Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [133]
He stared at her, trying to decide if she was telling the truth. It could be a joke they’d cooked up, to send him back to Kentucky, only to find out she wasn’t there and he’d have to turn around and come back to England again. A perverse punishment. Almost reading his mind, she shrugged, and crossed to a hall table where a phone sat. She picked it up and punched out a number with enough digits telling him it was overseas.
She smiled patronizingly, and then held the receiver to his ear. Asha’s voice was clear across the connection.
“The Windmill. Hello? Anyone there?”
Jago took the phone from Raven’s hand, punched disconnect and started to dial. He paused when he realized he wasn’t sure whom to call. He looked at her. “I need Mershan’s corporate helicopter and jet warmed up. That’s Julian’s department, but I guess he’s still on Falgannon. Where is Trev?”
“Trev’s right here.” His brother spoke from the shadow of the doorway.
Seeing his twin he laughed for the first time since Asha had found that bloody letter. “No wonder Raven saw ‘differences.’” His twin had a black eye and a bruise on his chin.
Yep, these Montgomerie women were warriors. He wondered if Trev had at least remembered rule number three in handling a Montgomerie female—to protect his breall.
Asha hung up the phone. No one had spoken, but she had this strange feeling it was Jago. She was sorry she’d run from him. It wasn’t her style. She was still unsure what she’d do when he returned, but outside of the fun of leaving him without his charge cards, phone and car keys, she hadn’t accomplished anything other than giving herself a little space to think.
Colin was replacing worn tiles on the floor in front of the jukebox; the idiot box was playing The Yardbirds’ “Heart Full of Soul.” He looked up, concern in his eyes.
“You feel okay, Asha?”
She picked up a pencil to add notes to Netta’s orders. Her friend was learning fast and would soon take a lot of weight off her shoulders. With the baby coming, she would be a godsend. Netta was getting another promotion this payday—to manager. And pleased how Winnie was fitting in, maybe Asha would promote the young girl to hostess and hire another waitress or two.
Dropping the pencil, she picked up the glass of green tea and lemon. “Sure, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
Colin shrugged. “You’re drinking green tea instead of Pepsi, for one. And maybe the way you answered the phone; hope in your eyes—though mixed with a flash of fire.”
“I’m a little tired, restless. The winds make me edgy. They rattled the panes of the windows last night and kept me awake.”
“The baby making you sick yet?” He almost ducked after asking the question.
“You know, Colin, you’re too damn smart,” Asha growled.
He smiled winningly. “Until you came along, no one noticed. It was ‘good old Oo-it—always great for a laugh.’”
“They were laughing with you, Colin. Everyone loves you.”
He replaced the cap on the putty cement. “Yeah, I know. Why I loved the nickname. But Oo-it isn’t all of me. Sometimes, names are often roles we’re forced to play. Think maybe that Jago was able to forget his troubles and just be Jago here? Hey, I’m not saying that lying to you was good, and taking the proxies put him in the doghouse, but a name is just some label we stick on people. You loved Clint a long time before we learned his name. And what the heck”—he chuckled and flashed a grin—“I’m an Oo-it. Names aren’t as important as a person’s actions. Did Jago tell you about the drive-in project? We’re partners. He put up the money, and he and I are going into the drive-in franchise business. People will have to call me Mr. Oo-it. Or how he gave Netta money to start a dress shop in Lexington? And that he’s trying to line up a deal for Sam to market his gumbo recipe?”
She blinked, shocked, maybe slightly hurt. “No, he didn’t. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised he forgot to mention these