Once a Champion. Jeannie Watt
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told him.
“Walter told me when he came to borrow the auger.”
Walter lived directly across the county road from the Bailey Ranch and filled his hours watching the coming and goings of his neighbors—when he wasn’t borrowing stuff from them or doing odd jobs.
Liv gave a small shrug. “He wanted the same thing as last time and I think he got the point this time.”
“Well, if he didn’t—”
Liv pushed off from the counter. “I can handle Matt. It isn’t like he can do much about the Beckett situation.”
“I don’t want him harassing you, like that other guy that you didn’t want to tell me about.”
“Two visits are not exactly harassment.” And she wished Tim didn’t know about “that other guy.” The only reason he did know was because Greg had the chutzpah to call Tim looking for her after she’d stopped answering his calls.
Her father raised one eyebrow and she took his point. After Matt’s first visit, during which she’d taken a firm stand, there was little call for a second. At least not in person. Phoning would have done just as well, but Matt had probably figured he’d be more persuasive in person. And he was, but Liv was not falling for it.
“If he starts harassing me, I’ll let you know.” She didn’t like lying to her father, but she wasn’t going to let him fight her battles, either. “By the way, I’m going to Missoula tomorrow to shop with Mom and Shae.”
“All that way to shop? Why doesn’t your mother meet you in a more central locale, like Butte? Surely you could shop there.”
Tim and Vivian had been divorced for almost twenty years and there was no lingering bitterness between them. In fact, Liv had never noticed any bitterness whatsoever. Even her mother, who clung to people with a death grip, changing as necessary to please them, had come to realize that she couldn’t change enough to stay married to Tim. He was a man who had difficulty allaying fears, reaffirming his commitment, saying the words “I love you,” and Vivian was a woman who needed those reassurances. Often. It hadn’t hurt that she’d married David McArthur within a year of divorcing Tim.
“The wedding, Dad. We’re shopping for bridesmaid dresses and Shae wants to shop in Missoula.”
“Right. The wedding. I forgot about that.” The words were barely out when a yawn seemed to catch him by surprise. Liv pretended not to notice, folding a dish towel before hanging it. He’d had a long day proving he was on the mend. She only hoped it didn’t send him into a relapse.
“Shae has promised to keep it a small affair.” Tim cocked his head as if waiting for the punch line. “Reed, her fiancé, is the sensible type.” Liv read her father’s face and smiled. “Yeah. I know. What’s he doing with Shae? Opposites attract, I guess.”
Silence hung between them for a second and Liv had a strong feeling that they were both thinking the same thing. That opposite thing hadn’t worked out so well with him and her mother.
“Reed is a good guy and smart. He knows what he’s doing.” Liv pushed a few strands of hair away from her face, grimacing at how stiff it was from arena dust.
“Let’s hope” was all Tim said. He seemed to be growing paler before her eyes, reminding her of how far she’d been sidetracked from the issue of his health. Even though she wanted to take him by the front of his shirt and shake him, demand that he tell her what was going on with him, she figured right now a full frontal assault would do more harm than good.
She was going to have to wait. Wait and worry. Then maybe in another couple of days try again if he was still doing his impression of the walking dead.
“I’m going to bed, Dad,” she finally said, well aware of the relief that flickered across his stern features, there then gone. “Why don’t you do the same?”
“I will.”
Of course he would. Just as soon as she did.
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