by Addison Fox
The trail of sparks lit up once more, then seemed to settle just above his touch, need flaming higher and higher.
Did she ask him in?
Because if this went on much longer, she’d have to arrest both of them for indecent public behavior.
“Are you laughing?” The words whispered against her lips before Landon lifted his head. “Actually laughing?”
“It was a giggle. A small one.”
“At what?”
“I had an image of pulling out handcuffs and arresting us both for indecency.”
“Don’t you have to be naked for an indecency charge?”
She wasn’t entirely sure of the nuances, and at that moment she could have cared less what the letter of the law stated. “You think that’s going to take much longer?”
She did laugh then, full throated and immediate, when his eyes widened once again.
“You are seriously trying to kill me. First you and Emma, now handcuffs and images of naked street-corner sex.” His hands slipped from her waist toward the small clutch that hung from her wrist. “You have handcuffs in here?”
“No, silly. I keep them hanging over the edge of my bedpost.”
The taunt had the desired effect, and she had the sobering realization that the questions that had whispered through her mind only a few minutes before had become real in the space of a few heartbeats.
Did she invite him in?
Could she even walk away right now?
“I want to invite you up, but I’m not sure I know how I want this evening to end.” Daphne stopped, shook her head. “That’s not right. I know exactly how I want this evening to end. But I’m not sure it’s time. Or that I’m ready. Oh hell, I’m fumbling this like I’ve had a few drinks after the senior prom.”
She stilled, took a deep breath, and looked into those dark brown eyes that skewered something way down deep inside of her.
“I want you, Landon McGee. And I want what’s between us. But I haven’t fully reconciled cop Daphne with woman Daphne, even though you seem to enjoy the company of both.”
“I do enjoy the company of both, even as I’m forced to remind you you’re not two people.”
“No, but yes. I am.”
“Not really. Although I could come around to your way of thinking if you could answer me one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Do both of you have handcuffs?”
Just like that, the confusion and worry faded, replaced by sheer joy in the moment.
“Maybe we should go upstairs and find out.”
He nodded, serious. “Maybe we should.”
Her apartment was in an old row home, converted into apartments during Park Heights’s leaner years. Although the neighborhood had come back stronger than ever, the landlord had favored improvement on his three units versus converting it back to a single-family home. She’d found the place when she was going through the academy and had been surprised when it came time to graduate that she was content where she was. The third-floor one-bedroom was small, but it had gotten her out of her parents’ house, and she was eternally happy to have her own space.
Tonight she was positively giddy.
What she didn’t expect was to find Jasmine sitting huddled on the steps of the porch as she and Landon turned the corner to her front walkway.
“Daph!” Jasmine looked up, tears staining her cheeks. “Oh Daph. I’m so sorry.”
Jasmine stood up, dashing at her face. She fumbled forward as she scrabbled to pick up the small clutch purse so like Daphne’s and then nearly tripped on her sky-high heels as she hurried past Daphne and Landon. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Jasmine!” Landon’s voice was gentle but firm as he called after her.
Her friend stilled, indecision stamped in her slender shoulders before she turned around, slightly wobbly on the pencil-thin stilts. “I really need to get going. I just stopped on Daph’s stoop to work off a little buzz and rest my feet in these ankle killers. Really. I’m good.”
Landon dropped Daphne’s hand, his gait ever so slightly hitched as he walked toward Jasmine. “I was just walking Daphne home. I need to get going myself.”
It was the baldest lie ever and all three of them knew it, but in it, Daphne saw everything she needed to know about Landon McGee. The moment their gazes met, sparks arcing across the battered old sidewalk, she knew one additional truth.
She was immediately, irrevocably, and impossibly in love with him.
Nine
“Oh God, I am so, so sorry.”
Jasmine hadn’t stopped apologizing for the past twenty minutes, and Daphne handed over a glass of their favorite Cabernet to shut her down. “Please stop apologizing.”
“But you were going to have sex. Really good sex, if the look in that man’s eyes was any indication.”
“Please don’t say that. Or I may still have to kick you out.”
“That’s it.” Jasmine set her wine down on the coffee table without taking a sip. “I am leaving. And I’m paying for your Uber. Go to him now.”
Daphne grabbed Jasmine’s hand and tugged her back, tipping her just enough so that her long legs went up into the air, her butt landing with a thud on the old couch. “It’s not the right time, Jaz.”
Even if you are in love with him.
She was still working through that one, twisting it and turning it and trying it on for size. When it seemed to fit no matter how she twisted herself up or how many mental hoops she jumped through, Daphne decided halt that train of thought all together.
Jasmine needed her help.
“Looked like the right time to me,” Jasmine grumbled as she picked up her wine once more.
“I was actually on the fence about sealing the deal this evening, but then he gave me a kiss that scrambled my brains and hormones won the battle. I think he’ll give me a second chance.”
“I think he’ll give you anything you want.”
“Except an invitation to Sunday brunch.”
“What?”
God, why was she making a big deal out of this?
“I’m being an ass. And I don’t even know if I want an invite, especially since we just met on Wednesday. But it’s nice to be asked. To his mother’s weekly Sunday brunch.”
“Oh.” Jasmine’s nod was as knowing as it was loaded, her touch gentle when she reached out hand. “And you want to go to brunch and meet his family and be the object of all that familial scrutiny?”
“No.” Daphne squeezed her friend’s hand before she dropped it and reached for her wine. “Yes.”
“Okay.”
Daphne took a sip. “Maybe.”
“Which is it?”
“It’s not about going. It’s about being asked.”
“Yes, true. But is it about being invited, or is it about having the ability to take control firmly back in hand? The control that only comes when you’re not the one on the end of a waiting phone.”
“Being invited.”
When Jasmine stayed silent, Daphne did her best to match her before she finally gave in. “And yes, there’s the control-freak aspect.”
“Admitting it is the first step.”
“But it’s not just about control. It’s Landon’s family. And Mrs. Weston. Everyone in Park Heights knows Mrs. W. It would be nice to meet her and make sure I pass the test.”
“What test?”
“The ‘you’re dating my grandson’ test.”
“She’s his grandmother?”
“A stand-in for one.” Daphne sighed. “And I’ve become a blathering sap of a woman in under a week.”
A sap who needed to get it together and quit worrying over an invitation to meet Landon’s mother and the infamous Mrs. W. She knew Emily Weston, of course. Everyone in Park Heights knew Emily Weston. She’d wager there were even hordes of people west of the Mississippi who knew Emily Weston.
Although she knew the woman lived with Louisa Mills and had a close relationship with the famil
y, she never made the connection that the woman would be something of a surrogate grandmother to the three men Louisa had adopted as boys.
Which meant she was important.
“I’m still sorry I interrupted things.”
“Me too.”
They’d been friends long enough that she knew Jasmine would take the honesty in stride and not feel like it changed the decision to stay. But Daphne also knew she’d wallowed enough. She hated whining, and whining over a man was scraping the bottom of the barrel. Vowing to shake it off, she faced her friend. “Now tell me what’s got you upset?”
“Nothing.”
Daphne debated her next words for less than a second. “What did Cade do now?”
“What does your brother have to do with it?”
“My brother has everything to do with it because he’s the only one who can put that squinchy, miserable look on your face.”
“I am not—” Jasmine broke off. They’d danced around this subject for far too long, and in the silence Daphne wondered if they could finally put it to rest.
“I’m not squinchy.”
“You are. You’re also still irritatingly gorgeous. But the only thing that stamps that layer of miserable on your face is my stupid brother.”
“He’s not—” The argument was out before she squelched it, Jasmine’s ready defense of Cade only proving Daphne’s point.
“You care about him. And we can keep dancing around this or we can talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Jasmine sighed. “Or I do want to talk about it with you, but I don’t want to talk about it with Cade’s sister. Does that make sense?”
Since she’d argued that she was two people to Landon less than an hour ago, Daphne knew it made a shocking amount of sense. “Yes.”
“So you’ll listen as my friend.”
“Yes.”
“Then, yes. I’m in love with your brother and have been since I was nine and he launched water balloons at me from your parents’ front porch.”
“That’s a long time ago.”
“Twenty years. Twenty fucking years of my life I’ve watched that man date, play the field, and generally screw around with half of Park Heights.”
“It’s only a third. He’s a more discriminating than that.”
Daphne meant it as a joke, but it fell flat in the face of Jasmine’s misery. And while she wanted to excuse her brother as sowing wild oats and not being quite ready to settle down, the reality was he was a player who had it way too easy with women.
And Jasmine challenged him.
She might have fallen for him over water balloons, but Daphne still remembered that day. Jaz had grabbed a few he’d positioned strategically on the far side of the porch and had pummeled him with laser precision.
“You challenge him, and he’s still too stupid and immature to understand just how important that is.”
“And I remain eternally clueless how to change that. A point made more than obvious when I saw him out this evening.”
“You saw him out?”
“Earlier. I didn’t even know he was there until he found his way to my table.”
The fact Cade had made the first move said quite a bit, but Daphne hesitated to point that out. Her brother had disappointed Jasmine far too many times, and Daphne wasn’t entirely convinced any amount of pushing or maneuvering would change that. But, oh, how she hoped things could be different.
What her brother really needed was a heavy swat upside the head and some incentive to see Jasmine as something other than his little sister’s best friend. Although Jaz didn’t hide her dating life, she and Cade rarely frequented the same places, and Jasmine’s dates were as likely to take her into Manhattan as around Park Heights, to the local watering holes.
But if he’d already seen her out and having a good time . . .
“You think I should ignore him?” Jasmine asked.
“It works for me.”
“It won’t be easy.”
“Not much is. But I think it is time to put my brother in his place. Getting him out of your head is the first step.” Daphne ran a finger over the rim of her wine glass, an idea taking shape. “Hasn’t that new guy in the DA’s office been hitting on you?”
“Gardner Cross?”
“That’s the one.”
“He’s—” Jaz stopped before taking a deep breath. “He was with me tonight. A group of us headed over to Vines for a few drinks. It was an impromptu plan that had come together yesterday as we were closing up, and I was looking forward to it. I’d even thought about maybe seeing if the signals Gardner’s been giving off might be worth acting on.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t remove his hand when it settled on my lower back.”
Daphne was pleased by the news. “So that’s good. A chance for Cade to see you’re not sitting around pining.”
“I don’t pi—” Jasmine caught herself. “You’re right. And while Gardner’s not Cade, that doesn’t mean he’s not interesting and attractive in his own right.”
“Put those sexy shoes to good use and go out with Lawyer Cross on a real date. And while you’re at it, drag him to my parents’ Fourth of July barbeque.”
“That’s a loaded invitation.”
“No, it’s the sort of thing you do when you’re dating.”
And, Daphne added silently to herself, it might be just the thing to get her brother to wake up. Then her cell phone gave off a ding from the depths of her clutch and she got up to retrieve it. She wasn’t sure if she’d done anything to alleviate Jaz’s misery, but hopefully she had given her some food for thought.
Her phone gave off its second ding when she finally got it out of the small, flat purse, and she couldn’t hide the smile as she read the text.
HOPE EVERYTHING’S OK. FORGOT TO ASK IN RUSH TO LEAVE VINCINTIY OF CRYING FEMALE. YOU UP FOR BRUNCH TOMORROW AT MY MOM’S?
“What’s that look for?”
“Landon just invited me to brunch.”
As she texted back a quick yes, along with confirmation that Jasmine was fine, Daphne couldn’t hold back the smile or the confirmation of just how right things felt between the two of them.
The good did outweigh the bad.
Fender Blackstone considered himself a man who rolled with the punches. From shitty childhood to rebellious adolescence to—surprise, surprise—successful local businessman in adulthood, he credited his success to three things:
That roll-with-the-punches attitude.
An easygoing nature that ensured he kept his options open and his eyes even more so.
And an adoptive mother who’d given him the world.
She’d pulled him out of the shitty childhood, went to battle with him through those screw-you teen years, and then staked him his shop when college wasn’t the natural path for his life.
She’d seen him through.
“Blackstone! You coming or what?” The knock came hard on the door of his rented trailer. The sounds from the speedway had died down, replaced with revelry and congenial camaraderie as everyone looked forward to more racing the next day.
He’d ducked out to clean up and had decided to check a few messages. A glance at the small clock on the wall indicated he’d spent longer than he’d planned.
“Coming! And don’t touch my steak. Sammy cooked it the way I like it.”
“Nearly raw,” came flying back, along with a muttered curse, and Fender smiled to himself. Nothing like a good steak after a long day messing around with the rest of the pit crew.
With the promise of rare meat urging him on, he turned back to his tablet and finished tapping out a quick e-mail to his mother, smiling once more as his big fingers fumbled over the screen.
Hell yeah, she’d seen him through.
So it was only right he helped her figure out how to deal with Gretchen Fucking Reynolds, the prim, vengeful bitch of Park Avenue.
He’d stepped in quietly last month, after the news had come
out that she’d been rousting his mother, giving her a hard time and threatening to expose Louisa’s affair with her husband so long ago there wasn’t anyone left to care. His mother had nearly dropped her bid for borough president because of it—a job she’d be amazing at. It had taken considerable effort and a thoroughly united front, including Mrs. W., to finally convince her to keep with it.
All of them supported her, but once their mother agreed to stay the course on the election, Landon checked out. He struggled with the affair part and hadn’t seen his way past it yet. Fender knew Nick had tried to talk to Landon without getting too far, and figured he’d leave his brother alone a few more weeks before he butted in. Easygoing only worked for so long.
In the meantime, L needed to work through his own demons. They all saw Mama Lou as pretty much perfect, and L saw the adultery as a betrayal. And Fender got it. Not the silent treatment or taking it quite so hard, but he did understand the more unfortunate side of the ghosts of Landon’s past that got all rattled up on this one.
He’d never said anything, but Landon’s birth mother’s reputation wasn’t a secret around Park Heights when they were kids. His father had taken a go or two at her, although, as Fender recalled it, without much success. Lucky for her.
But that didn’t mean there weren’t quite a few who had been successful.
So yeah, he got why L was upset. And while he wasn’t personally comfortable with adultery as a rule, he also figured he had no right to judge something that happened before he had a stake in the outcome.
Handling Gretchen Fucking Reynolds, on the other hand. That was an absolute.
Funnily enough, his nosing around had paid dividends. And while he might not have the money to go toe-to-toe with a Park Avenue monster, he did have enough moxie to make her think twice about who she was messing with. Her husband hadn’t been perfect, nor had adultery been his only sin. If that news came out, it would be awfully unpleasant to sit on charity boards or attend one elaborate ball after another.
Kincade Reynolds might be dead, but his legacy wasn’t. And if his wife wanted it to remain untarnished, she’d better leave his damn family alone.