He stared hard at her. He wasn’t fooled. His jaw was tight. His eyes stern. But his hand on her elbow was gentle. “You wanna talk about it?”
She shook her head again. It would be unprofessional to gossip. She and Toby were still taking things slow and getting to know each other. She didn’t want to start whining about something within the first week and push him away when she’d already dumped the scoop about her mom and her son on him. And yet something in his protective posture and astute assessment bolstered her confidence. I’ll go to bat for you if you ask it, was what his body language said. But if she told him about it, she sensed enough testosterone coursed through his blood that instead of her chasing him off with her whining, he’d chase Howie down for a chat. No, it wasn’t worth it. She’d handle it.
He looked disappointed but conceded with a shrug. “Okay. I came out to find you. Wanted to show you something.”
“Hmm, another rock shelter?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
He smiled in an apparent effort to reassure her, but it was still strained. He wasn’t letting whatever this transgression was go, even if he was backing off for now.
“Not this time. I thought maybe you’d like to see my plans for this land. I’ve spent these past couple nights polishing them up and contacting possible business partners.”
“I’d love to.” This time, a genuine smile lifted her mouth. “Let me finish another bite.”
“Bring the food,” he said, tossing down his phone and snagging a plate for himself.
He walked around the island and threw a couple tortillas onto a plate, loading the shells with chicken and peppers, and heaped the rice and beans on the side. “Deborah Ann-Michael Dixon would have yelled at me for taking food to a bedroom, but Toby Dixon says ‘let them eat fajitas,’” he said with a mock bourgeoisie accent.
“That’s so not the saying,” she chuckled, but seriously, his twang mingling with his sorry attempt at a French accent was as ridiculous as she suspected he’d intended for it to sound.
Rose scooped up her backpack, and they walked together around the great room and entered the hallway. He pushed into his office with his foot, toeing it closed behind her with his other one, though it swung to a halt before latching and remained cracked. Just as well, Rose thought. It was better to have transparency around her students, especially with Howard nearby.
Ugh. What was she going to do? Angry moments ago, her stomach now plummeted with confusion. Had Howie always been like this? Had he always harbored a vindictive streak? She supposed he had. He’d tried to make her feel as if she’d overreacted about his cheating, that she wasn’t as enlightened as he was. Instead of, at least, admitting he’d been wrong. And the only reason he’d apologized now was because he’d hoped it would get him a second chance. Not because he was remorseful.
“You’re doing it again,” Toby said as she stood beside his desk.
He plopped down into his office chair, and her eyes, staring at nothing, flitted to his now.
“Doing what?”
“Zoning out. Thinking about whatever happened out there.”
She glanced down at her food, then at him, avoiding the remark. “Should I pull up a chair?”
He eyed her for a moment, his head tipped slightly back as his eyes narrowed in contemplation. He was trying to get a read on why she wouldn’t talk about it. “Yeah. Roll one of those over here.”
She nodded and grabbed one of the chairs meant for business meetings, pushing it around his desk, setting down her plate. Toby folded a tortilla and tore off a bite, then wiped his fingers mindlessly on his jeans like a little boy. He slid a legal pad in front of him. At the top was the letterhead Tyler J. Dixon, JD, Attorney at Law. He’d mentioned his brother going to law school.
“That your brother?” she asked, tapping the name.
He nodded. “Yup. The one and only Tyler. Ty’s my oldest brother. These are his leftovers from when he hung up his lawyering spurs. I figured it was better I use them to jot notes on, ’cause he was gonna throw them all out.”
“He doesn’t practice law anymore?”
Toby shook his head. “Someone had to take over our momma’s parents’ farm, or else she was going to have to sell it, and we all knew it would break her heart to give up her childhood home.”
Tyler had walked away from a prosperous career? It was admirable. But something in Toby’s eyes darkened.
“Ty was supposed to inherit the Legacy. Our dad saw the value in having a lawyer at the helm of his company someday, so he shelled out for Harvard. But then Tyler went into family law and not business, moved to Austin, and said he wasn’t coming back—until both our grandparents died. He saw our momma so distraught over her parents’ farm, he let his dreams go. Tyler’s one of those ‘old faithful’ types. Reliable to a fault. Too damn strong a streak of responsibility for his own good. He packed up my nephews and hit the road…” Toby shook his head but seemed to realize he was rambling on about personal things and let it go.
Whatever had happened weighed down on the Dixons.
Just left with his kids? He’d mentioned Tyler’s kids before, but where was their mother? It was none of her business, but she was still curious.
“What about your other brother. Travis?” she asked. “You said he went into medicine?”
“Trav wrote off all inheritance at age eighteen to forge his own path. Our dad wanted him next to take on the ranch, but he wanted to go to veterinary school and turn Dixon Cattle Company into an equine operation,” he chuckled wryly, as if there was a family joke there, “which you can imagine went over with Pops like a lead balloon, ’cause cattle ranching is the life blood of this place. So he joined the military to find his own way so that he didn’t have any strings attached to him to tell him what he had to do. When he came home from Afghanistan, though, he was different. He felt compelled to go to med school and specialize in trauma medicine. He’s eyeballing some fellowships right now as well as a position at a hospital out near El Paso.”
She furrowed her brow. “Really? After all he must have been through overseas?”