Page 19 of Rival
“What?” He seems confused by my question, so I just change the subject, assuming this wasn’t a normal reaction. Some people just aren’tmorningpeople.
“Started a bit early today, huh? Work get done sooner than expected?”
Instead of answering, he only grunts, then leans back into his chair, fumbling with the remote as his feet go back up, reclining almost fully horizontally.
I glance back toward the door hiding Edith as she scurries around the kitchen. “So, listen. I got nothin’ to do for the rest of the evenin’ and Corb’s wife is makin’ corned beef.Notmy favorite. You got space at the table for an extra mouth? Edith said she wouldn’t mind fixin’ extra, but said I ought to check with you.”
The longer I talk, the higher his brows lift up. “Did she?” His voice carries some sort of warning, but I’m not sure what the problem is. I’m distracted as he keeps rambling. “Sure, if she’s got enough, I don’t give a shit. I’m plannin’ on eatin’ in here later. Gonna nod off again until she’s done, but you can watch TV while you wait, if you want.”
“I’ll figure somethin’ out. Want someone to wake you up when she’s done?”
Another grunt and brush off. “Hell no. I’ll get it when I’m ready.”
Leaving his grumpy ass alone, I spend my time watching his daughter as she moves around and find myself getting more and more intrigued. Edith Hughes really is a beautiful woman and I feel like I missed it happening. She was never around when my brother and I came over. Clayborn always insisted she liked to be alone and was shy.
Now, I’m stuck staring as she takes her first bite of plain pasta, a bit bothered she’s eating something of such little substance. But hey, if that’s how she prefers it, who am I to judge?
Spinning my fork in the middle of the heaping pile of spaghetti she set in front of me, I groan in approval when the flavors hit my tongue. “Jesus, woman. I know it’s just spaghetti, but yours is so much better than the way my mom used to make it.”
Edith’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink after my compliment, and she dips her head to take another bite. After swallowing and wiping her mouth, she asks, “Did she do something different? I don’t think mine is anything special. It’s not from a recipe or anything.”
“Our mom was a fantastic baker, but anything outside of that was a disaster. She could never master how long to cook noodles. They were always either crunchy or dissolved in your mouth from how overboiled they were. Mushy.” My nose wrinkles, then I snicker to myself remembering when my dad cracked a crown the night she made lasagna.
Seemingly pleased with my little story from her tiny smile, Edith remains quiet, so I scramble to find something else to talk about. We both eat for a few minutes before I finally ask, “So, aside from cookin’ for your dad and building barns, what else do you? Got a job or anything?”
Her hand pauses halfway to her mouth, and her eyes widen. “Job?”
“Yeah, job. What do you do?” Sheisout of school, I’m sure of it. I could have sworn Clay said she’s like twenty or something. “How old are you?”
The easy smile she’s had while we’ve been eating falls and it seems like something I’ve asked has made her shut down. She clears her throat as she drops her fork to push around her pasta. “Twenty… I have a birthday coming up.”
Pointing my fork at her, I tease, “Then you’re old enough to be doin’ somethin’ fun. So, whatareyou doin’ for a job?”
The way her face explodes in a blush tells me she’s embarrassed by whatever it is she’s got lined up. “I’m just working here at home and helping at the church.”
“Bullshit,” I tell her, circling my fork in her direction playfully, catching the way her eyes flash with the lie she just told. “You’re doin’ somethin’, but you don’t wanna tell me. If I guess, will you admit it?”
Edith quickly spins her fork in her pasta, refusing to meet my eyes. “I’m not hiding anything.” Her voice is soft, but I detect another lie, so I call her out.
“I think you’re fibbin’.” I consider her for only a second before I drop my hand on the table, palm up. “How about this? Tap my hand once if I guess correctly. Then you won’t have to say it out loud.”
She slips her bite into her mouth, chewing while studying me. Maybe to determine if she should share. Finally, she nods her head once and her lips curl up in a quick smile. Swallowing, she nods jerkily. “Alright.”
Feeling confident, I keep my hand where it’s at and take another large bite of the delicious meal she made, then lean back to ask my first question. “Youdohave another job, correct? Outside of helping your daddy and the church.”
Her hand reaches over to mine, and with her index finger, she taps my palm once before she yanks it back to her lap.
I hum, grinning at her. “Alright. You’ve got a secret job.” I peek over to the living room, then tilt my head in that direction. “Is it a secret from him?”
She snorts, then taps my palm again, adding, “Yes. He wouldn’t be happy to know about it.”
Interesting. She’s doing something that might piss off old Clayborn Hughes. My mind works trying to come up with something a twenty-year-old could do that would irritate her old man. “You workin’ at a bar? Waitressing or something?”
Edith shakes her head. “No, nothing like that. Town is too small. My father would hear about that right away and would have my hide.” Her tone is a touch scathing, not with me, but with how she refers to her father’s supposed reaction. I don’t know why he would take issue with Edith working for tips, but I don’t know him that well, even if we do get together from time to time. Game nights normally don’t involve a ton of chit chat.
“Okay. Not working at a bar. You strippin’ somewhere?” I doubt she is, but I can’t help teasing her. “I could see your daddy not appreciatin’ you flashin’ your goods to the men in the area. Is that what you’re doin’?”
Instead of tapping my hand or laying into me for my ridiculous question, she sits back and drops her mouth open in shock. Opening and closing her mouth quickly, she fumbles for the words to deny it. I can’t help chuckling over her reaction, so I push her a bit more. “Is that it, then? You, who rescues kittens in the middle of the night, are actually sneakin’ off to collect singles in her thong?”
