Finding Him at Home (Holliday Book 1) Read online

  "And you're asking me to take a hit on these cows, you're asking me to basically give them back to you. What the hell do I get out of this? And if I remember correctly, Kitt Holliday was a goddamn cheating son of a bitch. My aunt deserved better," said Lester, lighting a cigarette. The smoke curled out of his nose.

  "Ricky says he sold you the cows at a heavy discount. Our price is just and fair, because it's exactly what you paid for them," said Clark. "You're just looking to turn a buck."

  "Yeah, you bet your ass I am. I. Hell, my family almost got their ass handed to them during the Great fucking Recession. I ain't gonna lose an opportunity to make a fucking buck."

  "Lester. Be reasonable," whispered John. "Everyone's hurting."

  "You fuckin' be reasonable John. You fuckin' be reasonable. I'm having the cows stand at auction. We'll let the people decide what the head of cows are worth."

  "Lester, if you do this, you're gonna be ruining relationships, friendships, you're gonna have a serious problem on your hands," said John. "I don't know if I'm gonna want your business around these parts."

  "You're saying you're gonna boot me to the curb, after years of business, because the Holliday's swing their big fucking dick and come calling?" said Lester, spitting at John's feet.

  "No. What I'm saying is that the cows that you've brought with you were obtained illegally. And they are offering you the money you paid. Take the fucking money, go home, and chalk the entire thing up to a massive misunderstanding, or a mistake, or God poking you in the eye," said John. He crossed his arms. "This ain't about the Hollidays or the McGuinnesses. It's about doing the honorable thing."

  John motioned to one of his men in the corner. "Clark, hand Lester a check, and hand me my transaction fee. Call your boys, get them to bring a hauler out here, and get 'em tonight. Gary over here is gonna keep on eye on the cattle."

  Lilith wrote out the checks on Clark's back and handed them over to John and Lester. Lester looked at it and put it in his pocket. "It's more than we just decided upon," he finally muttered.

  "That's for putting up with me and my cattle and my errant former manager," said Lilith.

  "You mean your father's cattle and his errant former manager," said Lester.

  "No. I'm a Holliday," said Lilith. She grabbed Clark and moved away, stunned by her own words. She had never taken possession of the ranch in this way, especially not to another major ranching family in the state. It had never been her place, and now suddenly she could totally see herself doing it.

  But perhaps it was because of Clark. She couldn't ignore Clark's role in what just occurred. The drive up had been really comfortable. She drove and talked to Clark about everything from world events to his favorite books, and while she wondered what he had done to become a felon, she became comfortable with the idea of spending her days like this, working on the ranch, hanging out with Clark. Maybe even doing more than just hanging out with him.

  It was early, she knew that. But somewhere deep down was this hope that everything was going to be ok. That everything would just solve itself, that maybe he liked her too, and they would figure out how to juggle the entire thing. Unless, of course, she found out that his criminal record was too heinous to ignore. But, sometimes, there's an understanding of mutual attraction, and she definitely thought she felt that. But, maybe she was getting ahead of herself.

  They shook Lester's hand, nodded at John, and got back in the truck. "That was quicker than I thought it would be," said Lilith. "The drive was longer than the transaction."

  "Yeah, it usually has been this way. Most of them are just pissed that their plans for their cheap and yet oddly healthy cattle have gone awry. I suppose Lester had bought some fancy cigars or something thinking he was about to get a major payday," said Clark. He sat in the passenger seat, buckling his seat belt, and feeling really happy that he didn't have to drive back. He had really tired of driving long distances. He had learned a long time ago that he really was a homebody.

  They drove out of the auction lot, a dirt parking lot and open air pavilion-like building in the middle of nothing and nowhere, much like most of the places that Lilith liked frequenting.

  She took a turn onto the highway, and although her truck didn't have cruise control, she took her hands off the steering wheel and propped up her left knee, wedging her right foot into the gas pedal. She had learned it a long time ago, and it barely failed her unless she was exceptionally tired. Clark was also slightly impressed by it.

  "So, I gotta ask," said Lilith.

  "You heard?"

  "Yeah, of course."

  "Do you really want to know? Short version?"

  "Yeah, I think that's the best."

  Clark stared straight out the windshield, fiddling with the buttons of his green plaid shirt. He was always nervous when people asked questions about this, not because he didn't like dredging it up over and over again, but because he always feared that people wouldn't understand. He hadn't been thinking, and that's the only way he could have possibly done it, and the worst, or even the best part, was that he didn't regret any of it. He laid awake at night wondering if he'd do it again, and the answer was always yes.

  "My little sister was raped and killed when I was 18. She was two years older than me," he said as confidently as he could. "And I didn't think. They had let him out on bail waiting for a DNA analysis. And I didn't think, I just ended him."

  Lilith sat stock still, trying to process the information. Her analytical mind grappled with her emotional one. She wanted to know more, but then again, she really didn't. "How?" she asked, pretending to chalk her morbid curiosity to having taken too many pathology classes.

  "I yanked him out of his car at a stop light. And I don't remember much of the rest of it. But he died in the intersection before the ambulance got there. Jury took pity on me, but I still had to do time," he finished. "Your father was upset by the entire thing, but I think he understood it on some level."

  "Yeah," she said. It was all she could say. It was a lot less troubling to her now that she heard it. It was gruesome, it was horrible, and it was utterly morbid. But it was also honorable and almost endearing.

  She took an exit from the highway, deciding that perhaps they should take a more scenic route home. "You mind?" she asked, pointing to the road she had already chosen.

  "Of course not," he replied. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the silence eating into him. "Are you gonna say something?"

  "I dunno," she said. "Not my life, but I don't mind it. Vigilante justice and all that."

  "Nah. She was my entire life for a long time. I didn't really grow up in what you'd call a stable environment," he said. "Not vigilante."

  "Love, then."

  "Sure."

  They sat in silence again, traveling up the mountain road. Lilith admired the view, following the river through its twists and turns, life and land created by God for whatever purposes and to whatever ends. The sun was setting quickly and she turned on her headlights.

  As they climbed the next rise, the sun falling in the sky, smoke began pouring out of her engine. "You gotta pull over," said Clark.

  "Yeah," she said, waiting until a pull off. She got out of the truck and popped the hood, almost burning her hand. "I dunno a damn thing about this engine. Roger, my father's buddy keeps it up for me. Supposedly, anyway."

  "It's fine. I don't think we need to do a roadside evaluation anyway. The ranch is only twenty miles up the road. We should be able to catch a ride," he said.

  The smoke finally trickled out, and as it cleared, the stars popped out of the sky. Lilith and Clark looked at each other, neither reaching for their cell phones, neither thinking at all. She realized, the feelings, everything she was feeling, was definitely mutual. She had to take the first step, she had to figure out how to make it clear. She was desperately out of practice, and she didn't yet know if she wanted to give in to her own desire, or to draw it out. She wanted him, in this moment, she wanted him, she couldn't deny
that.

  He looked at her, trying to communicate silently that he just wanted to grab her and make her realize that he also wanted her.

  Lilith touched his arms, sleeves pulled up to the elbows. He grabbed her by the waist and the space between them vanished, their lips moving in unison as they kissed.

  He pulled back. "You, uh, you ok with this?"

  "Yes duh," she said breathlessly. "You?"

  "Yeah," he said.

  They kissed under the bright stars, not caring when they needed to be home. His manhood struggled against his jeans, but he ignored it. As she pressed against him, she could feel it, but the thoughts of sex, out here under the stars, frightened her.

  They sought refuge behind the truck, on the side of the road, as he undid the buttons on her shirt, swiftly undoing her bra and taking her ample breast in his hand, and putting her left nipple in his mouth, sucking and tracing it with his tongue as she quietly moaned.

  "I'm not having sex with you tonight," she said, her words coming out stuttered as she quarreled with her own desires.

  "Who said anything about sex," he said devilishly as he started undoing her belt and the buttons on her jeans. He pulled off her boots and started peeling her jeans down her legs. He threw them to the side and turned his attention to her panties. He kissed the sides of her thighs, making his way to her lips, breathing heavily on her sex, before peeling back her underwear and flicking his tongue against her clitoris, moving the lips apart with his tongue, his lips, and finally hers. Her moans were becoming persistent and encouraging as he slipped his index finger inside, her wetness making it easy. His tongue wrapped itself on her clitoris, letting himself give it undivided attention, letting his hand sit idly.

  Then, her phone rang. "Don't, leave it, unimportant," she said, her chest heaving. She was basically naked, her breasts exposed, her shirt hanging onto her elbows while he worked on her.

  He found where he tossed her jeans and fished it out of her pocket. "It's your father," he said. "Might be urgent."

  "Fuck," she said, exasperated. This had been much better than masturbating and she wanted to keep going. He might actually be good at this, she thought. "Yeah, we'll get back to this in a moment." She tried to calm down her heart, trying to return her breathing to normal.

  "We better," he replied, wiping the side of his mouth. "I was getting excited."

  Thank God, she thought, the mood hadn't been ruined. Now, what did her father want?

  She picked up the phone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  "Hello Dad, I'm a bit busy," said Lilith. She laid naked, Clark between her legs, awkwardly propped up on one elbow.

  "Yeah, you and Clark need to double time it Doc Mulreedy's," he said. He seemed annoyed and stressed, she thought.

  "What happened?" she asked, worried that he had, had a heart attack or worse. Her stomach leapt into her throat even considering that she had been having a good time while her father had been suffering.

  "Ricky was stabbed to death. They just found his body. Doc Mulreedy is doing the autopsy now," said Saul. "Get your asses over here, on the double."

  She was shocked, unsure how to respond. Clark's face was still playful, kissing her thighs lightly, but the mood had evaporated in a puff of putrid steam. "Yeah, I'll be right there. We're just trying to a roadside thing, a uh, fuck, a roadside repair. The engine was blowing smoke," she stuttered. "If we can't get it right, I'll get Pistol or something to give us a ride over that way," she finished.

  "Yeah, whatever. Get yer asses moving," said Saul and then hung up.

  Clark had gotten the message that something had happened from her face. It showed the troubling news. He got up and gathered her things. "What happened?"

  "Someone killed Ricky," she said, putting on her underwear and trying to wiggle into her jeans. "Do you mind just," she said, gesturing to him to turn around. It was difficult to fit into these pants on a regular day, but with an audience it was just downright embarrassing.

  "Yeah, sorry," he said, turning around. "I can't believe someone killed Ricky."

  "Yeah, I grew up with him." She put on her bra, buttoned her shirt, and stood next to the engine bay. "Alright, can we fix this?" she asked.

  Clark peered into the engine bay, sighed, and said, "lemme see what I can do." He did his best to try and make the situation less awkward, keeping his distance. In his own estimation, a sexual experience ruined was always way more awkward than one mutually enjoyed.

  He knew he had wanted her and he didn't think he was taking advantage of the situation. Plus, he thought, she wasn't just another person. She was the boss's daughter. He had been thinking of her since that day at the coffee shop, and he didn't want this to be just a fling. He didn't want that from his life.

  She crossed her arms, glancing at him. A wave of insecurity washed over her as she watched him dig into the engine bay, trying to see what he could do to get them moving again.

  And the funny part was that she remembered feeling these things before.

  #

  The Southern California sun was high in the sky, and they had sat on the beach, sipping cold beers, more refreshment just a reach away in a cooler that he had brought.

  His name was Daniel Borough, an entertainment lawyer that she had met weeks before at some random party. She had been invited out of pity because she never got out much, but it was more fun than she expected and she found herself spending more and more time with Daniel. He was all the stereotypical things she wanted to like: funny, smart, and cute. But the most important part was that he seemed to like her. In her study rooms, that was a lacking quality.

  "Another?" he said, pulling out another beer. He wore swim shorts, was bare chested, and lounged in his beach chair, looking resplendent in the afternoon sun.

  "Yeah, fine," she replied. She wore a bikini and rubbed sunblock on her legs and shoulders, hoping to God she wouldn't get sunburned. It happened every time she was outside. Daniel had been kind enough to bring some from home.

  "I dunno what to do about this entire thing," she bemoaned. "Like, should I just quit and go back home and figure out something else?"

  "Nah, finish up. You'll thank yourself later for sticking it out and doing a good job," he said. "I mean, when I was in law school, all I wanted was to quit and like, become a barista. It seemed pointless and useless. And sometimes, I still think it's pointless and useless, but ya know what? I got cash in my pocket and something to do every day."

  "Yeah, but maybe I don't wanna do this every day. Secretly, deep down, I really don't wanna see patients," she said. She stared out at the oil rigs off in the distance. "Maybe I should work on those oil rigs."

  "Well, you'd be the prettiest oil worker I have ever seen," he said, laughing. "You'd make it very hard to work out there for all the other guys."

  "You're very sweet," she said. "I wonder if they stare out at the beach, from their work stations, wondering what it's like to enjoy the fruits of their labors, as we do."

  "Well, why don't we toast them and their hard work?"

  "Yeah, let's." They both raised their beers for a moment. "To the oil rig workers, and their effervescent need to give us what we need to live the good life." She drank deeply.

  "Effervescent?"

  "Best I could come up with," she laughed.

  She had decided there was something about him. He understood things before she had a chance to explain them, he listened and gave thoughtful answers, but more than that, it seemed as if he just card about what she had to say more than other guys she had met. It was nice. It was really nice, and over the past few weeks of hanging out and grabbing dinner, she felt like she was falling for him.

  They had barely touched each other, not even an awkward goodnight kiss. It was as if he was shy, or just waiting for something from her. Maybe she wasn't giving off the right signals? Sitting in a bikini on the beach with a man, drinking beers: she thought that was signal enough. Maybe she just didn't understand him. Everyone was different, she
reminded herself repeatedly. Except on the inside, then they were all basically the same.

  "You don't have like three kidneys, do you?" she blurted out.

  He looked at her askance. "No," he muttered. "Just two. Like everyone else."

  Yup, she thought. He was the same as everyone else, on the inside anyway. Maybe, she thought, she should make the first move and see how he responds. She leaned over, her skin glistening, and kissed him. She pulled back a little, confused when she didn't feel anything. "You wanna get outta here," she heard herself say.

  He smiled, the left corner of his mouth coming up. "Hell yeah," he said, and downed the rest of his beer.

  They gathered their things and walked back to the parking lot near the ocean. The sand was hot against her feet, the asphalt even hotter, but she endured it until she climbed into his SUV and they drove off.

  In hindsight, she thought their lack of conversation on the ride to his apartment should have been enough for her to see that he was using her. But she didn't see it then.

  They took the steps to his apartment two at a time. He fumbled his keys and she had started running her hands over his body, still slick from the beach, reaching down into his swim shorts. He laughed as she reached his manhood and squeezed his balls playfully.

  He opened the door and they had tumbled through, their lips and tongues interacting, his hands over her body, undoing her bikini top and taking her hard nipples in his mouth, before they finally reached his bedroom. Out of a side table, he reached inside and grabbed a condom, quickly tearing the foil packet. She took it and put it on him, making sure she also got him erect at the same time.

  She was having fun, she knew that, and when they finally came together and he slid into her, she knew she was in it. In hindsight, she could see that she was there for him, and he hadn't really shown any effort in being there for her. At least, not in this way. She had initiated, and as he found his way into her, pushing slightly, pulling slightly, she had to put his hand to her clitoris, guiding his thumb in the direction and movement she wanted.