But Buck had already turned and headed for the stairs.
Four
B.J. took off after Buck as another piercing scream echoed up the stairwell.
“I won’t!” a woman shouted. “I will not. No way!” Another scream followed, fading right in on top of the words.
A man spoke—roughly, and low enough that B.J. couldn’t make out what he said.
The woman screamed again.
“Now, settle down, Glory.” That was Chastity’s calm, level voice. “Bowie. Back off.”
By then, Buck had cleared the stairs and was striding toward the living room. B.J., right behind him, glanced back and saw Lupe coming down after them. Lupe always wore about twenty silver bangle bracelets on each arm. They jingled together as she took the steps two at a time. “What’s going on?” she demanded, kohl-lined black eyes wide with surprise.
As if B.J. knew.
In the living room, they found Chastity in front of the fireplace, legs braced apart, fisted hands planted hard on her hips. Behind her crouched a petite, dark-eyed brunette.
“No, Bowie,” the brunette cried. “No, no, no!” She peered through the crook in Chastity’s left elbow, gripping hunks of Chastity’s chunky sweater in either hand, using Buck’s mother as a human shield against the strapping, shaggy-haired mountain-man type over by the window.
“Your brother?” B.J. asked Buck out of the corner of her mouth, tipping her head toward the mountain man.
“’Fraid so,” said Buck, sounding midway between amused and resigned.
Even without Buck’s confirmation, B.J. would have pegged the guy as a Bravo. Beneath a couple of days’ worth of beard, he had that telltale cleft in his chin—not to mention that beautifully shaped, way-too-sexy mouth. “Glory,” Bowie said, his tone gentle and careful—the look in his eyes anything but. “Come on, honey…” He took a step toward his mother and the little brunette who cowered behind her.
Not wise.
The brunette let out another wake-the-dead shriek.
“Glory,” groaned Chastity, putting a hand to her left ear—the one nearest Glory’s wide-open mouth. “Cut that out. You’re breaking my eardrums.”
“Well, I can’t help it,” Glory wailed. “I just can’t.” She spoke to Buck’s brother again. “Get it through that thick head of yours. I will not marry you. Ever. You don’t love me. You only say you do because you think you have to.”
“No, damn it. That’s not true. I do love—”
“You don’t.” The brunette bit her trembling lip and shook her head. “Oh, Bowie. You’d make a terrible husband.” She edged out from behind Chastity. “We both have to face it. You’re wild and irresponsible and…and you can’t keep a job.” With that, she burst into tears and buried her head in her hands.
Bowie, looking about a mile out of his depth and sinking fast, tried again. “Honey. I do love you. And I’ll get a damn job.”
Glory threw back her head and screamed some more.
B.J. winced at the piercing sound. She slid another glance at Buck. “What’s this about?”
“Hey. Don’t ask me. I just got here myself.”
“I don’t care who knows,” Glory wailed. “I don’t care that the whole town’ll be talking. It’s nothing to me what anyone says. I said no. I meant no—and I will never change my mind!”
“That’s it,” said Bowie. “Damn it, I’ve had it.”
Whimpering, Glory scooted back behind Chastity. “Don’t you dare come near me, you big lunk.”
Bowie made a sound like an injured moose. Then he pointed a threatening finger at the sobbing brunette. “You will marry me, Glory. By God, I’ll get a ring on that finger of yours if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will.”
“No, you—”
“Enough!” shouted Chastity, so loudly that both Bowie and Glory actually shut up. Into the lovely moment of silence, she commanded, “Bowie. Get out.”
“But Ma, she—”
“Out. Now.”
“Ma, she’s gotta—”
“I said, out.”
Mother and son glared at each other. Bowie blinked first. Chastity swept out a hand toward the front door. “Now.”
Muttering very bad words under his breath and shaking his big golden head, Bowie turned for the foyer. Buck, B.J. and Lupe were blocking the door. In unison, they each took a sliding step to the right, into the room—and out of Bowie’s way.
About then, Bowie noticed his brother. He paused in midstride. “Hey. Buck.” His dark look brightened. “How the hell you been?”
“Good to see you, little brother.”
“Bowie,” Chastity warned on a rising inflection.
Bowie scowled again. “Awright, awright.” He clapped Buck on the shoulder. “Good to have you home.” And he trudged on by and out the front door—slamming it good and hard behind him.
Chastity clucked her tongue. “That boy. He’ll be the death of me, I swear.” She turned to Glory. “You okay, honey?”
“Oh, Mrs. B.” Glory burst into a fresh flood of weeping.
Chastity gathered the girl into her capable arms and spoke over her head to Buck and the two women flanking him. “If we could have a few minutes…”
Buck nodded. “B.J. and I were heading out, anyway.”
Lupe cast a nervous glance at the still-sobbing Glory. “I’m going with you—wait. I want to grab a camera…”
B.J. spoke up before Buck could argue. “Good idea.” She beamed Lupe a big smile—and sent a defiant look in Buck’s direction. “We’ll be out on the porch.” Lupe took off up the stairs and B.J. followed Buck out.
“You can’t avoid me forever,” Buck warned, as they waited on the steps for Lupe to join them.
“Probably not.” B.J. wrapped her jacket tighter against the late-afternoon chill. “But I’m giving it my best shot.”
“We have to talk.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“If you’d taken just one of my damn calls—”
She waved a hand. “I know, I know. Maybe you wouldn’t have found it necessary to manipulate me into coming here.”
“I didn’t manipulate you.”
“Hah.”
“I had a story you wanted. To get it, you paid the price I set.”
“As I said, you manipulated me into coming here.”
“You could have turned down the story…” He sent her one of those looks—intimate, dangerous. “Or maybe not. Maybe you couldn’t turn it down. After all, anything for Alpha, right?”
As if she’d deny it. “That’s right. Anything. Even a week in the sticks with you.”
“A week?” His breath plumed on the air. “I don’t know. This job is likely to take a lot more than a week….”
More than a week? To cover her dismay, she stuck her hands in her pockets