Ken peered at his brother over the rim of his coffee cup. “Excuse me?”
“You’re both so quiet.” He motioned to Cierra, who had her back to them as she loaded the dishwasher.
“I think we’re all tired.” Predictably, Cierra said nothing. She was blending into the background again. But Ken knew her feelings weren’t as neutral as she pretended.
Brent slapped the table. “You should be jazzed, man!”
Ken couldn’t bring himself to agree, because he wasn’t. “It’ll be okay,” he said with a shrug.
“Why are you acting so weird?” Brent asked.
A knock interrupted them, relieving Ken of the need to reply. Someone else was at the door.
“Hey, if that’s one of Tiffany’s friends coming to invite me, I’m in,” Brent said, and jumped up to answer it.
Ken followed him into the living room. But it wasn’t one of Tiffany’s friends. It was Russ.
What could their father possibly want now? Ken had already caved in and given him some money just to get him to stop asking.
“What’s up, Dad?” Brent asked.
“Not much.” Taking off his baseball cap, Russ shook the snow from it onto the mat. “I just came up to meet the new housekeeper.”
Ken thought he must’ve misunderstood. Had Russ just mentioned the housekeeper? How did their father know about Cierra? Ken certainly hadn’t talked about her. He’d figured the fewer people who knew, the better, at least until he could decide what to do. “Did Gabe say something?” he asked in confusion.
His father pulled his cap back on. “No. Stuart Baker showed up at the bar last night complaining to everyone who’d listen that you’d stolen his future wife.” Russ laughed as he said it, but Ken didn’t find it funny.
“He what?”
“Who’s Stuart Baker?” Brent asked.
No one answered him.
“He was pretty pissed about it,” Russ went on. “When he wouldn’t quit bitching about you, we nearly went at it. I told him I’d know if you had a woman up here. But he was so adamant, I began to wonder. Especially when he said you should learn to keep your pants zipped or someday you’d run into someone who’d make you sorry you didn’t.”
Ken felt his muscles tense. “Baker isn’t pretending to be that guy, is he?”
“He hinted that he’d like to do what he could. But that was the alcohol talking. He wouldn’t even fight me,” his father added with another chuckle.
Ken was tired of his father’s barroom brawls and was glad this one had been avoided, even if Baker deserved a beating. Ken didn’t need anyone to stick up for him.
“Keep his pants zipped!” Brent repeated. “Ken hasn’t been sleeping with Cierra.”
The image of Cierra standing naked in front of him flashed through Ken’s mind. Did almost count? In the hours since the Jacuzzi, there were plenty of times he’d wished that Brent hadn’t come home when he did. Now he was back to being glad.
“Baker had better shut up before I pay him another visit,” he said. “Cierra doesn’t need him running around, stirring up shit.” Not if, as he suspected, her visa had expired.
Russ’s eyebrows shot up. “That means it’s true? You’ve got some Guatemalan woman living here?”
Afraid that Cierra had already overheard most of what had been said, Ken held up a hand. He wanted to send her off to clean the gym or something before they discussed this, so they could speak freely. But that didn’t stop his clueless brother from calling after him.
“Wait a second! You found the address she was looking for? Why’d you say you didn’t?”
Now it was too late to keep this quiet. He didn’t know if Cierra was listening, but he felt he had to answer Brent in a way that everyone could hear and understand, just in case. “I didn’t want her there,” he said. “It wasn’t a good place.”
“But…you told me you didn’t find it.” Brent sounded confused.
“Because it wasn’t a good place, like I told you. You should’ve seen it.”
“Why would you lie about that?” Brent asked. “When you’ve been dying to get rid of her?”
Ken grabbed his brother’s arm. “Will you shut up?”
“She’s in the kitchen,” Brent snapped. “She can’t hear us.”
His brother could be so obtuse. “Just shut up,” Ken said again. Then he scooped his keys off the coffee table and stalked out. He didn’t want to deal with his father right now. He didn’t want to deal with Brent, either. And he most certainly didn’t want to see Cierra’s face if she’d heard one word of what they’d said.
“Where are you going?” his father called after him.
“I’ve got stuff to do.” He slammed the door on his way out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHILE KEN WAS GONE, Brent gave Cierra a whole pile of new clothes. He said they were a gift from his mother, that his mother expected nothing in return, and kept pushing her to try them on. But she didn’t want to touch them. She wasn’t happy about the clothes or anything else. She felt sick inside. For several reasons. For wanting to be with Ken so badly she’d humiliated herself by believing, even if she wouldn’t acknowledge it to herself at the time, that he might be genuinely interested in her. For hoping the situation could be different. For burdening him when he wished to be rid of her…
“So what do you think? It’s pretty, right?”
Forcing herself out of her thoughts, she refocused on Ken’s brother. He was waiting for her reaction to the last item he’d taken from the bag—a sweater he laid on the couch.
“Beautiful,” she breathed, and allowed herself to finger the soft knit. It was beautiful, one of the prettiest sweaters she’d ever seen. But that didn’t change how she felt about accepting such an expensive gift.
“So try it on!” he said.
Realizing that he didn’t understand her resistance and was disappointed as a result, she finally nodded and carried the clothing into her bedroom.
Almost every item fit. She’d come out to show it to Brent, so he could feel he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. He’d tell her how wonderful she looked in it. Then she’d try on the next thing and thank him again. It was an agonizing process for her, but when it was all over he seemed satisfied and eventually left for town to finish some painting for his mother.