Page 130 of When the Smoke Clears

His following smile doesn’t feel natural. “See ya, Maci.” He waves with the good hand and lets the door fall closed.

Why can’t I picture McCoy barbecuing?

“Hey Maci,” Ginger calls from behind me.

I turn and wave at her behind the bar.

“James isn’t here.”

“Oh.” I make my way her direction and plop down in one of the chairs stationed at her bar.

“Everything ok?” She doesn’t have the soft voice of Izzy, or the playful voice of Leah, but she seems genuine in her care. Which is odd, considering our start.

The corner of my mouth tips up.

“I think I’m just…tired. You know, when your brain, your body, even your bones are tired?”

She pours a whiskey and soda and slides the glass to me. “You’re welcome to sit here and relax for as long as you need.”

Are we building a friendship? I guess stranger things have happened.

“Thanks.” I sip the drink and settle in for a while.

Sutton and I have rearranged the office to butt the desk and small table against each other, spreading out maps of both properties side by side.

Looking at the little buildings dotting both adds a new perspective to what’s in process. Sutton draws a blue shape akin to a rectangle around The Big House and the area surrounding it that he plans to make more personal for his parents. This includes the existing garden and the new pig pen.

“Are you sure they want Oinks and Snorts to stay there?” I press a finger to where the new addition is.

Sutton gives me a puzzled look. “Who?”

“Oinks and Snorts. The hogs.”

He blinks. “And you have shit to say about Mama naming things.” His face softens. “Yeah. They’re good there for now.”

He outlines the area for Nopal Vista in green. It’s more square and includes a section of the hidden creek.

I pull up one of the chairs and he makes a colorful representation of the various categories on the ranch and anything that’s fairly permanent. Then he follows up with pencil sketches.

“Your haunted house could go here.” Using the pencil as a pointer, he taps a square with a pumpkin in it on the northwest side of the new property. “There’re additional entrances here and here,” the pencil taps, “so we can avoid everyone coming through the more private areas.”

“It’s not my haunted house.” The flush is leaving my cheeks.

His signature hidden smirk plays on his lips. “Yes it is. I’m even going to put a big-ass sign that says Maci’s Slaughterhouse on it.”

My mouth falls open and the heat returns as quickly as it vanished. “You won’t.”

He laughs. Then he goes about penciling in all the other ideas that have come up.

“Is this how you plan the pieces you craft?”

“I do a little sketch. Nothing crazy.” He pretends to focus on the map, but his reddening cheeks give him away.

“You look a little flushed. Need some fresh air?”

The pencil hits the desk with a smack. “Great idea. I’m starving.”

Before I can stand, he cages me into the chair I’m sitting in. “Grab the Defender and meet me at the front.” He punctuates his request with a hard kiss, then leaves before I can stand.

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