Page 45 of Mustang Summer

A small wave of guilt washed through her.Bill was worried about her, and she was mostly lying to him.To take her mind off her deceit, she watched as Brock moved bins around and pulled out one.

He pulled out items inside to check over and her mouth quirked.An emergency kit.Of course, he’d have one.

“I should be back tomorrow night,” she said.“But…we need to talk.About the books.”

Bill was quiet for an uncomfortably long time.“You don’t need to worry about that.”

She sucked in a deep breath.It was time to tell him.“We didn’t get the Shelby, Bill.”

Bill swore.“What happened?”

“He found another buyer.”Eventually, that would be true.“How are you going to pay the money back?”

“I said you don’t need to worry about that.”

“But I work for you.”

“Josephina—” there was the don’t-argue-with-me use of her full name, “—I’ve got it taken care of.We have business coming in, I’ll get an extension, it’ll be fine.”

Either he was fooling himself, or trying to not worry her, or both.But they weren’t fine, and they didn’t have a hundred thousand dollars of business coming in.Then there was the interest—higher than any bank would offer, and no bank would’ve floated Bill the loan.

“All right,” she conceded.“There’s a storm coming, so I’d better curl up in a corner.”

She exhaled after they disconnected, trying to let all her anxiety flow out with it.

Brock came out of the room with the plastic bin and dropped it at the edge of a loveseat.

Loud pelts of rain started hitting the windows.The curtains were drawn downstairs, but it was dark behind them.The edge of the storm had reached them.

Tension lines edged Brock’s mouth and eyes.

“Are you okay?”She moved in front of him and rested her hands on his defined chest.

“I just don’t like storms.”

“Have a bad experience with one?”

He shook his head.That was all she was going to get.

Waving her hand around, she asked, “What’s with this room?”

He swallowed and stared at the room.“It’s, uh, it’s my…”

It was for him?“You come here to relax?”she finished for him.

“Yeah,” he said, gruffly.“Not so much anymore, but when I was younger, I used to sleep in the hammock most nights.”

Rain hit the windows with more force.Sounds of steady water running through the gutters was as loud as the rain.

“Geez, it’s pouring out.”

Flashes of light flickered across the curtains.Peals of thunder rattled seconds later.

“It’s getting closer.”Brock’s fists clenched and unclenched.“If it hails, we could lose a lot of crop.”

Ah.She understood his fear better.But then another round of thunder made him flinch.The wind was picking up and sheets of rain nailed the house.

Call her selfish, but she hoped to take his mind off the storm.

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