Page 24 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

I can’t help wondering if good ol’ Charlie is setting us up again.

Bubba shakes his head, probably thinking the same thing.

“You got a problem, Bubba?”

“I’m pretty sure Miss Ruth ain’t gonna want me in that house. She’s given me a tongue lashing just for getting too close to the fence.”

“I don’t give a damn. Look, Sawyer himself asked me on his way out to send up two men. You morons are all I’ve got available right now. So, get the hell up to the house.”

Bubba and I head to the pickup.

“Well, let’s get it over with,” Bubba mutters. “Fuck, I dread facin’ that puckered-up aunt of his.”

As I slide into the passenger seat and slam the door, all I can think about is Sawyer’s daughter dripping wet in the red bikini.

After the acid words we’d thrown at each other that day, I imagine she won’t be too pleased to see me again.

A big box truck markedEmerson Pianois parked in the drive, and the front door is propped wide, but there are no movers around.

We go up the porch, and I feel out of place already, and I haven’t even stepped inside. Bubba goes to enter, but I grab his arm and point to the doormat.

He backs up and wipes his muddy boots, and I do the same.

“For fuck’s sake, Rafe. Don’t touch anything. You leave a handprint on a doorframe, and we’re both fired,” he hisses at me.

“I’m not touching a damn thing,” I hiss back.

“Anybody here?” Bubba calls out. “We’re here to help move furniture.”

A woman’s voice replies. “In here.”

Bubba follows the voice, and I follow him in.

We find them in the living area, the piano already set up and pieces of furniture pushed to the side.

The boss’s daughter is trapped against the wall as the men maneuver the heavy piece into place.

“Miss Sawyer, where do you want this stuff?” Bubba asks, and I stand silently over his shoulder.

Tori squeezes out from behind the piano, and her gaze swings to us. She freezes when she sees me standing behind Bubba. Only the momentary flash of fire in her blue eyes indicates she remembers exactly who I am.

I’ve thought about her more times than I care to own up to since our last meeting, especially that damn red bikini. I’ve even gotten off to the image burned in my brain. I wonder if her cheeks would blush if she knew.

She points at a piece of furniture. “This one goes against the far wall. This one goes in the study across the hall, and this one goes down to the basement.”

“How do we get to the basement?” Bubba asks.

“There’s a door in the kitchen.”

Bubba moves to the tall grandfather’s clock first.

“Be careful with that one,” the girl warns.

“C’mon, Rafe. Grab that end.” Bubba takes the top, and I grab the bottom, and we tilt it on its back and walk it across to the study.

Tori trails after us and points to a wall. “There, between the windows.”

We set it up and stand back. The hanging chimes are swaying all wonky, and I wonder if we broke it.

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