Family Tree. Сьюзен Виггс

Gordy kept his eyes averted and his shoulders hunched up, as though hoping to make himself smaller. Didn’t he know that never worked?

      As if to prove her theory, Degan cuffed Gordy on the back of the head, causing his hat with the earflaps to topple. Then he made an obscene gesture while Carl and Ivan guffawed.

      What a bunch of jerks.

      Gordy sidled away and tried to shrug it off, pulling his lips into an uncomfortable smile. Annie already knew that wasn’t going to work either.

      She heaved a sigh and put on her parka. “Come on, dogs,” she said to Clark and Squiggy. “Let’s see if we can get things back on track.” Stepping out into the cold afternoon, she said, “Hey, could somebody give me a hand?”

      The dogs trotted out and sniffed around, lifting legs and shaking off.

      “Sure,” Degan said, “I’ll give you a hand.” He slapped his gloves together in an exaggerated round of applause. “How’s that?”

      “Hilarious,” she said. “Seriously, I need some help with the evaporator pans. Gordy, can you come?”

      “Hell, no, he can’t come.” Degan grabbed the back of Gordy’s collar. “I’m gonna give dipshit here a swirly in the sap tank.”

      “Do that and my brother will fire your ass,” she promised, though she had no idea whether that it was true.

      “Only if you tell him,” Degan said, yanking Gordy toward a collection tank full of ice-cold sap. Poor Gordy looked ill.

      “Which I’m about to do,” she retorted.

      “Yeah, sure.” Degan let go of Gordy, shoving hard enough to send him to his knees.

      Before Annie could breathe a sigh of relief, Degan grabbed her by the arm and pulled her inside the sugarhouse. His fingers dug deep through the down pile of her parka. She gave her arm a twist and tried to pull away, but succeeded only in shedding half her coat. “Cut it out, Degan.”

      “I’m here to help, remember?” he said, dropping the jacket on the floor. “You just wanted to get me alone. So here I am.”

      Annie ignored the insinuation. “Oh, good. Then you can haul these barrels outside and load them into the green trailer.”

      “What’s in it for me?” Before she could reply, he pushed her back against the rough wooden side of the sugarhouse. “Manny told me you never put out for him, but there’s a first time for everything.”

      Really? she thought. Really? She brought her knee up sharply. It was too much to hope she’d nail him in the groin, but he staggered back with the wind knocked out of him. He doubled over, and when he straightened up, he picked up a bucket of cold, raw sap. “You are so screwed,” he said, and sloshed the contents at Annie. “Maybe that’ll make you sweeter.”

      She tried to jump out of the way. The cold sap soaked her jeans and trickled down into her boots. “Hey,” she said. “That’s about enough, Degan Kerry.”

      “I’m just getting started,” he said, taking a stride toward her.

      When she saw the feral glint in his eye, Annie felt fear for the first time. Then the door slammed open, bringing in a gust of cold air.

      “Is there a problem here?” Fletcher Wyndham’s voice was not loud, but it seemed to cut a swath through everything. And although it was a question, he didn’t wait for an answer. Fletcher was not bigger than Degan. But he made himself bigger by the way he carried himself. There was something piercing and intimidating in his eyes. “There’s work to be done,” he said.

      “Yeah? Are you the boss all of a sudden?” Degan tossed his head and brushed past Fletcher, stepping outside. Instead of getting to work, he shoved Gordy toward an open tank beside a tree. “Didn’t I promise you a swirly?”

      Moving with startling quickness, Fletcher crossed to Degan and grabbed him by the back of the pants and the back of the collar. He lifted Degan up and slammed him against the trunk of a tree, looping his belt over a bucket hook.

      “You’re not so hot at listening,” he said.

      “What the hell?” Degan’s toes dangled above the muddy ground. “Son of a bitch—”

      His two minions snickered as he twisted this way and that, trying to get down.

      Loyal to the end, thought Annie, beginning to shiver from the cold.

      Degan heaved himself away from the tree. There was a ripping sound, and then he landed on his hands and knees in the mud. The dogs pranced around, thinking it was a game. When Degan stood up, his pants slid down, revealing jockey shorts and thick, hairy legs. He yanked up his pants and sent Fletcher a glare of fury. But the effect was lost because he had to keep a grip on his pants. “You are so dead,” he snarled.

      Fletcher shaded his eyes and looked up at the sky. “You guys can call it a day,” he said, then turned to Annie. “Gordy and I will finish up with the filtering.”

      He turned his back on Degan and walked away. Degan made a growling sound and lunged, but his pants dropped again and he stumbled into the mud a second time. Fletcher didn’t spare him a glance.

      Degan picked himself up, his expression aflame with pure rage. But Annie saw something else in the bully’s face—uncertainty. She planted herself in front of him and addressed Degan and his pals. “It’s time for you guys to head home. Don’t bother coming back. I’ll bring your final checks tomorrow.” Then she held her breath, praying they would cooperate.

      Degan’s uncertainty hardened into belligerence. Annie held her ground, although her stomach was churning. Go, she thought. Just go.

      “You heard her,” Fletcher said, standing behind her. “Take a hike.”

      Degan let loose with a string of sputtering invectives as he clutched his pants and marched away, heading down the mountain through the woods, toward the parking area by Kyle’s office. Ivan and Carl looked at each other, then at Annie. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at them until they followed Degan.

      “Good riddance,” she muttered as they disappeared into the woods. Her heart was beating fast. She’d never been comfortable with drama and conflict.

      She and Gordy followed Fletcher into the sugarhouse. Inside, she stood near the fire burning under the evaporator, trying to warm up.

      “Hey, thanks, man,” Gordy said, his gaze worshipful as he regarded Fletcher. “That was really cool of you.”

      The taller boy gave a shrug. “Don’t thank me. Do yourself a favor and figure out how to quit being a target.”

      “I didn’t know I was being a target,” Gordy muttered, staring at the floor. “How am I supposed to know when Degan’s going to go all Lord of the Flies on me?”

      “It’s not rocket science,” Fletcher said, an edge of annoyance in his voice. “Look people in the eye and tell them to knock it off.”

      The dogs curled up together on their blankets.

      Fletcher looked Annie up and down. “You’re soaking wet.”

      “Looking him in the eye didn’t really work for me,” she said.

      “Do you need to find some dry clothes?”

      “It’s warm here by the fire.” She felt a flush rise in her cheeks. Despite her discomfort, she liked the way he was looking at her. Interested but not rude. At least, she hoped he was interested. Most guys gave her a pass, because she didn’t have long, shiny hair or big boobs. She was small in stature, with curly hair that bordered on kinky, and olive-toned skin that didn’t look quite right in Vermont in the winter.

      “Wow, it’s awesome in here,” said Gordy. “I’ve never been inside a sugarhouse before.”

      Annie raised her eyebrows. “I thought