Free The Legacy of Buchanan's Crossing by Rhea Rhodan Page B

designer tie felt as though it were strangling him.
    “Have you two had a chance to look at the menu?”
    Sure, he was pushing. Every brain cell he possessed was telling him exactly how god-awful an idea this had been. All he could do now was get it over with as quickly as possible.
    His father narrowed his eyes at the menus lying closed on the starched tablecloth. “Must be some contract. You pay that fancy truck of yours off already? How ’bout those business loans?”
    Darcy’s cool gaze flickered over him. Thanks, Dad .
    “Only a couple more payments.” A couple more years of payments, actually. But no one sitting here needed that information. “They’re a good write off. Green Man’s doing great. J. Milton is international. They’re involved in all kinds of developments. At our last meeting, Cumberland talked about working together on more projects.”
    Clint’s ring finger itched again. That had been the last meeting. What about this next meeting? What would happen tomorrow morning?
    “If everything’s going so well with this big important developer, why are you looking so peaked? Are you feeling okay?”
    Leave it to Mom. Mom and Cayden. Shit, the crazy little enigma was back.
    “I’m fine, really. Just a headache.”
    “Me too. What an awful day it’s been,” Darcy chimed in, then launched into the story of “the fat, short, ugly monstrosity of a convenience-store night clerk who had tried to run her over,” the “unspeakable stain” that ruined her dress, the storm…blah, blah, blah.
    The reality had been hilarious. The big bird shit had been, anyway. And if he was thinking about Cayden again, it was Darcy’s fault. He’d caught the better part of the conversation, but what with the crowd, hadn’t been able to see whom Darcy had been screaming at. He hadn’t been in a big hurry to join someone making enough of a scene to get the crowd talking, especially not after overhearing someone say “the blonde” had been so busy pushing everyone out of her way to get to the front, she hadn’t been paying attention to anything else. Curiosity drove him to see what fashion crime her victim had committed. He wasn’t as surprised to see it was Cayden as he was to see her nasty case of road rash. He shouldn’t have left her alone out in East Granby last night.
    Guilt had stopped him from joining Cayden in laughter as that great big pink—pink!—bird shit had plopped, then dripped off Darcy’s hair onto her dress. Good thing it had stopped him, though. God, had Darcy been pissed. He’d never seen anyone actually turn purple before. He’d been careful then, explaining how he knew Cayden, leaving the previous night’s adventure out of it. Had it really only been last night?
    “Please excuse me. I need to powder my nose. If the waiter comes while I’m gone, order me the lobster please, with au gratin potatoes, asparagus tips, and a glass of my favorite Chablis. He’ll know which one.”
    He rose automatically with his father as Darcy glided elegantly across the dining room.
    His mother cleared her throat. “She’s very pretty.”
    “High maintenance,” his father said with his usual bluntness.
    “Oh, Lewis, I’m sure she’s only trying to make a good impression.”
    “That really the kind of woman you want, son?”
    “May I take your order, or would you prefer to wait until the lady returns?”
    The waiter should have offered drinks and appetizers first. Clint wasn’t the least bit sorry he hadn’t, or that the man had interrupted his father. Both his parents ordered chicken, the cheapest entree on the menu, no sides, “just water, please.” He ordered scotch and a steak.
    He stood to pull out Darcy’s chair when she returned. His father dutifully rose, then sat. Conversation was excruciatingly strained except when Darcy went on about her marketing job. Then it was just excruciatingly boring.
    Dinner arrived faster than it should have. Clint’s steak was too rare, his parents’