Beautifully Broken Pieces (Sutter Lake, #1)(7)



“Sure. What is it you’re wanting me to take?”

“Well, there’s a young woman staying there who’s going to be renting our little guest cabin for a year. So, I need you to run a lease over to her, along with a clicker for the garage.”

My forehead creased. “You’re renting out the cabin? Why?” My parents’ two-bedroom guest cottage on the edge of our property was usually reserved for out-of-town friends, and my mom and dad liked to keep it open. They’d never rented it out before.

My mom took a sip of her OJ before answering. “Your sister hired this woman to work at the Kettle, and she needs a place to live. You know there aren’t many decent places to rent around here. So, why not help?”

I fought a sigh. My mom and sister were forever taking in strays. My dad thought it was adorable. I thought it was dangerous.

My mom’s lips pursed. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Walker Cole. Jensen says she’s lovely, and she offered to pay first, last, and a security deposit.” I eyed my sister skeptically. Her judge of character wasn’t always the best. My mom kept talking. “She’s staying at the Harris place with a famous musician and…what do you call those boys in the fights you’re always watching?”

My eyebrows raised. This was getting more interesting by the second. “An MMA fighter?”

“Yes, that’s it. One of them is a mixed martial arts fighter. At least that’s what Helen told me.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.

My mom tapped a finger on her pursed lips. “Hmm. What was it? Adam? No, Austin. Austin Lyons.”

My jaw practically came unhinged. “Austin Lyons?”

“The Bulldog is here?!” my seven-year-old nephew shrieked.

Jensen’s head snapped around so fast, she looked like the creepy little kid from The Exorcist. “You’ve been letting him watch that violent garbage again? I told you, he’s too young.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Noah’s face turned the shade of a ripening tomato. “I am not. I’m a big boy. You say so all the time. And the boys gotta hang. Right, Uncle Walker?”

I cringed, trying to paste on my most charming smile. Which, of course, got me nowhere with my sister.

“Walker Cole, you are on my you-know-what list.”

Noah’s face scrunched in confusion. “No, Mama, what?”

My grandmother cackled. “My Noah’s a smarty-pants, nothing gets by him.”

I shoved my chair back from the table, eager to escape my sister’s wrath. “Well, I better get going. Ma, just give me whatever you’d like me to take over, and I’ll go right now.”

Jensen snorted. “You better run.”

Noah bounded up from his seat, hopping around like he’d just mainlined ten candy bars and twelve sodas. “Can I go with him, Mama? Pleeeeeeeeeease? I gotta meet the Bulldog. I just gotta!”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. My sister threw her hands up in the air. “I give up. He’s already been inundated with violence, it’s probably too late for him. Walker, when you’re arresting him in ten years, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

Noah cocked his head to the side. “Does that mean yes?”

This time, I couldn’t hold in the laugh. Jensen’s eyes narrowed on me.

My dad let out his own chuckle. “I believe it does, Noah. Why don’t you grab a piece of paper and pen from my office. You can ask for Mr. Bulldog’s autograph.”

Noah’s face lit with the epitome of child-like glee. Then he took off for the other side of the house.

My mom got to her feet, retrieving what looked like a basket of muffins from the counter. “These for me?” I asked, sniffing the bundle. Marionberry, my favorite.

She smacked my hand away before I could lift the towel covering them. “No, you greedy little troublemaker. These are for Taylor, the young woman renting our cabin. I want you to bring them with the lease and keys. And invite her to dinner next weekend, would you? We need to give her a proper welcome.”

Taking the basket from her hands, I kissed her cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Suck-up,” Grandma said with a cough.

“You got that one right,” Jensen joined in. “He always had Mom fooled. Guess nothing’s changed.”

I circled the table, giving Jensen a thorough noogie. “Just for that, I’m going to take Noah to an MMA fight live and in person.”

Jensen whirled, trying to grab hold of my forearm so she could pull out my arm hair, a move she’d been perfecting since I’d hit puberty. But I was too quick for her this time, narrowly escaping her grasp.

“Now, kids…” my mom began.

“Gotta run,” I called. “I’ll drop Noah back on my way home.”

“Watch your back, Cole,” my sister growled.

I ran into Noah in the entryway and headed out the door.





5





Walker





My truck bumped from a dip in the dirt road as Noah and I drove towards the Harris’s vacation rental and this mysterious new tenant who had famous friends. I took in the sight of Willow Creek, cutting through the rolling meadows as we rounded a bend in the road. The view never got old. I’d grown up with so many kids who couldn’t wait to get out of Sutter Lake. When I left for college in Portland, I couldn’t wait to get back.

Catherine Cowles's Books