Page 7 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
“I was fine.” My voice was clipped, leaving no room for argument.
He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. Just as well. I didn’t want to talk about it.
Fifteen minutes later, I was shoveling shit and mucking out stalls. The polar opposite of my old life, and the streets I grew up on. Not sure if it was an improvement or not but I was stuck here for now, so only time would tell.
I wasn’t a big fan of horses or country life in general but unfortunately for me, Brody lived in the middle of nowhere and loved horses more than people.
My brother and I had absolutely nothing in common. Except for the same mother. Lucky us.
* * *
After dropping Noah off at a kid’s birthday party, Brody dragged me along for his weekly shopping trip. Now we were at HEB stocking up on essentials and playing Twenty Questions.
What kind of fruit do you like? Apples? Oranges? Bananas?
What’s your favorite cereal?
You eat any vegetables?
“Just buy whatever the fuck you want.” Jesus. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? “I don’t want you doing anything special for me.”
He tossed some oranges into the cart and speared me with a look. “You’re gonna have to lose the attitude. You’ve got family now, Ridge. I’m not doing anything special. I’m just making sure you eat right. It’s what people do when they give a damn about you. And maybe you’re not used to that, but you’d sure as hell better learn to accept it.”
“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. So how about you stop treating me like a six-year-old. I’m not Noah.”
“As soon as you stop acting like a fucking six-year-old, I’ll stop treating you like one.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you,” he volleyed, earning a dirty look from a woman who covered her toddler’s ears with her hands.
Brody lowered his voice. “Stop being a pain in the ass. I want you here. I told you that from day one. But it’s a two-way street. I’ll show you the same respect you show me, which is not a hell of a lot right now.” He stabbed a finger at me. “You can’t steal my truck or booze or act like a surly kid and expect me to treat you like an adult. I’ve been where you are, Ridge, and I know what you’re doing.”
“Two weeks, and you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”
“You’re trying to push me away, so you can say,Look at that. Everyone abandons me. Well, I’ve got news for you. That ain’t happening.”
Yeah, right. Just give it some time. “Whatever you say, Dr. Phil. Stick to your horse whispering because you don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”
I was lying. Not that I’d ever admit it. I wasn’t looking to get heavy, deep, and real in a fucking grocery store and at this rate, we’d be here all day. Instead of arguing, I cruised down the aisle away from him.
“What are you gonna do? Run away?” he called after me.
“Fuck you. Do you like green apples or red?”
“Surprise me.”
We made it through the grocery store without any more arguments and got into line with a cart full of food.
That was when I saw her. She was at the checkout. The large woman in front of me partially blocked my view, but I could see her profile. Raven black hair, green eyes like a cat’s, and cherry red lips that drove me fucking wild.
Evie Bellamy. Queen of the Junkyard. The star of my wet dreams. And just about the only girl who wouldn’t give me the time of day.
The cashier rang up her purchases—bread, cereal, diapers (she had a baby?) and I couldn’t see what else she had there because Big Bertha was blocking my view.
Evie swiped her card, and it failed.
The cashier wore a look of pity that damn near killed me. Evie chewed on her lip, removed a few items from the shopping bag, and set them aside. Then she tried her card again with the same result.
