Free Trouble in Texas by Katie Lane Page A

sat down to tug on his boots.
    Beau rolled his eyes. “You sound as bad as Mom. She calls me every day to ask how
     much sleep I’ve gotten and what I had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Of course,
     she worries about everyone in the family. She thinks Harvard has ruined Beckett. Brianne
     is too spoiled and headstrong to ever catch a man. And you’re a recluse who will end
     up as nutty as Aunt Milly.”
    “Aunt Milly isn’t off her rocker.” Brant tugged on a boot. “She’s just a lonely old
     woman who lives in the past.” When Beau didn’t say anything, Brant looked up at his
     brother, who was watching him with what could only be called sympathy. “Are you saying
     I’m a lonely old man who lives in the past?”
    “No,” Beau said. “I’m saying you’re a man who’s still grieving for his wife and son
     and is looking for anything or anyone to blame. The legend of the Cates Curse just
     happened to be a convenient explanation. But I think both of us know that the tornado
     that killed Mandy and B.J. wasn’t caused by something that happened a hundred years
     ago.”
    There was a part of him that knew Beau was right. Up until Mandy and B.J. had died,
     the Cates Curse had only been a ghost story he and his brothers had delighted inretelling when they were camping in the backyard with their flashlights and sleeping
     bags. But if he didn’t have the curse to blame for the huge emptiness that his family’s
     death had created inside him, then what could he blame? There was nothing he could
     do about fate. And if he blamed God and renounced all faith, then he couldn’t believe
     in heaven. And without heaven, his wife and son would just be decaying in the hard,
     cold ground.
    Brant couldn’t live with that.
    “Why don’t you take some time off,” Beau said. “You haven’t had a vacation in years.
     We could go hiking through Europe or motorcycle riding through Taiwan—or climb Mount
     Ever—”
    There was a tap on the door, and Baby walked in with a silver tray that held two cut-crystal
     glasses and a bottle of brandy.
    “Minnie thought you two would like a little refreshment.”
    Beau didn’t hesitate to hop up from the bed. “That would sure be nice, ma’am. I’m
     pretty parched myself.”
    “Don’t touch that,” Brant said. “Miss Hattie’s likes to slip people mickeys.”
    Baby giggled as she brought the tray over to the table next to Brant’s chair. “Minnie
     thought you would feel that way, so she had me get an unopened bottle.” She peeled
     off the seal and removed the cap, then splashed a little in a glass. “It’s the best
     bottle of cognac we had. But nothing’s too good for our guests.”
    Even with the seal, Brant refused to take the glass, but Beau had no such reservations.
     He accepted the drink with a smile that had Baby’s eyes almost bugging through her
     glasses before he took a seat in the chair next to Brant’s.Baby quickly slipped a footstool under his feet, then hurried across the room and
     returned with a humidor.
    She flipped it open right in front of Beau, who examined the contents.
    “Cuban?”
    “Of course.” Baby smiled. “Miss Hattie’s wouldn’t have anything else.”
    After a careful inspection, Beau selected a cigar and ran it under his nose. “Nice.”
    Since Beau had probably never had a Cuban cigar in his life, Brant had to grin. Baby
     held the humidor out to Brant. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t resist the smell
     of rich tobacco. When he chose one, Baby looked like she was about to burst with happiness.
    “Would you boys like a foot massage?” she asked as she lit his cigar.
    “I would—” Beau started, but Brant cut him off.
    “No, thank you, Baby.”
    “What about a back scratching?” she asked.
    “That would be great—”
    Brant threw his brother a warning look. “Thanks, but we’re good.”
    Baby’s face fell. “All right then, I guess I’ll just leave you two to enjoy your cigars.”
    Once she