Cowboy Logic - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,7
peered at him, making noises. “If I didn’t skype with you, I wouldn’t.”
“No?” That pleased the fuck out of him. He worked hard to be who he was now.
“I like the little beard. Is your chin getting soft?”
“No. My agent wanted my headshot to look older.”
“Really?” She looked comically shocked, lips forming an exaggerated ‘O’. Silly woman.
“Yeah. Apparently I have a bit of a baby face.” To be honest, he thought he had gay face and his agent wanted him to appeal to straight geeks as well as queer nerds. It wasn’t any of his business, when it came right down to it. All he had to do was write books and scripts.
He’d liked the beard and kept it, was all.
“You should eat.” She was shaking, her nails tapping on the counter.
“I did. You okay? What can I do?”
“I need some chocolate.” She gave him a ghost of a grin. “And he shows up again, I’ll shoot him myself.”
“Fuck yeah. We have a shiny new, fairly legal shotgun.”
“Yay.” She finally noticed the sandwiches he’d made her in return for hers. “Oh, can I?”
“Derr… Of course. God, it’s weird to be here.” He looked at Bailey, then at the kitchen. “Y’all made it yours, huh?”
“I had to.” She went a little misty. “When Momma left us, I couldn’t bear it.”
“Yeah. I-I’m sorry. I couldn’t.” He’d sent money to help, but he couldn’t come and watch her die. It hurt too bad.
“I know. You talked to her every day. She got it.” Bailey reached out to touch his hand. “You’re a good man, Bubba.”
“Am I? I’m trying. I swear. I love you, Sister.”
“I love you too.” Her eyes went wide. “Shit. I need to call the kids.”
“Am I in a room or on the couch?” She had four kids. He had a feeling all the bedrooms were taken.
“There’s a little bedroom and en suite above the garage.” At his stare, she grinned. “I have a lot of people come to look at horses, and the closest hotels are Greenville. There are some nice ones, but I want them here, where there’s all the horsey temptation.”
“Look at you, Miss Fancy Pants. You rock. I’ll grab my backpack and shit. You have a Wi-Fi password?”
“It has its own router and everything. It’s my phone number.”
“Good deal.” Logic headed outside to get his shit, and the sheriff department’s car was pulling in. He leaned against the truck, making sure to keep his hands where the deputy could see them while he waited, nodding and smiling when the deputy walked up. “Evenin’, Officer.”
The guy looked at him, squinting. “Miss Bailey inside?”
“Yes, sir, she is. I came out to get my bag. I’m staying with my sister a few days to help out.”
“Sister… No shit. Anderson Whitehead?” The guy’s mouth dropped open a little, eyebrows climbing up to his hairline.
“Yep. Could you keep it on the down low? I don’t want this guy knowing who I am for sure yet.” People liked to be in on things and be asked not to share.
“Sure. Sure. I just… wow. You’ve changed.”
“Thanks.” Was he meant to know this guy? The town only had fifteen hundred people now. Logic figured he had to have met most of the ones who had been there before he left, but yeah.
“Uh-huh.” Deputy Dave shook his head, walking into the house.
Okay, that was funny as hell. Anderson grabbed his gear, feeling more like he and Logic were reconciling more every minute.
It was weird as fuck, but wonderful too, in the best sort of way.
He followed along behind, making sure to give the deputy space and time. Then he made his way up the new stairs to the place over the garage. Nice. The little studio was clean and Western and cozy.
He plopped his bag down on the bed and sat, rolling his head on his neck. He’d done it. He’d flown home and played the hero like he was in one of his books. God knew, Cooper, Texas, felt like one of his dystopian settings.
His phone rang, and he grabbed it, his friend Mal’s name showing up. “Yo.”
“Where the hell are you? Evan says you asked him to water the plants because of an emergency. What emergency? What the actual fuck?”
“I had to come to Texas, man. My sister needed me.”
“Texas? Oh my God. Come home. They’ll do something awful to you.” Mal wasn’t teasing; he sounded genuinely horrified.
“Stop it.”
“I’m serious. It’s not good. Didn’t they beat you up the last time you were there?”
“Yeah,