Page 32 of Haystacks and Hoaxes

“Every night.” Deck glanced up from whatever he was reading on his electronic tablet. “What about you? Did you sleep well?”

“No. And before you ask, it’s not your incredible home, guest room, or luxurious bed that does everything but make itself.” The mattress had a remote control for reclining and massages. However, she’d been so pumped after her first day on the job as an honest-to-goodness forensic artist that she hadn’t fallen asleep until the weehours of the morning. Even then, she hadn’t stayed asleep for long. It was going to take an extra jolt of caffeine to get her moving at her normal speed this morning.

“Good to know.” He had on the standard all-black uniform that most of the Lonestar Security staff wore,complete with a utility vest, cargo pants, and combat boots. Every detail emphasized the tough-as-nails image their company liked to portray. Their bodyguards and security guards served companies both in Heart Lake and the twenty-something adjoining towns and communities.

Decker laid down his tablet to study her with concern. “I know you’ve been through a lot in the past couple of days. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

She squinted some more at the controls on his coffeemaker. “Thanks, but you’ve done more than enough.”

“Not true. I haven’t yet shown you how to use this thing.” He swooped in on her so quickly that she jumped. She hadn’t heard him climb off his stool.

“Yes, please.” She clasped her hands meekly beneath her chin.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached around her to turn a few knobs. In seconds, he had the soul-satisfying scent of hazelnut coffee drizzling into a cardboard to-go cup.

“You’re the best.” Her mouth watered in anticipation of taking her first sip of the heavenly brew.

“Figured I could use the big brother points.”

She sighed instead of answering, wishing she’d spent more time trying to get to know him before now. He was turning out to be a really good guy, not at all the self-centered jerk her mother had made him out to be.

“Care to interpret the sound effects?” He elbowed hercompanionably. “Haven’t been your brother long enough to come up with my own translation.”

“I wasn’t expecting you and Chanel to be so nice to me,” she muttered, reaching for her coffee. “And now I feel guilty about all the time and energy I’ve wasted, well, not liking you.”

“Ouch!” He made a comical recoil. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

“Sorry.” She leaned back against the cabinet, closing her eyes as she took her first sip of coffee. “I’m too tired to mince words.” Both mentally and physically.

When he didn’t immediately answer, she cracked one eyelid open and saw that he’d turned around to lean against the cabinet beside her.

“So, uh…” He stopped and cleared his throat before continuing. “Chanel said something to me last night about the shower invitations you never received. We don’t know what went wrong. All we can do is apologize.”

“Mom finally admitted they arrived late,” Mila sighed, opening her eyes to take another sip of coffee. “Both of them. Like a week after the showers. I wish she would’ve told me instead of acting like I hadn’t been invited at all.”

“It’s odd that both of them arrived late.” He frowned. “I hope you didn’t think we were playing games.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” she confessed, “among other theories.” Her newest one wasn’t any better — the possibility that her mother’s version of the story had been embellished or outright fiction.

“I would’ve been questioning my place in the family, too, if I’d been left out of a few key events.” His forehead wrinkled with concern.

“Or if someone went out of their way to make it looklike that.” She glanced away from him. “I’m aware of my mom’s issues. I wasn’t when I was fifteen, but I am now.”

His eyebrows flew upward. “In case you’ve forgotten, she’s my mother now, too. We’re in this together, Mila.”

She shook her head sadly. “If you’re trying to make me feel better about the last several years of my life, it’s not working.”

“I get it,” he assured quietly. “Carla Kingston is a little insecure, but she’s a nice lady overall.”

Mila grunted into her coffee. “Says the guy who wasn’t raised by her.” He meant well, but he had no idea what he was talking about.

“Hey, my life wasn’t perfect, either.” He folded his arms and crossed one boot over the other. “After my mom died, my dad was so consumed with grief that I felt abandoned by both of them. He took a job as a traveling farm equipment salesman, and I left home the day I graduated from high school.”

Her heart shuddered at the thought of him shouldering that kind of pain alone —as a teenager, no less. “I’m sorry, Deck. I just assumed you left home for the same reason every other teen wants to get out of dodge. At that age, you think the grass is greener everywhere but where you’re standing.”

“In some ways, it is.” His lips twitched. “Especially in the rodeo ring, with the taste of dust in your mouth and the roar of the crowd at your back. It made me feel alive again. Met my best friend, followed him to Heart Lake, started a business together, and here we are.” He spread his hands. “It’s not just about the journey. It’s also about where you land.”

“Yeah.” Emotion clogged her throat. “I’m still sorry you had to make that kind of journey. It wasn’t fair losing yourmom at such a young age.” He’d been in junior high at the time, old enough to remember her vividly. Old enough to feel the tremendous hole she’d left behind.

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