Page 40 of Mustang Summer

For once, his matter of fact tone irritated her.She marched toward him and snatched the dishcloth out of his hand.“The cousin of yours that was with that woman?”

He looked from his empty hands to the towel in her grip.“Dillon and Elle?”

“Yeah.What if they got married and something happened to Dillon and he left his share to Elle, who in turn remarried, and her and her new husband did what they wanted with the land?How would you and your family feel?”

He went in search of another dishcloth to use on the damn counters.

Her hands clenched her rag.“Brock, look at me.”

His shoulders stiffened and he straightened slowly.When he faced her, he wore an unreadable expression.Angry?Enraged?Embarrassed she’d called out his idiosyncrasies?

She resisted the urge to chew on her lip.His focus on her should be pleasing, but not this way.

“What would you think?”she asked again.

His blue gaze bored into hers.“I would think that Elle needed to take care of herself and that’s the only thing Dillon would want.However, what I think often differs from the rest of the family so it’d be better to ask them.Their answers will be normal.”

Her brow crinkled at his statement and before she could say anything, he set the new cloth down and strode out of the kitchen and out of the house.

She puffed her hair out of her eyes and took a step to go after him.No, not yet.She’d offended him somehow.The least she could do was clean up her mess.She wiped off all the counters and put away the dishes.Then went in search of Brock.

Brock poppedthe hood of the 1966 two-door coupe he was restoring for a neighbor.The owner of all the property east of the Walker acreage had purchased the car off of the internet as a gift for his son’s wedding, but had arranged the work with Brock first.

He’d offered money, but Brock had waved him off, asking only to take pictures of the finished product for the portfolio he kept.

His cousins said he was the geekiest gearhead alive, but Brock preferred to take notes and keep pictures of his projects.

The barn door squeaked open.He didn’t look up, but made a mental note to grease the hinges.

Josie had found him.Her voice and the way she stole his dishrag indicated she’d been upset, but when she demanded he look at her, it brought too many memories raging back.

His parents had often demanded the same thing of him, when they were in the safety of their own home, when his mom could finally acknowledge how Brock was different.

His dad, never comfortable around him, would demand,Look at me, son.Dammit, look at me when I’m talking to you.

All those years of therapy, and he still forgot to look at people who were talking to him.Why didn’t they understand that he could listen and work at the same time?

At least there was no one around for Josie to argue with about him.

Is he gonna sleep tonight, Nancy?He’d heard his dad growl many nights when they thought he’d gone to sleep.

Why do you care?I’m the only one that gets up with him when he’s screaming.

What are those fucking appointments doing for him anyway, besides wasting our money?

They’re not a waste.Who do you think is going to help him in Moore?

We can!All he needs is—

For heaven’s sake, Greg, he needs a professional.Yelling at him to quit screaming isn’t going to stop it.Telling him he needs to just decide to act normal is like telling a fish to quit swimming.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.”Her soft voice startled him.

Brock snapped his head up and nailed it on the roof, knocking his hat onto the engine.

“Ow!”He shoved one hand into his hair to rub what would soon be a welt and retrieved his hat with the other.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”Josie was next to him, pulling his head down to examine.“Shit, I think you’re bleeding.”

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