Dusty was wearing supremely faded jeans that had a slit in one knee and fit her in a way that, even though he was pissed and concerned, he had to fight his dick getting hard. She was also wearing a dusky pink sweater that was falling off one shoulder so you could see her bra strap, which was also pink. The sweater was slouchy at the top but started fitting her around the midriff and was snug there down to her hips. Her masses of hair were caught up in a slipshod knot at the top back of her head with locks spiking out, tendrils falling around her neck and down her chest.
It was late February, the day was relatively warm but it was still fucking February and his woman’s feet were bare. He could see her toenail polish again matched her fingernails. She’d somehow found the time to change it since she was over last night having dinner with him and his kids. It had gone from a green so dark it was nearly black to a lilac so pale it was nearly sheer.
She’d marched out to have the confrontation and didn’t feel safe leaving her sister and the four men standing with her to go back in and put on shoes.
She had no jacket and bare feet.
No jacket and bare fucking feet.
“Angel, go inside and put some shoes and a jacket on,” Mike ordered, prowling up the walk.
He then fully took in the men that were with Debbie and his anger increased right alongside his concern.
Bernie McGrath.
Over the last twenty years the man had been responsible for adding two strip malls and three massive housing developments to The ‘Burg. And that was just The ‘Burg. He’d built copiously throughout Hendricks County and was responsible for the fall of numerous farms. Some of them, if the families didn’t want to sell, he either threw money at them to make it impossible to say no or, unconfirmed word was, he found other ways that were a fuckuva lot less nice to do the same thing.
His attention was taken away from McGrath when Debbie spoke.
“Angel,” Debbie hissed his way, “I haven’t heard that in a while and wish I still hadn’t.”
Mike stopped four feet away from Debbie. “How long’s your sister been outside with bare feet?” he demanded to know.
“She walked out here on her own, Mike. We didn’t force her. She could have just let it alone, allowed us to do our business and then we’d be gone.”
Mike scowled at her then he noticed Dusty hadn’t moved and he cut his eyes to her.
“Inside,” he growled. “Shoes. Jacket. Now.”
She glared at him and he saw in an instant she was seriously pissed. Not at him. At her sister. Then she turned and stomped into the house.
“I’m seeing where I went right now. No way I’d let you speak to me that way when we were together,” Debbie informed him and his eyes moved from the door that was closing on Dusty’s ass which, incidentally, looked so good in those jeans he was seriously having trouble stopping from getting hard, to Debbie.
He suddenly had no trouble at all.
“You were my high school girlfriend. You put out at fifteen. I put up with a lotta shit back then I would not put up with now. You had eyes on your sister at least the last fifteen minutes. I think you can see why I’m pretty fuckin’ pleased I got the chance to make the switch twenty-five years later.”
“Harsh,” he heard Sully mutter from behind him. “True, but harsh,” he added.
“You didn’t just say that to me,” she snapped.
“You opened it up, I walked in. I find out this whole thing you’re pullin’ with Dusty, Rhonda and the boys is you bein’ pissed your sister’s in my bed,” he leaned in, “twenty-five years later,” he leaned back, “this is not gonna make me happy.”
He saw it then.
Fuck him, he saw it.
She tried to hide it and failed.
This whole fucking thing was that she was pissed he was with Dusty.
“You’re shitting me,” he whispered, staring at her hard.
“This land is worth a fortune,” she hissed to cover. “Rhonda would be fool not to sell it. Those boys would be set up. College paid. Residuals in trust, interest payments would significantly augment earnings. Life would be good.”
“Fin wants to work this land,” Mike informed her.
“Fin’s seventeen,” she stated dismissively. “He has no idea what he wants.”
“You don’t know your nephew very well,” Mike returned.
“I know Darrin filled his head with the same garbage Dad filled Darrin’s with. We sold back in the day when the developers started looking at The ‘Burg, I wouldn’t have had college loans to pay off.”
“Working this land made your brother happy. He built a family on this land,” Mike reminded her and she leaned in.
“Yes, and it killed him.”
“You’re jacked,” Mike murmured, still staring at her and seeing the real Debbie Holliday for the first time in his life. It was written all over her, the bitterness that twisted her mouth, shone from deep in her eyes. She’d made it her religion and she wasn’t just devout, she was a fanatic.
“You think I’m wrong?” she threw out. “How could that be? He was dead at forty-four.”
“Rhonda approved an autopsy, Debbie, and they found he had a heart condition since birth. Undetectable unless you know what you’re lookin’ for but usually by the time you figure it out, it’s too late. He was dead the minute he hit the snow,” Mike stated. “I’m pretty sure the way you stuck your nose in everything after he died, you learned that.”