It Started with a Bang by Piper James
Chapter Two
Ryder
“Who thought it was a good idea to move to Texas in the middle of summer?”
My question was met with silence as my brothers pretended not to hear the complaint. It wasn’t the first time I’d voiced it, and it wouldn’t be the last. I was miserable.
It felt like we were trapped in the sweaty armpit of the universe, the humid air so thick, I could barely breathe. Mosquitos were buzzing around my ears, stinging my skin over and over as they drained me dry. Add to that the flies, wasps, and bees…
“Stop being such a pansy-ass,” Noah grunted as he pulled another panel of rotting wood from the back porch.
“Fuck you, asshole” I said, swatting another fly away from my head.
My brothers and I had inherited this dilapidated ranch in East Texas last year when our great-uncle had passed away. He didn’t have any children or grandchildren of his own, and as our grandfather had been his only sibling, Noah, Chase, Ethan, and I were his only heirs.
We’d let it sit empty for nearly a year, not really sure what to do with it before Chase had come up with the idea of moving out here and restoring it. I’d scoffed at his plan, telling him I had no interest in wasting my time, but Chase hadn’t been deterred. He went to Ethan and Noah and convinced them before they ganged up on me.
And as equal partners in Perry Brothers Construction, I was outvoted, three-to-one.
So we packed up and left Los Angeles, the four of us crowded into one truck with Chase’s seven-year-old son, Daniel. I knew I was going to be miserable the moment I swung open the truck door, and the Texas humidity tried to suffocate me. And when I got my first look at our new project? Let’s just say I wasn’t feeling any better about being bullied into coming here.
We’d been here for a little over a week, and despite everyone’s insistence I’d get used to the weather and the bugs, it just wasn’t happening.
“Watch your mouth,” Chase grumbled, jerking his head to the left.
I turned my head to see Daniel in the shade of a nearby tree, catching roly-polys and putting them in a paper cup. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention to me, but if I’d learned anything about my nephew, it was that he was always listening. And the kid had the memory of an elephant.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, offering Chase an apologetic look. “Still getting used to having him on-site.”
“Dad, what’s a pansy-ass?” Daniel called out without looking up from his cup of pill bugs.
I choked on a laugh. At least he was quoting Noah and not me. Chase rolled his eyes, swatting Noah on the back of the head as he wandered over to talk to Daniel about improper language.
I picked my way across the rickety porch to head back inside. I was in the process of demolishing the ancient drywall, trying to find the bones of the place. It was sweltering in here, and I’d gone outside for a break and a breath of fresh air. All I’d gotten was an insult and a half-dozen new mosquito bites.
I still had no clue why we were here. Sure, the place was ours to do with as we saw fit, but I’d just as soon let it rot than work in this hellhole. It wasn’t like we needed the money the sale of the ranch would bring. Perry Brothers was a very lucrative business, and Ethan had invested our money well over the years.
The few hundred thousand we’d make on the sale of this place was a drop in the bucket. So not worth the agony I was dealing with right now.
But the others had disagreed. They wanted a break from the hustle and bustle of L.A. They were treating this like a vacation, a reprieve from crowded freeways and concrete jungles. A chance to take it easy for a few months and recharge.
And I had to admit, even though I wasn’t in love with Texas by any stretch of the imagination, it was nice to not have to deal with demanding clients with unrealistic expectations and too-short deadlines. We could work at our own pace. Create our own vision. Use our hands to build something that belonged to us.
I’d never say it out loud, but that part was nice. Refreshing, even if the stagnant air outside was not.
“Hey, Ryder? You feel like running to town?” Chase asked from the doorway. “The water jugs are almost empty, and it’s nearly time for lunch. You could grab some burgers on your way back.”
“Sure,” I said, brushing the drywall dust from my hair as I walked toward him.
He rolled his eyes at my nonchalant tone, then chuckled. It was no secret I was the first to volunteer to run errands. Anything to get out of this heat and into the air-conditioned cab of the truck. I bumped my shoulder against his as I passed, and he fell back a step with a laugh.
“I’m going to town. Burgers good with everyone?” I called out as I walked toward the truck.
“I want chicken nuggets,” Daniel yelled back without looking up.
“With ketchup,” I said. “Got it, kid.”
That was all he ever wanted to eat. Chase always made a point of taking him somewhere with healthier options for dinner each night so he’d get his vitamins and nutrients, but when Daniel had his choice, it was always chicken nuggets.
Within seconds of starting the truck, cool air rushed from the vents. I sighed with relief, enjoying the feel of it for a moment before buckling my seatbelt and pulling down the long drive back to the main road.
The ranch was five miles outside of Red River, a small town with four stoplights, a couple of fast food restaurants, a few department stores, and one of those big box stores that sold everything. Its only real claim to fame was the Parker Industries building, a lone high-rise tower that stood out like a sore thumb on the edge of town. I’d heard whispers in the business community about Jaxson Parker, the company’s owner and CEO. Few of them were complimentary. But he pumped money into the economy, keeping the town afloat when it might’ve ended up destitute and deserted like so many American small towns.
I pulled into the parking lot of the big box store, laughing at the giant cow’s face on the sign as I did every time I came here. Only in Texas.
“Bull’s Eye: We have everything under the moo-oo-oon,” I whispered with a laugh, quoting the commercial I’d seen a hundred times on the television in my motel room since arriving in Red River.
Shaking my head, I hopped down from the truck and headed inside. Grabbing a grocery cart, I loaded it up with ten gallon-sized bottles of water, a few bags of chips, and some beef jerky. On my way to the registers, I snagged a six-pack of beer, intending to swing by the motel and put it on ice in the cooler I had in my room. A cold beer really hit the spot after a long day of work in this oppressive heat.
“Hey, there, sugar. You find everything okay?” the cashier asked with a smile as I placed my items on the conveyer belt.
“Hey, Candace,” I said, reading the name tag pinned to the red vest she wore. “I did.”
I’d learned quickly that Texas women were generous with the endearments. I’d been called sugar, darlin’, sweetie, honey, and a few other pet names. I found it charming, one of the few things about this place I didn’t hate.
Once I paid for my items, I loaded them into the truck and headed toward the fast food joint that I knew served burgers and chicken nuggets. Pulling into the drive-thru, I placed my order and pulled around to the window. Five minutes later, the smell of greasy food permeated the truck as I pulled out of the drive-thru lane.
As I waited for a car to pass so I could pull out onto Main Street, the sound of squealing tires was my only warning before my truck lurched forward with an accompanying bang that rattled my eardrums. The force of the hit was hard enough that my head flew backward, but not so hard that I thought I was seriously injured.
My eyes flew up to the rearview mirror, seeing a silver luxury car in the reflective glass. All I could make out was a head of blonde hair as whoever was driving rested their head on the steering wheel. Was she hurt?
“Shit,” I mumbled, jumping down from the truck and hurrying back to check on her.
She was still, her face turned away from the window. Lifting a fist, I rapped my knuckles against the glass. She visibly jumped, her head lifting quickly to stare at me with wide, fearful eyes. Eyes that quickly narrowed into thin slits.
“Are you okay?” I asked through the glass before attempting to pull open her door. It was locked. “Can you open the door?”
“Back away,” she yelled, her voice barely penetrating the glass.
I held up both hands in surrender and took a big step backward. A few cars had stopped to watch us, and I felt like asking them if they brought the popcorn. They looked enthralled, but no one stepped forward to offer help.
The woman climbed from her car, and I vaguely noticed how beautiful she was—long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and curves for days—before repeating my earlier question.
“Are you okay, Miss?” I asked, indicating she should supply her name.
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Why were you just sitting there in the road?”
My head jerked back in surprise. Was she really insinuating that this was my fault?
“Excuse me, but you ran into me,” I said.
“Damn it,” she growled, ignoring my words as she ran a hand over the crumpled bumper of her car.
My eyes glossed over the tailgate and bumper of the truck, and I didn’t even see a scratch. I hadn’t really been worried. That thing was built like a tank, and even if there was a little damage, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I had insurance. Wait. Was that why she was so upset?
“If you don’t have insurance, we can work something out,” I offered, hoping that would ease her mind.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, whirling around to face me with a frown.
My head jerked back for a second time, and I held up my hands in supplication. “I was just saying, if there’s any damage to the truck, we can handle it on our own if you don’t have an insurance policy. There’s no need to involve the authorities.”
“No need…” she mumbled, a little wrinkle forming in her forehead. “Are you propositioning me, asshole?”
“Propositioning you?” I asked, feeling more than a little insulted. “Hell, no. I was trying to be nice.”
“Do I look like someone who wouldn’t have insurance on a car like this?” she shot back, stabbing a finger toward the car.
My eyes travelled down her body slowly. Shiny, salon-styled hair, expensive business suit, heels that probably cost more than the suit did. No, she didn’t look like someone who’d drive an expensive German car without insurance. She looked like a haughty, temperamental woman who was starting to get on my last nerve with her superiority.
“Okay, princess,” I said, making the title sound like a slur. “Just give me your insurance card so I can write down the information.”
“Can you even read?” she shot back as she bent over to lean inside the car and rifle through the glove box.
I pulled my eyes away from her ass after one brief glance, angry at myself for even taking a peek. Within seconds, she had straightened and handed over her insurance card. I took it without another word and walked around to the passenger side of the truck to grab a pen and a piece of paper from the glove box.
“Hey! Where are you going with that?” she yelled, chasing after me.
“Relax, princess. I’m not stealing your insurance card, for Christ’s sake. I’m just getting something to write with.”
“Oh,” she said, grinding to a halt. “And stop calling me that.”
“If the shoe fits,” I said, my eyes dipping to her high heels before rising back up to meet hers.
Looking at the card, I began to write down her information. My hand stilled halfway through her name—Annabelle Parker. I knew that name. She was Jaxson Parker’s daughter, heir to the Parker Industries empire.
Jesus, she really was a princess, in a manner of speaking.
“Here,” I said, handing the card back to her.
She took it, looking at me expectantly. “Well, aren’t you going to give me your insurance information?”
“Why would I do that?” I asked. “You hit me. This accident was your fault. Not mine.”
“So, you’re going to try to cash in on the insurance payout? Maybe fake a neck injury, or something?” she accused.
“You really are a piece of work,” I said, shaking my head. “Here.”
I handed her one of the business cards I kept in my wallet with my name and personal cell number on it.
“Ryder Perry,” she said, reading the card. “Perry Brothers Construction.”
“Look at that,” I mused sarcastically. “We can both read.”
“Asshole,” she muttered, stomping back to her car without another word.
She squealed out of the lot, burning rubber as the car fishtailed before barreling down the street. I shook my head as I rounded the truck and climbed in behind the wheel. The food was probably cold by now, but I wasn’t going to get back in line to buy more. My brothers could deal.
When I got back to the ranch, I realized I’d forgotten to swing by the motel to put my beer on ice. It’d be hot and skunky by the time we called it a day and headed back into town.
“Well, shit. Thanks a lot, princess.”
