Parker Read online

  “Got it. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “I will but I doubt it. Thanks, Murphy.”

  He cut off the call, drove through the back gate and up into the foothills.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Late that night, Reba lay in her bed, staring at the beams in the ceiling. The time was way past midnight, and she had been up since six o’clock that morning, testing out recipes for the potential show and the cookbook.

  She was dead tired, but her brain wouldn’t shut down.

  She spent two hours on the phone with her agent after Parker stormed out, and she was certain she had not retained a single thing they discussed. She hoped Elayne would recap in e-mail for her tomorrow, as she usually did.

  She didn’t call Callie back, although Parker’s sister had tried to reach her two more times that afternoon. She just wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore.

  Or think.

  That’s why she went to bed. Of course, now she was wide-awake, with no chance at sleep anytime soon because her brain kept tripping over the scene in her kitchen with Parker, trying to make some sense of it all.

  She’d been way too blunt. He was only trying to understand. He was actually trying to show her he was interested in her and for reasons beyond sex.

  She had totally turned the tables and pretty much told him she was a slut. That she wasn’t interested in anything beyond sex, and good sex, thank you very much.

  She’d blown it. She’d been too focused on her dreams, her goals, and just doing something to please herself. For once. She hadn’t considered his feelings or his needs, at all.

  Hell’s bells. When did she become so self-centered? He’d even told her that night he was falling in love with her, and she never even acknowledged his words. She’d simply seduced him back into her body for one more go-round.

  Yes. Slut.

  She’d be lucky if he ever looked at her again, let alone speak to her.

  “You screwed up, Reba. Big time.”

  ****

  It was daylight, he knew that much because the heat and bright light beating down on his face had to be the sun. If he concentrated real hard, he could see the red-orange-yellow haze rimming his closed eyelids. Sunlight.

  He tried to open them.

  Shit. That hurt.

  Parker rolled over and then startled when the empty whiskey bottle fell from the edge of the bed and clattered to the floor.

  He grabbed his head. “Dammit. That hurt worse.”

  Hungover. Lovely. But what did he expect?

  The bottle had been full in the afternoon. He’d not eaten, of course. He’d simply wallowed in his grief and pity, moaning and bitching to himself about life and women and death and taxes and anything else he could get out of his system.

  Pushing up slowly, he swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed. His stomach churned, and he figured he’d be sick before this morning was out. A quick glance to the clock told him the time was nearing noon. He had two hours to get sober, get cleaned up, and get into Livingston.

  Not much time.

  He fell back on the bed. “Good luck with that, you SOB.”

  His thought of Reba. She was still there. In his head. Not the whiskey or even a pack of cigarettes had exorcised her out of his head, or his heart.

  Because his heart hurt. That was the worst part. He’d been an ass again, with his twenty-question interrogation. Insisting on answers. And then…

  Then her rejection both stunned and paralyzed him.

  Parker rose and stumbled toward the shower. “Get it out of your goddamned system, man,” he told himself. “Too much else in your life to handle right now. Leave the woman alone and get on with it.”

  He stood in the shower moments later, letting the hot water beat down on his head, neck and back. Getting Reba out of his mind was going to be impossible. She was simply there.

  Somehow, he managed to get himself presentably dressed and drive down the hill toward the ranch in time to get to Livingston and meet with Tom. As he drove through the back gate and then rounded the barn, he saw all of this family standing on the porch. He pulled up close and parked.

  Liz walked toward his truck.

  He got out and met her halfway.

  “Parker, Tom called. He’s decided we just need to go ahead and get things in motion. He would like all of us at the table this afternoon at two. Why don’t you get in the truck with Murphy and Callie? I’m riding with Brody, Stef and Mercer.”

  Parker could do little else but nod and agree. “All right,” he said. He sure as hell didn’t feel like driving anyway.

  If he was going to lose the ranch, it might as well be today. He was already hungover from losing the love of his life. Why not laugh at the wind and tell the gods to bring it on? He was ready.

  But in fact, he knew he was not.

  ****

  Tom Walker cleared his throat and glanced to each of the McKenna family members sitting around the table. “I’ll make this short and sweet,” he said. “And then you can ask as many questions as you like.”

  “I’d rather you get straight to the point, Tom,” Liz said. The others echoed their agreement.

  He nodded. “I agree. I just want to say one thing before I do. All James McKenna ever wanted was for his family to be together. And by family, he includes Murphy and Brody, even though you two are not blood McKennas. You both are part of the family by choice—his choice—and he considers you his, no matter what.

  “He knew that some of you would come and go, but his dream was for everyone to have a home to come back to—a home, a place, that would forever provide for and sustain the family. And that home is McKenna Ranch. That was the reason he wanted everyone to be present at the ranch for a couple of weeks after his death. His desire was for all of you to spend time together, to get to know each other again, and to make amends for anything that had happened in the past.”

  He paused to glance around the table.

  “But after talking with both Parker and Liz, I’m convinced that all of the above has already happened, and I don’t see the need for you to wait any longer to learn your father’s wishes.”

  He shuffled some papers. “I’m not going to read things verbatim. Liz and Parker can do that later, as co-executors of the will. I’m going over the bullet list with you now because I think you will all be pleased, and relieved, to hear it.”

  Parker closed his eyes, inhaled deep, and let it out slow. His father was in his head, and his spirit was at his side.

  “Regarding tract one, the acreage of land that came from Claire Parker McKenna, Callie and Parker’s mother, now known as the major acreage that makes up McKenna Ranch. This land will be deeded equally to Parker and Callie. This includes the original home built by James and Claire, all barns and outbuildings, corrals, pasture land, etc.

  “Regarding tracts two and three, land that James McKenna purchased during his marriage to Claire Parker McKenna that runs adjacent to the McKenna land and backs up to the old Crandall place. Tract two, which includes Parker’s cabin in the foothills, will be equally deeded again to both Parker and Callie McKenna. Tract three will be deeded to Murphy Reynolds.

  “Regarding tract four, land purchased during his marriage to Claire Parker McKenna that borders the west side of McKenna ranch and runs parallel to the Yellowstone Park border and is inclusive of the lake, lodge, fly-fishing operation, bunkhouses, corrals, and pasture—this land is deeded to Liz and Mercer McKenna and Brody Caldera.

  “Regarding tract five, land purchased during James and Liz’s marriage that runs from the east side of the lake to the foothills and includes the house that Liz and James built is deeded solely to Liz McKenna.”

  Tom stopped talking and looked up. “There are a couple of more items, but I’ll stop now if you have burning questions.”

  No one did, so Tom moved on.

  “One thing to note, that whatever debts or liens or taxes owed on these properties will be assumed by the new o
wner. And last. James set up a trust fund for each of you—that means for Parker, Callie, Brody, Mercer, and Murphy. There are stipulations to the trust, and one of them is that if you don’t have a home already on the ranch, you build one with this income. Your father never, ever wants you to be without a home, and he has provided for you nicely with these trusts. I have the details, who will oversee, and will go over these with you all in detail when you are ready.

  “But for now, I need to know what you are thinking and if you have questions.”

  Throughout Tom’s speech, a growing sense of relief flooded through Parker. Under the table, he was holding Callie’s hand, and she kept squeezing it tighter as Tom spoke.

  He loved Liz and the others, but Callie was his true sister, and he couldn’t be more pleased that the land that came from their mother’s side of the family was going to remain, forever, with them. And the fact that Murphy was included with a tract of his own made things all the more sweeter for Callie.

  Everything was going to be all right.

  Liz spoke, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I have no questions now, Tom. I know you’ll need Parker and me soon. Let’s set that up so we can move forward.” And then she looked to each of the siblings and their future spouses. “I think later this evening it would be nice if we gather for dinner at my house. Let’s celebrate your father’s life, and let’s never, ever forget what he has done for us all.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Three weeks later

  July 1, Reba’s Cabin

  “Hey, Reba, may I ask you a question?”

  Reba glanced up from her whisking. “Sure, but I can’t leave this cheese sauce right now. It will burn if I walk away.”

  Rising from the kitchen table, Callie brought a calendar with her. “I just want to show you how I have organized your planner.”

  “Sure.”

  Callie laid the book flat on the counter. “This is July,” she began, pointing to the two-page, month spread. “This is the monthly overview, and I’ve color-coded it. If there is a green dot in the square, that means you have a blog post due up that day. If it there is a yellow dot, it means you are guest posting on someone else’s blog. A blue dot means it’s a live interview. We only have one of those for July, over in Billings for the TV station there. And if it is an orange dot, those are your scheduled conference calls with the television station or your regular calls with Elayne. Does this work?”

  Callie flipped the pages to the first week of the month. “Then all of the detail about the meeting, etcetera is located here.”

  Reba squinted at the pages and kept whisking. She sure did love her paper planner better than the electronic one. “I like it. How will I remember what is what?”

  Callie flipped the book to inside the front cover. “Here is the key. It tells you everything about the colors.”

  “Oh, good.” Reba leaned to look closer. “What does red say?”

  Callie flipped back to the July calendar. “Oh, that just means it’s a personal appointment.”

  “Oh. Shit.” The heat was too high on the cheese. “Hold on a sec. I need to get this on the macaroni.” Reba elbowed Callie aside and poured the rich cheese sauce into a large mixing bowl of hot macaroni noodles. She set the saucepan in the sink, ran a little water in it, and then returned to the dish.

  “Can you hand me that stick of butter?”

  “Sure. Here you go.”

  Reba quickly removed the paper, cut the butter into five pieces, and dropped them into the cheese and macaroni mixture. She winked at Callie, “Everything is better with butter.”

  Callie snapped her fingers. “That’s an awesome tag line, Reba! Better with butter. Better with butter. We can use that somewhere, I know.” She jotted it down on the side of the calendar.

  Reba smiled and stirred the mixture until it was a gooey, cheesy mess, and then she turned it into an oversized, buttered casserole dish. “There. Thirty minutes in the oven and a nice brown, crunchy cheese coating on the top, and we’re in heaven.”

  Callie watched her slide the dish in the hot oven. “You are amazing,” she said.

  Reba shrugged. “Naw.” Then she glanced at the calendar again. “So what’s that red dot doing there on Saturday? I don’t have anything personal scheduled for that day.”

  Callie shut the calendar. “Oh! Nothing.”

  “Callie.”

  “Truly, it’s nothing, Reba.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Tell me.”

  Callie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Okay. I just put it there to remind myself to make sure you know about the Fourth of July celebration at the lake Saturday night. So now you know.”

  Reba waved her off. “I’m sure that’s for family. You’ll have a great time.”

  “Actually, it’s for all of the guests at the ranch, anyone in the community who wants to come, and yes, family. You fit in that community part, so I hope you will be there. And I hope you bring that macaroni and cheese!”

  Reba smiled at Callie’s invitation, but there was no way she was going. “Maybe I can see the fireworks just fine from here, on my front porch.”

  Callie agreed. “I’m sure you can. But it would be so much more fun for you to join us.”

  “Not happening.” She turned to the sink and began rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. Callie joined her there.

  “You two haven’t talked since that day, have you?”

  Reba scrubbed at the pot. “No. And I doubt we will.”

  Callie turned and leaned her backside against the counter, arms crossed. “It’s all my fault. How can I fix this for the two of you?”

  After a moment, Reba stopped scrubbing the cheese pan and turned to Callie. “You can’t. It is not your fault, not really. You and I have already talked about this, and I don’t want you blaming yourself. I understand why you told Parker, but that really isn’t the issue. There was more going on than you know between us and… Well, it’s complicated.”

  Callie stared off. Reba went back to the dishes.

  “He’s miserable.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “You’re miserable.”

  “I’m sorry about that too.”

  “It makes no sense.”

  Placing the last dish in the dishwasher, Reba closed the door and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “Yes, it does, if you know all of the parts and pieces. I made a mistake, Callie. A big one. I said something to Parker I didn’t mean, and I didn’t say it in a nice way. I was confused and frankly, I think he was too. I just don’t know how to fix it.”

  Callie looked her in the eye. “Talk to him. Tell him.”

  “He’s stubborn.”

  Callie laughed. “He thinks you’re stubborn.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  Reba thought about that. “I’m sure he’s right.”

  “Then talk to him.”

  Reba closed her eyes and finally let Callie’s words sink in. Her advice was actually good advice. “He’s not going to talk to me.”

  “He will if I hog-tie him.”

  Reba laughed. “Yeah, I’d like to see that.”

  But Reba knew she needed to talk to him. She’d avoided it long enough, and she had more to discuss with him than apologizing for her words. “I’m not sure the Fourth of July event is the place for this to happen.”

  Shrugging, Callie said, “Maybe not. But perhaps it’s a place to start.”

  Maybe Callie was right. “Okay. I’ll bring the macaroni and cheese.”

  “Do you want him to know you are coming?”

  “Oh hell, I don’t know. What do you think?”

  Callie cocked her head to one side. “Just leave it up to me. If the timing and mood feels right, I will. If it doesn’t, I won’t. I don’t think you need to know either way.”

  Nodding, she agreed. “I like your plan.”

  Callie smiled.

  ****

  The Fourth of July

  McKenna Lake an
d Lodge

  “So who is the redhead?”

  Parker looked up from the table he was helping his cousin Gage set up, and nearly dropped his end in the process. He followed Gage’s line of vision and saw her immediately.

  Reba.

  Shit. His heart kicked into a gallop.

  “That’s Reba Morris,” he told his cousin. “Lives in the old Crandall cabin. And she’s hands off.”

  Gage arched a brow. “She’s yours? When did that happen?”

  Parker straightened the table, gave it a good shimmy-shake to make sure it was level and sturdy, and straightened his body. There would be desserts on this table in no time.

  He glanced at his cousin. Gage was still watching Reba walk across the parking lot. What the hell was she doing here?

  “No, she’s not mine,” he replied.

  A wicked smile spread over Gage’s face. “So tell me more.”

  “I’m telling you, hands off. She’s not the kind of woman you usually date.”

  Snickering, Gage turned to him. “You know I don’t date.”

  “I know. And what you do? She’s not interested. I guarantee it.”

  Gage’s taste in women and his alternative sexual lifestyle was something Parker knew about, but not something he agreed with. Gage was a Dom, and his encounters with women were always scheduled, planned, and vetted well in advance. There was no shortage of women who would take him up on his type of sexual deviancy.

  But Parker wanted none of that. And Reba was not the kind of woman who would want that, either.

  Or was she? Hell, he didn’t know. After all, she had told him what they shared was just sex. Nothing more. “On second thought, she might like you.”

  Gage studied him for a moment. “Naw. You’ve practically worked yourself into a sweat over it. I think there is more to this woman and you than meets the eye.”