Page 9 of Rival
My hands are shaking as I hold the plate out. Mrs. Cooper finally rolls her eyes and elbows her husband in the side. “For God’s sake, Bill, would ya take the plate from the girl?”
“Oh!Right, sorry ‘bout that.” He plucks the plate from my hands, which fall to my sides in fits immediately. Eyeing them curiously, he studies them, then me, before offering a polite smile. “Thank you for the offerin’. I’m sure they’re perfectly fine.”
Nodding, I take a step back, then fold my hands together in front of me. “I hope they’re to your liking. Anyway, that’s all I came by for.” Lifting my chin toward the plate, I add, “Just to bring those. I hope you have a—”
“The hell you doin’ here?”
Both of Mason’s parents jerk their heads to the side, along with me, when Mason’s growl breaks the awkward conversation we’re having. My eyes widen slightly, and I take another step back from the door. “I just thought to bring over some—”
Stepping heavily onto the porch, he glares down at me as he passes by.Green. His eyes are green, and his hair is as dark as I thought.“Thought I told you to stay off our property. What’s your daddy playin’ at now?” Snagging the plate from Mr. Cooper’s hands, he eyes it for the threat itisn’t, then shoves the plate back toward me. I scramble to grab it before he lets it fall, the flimsy paper bending as the cookies shift to the edge. “Go on,” he snaps, ordering me away.
I can’t meet anyone’s eyes as I right the plate, then nod quickly before turning to escape. “Sorry,” I mumble, taking a few steps down before his mother’s censure stops me.
“The hell is wrong with you, boy?” Her smack, and his complaining grunt makes me wince. She calls out to me while I keep my back to all of them. “We’re happy to take the cookies. Ignore him. He’s always cranky when he’s gotta work on Sundays.”
I try not to pull away when her hand grips my shoulder, turning me toward her. Shoving the plate in her direction, I only briefly catch Mason’s glare before dragging my eyes away.
Mumbling only for her, I’m able to get out a quick, “I hope you enjoy them,” before I spin on my heel and jog down their long drive. A new truck is parked next to theirs now, and I’m shocked I didn’t hear it arrive as we were talking.
Hearing low, heated voices, I don’t attempt to listen in and the moment I hit the paved road, I run quickly back to my house. As soon as I’m inside, I’m brought up short by my father standing in the middle of the kitchen. He narrows his eyes as I gasp for air. “What the hell you doin’?”
I’ve never lied to him a day in my life, but this time I do and pray to God that he doesn’t see right through me. “Just… Just went out for a walk while you ate. Came back to clean up. You startled me, is all.”
He eyes me carefully, and I’m not sure if he buys it. Both of us look toward the door to the living room when loud voices start cheering, and I blow my breath out softly when he turns from me without another word.
I press a hand to my chest to ease the pounding of my heart before washing my hands in the sink, then wrap up the food they’ve left. With a quick peek to where my father disappeared, I grab one of the spoons on the counter and shovel in a few mouthfuls of the pasta salad before putting the rest in the fridge. Turning on the water, I start washing the dishes, thankful my father didn’t call me out for my lie and that the Coopers took the cookies.
Hopefully, they’ll be good enough to make them happy.
Chapter Four
Griffin
As much as I enjoy watching the game with my brother, it’s always a bit of a letdown when he wants to go to Clayborn’s house to do it. The man is alright, I suppose, but he’s kind of a dick.
Besides, when we come here, both Corbin’s wife and I know I’ll be hauling his drunk ass home instead of him trying to drive drunk. Between Clayborn and Corbin, the two of them can put back a case of beer faster than it should be possible. I’m proven right when the game finishes and I glance at the two of them, passed out in their seats.
Sighing, I know it’ll only take me a minute to rouse Corbin and get his ass to my truck, but I don’t have enough energy to do it right this moment. I’m still stuffed from our meal earlier. Clayborn’s daughter made a fine meal, and I’m honestly shocked at how well she can cook.
I never saw much of her over the few years I’ve started to tag along with my brother to his weekly visits here. Honestly, I thought she was much younger. Years will do that to you, though. Like in the magazines, you’ll hear of someone having akid, then the next time you see a photo, they’re ten years older and it makes you wonder where the time went.
All I know of the woman is her name. Edith. I’m not even sure I’ve had a conversation with her up until a few hours ago, which is odd when I think about it. I’ve heard Corbin ask about her from time to time, but Clayborn always waved him off, saying something along the lines of her being shy and liked to be on her own.
I suppose that’s feasible. Lots of people are introverted. When I mute the TV, I hear water running from the kitchen, so I grab our plates and leave the sleeping men to snore.
Using my hip to push open the door, I look around and see the faucet running in the sink, but no Edith. A soft noise comes from the short hallway leading out back, so I set our dishes on the counter quietly and peer around the corner heading out back.
Both my brows lift in surprise when I spy Edith on her knees, holding the screen door open with one hand, cooing softly to something in front of her. Not wanting to startle her, I keep my feet light and peek over her shoulder, grinning when she brushes her fingers under the chin of the one of the scraggliest kittens I’ve ever seen in my life.
Edith doesn’t notice me, but the brown tabby certainly does. Seeing me, it becomes quite vocal, meowing brokenly and so loud the noise makes me wrinkle my nose. “Damn, that thing looks like a drowned rat!”
Jerking away and slamming her body against the wall, Edith looks up at me with wide, frightened eyes. Her movement was so fast it frightened the kitten, who tears down the steps and disappears under a bush.
I don’t concern myself with the barn cat. Instead, I take a step back and offer my hand. “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Her chest is heaving, which I only notice when she placesher palm to her heart to calm herself. My easy grin falls away when I realize how much I frightened her. “Damn, I really am sorry. You okay?”
“Yes,” she mumbles, shoving herself to her feet, avoiding my outstretched hand. I pull it back awkwardly and shove it into my pocket, then look over her shoulder toward the kitten. She follows my gaze and seems disappointed it’s gone. Looking dejected, she lets the door close quietly before dipping her head and pointing behind me. “Do you mind if I slip past you?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” I step to the side and get a whiff of something floral as she sweeps past me. Rushing to the sink, she shuts the water off before picking up the plates I’ve brought in to scrape the pieces of food into the trash. Scratching the back of my head, I’m not sure what to say. She’s the complete opposite of Clayborn, and not nearly as outgoing as most of the women I’ve grown up knowing. “You want a hand?”
