Lone Star Blues. Delores Fossen

she didn’t think it was any of the judge’s business. It wasn’t. But the long pause might also be because she hadn’t finished her conversation with Dylan and the judge was interrupting that.

      “Corbin’s mother is Adele,” Dylan provided. “She gave me custody because of some personal issues she’s having.”

      Of course, it wouldn’t take the judge long to figure out that personal issues was code for Adele getting arrested. It also didn’t take long for Jordan’s eyes to narrow again, no doubt because Dylan had spelled out that part about him having custody.

      “So, Jordan and you aren’t back together,” Walter Ray concluded. His expression lightened up a little so he must have taken it as good news. Sort of. “FYI,” he added to Dylan, “it’s not a good idea for a man to bed his ex-wife’s kin.”

      “Hmmp,” Jordan said, and it was a sound of agreement.

      Dylan added his own grunt to agree to that. Maybe though, the judge had meant that advice for Jordan and Adele and not his own two daughters. Though Dylan had only bedded one of the Turley sisters, Melanie, if Walter Ray found out about Misty staying the night—naked, no less—then things might take an even-uglier turn than they already had.

      “I got your text with your vow of celibacy,” Walter Ray threw out there. Dylan groaned, but the judge just kept on yapping. “It seemed like a good start, but I’m not thinking that so much right now.”

      Neither was Dylan. There was nothing good about a drunken vow of celibacy.

      Walter Ray turned to Jordan. “Maybe you should step out of the room so Dylan and me can talk. Man-to-man. I know you’ve been through a bunch of bad stuff, and I don’t want you to hear anything that’ll upset you.”

      Jordan’s hmmp turned to a groan. She probably didn’t like that bad stuff/man-to-man remark, and she likely didn’t want to leave, either. After all, in her mind she thought they still had to discuss Corbin’s custody, but as far as Dylan was concerned, there was nothing to discuss. It was a done deal.

      “Our conversation isn’t over,” she warned Dylan, but at least she headed out of the room.

      Dylan heard the front door again, but he seriously doubted that Jordan had just left. No. This was probably the pizza delivery that Karlee and Corbin had been waiting for.

      “Did you get the scotch Dylan sent you?” Lucian asked the judge as soon as Jordan was gone.

      “Sure did. I’m guessing that’s your way of apologizing?” Walter Ray added, not to Lucian but to Dylan.

      Since Dylan didn’t know the scotch had been sent, probably either by Karlee or Lucian, Dylan just nodded.

      “Well, I wasn’t gonna accept your apology.” Walter Ray gave his huge belt buckle an adjustment. “But Melanie said you’ve been under a lot of stress. She’s the one who talked me into coming here and patching things up between us.”

      That would be good, but no doubt came with strings.

      “I’m guessing you’ll be calling Melanie soon to chat to her about the boy you had with Adele,” the judge went on. It wasn’t a question.

      Dylan huffed. He didn’t mind smoothing things over for the sake of business, but he wasn’t a doormat. And he wasn’t going to stand here and kowtow to this man.

      “I’m not marrying your daughter,” Dylan spelled out to Walter Ray.

      Lucian shot him a glare that could have withered a cactus on the spot. It was similar to the glare he’d given Dylan the night before when he’d gotten into it with the judge at the party. Dylan remembered all of that now, but apparently, he hadn’t gotten into it deep enough since it still hadn’t sunk into Walter Ray’s head.

      “I’m not going to be roped into marrying someone simply because she chose to go to bed with me,” Dylan explained. “Hell, if I did that, I’d be married to...too many women.”

      Best not to even attempt a number on that.

      Lucian stepped forward, obviously ready to intervene, but Dylan held up his hand to silence him so he could finish having this out with Walter Ray. “I made it clear to Melanie that being with her wasn’t a commitment. She knows that, and now I’m making sure you know it, too.”

      Walter Ray’s glare topped Lucian’s, something that Dylan hadn’t thought possible. “You toyed with my girl’s feelings. She’s in love with you.”

      Dylan had indeed done some toying, but he doubted she was in love with him. Melanie was more sensible than her dad and had likely mentioned the l-word when Walter Ray had discovered the bingo card. Still, he needed to have an air clearing and smoothing over with Melanie in case there was an outside chance that she had indeed been hurt.

      But all of this was a “big can of whip-ass” revelation for Dylan.

      He’d made that celibacy vow when he was drunk, but it was a stellar idea, and it could be the first step toward moving on to the next stage of his life. Too bad it’d come so soon after seeing Jordan. Or rather, remembering Jordan.

      There was hardly a day that’d gone by over the past fourteen years that he hadn’t thought about her, but he’d always been able to push those old flames aside. It was hard to do that now with her just a few rooms away. Maybe though, he could regain his footing and rein in his bedtime memories once she was on her way. Then, he could get on with his new path to celibacy without any temptations from the past.

      Walter Ray leaned in closer, and the man violated a whole bunch of Dylan’s personal space. “You don’t want me on your bad side.”

      “No, I don’t,” Dylan assured him. “But I’m not marrying your daughter for the sake of keeping peace between us. I’m a father now, and I need to focus on my son.”

      Even though it was logic that Dylan thought a father could understand, that argument didn’t seem to appease Walter Ray one little bit. The man looked at Lucian as if he expected him to scold Dylan. Thankfully, Lucian didn’t do that. Not with words anyway, but Dylan suspected they’d have it out later. Because this could indeed affect business. Even if it did, though, Dylan wouldn’t be Lucian’s doormat, either.

      “You better hope you don’t need any favors from me,” Walter Ray warned Dylan. He extended his glare to Lucian, too.

      Lucian moved to Dylan’s side. “And you’d better hope you don’t need any favors from us.” That was the tone that had earned Lucian the nickname of Lucifer.

      The staring match started—a game of eyeball chicken—and it didn’t surprise Dylan when Walter Ray was the first one to look away. Lucian’s venom wasn’t something that anybody wanted to dick around with because Lucian could be, well, a dick, and his bad side could be a whole lot worse than all the collective bad sides in town.

      “My beef’s not with you,” Walter Ray grumbled to Lucian after he’d lost the eyeball-chicken match.

      “If it’s with my brother, then it’s with me,” Lucian assured him. “You can show yourself out.”

      Dylan didn’t know who was more surprised—him or Walter Ray. His guess was Walter Ray, because the man’s face turned red. He looked like an inflamed testicle, and it didn’t go well with the dick-shaped nose.

      Walter Ray stood there several more long moments, volleying his glare, getting redder and sputtering out some ripe profanity until he finally turned and left. He made his size known with his clomping footsteps. And then he slammed the front door.

      “You fuck this up, and I’ll smother you in your sleep,” Lucian snarled to Dylan as he walked out.

      Ah, there was Lucifer again, who’d stepped up to dissolve the caring brother. And Dylan didn’t get a chance to ask him what would cause that potential smothering. Hurting the family business or messing up things with Corbin. The first was a huge possibility now