Page 136 of Flint’s Strike

I give Marlene the side-eye. “You know full well I haven’t told you her name yet. And I ain’t going to.” My lips curve into a smile against my will, though thinking about the barbecue tomorrow has me a fair bit more wound up than I’d like.

“Well, look who’s smiling,” Betty says as she slides a plate of chocolate chip cookies across the table. “That’s somethin’ you don’t see every day.”

Without taking my eyes off the half-drop repeat I’m about to start, I mutter, “I smile plenty.”

“You do not. You’ve got a face that could sour milk most of the time.” Ruth plucks a fresh skein of dark purple yarn from her bag, along with a set of the thinnest needles I’ve ever seen.

“That’s it. I’m leavin’.” Except, I can’t. Not in the middle of this set of stitches. I’m so tired, I won’t be able to pick up the pattern again.

Marlene sets her needles down.

Shit. I’m in trouble now.

“Eliot Flint. Spill it.” She settles back in her chair, a cup of tea in her hands, waiting.

“Ain’t nothing to spill.” I keep my gaze on the yarn, as painful as it is to be staring at a yellow so bright, it could replace half the emergency lighting in Austin. “I’m smiling because I like how the blanket’s comin’ along.”

Jean snorts. “You’re blaming the yarn, but we know better. It’s the Ranger. Come on. Give us the story. You know we won’t stop until you do.”

“There’s no story.” I count my stitches, set a marker, and glare right at Marlene. She’s the one who started this whole shitstorm. “We’ve got plans tomorrow. That’s it.”

“Plans?” Betty leans in, the cookie in her hand forgotten halfway to her mouth. “Give us one detail, Eliot. One, and we’ll let it go.”

“Sure you will.” I shake my head. “The last time y’all let somethin’ go was…well…never.”

Marlene cuts a sharp look across the table at the other three women. “He tells us one thing, and we let it go for the night. Okay?”

One by one, the women nod.

“Fine.” With a sigh, I set my needles down. “I’m goin’ to a barbecue tomorrow with her closest friends.”

“After what? A week and a half?” Marlene asks. “Who knew you were such a charmer?”

“Fifteen days.” The answer surprises me as much as everyone else. I hadn’t realized I’d been counting.

The table goes quiet long enough for me to realize I should’ve kept that detail to myself.

Marlene’s mouth quirks briefly before she picks up her needles. “All right. That’s enough for this week. But next week, we expect to hear about that barbecue.”

“Maybe. That’s all you’re gettin’.”

“All right. For now.” After a beat, she drops the yarn hooked around her pinky. “Oh! We can’t get together next Friday. The city’s tearin’ up Pine Street for utility work, and they’re cutting the power after five p.m. Can everyone make Wednesday instead?”

Ruth and Jean nod while Betty pulls a small pocket calendar from her bag and flips through the pages. “My grandbabies are comin’ for a visit on Thursday. This is perfect.”

“Eliot?” Marlene asks. “What about you?”

“Wednesday’s good.” I pick up the blue yarn and start another half-drop repeat. “So long as nobody asks me about my social life.”

Marlene and Betty exchange glances. Betty offers me another chocolate chip cookie with a sly smile. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter Fifty-Four

Eliot

Lake Travis sparkles in the early afternoon sun, getting closer and closer by the second. There damn well better be a house at the end of this road. I’m starting to think my GPS is playing a trick on me.

I’m about ready to pull over and text Parker, when I come around another curve, and a large, single-story ranch house comes into view—porch of gray stone with a natural wood fence, a rocking chair bench, and huge windows on either side of the front door. The lawn has started to brown—like all lawns in Texas this time of year—but flowers in every color fill cedar beds, and the slice of lake visible through the trees seems to go on for miles.