Page 24 of Blame It On Midnight

She left him alone with only that light, delicate scent for company. There was a time he craved the smell. But instead of Daisy Mae crowding his thoughts, it was another woman who snuck in and stole the show.

It was Collins who stayed with him the rest of the night.

Chapter Eight

Collins managed to keep her brother out of the loop for forty-eight hours. Impressive, considering he’d been texting and calling nonstop since Saturday afternoon. But the last text, only forty-five minutes earlier, told her she’d run out of time. No way could she put him off any longer.

It was closing in on eleven a.m. Collins glanced at her watch and grimaced. Right about now, he should be sitting in the driveway. She pulled on a plain white T-shirt and a pair of jean shorts. She didn’t bother with makeup, save for a hint of gloss, and that was more to moisturize than emphasize her mouth. With one last glance in the mirror, she adjusted her ballcap, slipped into white sneakers, grabbed her bag, and left her room.

Collins headed downstairs on light feet and ran outside into the sun. It was Monday morning, and she felt good about things. That is, until she saw her brother. “Why such a sourpuss?” she asked, joining him near a big black truck. He must have borrowed it from Ivy, because the rental they’d acquired the day they’d arrived in Big Bend had been parked here, at Duffer’s Place, for two days.

“Get in.”

“That’s how it’s going to be, is it?” She kept her tone light, but already the embers were stoked. She was fired up and ready to fight. She might be smaller than the Lafferty men, but she wasn’t afraid to stick up for herself. If her brother knew better, he’d back off. When push came to shove, she kicked. And her aim was deadly.

She climbed into the truck. “You know I could have had breakfast here. It’s really good. Willie puts on one heck of a spread. But I decided to play nice and have eggs and bacon with you, so the least you can do is be nice and stop acting like an asshole.”

“I’m not being an asshole.” Kip’s jaw was tight. He barely managed to get the words out.

“Well, then, mister, where’s all this attitude coming from?”

He sped out of the driveway. “You’re working at the Sundowner?” He shot a look at her, only for a second, because with his one arm still in a sling, he needed to concentrate on driving. It was enough, though. Her brother was more than pissed.

“Who told you that?”

“Jesus, Collins, did you think no one would find out? Millie Sue told Ivy, and she told Mike Paul, and he told me. Plus, last I heard, there’s a video on the internet that’s been shared thousands of times.”

“Why didn’t she tell you herself?” The gossip train in Big Bend was chugging along faster than she’d anticipated.

“What?” He scowled.

“Ivy.” She settled back in her seat. “Why didn’t she tell you?”

“Probably because she knew I’d lose my shit.”

“And are you?” she asked lightly, wishing she were enjoying this more.

“Am I what?”

“Losing your shit?”

His look said everything. He didn’t need to answer. About five minutes later, they wheeled into a truck stop outside of town. Kip parked in front of the double doors, then turned to his sister, but before he could speak, she held up her hand.

“I need coffee more than a lecture.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond and hopped out of the truck, aware of his glare as she walked away. Collins thought he might leave, but then he cut the engine, and she heard the door slam shut.

Kip’s long strides caught up to her, and the two of them walked inside, immediately heading for the last booth tucked away in the corner. The place wasn’t busy. There were a couple of guys sitting at the long counter, enjoying some coffee and gossip. Out of the twenty or so tables, only one was occupied by an older gentleman engrossed in a newspaper.

Collins watched him with a smile. She didn’t think people read the real deal anymore. Most folks she knew consumed their news online. Or got their soundbites from scrolling through TikTok, which she supposed, told the story of how the modern world was going to shit. At least, according to her father.

It was one thing they agreed on, though she’d never tell him that.

A woman appeared holding two menus. She was a character, the kind of woman you’d expect to see at some out-of-the-way truck stop in Montana. She had big blonde hair, bright pink lipstick, and more mascara on her lashes than Collins had ever seen. Said a lot, considering her job. She looked to be in her forties and had a slow, easy smile.

“Morning.” She handed her and Kip each a menu. “I’m Lana.” She raised her eyebrows. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Collins replied, eager for a shot of caffeine.

“You two have hit that sweet spot between breakfast and lunch, and because of it, you’ve got your pick. The front of the menu is breakfast items, and the back gives you lunch. Soup of the day is Clam Chowder?—”

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