at me through a hooded gaze. Even with how tired she is, I swear I can see the utter devotion in her eyes. She’s enjoying her spot beneath me just as much as I’m enjoying her being there. I don’t make her do this every night but when I request it, Beatrix slides beneath the table and settles between my legs happily. I have to say, it’s nice to have someone so eager to please at my fingertips.

Stabbing another bite of food off my plate, I lower my fork to feed her. My stepsister takes the bite of chicken between her lips. When it disappears, I shake my head.

“No, I wasn’t aware of the situation. You should’ve told me, Little Sister. I want to know everything about everything.”

“There’s a town hall meeting in two weeks to discuss it further. I’ll go and take notes.” Beatrix yawns. She lowers her head back to my thigh and closes her eyes. With my other hand, I stroke her face, and she hums contently.

Across the table, Knox winces. I have to stop myself from doing the same. The town is not a fan of Beatrix Starr. As respectful and quiet as she is around guests who come into Bright Starr, and around town when running errands, her presence is enough to spook people into moving out of the way or immediately berating her for one thing or another.

“I’ll go,” I offer. “We got the official paperwork in the mail today announcing the transfer of ownership of Bright Starr to me and Sagan. Rather than continuing to introduce ourselves as family, we can now tell everyone we own the business.”

I grin victoriously, and Knox lifts his glass.

“Cheers to successfully planning!” he declares, then says, “Now can wepleasestop with the shop talk? God, I can’t wait until Sagan gets back. His silence is better thanthistorture.”

As if summoned, the front door opens. Heavy footsteps follow the sound of the hinges groaning then the door slams shut. A moment later, Sagan stomps into the kitchen. Before I turn around, I already know something is wrong. A hint of worry slithers through our connection before my brother can cut it off.

Sagan comes over and drops a brown cardboard box, no bigger than four inches long and two inches wide, onto the table.

“What’s that?” Knox asks with excitement, reaching for it. “A gift? For me?”

“Sure,” Sagan deadpans, then shoots me a dark look.

Knox opens the box, the seal already broken, and peers inside. He makes a face and tosses the box into the middle of the table.

“Gross, Sagan. What am I supposed to do with those? They’re practically liquified.”

I take the box and open it myself. Inside are a pair of eyes, clouded, that have, indeed, lost their shape.

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