Page 29 of Red Hot Rancher

“I’m sure he found something to do.”

Brigit stopped loading. With who? Had one of his fireman buddies invited him over? Or was he alone?

Mom was too busy rinsing dishes to notice her reaction. “It’s a good thing, really, that he chose to go to a motel. I don’t get much time with just you and Justin.”

“He’s been friends with Justin for, like, twenty years. Most families would welcome him at their table.”

Mom tapped the lever down, shutting the water off. “Caleb has impressed me with how well he’s done for himself.” Brigit tensed as Mom caught her gaze and held it. “But considering your past, and what you’re getting over, it’s best if he keeps his distance.”

“Even if his distance means he spends Thanksgiving by himself, alone in a motel room because his home was trashed?”

“How do you know he’s alone?”

Brigit drew back. Anger curled inside of her, faintly at first, like a cow lowing in a far-off pasture, then swelling larger, like a full-on stampede. Was it just her mother’s casual reaction that was fueling the feeling, or was it the idea that Caleb might have sought out companionship when he felt like everyone had forgotten him?

“I didn’t mean it like that, Brigit. His life is in Moore. Justin isn’t his only friend.”

No, but Caleb had no family around today. Brigit broke eye contact when she stooped to grab the dishwasher detergent. Without a word, she dropped the tab of dried soap into its slot and used her toe to flip the lid closed.

“I guess I’ll find out when I bring him a plate of food.” She didn’t wait for Mom’s reaction as she collected a plate and silverware. Mom didn’t move as she dug out the leftovers that had been neatly packed away.

“What if he’s already had a big meal?” Mom hadn’t moved, but she clocked Brigit’s every movement. No doubt she was racking her brain, trying to come up with a good reason to keep her own daughter from showing a guy with no family some compassion on a holiday. Even if that guy was the biggest threat to said daughter’s nonexistent career.

“There was nothing open today. Even the bars are closed.” Brigit heaped potatoes onto a plate with turkey and stuffing. Topped by gravy. She had no idea if Caleb liked white meat or dark meat, gravy on top or on the side or not at all, or if he cared that there wasn’t a single vegetable in sight. She didn’t know his preferences at all.

A spike of irritation was taken out on the spoon as she splattered gravy on the counter.

Ignoring the mess, she covered the food with plastic wrap and hefted the plate. It had to weigh a few pounds. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

She charged out of the kitchen, passing the counter that held the remains of the pie. Hesitating for a second, she snagged the dish in her other hand.

“The pie…” Mom’s protest faded as Brigit walked away. Justin reclined with Dad in front of the TV, his brows popping when he saw her load and her trajectory straight for the door. His gaze lifted beyond her to where Mom must be wringing her hands. He kicked the footrest down and sat up.

Dad barely spared her a glance and it was back to the game.

There was no good way to set her items down and get her shoes on, so she stomped her feet into each boot. The tops pushed her jeans up her legs, but she didn’t care. She managed to juggle the dishes in one arm and grab her coat.

Then she was out the door, her Mom’s call of “Brigit” dissipating in the cold air.

She stomped down the steps and as soon as her shoes hit the dirt, she clenched her teeth. “Dammit.”

She had no vehicle. After her dramatic little exit, she couldn’t very well go inside and ask Dad to borrow the car.

The screen door squeaked open and a set of keys jingled. She looked back. Justin was grinning as he came to a stop on the last stair.

Her relieved smile had to take up half her face. “Thank you.”

“Moore-tel.”

She knew, but the extra show of support warmed her. He jogged back inside, probably for a night of tight-lipped glaring from Mom, but he would handle it better. Brigit had already endured an interrogation over where she had applied for jobs, what cities she was looking at, why law school was out of the question, and if she’d talked to Oliver. All before she’d been told she shouldn’t have seconds on pie.

On the way into town, her heart rate kicked up instead of slowing down. This didn’t mean anything. It was just bringing dinner to a friend.

Was Caleb even a friend? Lord knew, she’d pushed him far enough away she could see why she questioned herself.

The motel’s parking lot was lit, and Caleb’s old beater pickup was parked in front of room four. She pulled in next to him and killed the engine. Her stomach flipped as she stared at the blue door.

Well, she’d come this far. It’d be cruel to chicken out now and drive away with all the food. Not that Caleb knew she was coming.

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