Page 96 of Porter's Angel

He could kill the guy. Maybe Porter would settle for West instead. He was more accessible. His brother had just flown in from Nashville Sunday night. West had kept a pretty low profile since then. He’d slept in before Porter had left for the range that morning. Had West guessed that he’d been in deep water with Porter after what he’d done with his twin?

More than likely West was just being lazy.

Cole shouted over at Charlie to stop playing monkey bars on the wooden arch trellis. The birthday boy was having a blast, showing off his new whistle to his friends. Somehow Cole had ended up being the referee to this madhouse. His bulk was almost laughable compared to the army of eight-year-olds, like a giant put in charge of a nursery. In a desperate move for some peace and quiet, Cole quickly distracted the small boys by handing off water cannons from their fight the other day.

Not the best idea, but Momma should know better than to put her sons in charge of the party. Porter didn’t have the heart to stop the coming disaster. He was still reeling from his conversation with his father the other night.

Conversation? That was a nice way of putting it. They’d had a bitter argument.

The plans to sell the bulk of their land were already in the works. And if they didn’t sell to WhiteBoulder, then who else would give them so much money? His father was sorry, but if they wanted to move their momma some place nice, then they had no choice.

Their dream of carrying on the family business through the generations was lost.

His father had threatened Porter within an inch of his life not to breathe a word of it to their mother, because… who knew what would happen? They were still waiting on a heart donor, and if it didn’t happen soon? Well…“Don’t bother her with this!”

Porter had promised. He’d understood how fragile his mother was, at least. Working on the garden in his off-hours had gotten his mind off their impossible situation. If they lost it all, he wanted his mother to still have seen it at its prettiest. But even as he worked, he began to consider his options—he could leave this place and go anywhere he wanted. He’d never imagined anything different than this life, but in a way, the thought of adventure was appealing.

He’d take Cadence with him.

If she’d have him. He wasn’t so sure she wanted that anymore. He stared out over the garden. Every personal touch that she’d put into it reminded him of her. She’d designed a natural terrace layered down the side of a hill that brought him to mind of the pictures that he’d seen of the Stairway to Heaven in the Cordillera mountain ranges in the Philippines. She’d helped him layer bricks down a pathway through the center that led to the same pond where she’d pushed him in.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips as thoughts of her tortured him.

From the gazebo, the picturesque area that they’d put together so far made for a very romantic view. So why was West coming to sit by him, instead of Cadence? He’d tried to call her this afternoon to get her to change her mind about coming, but she hadn’t picked up her phone. Sure, she’d agreed to go to Charlie’s party a week ago, but that was before she found out that West would be there and changed her mind.

Porter didn’t blame her.

And it gave him plenty of time to deal with that devil himself. He squinted up at his older brother as West made his way up the stairs. His brother wore aviators, looking just as at home in the country as he did in the city, though his deceptively simple white T-shirt was likely as overpriced as the designer board shorts he wore with the sunburst designer brand on the hem. West had never been one for wearing jeans everywhereorWalmart specials.

Porter dispensed with the greetings. “Nash called me a few days ago.”

A muscle convulsed through West’s jaw. Other than that, he looked absolutely unconcerned as he took a drink. He arched a brow at Porter as if daring him to say more.

Porter took that dare. “What kind of hustle are you working down there in Nashville?”

“Cool down, preacher,” West said. He settled down beside Porter, showing him exactly how unconcerned he was. He crossed his ankle across his knee. “Mind your own business. Nash is already too much of a handful.”

Not enough of one.

A hummingbird swooped down over the feeder, missing his brother’s head by an inch. As usual, West was unaffected while Porter fumed. “You know what?” Porter snapped. “I thought that I saw something in you, that everyone misjudged you. I always defended you. Do you know how much it stings thatIwas the one who was wrong all along?”

West smirked. “How sad. Your little service project didn’t work out. Thanks for your pity, but I never asked you to be my brave defender, though I sure would’ve appreciated you returning my calls every once in a while.” He took another casual sip of his drink as the children fought ferociously in a battle for their lives around them. The kids had bad aims. Mostly the squirt guns were watering the quaint little patch of flowers.

West moved back to keep from getting blasted. Porter was about ready to take over the job for them. “Is that all you can say?” Porter asked. “After everything you’ve done to us?”

“Oh, my dear West.” Their mother interrupted them as she came up the stairs with a handful of tiny umbrellas for the drinks. “I’m so happy that you came all this way to be with us.”

“Happy to do it,” West quipped through tight lips. He didn’t seem happy. No, he was stewing about something—it had absolutely nothing to do with Porter telling West off. Had Nash finally defied him? Their mother’s presence blocked Porter’s lips from further nasty accusations.

Their mother’s hand shook as she placed the umbrellas in the glasses of lemonade. She looked tired today. West quickly rushed over to lend his help. “I’ve got this, Momma. Why don’t you sit down?”

“No, no, I want you to enjoy yourself.” As usual, their mother was only worried about her boys. “You look so tired,” she told West. “Has business been hard on you?”

West scoffed. Obviously she’d touched a nerve. “I’ve got a good handle on things.”

Porter fumed. Sure he did. He’d only sold out Harvest Ranch and his family home.

“Why didn’t Nash come with you?” their mother asked.