Page 112 of Married With Malice

“Feel free to call her over here so you can hide behind her. But first finish your section of the fence.”

“Say please.”

“Fuck you.”

Cale lifts a rail fence panel, shoves it into place and bangs the post in with a sledgehammer. It’s no easy feat when the ground is frozen but this buckled section of the ranch’s perimeter fence needs to be repaired in case any of the animals get loose.

To avoid getting yelled at again, I lift another fence panel and get to work securing it. There’s a lot to be said for working with your hands in the fresh air. Right now I don’t mind if I never squint at my laptop screen again.

Cale stands back and watches me finish the task. He offers a stiff nod of approval when I’m finished.

“That’s one fine looking fence,” I say as I admire my work.

He shrugs. “It’ll hold.”

“I’m a gifted fence builder. Admit it.”

“You’re good at everything, Luca. You always have been.”

“I’m claiming the title of fence king. Maybe I ought to ditch the suits and become a rancher too.”

A grim shadow flashes in Cale’s eyes but gets quickly erased. The comment was intended as a joke but now he’s reminded that my choices are limited as long as Richie is calling the shots.

I didn’t mean to bring that darkness into our conversation. For now I’ve held Richie at bay by explaining that I’ll be sticking around until Cale’s child is born. My uncle didn’t argue. If anything, he seemed pleased that Anni and I are enjoying our visit. He knows that any time spent around my brother will serve as a reminder of why I’m needed in New York.

He’s right about that. While Cale has very strong memories of our parents, I was too young when they died. When I reflect on my childhood, my central memories always feature him more than anyone else.

“You’ve always encouraged me,” I say to my brother. “No matter if it was sports or academics or scheming to get the attention of whatever girl I was infatuated with. You’ll be a good father, Cale.”

With a sigh, he slides his knit hat from his head and gives the distant tree line a troubled stare. “You were a great kid, Luca. Wish I’d been a better role model for you.”

“Don’t say that. You never even took advantage of your status and kicked the crap out of me no matter how much of a little shit I was.”

He looks my way with a snort. “You’re nine years younger. Wouldn’t have been a fair fight.”

I strut in front of him and flex my arms. “Care to reevaluate now?”

Cale is unimpressed. “Still not a fair fight.”

That’s it. I know one cocky ex-mafiacapowho’s about to be taken down a notch.

I throw the sledgehammer aside and drop into a crouch. “Did you forget I used to be damn good at football?”

“Did you forget I used to carve out the eyeballs of my enemies with a pen knife?”

“Afraid that skill won’t do you much good now. I’ve heard men start to lose muscle tone in their mid-thirties. If you play along, I’ll do my best not to hurt you.”

The look he gives me could scorch granite.

In return, he gets an innocent smile.

“You’re on.” He sheds his jacket and prowls back and forth a few times before standing his ground. “Give it your best shot, kid.”

I don’t let him have time to get comfortable before charging.

My shoulder slams into the solid barrier of his chest.

Cale staggers backward a few inches but recovers quickly and pushes back. He tries to duck and bring me down with a classic wrestling move but he’s going to have to try harder than that.

---