His Touch

Brant took a seat on the matching sofa. For a moment they nursed their beers in companionable silence.

“You didn’t come all this way for a social call.” Brant’s words were a flat statement of fact.

“You’re right, I didn’t.”

“If it’s about me joining you as a partner in your security firm, I haven’t changed my mind.”

“I’m not here about that, though the offer still stands.”

“Thanks again, but no thanks.”

“Can’t blame a fellow for trying.”

“Is Ronnie all right?”

“Great. Blowing and going, as always.”

“Still in practice with that same high-flying attorney, huh?”

“Yep. And making him a shit-load of money, too.”

“When is she going to take a timeout and have a kid?”

Thurmon sighed. “It’s her call. And from the way it’s looking, maybe never. We’re both on the career fast track and can’t seem to get off.”

Changing the subject, Brant said, “So unload.”

Obviously choosing to ignore Brant’s push to get to the point, Thurmon crossed a leg over one knee and looked around. “This is still a great place, but aren’t you lonely as hell here?”

“I’m used to being alone. I was married for twelve years.”

“Funny.”

Brant kept his features bland.

“Don’t you think you’ve been hiding long enough?”

That comment irritated the hell out of Brant. He hadn’t seen his friend for heaven knows how long and didn’t appreciate being raked over the coals for his style of living, rather than shooting the bull about things they had in common.

“I’m treading on dangerous ground, aren’t I?” Thurmon asked in the growing silence.

“You read my mind.”

“Are you still the same expert marksman you once were?”

Surprise raised Brant’s eyebrows. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay. Yeah, I am. As a matter of fact, I practice just about every day.” He wanted to add that it whiled away some of the hours, but he didn’t dare. To admit that would add fodder to Thurmon’s case against him. “Why?” he asked again.

“I have a favor to ask, that’s why.”

Brant’s guard, along with his hackles, rose. “Why do I sense I’m not going to like what’s coming next?”

“Because you’ve became paranoid?”

Brant snorted.

Thurmon laughed, then said, “Did I mention how good it is to see you, how much I miss having your ill-tempered self around?”

“No. But I take no offense, considering the source.”

Thurmon’s laugh merely deepened before his features sobered once again. “Actually it’s my wife who wants the favor.”

“Then why didn’t she ask? She knows my number.”

“She knew I wanted an excuse to see your sorry ass.”

“Veronica’s not in any kind of trouble, is she?”

“Nope. But she has a friend who is.”

“So? You have a security company, take care of it. I’m out of that business forever. All I care about now is mending fences with my kid.”

“How’s that going?”

“It’s not. If Marsha had her way, I’d never see him again.”

“Nothing like a woman scorned.”

“Hell, she’s the one who had the affair.”

“After you were never home.”

Brant’s eyes narrowed. “You were in the same boat and Ronnie never cheated on you.”

“True, but we didn’t have a kid who needed his father, either.”

Brant cursed, feeling Thurmon’s arrow hit where it hurt most—his heart. “That’s still no excuse for what Marsha did. But like I told her, that’s water under the bridge. I hold no grudges. Instead I’m moving forward and trying to fix things.”

“I’m about to give you that opportunity.”

“How’s that?” Brant’s voice overflowed with suspicion. He didn’t trust his friend as far as he could throw him.

“By getting you back to Texas.”

“Ah, so that’s where this is going? Figures.”