Southern Comfort - Natasha Madison Page 0,47

image.” I try not to freak out that he was there while we were sleeping. I watch the screen as it goes from one picture frame to the next. He’s trying to get the lay of the land, I think to myself and make a note to put in some traps.

“Um, hello?” I hear Derek’s voice. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” I say to him. “I want everything locked down tight. If a tree leaf looks suspicious, I want to know about it.”

“Will do,” he says, disconnecting. Looking back at the screen, I notice he has a mark on his hand, almost like a tattoo of sorts. I zoom in, but the image is too grainy, so I send a message to Derek.

Me: He has a tattoo on his hand. Find out what it is.

Derek: Will do.

Getting up, I take the clipboard, jotting down things for them to do. I include notes on the traps I want set, and when I walk into the kitchen ten minutes later, my heart stops but for a totally different reason. Olivia stands beside my mother as she helps her make biscuits. Her hair is piled on top of her head, she has flour on her cheek from her hands, and she just looks so happy. I watch how my mother teaches her, and she follows directions. This is what she deserves, I tell myself. This happiness and these carefree moments are what this woman deserves, and I’ll give them to her as long as I can. “Hey,” she says softly when she sees me standing here watching her. “I’m making biscuits.”

“I can see that,” I say, and then I finally notice that my father has been watching me the whole time.

“Morning,” I say, and he just nods at me. Breakfast is the usual as we talk about the farm and what needs to be done.

“I take it you canceled your business trip?” my father says. Olivia turns to look at me, and I glare at my father. “It’s in two days.”

“What business trip?” Olivia asks, and I want to curse, but I know my mother would not be happy. I also am pissed that with everything going on, I forgot about it.

“Nothing,” I say, my voice tight. Looking down at my plate, I see that Olivia is looking down, too, and I want to kick myself for making her sad.

“Thank you so much for breakfast,” Olivia says from beside me, trying to sound happy, but her tone is flat. I bet if I looked over, she would have a smile on her face that was fake as fuck. “I forgot that I have a call with my boss this morning.” And now I look up and see what I was afraid of seeing. The fake Olivia is back as she smiles at my mother. “I’ll see you later.” She then looks at my father. “Have a great day, Billy.” She turns and walks out of the house, and it’s almost as if I’m glued to my chair. As I watch the door close behind her, I can feel my parents staring at me.

“Ass.” My mother is the first to talk, and when I look at her, she glares at me.

“What in the sam hill are you still doing sitting here when the woman has left?” my father almost shouts.

“What do you want from me?” I finally say, dropping my fork, and it clatters on the plate. “This is your fault.” I point at my father as I get up. “If you hadn’t brought up my business trip.”

“I always thought you had brains to go with your good looks,” my mother says, grabbing her coffee cup and bringing it to her lips.

“She’s leaving,” I now shout louder than I want to. “Eventually, she’s going to leave.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” my father says. His tone is so monotone it’s just as irritating as when I was eighteen and he spoke to me. His voice never rises, ever. “Son.”

“Don’t son me,” I say, putting my hands on my hips and feeling all these emotions run through me. I’m angry that she just left. I’m pissed that she’s sad, and I’m irritated that I couldn’t just say what it was about.

“Okay, fine,” he says, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. “I’ll just say this. That woman”—he motions with his chin toward the door she just walked out of—“deserves a man who is going to make her happy. Like really happy.” He looks over