Shooter hopped off the sofa. Tangled sheets and a blanket gave testimony that Toby hadn’t gone back to Muenster early that morning and was one of the voices in the kitchen. She thought that she recognized the other voice as Deke’s. She didn’t really care how much testosterone was sitting around the table; she only wanted a cup of hot coffee to wrap her hands around before she started to work in Blake’s bedroom. She intended to have the walls and trim painted today. The doors would have to wait until Monday, but by the middle of next week her goal was to have that room completely done and the living room and hall ceilings ready to texture. Then she and Blake would really have something to celebrate.
Her line of thinking stopped abruptly when she walked into the kitchen and saw the man at the stove had a woman draped around him like a snake, one hand on his butt, the other pressed against his chest as she kissed him.
Allie whipped around, feeling a blush burning her cheeks, only to see Blake sitting at the table with another blonde who looked almost identical to the one plastered against the man she could only assume was Blake’s brother, Toby. She risked another quick glance and saw that Toby had the same face shape, hair color, and smile as Blake, but his eyes were blue and he had a faint white scar across one cheek.
“Where’s Deke?” she asked, her brows furrowing into a single line.
“At home, I guess.” Blake quickly pushed back his chair and stood up. “Allie, I didn’t know you were coming to work today.”
“Evidently not,” she said. “I’ll get a cup of coffee and go on to the bedroom to work. Y’all don’t let me interrupt.”
Her work boots sounded like shotgun blasts with every step as she crossed the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and carried it down the hallway. She shut Blake’s bedroom door behind her and sat down on the dirty carpet with a thud, hot coffee sloshing out. Her hands shook so badly that she finally set the cup down and put her head in her hands.
“Allie? Can I come in please? We need to talk.” Blake said from the other side of the door.
“It’s your house,” she said.
He slipped into the room, shut the door behind him, and sat down in front of her, keeping a foot of space between them. Before he could say a word, another knock on the door startled both of them. “Hey, is Walter hiding in there? I’ve got a sweet little lady out here hunting for him. I told her we don’t have a Walter here, but she doesn’t believe me.”
Blake rolled up on his feet and offered her his hand. “What you saw wasn’t what was happening.”
She ignored the hand and got up on her own, leaving the coffee behind.
Irene slung the door wide open and marched inside with her hands on her hips. A pair of Lizzy’s designer jeans hung on her skinny hips and the red-sequined top that Allie wore to the church Christmas party a few weeks before had slipped off one shoulder, letting a white bra strap shine right along with her veined skin. Her thin gray hair hung in wet strands and the makeup she’d applied streaked down her face settling in the wrinkles. The jeans were soaked as well as the sequined top and her poor frail body had a faint blue cast from the cold wind and rain.
“What in the hell are you doing with another woman in this house, Walter? Three of them to be exact and those two in the kitchen are barroom Rosies if I’ve ever seen one. This one might look decent but she’s in your bedroom behind closed doors and where is the furniture?” Irene stopped for a breath and slapped Blake on the arm. “You’ve got some explainin’ to do. I swear to God, I don’t know why I even bother with you. It’s a wonder your mother hasn’t taken a fryin’ pan to those bitches.”
Toby cocked his head to one side just like Allie had seen Blake do when he found something amusing. Well, her grandmother was not funny, and the disease that was eating holes in her memory wasn’t a bit comical.
“Breakfast is served. Laney and Lisa are already digging in. There’s plenty for all y’all,” Toby said.
“Is this one of your lazy-ass brothers? Where is your mother?” Irene demanded.
“Granny, this is not Walter. It’s Blake Dawson and his brother, Toby Dawson. I’m Allie, your granddaughter, and those women in the kitchen are not here to see Walter,” Allie said.
“I’m ready to go home now. I’m cold and I’m hungry.” She looped her arm through Allie’s and marched past Toby, with Blake right behind them. They’d barely made it to the living room when Katy knocked softly on the door, pushed it open, and sighed.
“I figured I’d find you over here. Good God, Mama! If you don’t get pneumonia from getting out in that getup, it’ll be a miracle. I’m surprised you didn’t fall and break a hip on the ice.” She grabbed Allie’s yellow slicker from the coatrack and slung it around Irene’s shoulders.
“Allie was in the bedroom with that man,” Irene tattled. “And I’m not old. I can damn well climb over a fence any old day of the week and the ice broke when I stepped on it so stop your bitchin’.”
“It’s the room I’m working on,” Allie explained.
“Introductions?” Toby asked.
“Sorry.” Blake grinned sheepishly. “This is Allie, the woman who’s redoing the house and who put the roof on for us. This is Katy, her mother, and this is Irene, her grandmother. Ladies, this is Toby, my brother and business partner in the Lucky Penny.”