When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek #1)(39)
Author: Brenda Novak

Not if he could help it. He needed to stay busy or he’d revert to his old ways before she could raise a disapproving eyebrow. She’d removed all his coping mechanisms. They hadn’t been working particularly well, but they had always provided an escape. “You realize I can’t build a house by myself. I’ve never taken on a project quite that big.”

“I have a good friend who’s a general contractor. I’m sure he’ll be happy to provide any support and guidance you need—for a fee.”

“And you think we can build a house in the time we plan to stay here?”

“Probably not, but you can always have Riley take over when we go back to L.A. Then we’ll have somewhere to stay when we visit.” She conjured up an expression of mock innocence. “Unless you’d like to stay with my father whenever we return.”

“Point taken,” he grumbled.

Her attention shifted back to her hometown as if she was making note of any subtle changes, but he broke the silence again. “So…you were serious about three months, right? I have to last here for three months and then our Whiskey Creek days are over, except for an occasional visit?”

She touched his arm. “Give it a chance, okay?” She gestured at a small side street jutting off to the right. “Turn here.”

* * *

Somewhere in his late fifties, Martin DeMarco was a tall, grizzled redhead with erect posture, big shoulders and hands large enough to palm a basketball. He treated Simon with cool reserve, wouldn’t address him directly, but said nothing overtly unwelcoming. He didn’t say much at all. He greeted his daughter with a stiff nod and suffered through a brief introduction. Then he helped carry their luggage from the car to Gail’s old bedroom in his home, which resembled a large cabin. After putting down her suitcase, he gave Simon one long, assessing look, frowned as though he wasn’t happy with what he saw and turned back to his daughter.

“Dinner’s in the fridge. Go ahead and heat it up if you’re hungry.” He didn’t say it, but the intimation was there: And feed him if you have to. “I’ve got a problem at the station, but it shouldn’t take long.”

“Anything serious?” she asked.

“No, just Robbie. He can’t figure out how to open the till to give change—the little idiot.”

“Where’s his mother? I thought she was training him.”

“She’s been trying, but she’s not feeling well. This is his first night on his own.”

“He’ll learn,” she said.

With a skeptical grunt, Mr. DeMarco left, but as far as Simon was concerned his absence did little to improve the situation. Joe, Gail’s older brother, was still at home, and he was just as tall, just as imposing and just as unhappy with Gail’s choice of husband. He’d spent the whole time they were coming in leaning against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee and sizing Simon up.

When they returned to the kitchen, the disapproval rolling off him was offensive, but Simon had expected to encounter disapproval. He did his best to ignore it—until the sound of the older DeMarco’s engine disappeared and Joe addressed him. “So. You’re the badass.”

“Joe! You don’t have to be rude,” Gail cried, but Simon talked over her. He didn’t want her sticking up for him. He’d face these people down on his own. Maybe he’d get his ass kicked by her Goliath of a brother, but he wasn’t sure that would be entirely a bad thing. A bit of violence would provide an outlet for the emotions he could no longer dull with sex and alcohol. His temper had never been closer to the surface.

“That’s right.” He adopted the cocky air so effective in pissing people off. “How’d you know?”

“I read the papers.”

Simon lowered his voice as if divulging a fact Joe should already know but was too stupid to figure out. “Do you mean the tabloids? Because in case you hadn’t heard, they’re quite often full of shit.” He spoke at a normal volume again. “But don’t let that change your mind. I’m as badass as they come.”

“Funny, too. I like that.” Lifting his coffee cup, Joe smiled, looking perfectly comfortable—except for the muscle flexing in his cheek, which said otherwise. “But the fact that you’re a big movie star doesn’t matter that much to me.”

Simon felt his muscles tense. “Then why’d you bring it up?”

He set down his cup and straightened. “There’s one thing you need to know.”

“Joe—” Gail tried to break in. She’d been glancing between them, a worried expression on her face, but Simon pulled her behind him so she couldn’t get in the way.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t care how rich or famous you are. All the shit you’re used to getting away with? Won’t fly around here. You step on someone’s toes in Whiskey Creek, they’re going to knock you down a peg. And if you cheat on my sister, I’ll be handling that myself. Understood?”

He deserved the lack of faith, the censure, so Simon tried to take it like a man. But that wasn’t easy when it came from someone who had no clue what his life had been like with Bella. “I won’t embarrass you or your family. You have my word.”

Joe turned to rinse his cup. “For what it’s worth,” he muttered under his breath.

Had he not added that, Simon would’ve been able to let it go. As it was, the angry words he’d been biting back rose to his tongue. “Now that we’ve covered what went wrong in my marriage, what happened to yours?”

The question took Joe off guard. No doubt thanks to his size, he’d expected to swagger around and do the big-brother routine without any backlash. “Come again?”

“You heard me.”

“None of your damn business.” He dried his hands and tossed the towel aside.

“Simon,” Gail warned, but Simon ignored her.

“You can keep a scorecard on me but I can’t keep one on you?”

Joe sneered at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Few women walk away from a perfect husband.”

When Joe’s face flushed, Simon thought he’d start swinging. He had more than three inches and fifty pounds on Simon. With an injured right hand, Simon wouldn’t even be able to land a decent punch. But he wasn’t about to back down. Trying to change his life was hard enough without taking the crap this guy was dishing out.