His eyes now had a sheen to them. “Calvin’s girlfriend, Lisa, died one year ago today. That’s why we’re all treating him like glass, as you put it.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
I knew about Lisa, but I didn’t know it had happened on his birthday. That must have been tough. One thing stuck out though—Joe’s choice of words and Calvin’s. Joe had called Lisa his girlfriend, while Calvin had referred to her as his ex. Maybe it was easier to mourn her that way.
Joe swigged his beer again. “I’m glad he has you today but I’d be careful if . . .”
Before he could finish his sentence, Calvin appeared in the kitchen dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “What are you two talking about?”
Joe straightened up and cleared his throat.
I smiled at Calvin. “Just deciding who’s going to lead the happy birthday song.”
He eyed both of us for a moment but then cracked a smile. “Please, please no singing.”
“I guess you’ll have to use your birthday wish to stop that from happening,” I teased.
“That’s fine. I don’t need it for anything else. I already got everything I want.” Calvin winked at me, then turned to Joe. “Did you get the grills going?”
“Not yet,” he said.
Calvin gave him a pat on the back. “Let’s get to it,” he said, steering him outside. Calvin was like a sheepdog with his brother, always herding him away from me.
Joe gave me a long look but didn’t say another word and left the kitchen through the sliding door.
“Need any help in here?” Calvin planted a kiss on my cheek.
I scooped three brussels sprouts onto a spoon and held it out. “Just for you to try this and tell me how great it is,” I said with a coy smile, thinking, The punishment fit the crime.
He looked at the brussels sprouts and then at me. “I can do that,” Calvin said with a gulp. As soon as he opened his mouth, I shoved the spoon right in there. He chewed quickly and swallowed hard. “So good,” he lied.
He planted a quick kiss on my cheek. “Come join us outside when you’re done,” he called out before hurrying outside and closing the door behind him.
As I finished up in the kitchen, my thoughts went back to Joe. Why had he been so apprehensive about answering my question? I’d be careful if . . . If what? The words cut short swirled around my brain.
The sound of laughter pulled me from my thoughts and the kitchen. I grabbed a beer and made my way to the back deck.
Joe and Calvin were side by side, preparing the grill. Another guy, who I presume was Wyatt, stood with his legs slightly apart and his back toward me. A stream of liquid hit the patch of grass in front of him. He was as tall as Calvin but much broader in the shoulders. Calvin glanced over at him.
“Jesus, Wyatt. I have a bathroom. Stop pissing in the grass.”
Wyatt shrugged and wrestled with his zipper. After he straightened himself, he leaned down and grabbed the beer sitting in the grass beside him.
“Sorry, Calv. This beer is going right through me.” His voice was as thick as molasses. He took a long swig and then turned, facing me.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were standing there.” The tops of his cheeks flushed.
His beard was thick and his hair was scruffy, going in all directions. Wyatt was dressed in a faded flannel shirt, ripped jeans, and dirty cowboy boots. Overall, he was unkempt in both his appearance and his manners.
“Hey there. I’m Deputy Wyatt Miller,” he said, taking a few steps toward me. He extended his hand. I hesitated, not wanting to shake it since he had just urinated, but not to be rude, I put my hand in his. I had touched grosser things in my life.
“I’m Grace,” I cringed. His skin was tough and tan like leather hide that had been left out to dry. “Deputy?”
“Yep, Dubois’s finest,” he said with a chuckle.
“Around here, they’ll give anyone a badge and a gun,” Joe teased.
“Except for you, Short Stack.” Wyatt let out a husky laugh.
Joe flexed his thick bicep. “I come fully equipped,” he said, turning his wrist in and out. The veins on his arms bounced.
I noticed Joe and Wyatt acted more like brothers than Calvin and Joe did.
“Put those away before you hurt yourself,” Wyatt said. He redirected his attention back to me. “Calvin here tells me you’re his Airbnb guest?”
“That’s right.” I glanced over at Calvin, who was busy replacing the propane tank on the gas grill.
Curiosity got the best of me and I asked, “Did you guys ever find that missing girl? Sheriff was over here the other night.”
“Nope.” Wyatt shook his head. “But we did find her car broken down on a back road a couple of miles outside of town yesterday. The car was cleaned out—except we found her cell phone under her driver’s seat, hence why her sister wasn’t able to get ahold of her. We’re thinking she hitched a ride with someone, and hopefully, she’s just having a hard time getting back home with no cell or car.” He took a swig of his beer and slid a hand in his pocket.
Calvin put the empty propane tank to the side and dusted off his hands. “I hope you find her, but not sure why the sheriff was here asking me questions when he knew she never even checked in.”
“That’s the new sheriff for ya.” Wyatt nodded. “He does things a little differently. I wouldn’t take offense to it though, Calv. We had nothing to go on until we found her car.”
Calvin shrugged and started up the grill. “Yeah, I figured that much.”
“They just now found her car?” I tilted my head, making eye contact with Wyatt. “That seems odd since she’s been missing for a couple of weeks, right?”
Wyatt parted his mouth, about to respond, but his head snapped toward the side of the house. I turned my head to see what suddenly stole his attention. It was Charlotte.
“Happy birthday,” she called out.
Her face was bright, her smile was wide, and her makeup was apparent, unlike the other times I’d seen her all fresh-faced. Actually, wait—her makeup looked exactly like mine: long, dark eyelashes, glossy lips, and rosy cheeks. On top of that, she was dressed like me, in blue jean shorts and a black crop top.
“Hey, Char, grab yourself a beer,” Calvin said, pointing to the coolers.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she said with a laugh. “Betty went in through the front with her honey cake,” she added as she plucked a beer from the cooler.
“Hey, C. I missed you,” Wyatt said.
Charlotte’s face went sour when she laid eyes on him. “Don’t call me C. That’s a letter, not a name.”
“Damn, Charlotte. Did you bring anything else other than your nasty attitude?” Wyatt sniped back.
Charlotte simply dismissed him by shaking her head, so I assumed this wasn’t the first time he had said something like that to her. She popped the cap off her beer and took a swig. Her eyes went to me. “Have you started packing yet, Grace?”
Apparently, her nasty attitude wasn’t reserved just for Wyatt. It was for me too.