By the time he finished this heartfelt speech, just about everyone’s eyes were glistening. Then he handed the microphone to Kyle and charged back down the steps. The sitting audience shuffled apart to let him through, and Dayna stood to meet him. He caught her up in a huge bear hug—slightly sideways, to allow for the waiting triplets—and Max and Ty grabbed on to their parents’ legs, joining in.
Cady wiped her eyes as whooping and cheering rang around the square. Oh, you’d have to have a heart of stone not to cry at that. To one side, she could see where the Flashpoint team had gathered together, and Reid looked up and caught her eye. She couldn’t hear him, but his lips formed one word: Amazing. She nodded back, I know! When she and Reid had gone together to meet Dayna for the first time, they’d had no idea what they were about to create. They smiled at each other, a thread of connection over the heads of the rag-tag crowd.
Then everyone got to their feet, the band started playing again, the mood lightened, and the square was in party mode once more.
What a night. Kyle had come through, doing his part with the bank. Cady could hardly believe that he’d managed to get them on board in such a big way, working mostly from inside his garbage tip of a suite. And her first foray into corporate schmoozing had paid off big time too. She was pretty sure there’d be no online griping about this. She defied anyone to be snarky about what they’d achieved tonight.
After doing a few media interviews, Kyle took Cady with him down the steps, where the flash mobsters swarmed him like ants on honey. He nodded to everyone as they went through, high-fiving, low-fiving, and accepting slaps on the back. But he didn’t stop until they came to where the Flashpointers were waiting. He put his arm around Shelby’s shoulder, making her glow with pride and delight. Then Alison sidled in, and he put an arm around her too. Shelby didn’t seem to mind too much—it was that kind of a feel-good night.
“Good job, London,” he told her. “You and your sister, and everyone. There’s more work to do, but after that…shit, we’ve got some celebrating to do.”
Sixteen
It was a painfully slow start on the bus the next morning. As Cady woke up, she realized it wasn’t going to be good. Rolling over in bed, she was sure she felt her brain clunk against the inside of her skull. Ugh, she must have knocked something loose, or dissolved some brain connections with that merry mixture of celebration drinks. She scrunched her eyes shut again and gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the misery that would be getting up. If she didn’t need to use the bathroom, she wouldn’t be going anywhere at all.
She pulled the red bunk curtain back just a twitch and peered out, squinting in the morning light. It was quiet, apart from sleeping sounds coming from the other beds. She could hear whiskey-induced snoring coming from Gavin’s nook further along, but nothing from Reid’s opposite. Even in her drink-damaged state, she registered that as a point in his favor. Then, with the coast clear, she grabbed her toilet bag and made a delicate dash for the bathroom, trying to keep her head steady as she went. It didn’t work, but she made it in and closed the door without anyone seeing her.
Showered and dressed, she felt fresher and slightly less like death. And the memory of what they’d achieved the night before made her much more cheerful in her hangover. What a night! She even hummed a little as she made coffee and opened the bus windows to let fresh air in. Outside, she could see a few girls hanging around, in hope of meeting Kyle probably. She checked her watch and laughed. Eight forty-five for everyone else was Kyle’s middle of the night. The girls would have a long wait this morning.
With the smell of coffee in the air, and a couple of Excedrin working their magic, she sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the others to emerge. Images from the night before floated back into her mind—including a dance with Reid. It was just one amongst many people she’d danced with, but those were the few minutes that burned strongest in her memory. She wouldn’t admit that she was sitting exactly at this (hopefully) flattering angle now, with her hair arranged just so, in the hope that Reid would be the first person up.
But…he was. He came into the kitchen in his boxers and t-shirt, running his fingers through his mussed-up hair. Her heart flippity-flipped. Oh, help. Even morning-bleary and rumpled, he was ridiculously hot. Actually, rephrase that. Especially morning-bleary and rumpled, he was ridiculously hot. While she’d raced for the shower to get herself scrubbed and polished, he obviously didn’t mind being seen fresh from bed. And she didn’t mind either. In fact, the first thing her mind did was imagine taking him straight back to bed.
“Morning, Lady Cady.” He took juice from the fridge and poured himself a glass. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good, I guess. Not long enough, though.” She pointed at her head. “Repercussions.”
He laughed. “It was a good night.”
“It was.”
It had been a great night. In the flush of success, any Flashpoint rivalries were forgotten while they celebrated. The story made the late news—shirtless men featuring heavily—and the reaction on Twitter had been all positive, knock on wood. In Rownville last night, it seemed like every bar in town was full of happy flash mobsters, all eager to clap Kyle on the back, or shake his hand, or buy him a drink. After a couple of stops, they ended up at the world’s cheesiest country bar again, where the dance floor was full, the music was loud and the drinks flowed freely.
And between dances with the other Flashpoint guys, and a few other random flash mobsters, Cady had danced with Reid. It was only the same kind of dance as with any of the others, nothing more than a token nod to ‘proper’ dance moves. But when she reached up and put her hand on his shoulder, and his hand slipped around to cradle the small of her back, she could hardly breathe. In the days he’d been away, she’d tried not to think about him—but that attraction had been quietly percolating, keeping warm for his return. Now all he had to do was touch her and she was lost, or maybe found. He took her other hand in his, and pulled her against him. Her body was melty with his closeness, every limb heavy with the slow desire that washed through her. She let herself meld against him, not caring for once if he knew exactly what effect he was having.
Until that moment, she hadn’t realized the pressure she’d been carrying, getting ready for her flash mob. Now it was over, and being gathered in close to him triggered such a feeling of relief that she let go all her reservations. For now, for tonight, she was going to forget about that boring, safe middle ground and wade into this delicious sensation. They’d never talked about her attempted kiss (she still squirmed just thinking about it), but whatever made him turn her down wasn’t enough to stop his teasing. Maybe she should be annoyed, but oh, it was too good to stop.
Now, with the other revelers crowded on all sides, he moved her around the dance floor. As a slow, seductive country duet played, the singers urging each other to give in to me, she did just that and looked right at him, willingly drowning in the steady honey-brown gaze he returned. He smiled at her, and she felt all the heat in her body concentrate in one slow, insistent burn at her center. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, and there was honey in his voice too as he told her what an amazing job she’d done, and how she was as smart as she was beautiful. If he hadn’t been holding her firmly she might have slithered to the ground, her legs wobbly with the directness of his words and his breath against her ear. When the song ended and Alison broke in to have the next turn, she was almost thankful to step back and find her feet. Her reaction was so intense that she knew she’d crossed from a manageable (if distracting) crush into a whole other level of compulsion. Damn, that was the last thing she needed. And…it was exactly what she needed. And wanted.
As he and Alison started to dance, she turned and squeezed through the crowd, back to sit with Gavin and Tino at the table. She took a sip of her drink and pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. One dance would have to be enough. Anything more, and she’d be dragging him off the dance floor and into the corner, pressing him agains
t the wall, and claiming what he hinted at but wouldn’t deliver.
Now he was looking at her closely in the morning light, reading her mind it seemed. “Shame we only had one dance, though. You were feeling it.” He grinned, a knowing look in his eye.
She instantly felt her cheeks flare, matched by a sudden rush of heat between her legs. Oh God, after last night her body had really stepped it up a notch. She searched about for some snappy retort, but drew a blank. He was no help at all, regarding her with an amused expression, making her even more flustered.
At that moment Shelby came in, her hair still damp from the shower. She had her determined face on. Straight away, Cady knew that last night’s news—whatever it was—was on the agenda this morning. She was half relieved to have the moment interrupted, half sorry to not be alone with him still.
“Hi, Reid.” Shelby was unmoved by Reid’s attractions. He was a bit player, after all, and she liked to be where the real action was. She turned to Cady. “Can we go somewhere and talk? I have something to tell you, remember?”
She hadn’t mentioned it again the night before, instead flinging herself into the celebrations along with everyone else. But something was obviously up. Cady glanced at Reid. She hated to leave that rugged piece of morning glory, mid-tease, even though he was the cause of her heady discomfort. Discomfort of the best kind. But she knew Shelby wouldn’t be put off any longer, plus she was curious to know what was going on. She hoped it was something good, but needing to be alone for the talk was an ominous sign. With her unpredictable sister, you could never be sure what was coming next.
“Okay,” she said, purposefully pulling herself back together, but hyper-aware of Reid still leaning against the counter. “Let’s go to that café with the amazing pastries. I’m starving.”
“Me too,” Shelby said.
“Can we bring something back for you?” Cady felt like she ought to offer. As usual, there wasn’t much on the bus that constituted a decent breakfast.
“No, that’s okay, thanks.” He gave her a grin. “Gavin will need feeding soon. We’ll find something.”
“Okay then. See you later?”
“I’ll be here.”
As they left, she wondered what later might bring. Was he still holding to the I just can’t, or was he changing his mind? A shiver went through her as she remembered the feeling of his hot breath in her hair, his low voice murmuring sweet compliments. She sighed. She was absolutely useless around him. She’d have to get herself back on a more even keel if they were going to stay on the bus.
As she followed Shelby down the steps, she realized they had no idea what would happen now the flash mob was over. Maybe Kyle didn’t need them any more, and they’d have to go. Maybe they should go, anyway, and continue the trip they’d planned. They needed to decide what they both wanted to do, and it was better if she didn’t count Reid as a factor in the decision. He wasn’t going to help her make any sensible decisions. Insensible decisions, more like. And…after years of being the sensible, responsible one—okay, the boring one—she was learning how appealing insensible could be.
* * *
The retro-styled café was only a short walk from the bus, and had quickly become a Flashpoint favorite. They’d all gotten addicted to the treats laid out row by delicious row in the glass cabinets. Gavin grumbled about getting as flabby as his clients, but it never took much arm-twisting to get him along too.
But this morning it was just Cady and Shelby, and a scattering of other customers reading newspapers and iPads. They got settled, Cady with a huge brown sugar and walnut brioche, and Shelby with an enormous buttermilk berry scone. In contrast to the oversized food, their coffees were small—but supercharged. They agreed that all of it was completely necessary, and deserved, after the night before.
Cady stirred a sugar into her coffee. “So, I’m sorry I couldn’t stop and listen last night. What was it about?”
“Well…” Shelby paused. “I have something to tell you.”
Her sister’s face was a mixture of guilt and triumph, and Cady’s stomach lurched. What had she been up to? That face didn’t bode well. “What have you done?” she asked warily.
“I found him.”
Him? Cady had the feeling she knew already, but she asked anyway. “Who?”
“Our father. I found him.” She looked exhilarated but nervous, obviously realizing she might be in trouble.
“But how did you even…?”
“Well, it wasn’t me who found him, exactly. We have all that money from Mum, so I paid for a private investigator. It seemed an appropriate way to spend it.” She smiled, satisfied at the neatness of it.
Cady frowned. “You promised you’d leave it alone.”
“I said I wouldn’t tell Dad. I never said I wouldn’t look for our real father.” She looked smug at this loophole.
Cady resisted the urge to shake the smug right out of her. Now it was obvious why she’d suggested their ‘me time’ afternoons while they were on the road—she’d been using them to work with the private investigator.
“That’s what you were doing on those afternoons. Not shopping.”
Shelby just shrugged. “I needed to get it underway quickly, so there was time to find something out before our visas expired. I never thought it would happen this fast.”
“Damn, Shelby, you should have talked to me about it. This doesn’t just affect you, you know.”
“Yeah, right.” Shelby gave her an arch look. “Like you talked to me about that teeny tiny bit of info Mum gave you.”
Touché. She was right. “Okay, fair enough.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “So…will you come with me?”
Cady already knew she would. When he was just the idea of a father, out there somewhere-or-other, it was easy to dismiss the idea of meeting him. Now that he was found and real, she couldn’t resist the chance to see him. God knows what would come of it. Maybe he’d be less than pleased to see them. Maybe he was completely horrible, and they’d hate him. Maybe he had a family, a wife who knew nothing, and their appearance would be a disaster. Maybe they had brothers and sisters. The maybes and implications and possibilities tumbled around in her mind, but she focused on the first, most basic fact.
“What’s his name?”
Shelby smiled. “It’s a good one. Lawson Holt. He should be in a John Wayne movie.”
“Wow, definitely. As the sheriff.” It was a great name, supremely American. It brought to mind a handsome, upright man, squinting into the sun as he scanned the range for trouble. Cady wondered if he could possibly live up to a name like that. “And where is he?”
“This is the amazing part. He’s not far from here, in the Sacramento Valley. He’s a farmer—a nut producer.”
Cady laughed, despite herself. “Well, he produced you, so that makes sense.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Shelby rolled her eyes. “He grows almonds. Apparently it’s a big crop around here. The company’s called Santa Almendra.”
“Pretty name,” Cady commented.
“Yeah. So, are you coming with me, or not?” Her gaze was fixed on Cady, waiting. “Because I’ll go without you if I have to.” Her voice rose as she emphasized her determination.
“Yeah, okay, calm down. I’m coming. But, does he know we’re here? Does he even know about us at all?”
“I’m pretty sure he knows about us. The investigator has a colleague in London who went to see Aunt Netta, and she had some info.”
Aunt Netta was one of that great breed of British eccentrics, moneyed but living in shabby grandeur, childless but always with several mismatched dogs. She was loud-voiced and plainspoken, with a dress sense that defied description, and had been coloring her hair purple long before Kelly Osborne made it a thing. When the girls were born, the family lived around the corner from Aunt Netta in Broadstairs, a picture-book seaside town on England’s south-east coast. But when their dad got a job in London, they had to leave behind the sandy beach and sea air,
barefoot afternoons paddling in the foamy water, and impromptu summer fish-and-chip dinners surrounded by marauding seagulls. And Aunt Netta of course, who came to visit them in London over the years whenever she could. She’d been a godsend at the funeral, organizing food and cups of tea, and fending off well-wishers when she could see that the girls had had their fill of sympathy.
When they were small, going back to Broadstairs and Aunt Netta was always the best fun they could imagine. As teenagers, though, they sighed and reluctantly got in the back of the car, complaining about how they’d miss this party or that movie with their friends (although the secret supply of Pimm’s and lemonade from Aunt Netta helped a little). Cady remembered her mum and Aunt Netta sitting up late into the night talking, their voices a murmur lulling the girls to sleep. They were so close, their relationship was more like sisters than aunt and niece. Sisters who got along, that is, not the squabbly, scratchy kind of sisterhood that Cady and Shelby had as chalk-and-cheese twins.
Later, as an adult, Cady came full circle, longing for sand between her toes and salty air in her lungs as she trudged around grimy old London. Shelby’s mention of Aunt Netta took her straight back to all those childhood memories.
“Why did he go and see her?”
“Because she and Mum were so close around the time we were born. I was sure she’d know something. And…she did.”
Cady realized she was holding her breath. “What? What did she know?”
“Well.” Shelby paused, building the drama. “When Mum and Dad hadn’t been able to get pregnant for so long, Aunt Netta could see that it was putting a huge strain on their marriage. And apparently all Mum’s friends in Broadstairs were getting pregnant one after the other. So Aunt Netta offered her the use of her apartment in London, just to get away every now and then.”
The Near & Far Series Page 36