“Before he’s won the championship? And the night before an important race?” Bryan shook his head. “That’s not like Dad.”
As another knock on the front door sounded, Darcy rose. “Who could that be?”
“I’ll get dressed and meet you down there,” Bryan said as he moved toward his closet.
Before Darcy got halfway down the stairs she heard Cade’s voice. “Everybody decent?”
“Coming!” she called. When she reached the downstairs hallway, she rounded the corner and saw Cade and Isabel. “Hey, Bryan’s getting dressed.”
Cade kissed her cheek, then immediately darted toward the kitchen. “Do I smell cupcakes?”
“I haven’t iced them yet,” Darcy called after him.
“Who cares?”
Isabel cast an affectionately exasperated look after her husband. “Men, they’re always thinking with their stomachs.” She glanced back at Darcy, her deep brown eyes sharp, as always. “We didn’t interrupt anything, did we?”
Darcy wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to Isabel’s direct, uncensored conversations, yet she appreciated them at the same time. “No. I’m baking, and he’s…showering.”
“Uh-huh.”
Alone with a woman who not only understood the magnetism of the Garrison men, but had fallen hard for one of them, Darcy walked into the living room and sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. “Do you ever get used to them? Cade, for you, of course. But Garrison men in general?”
Isabel dropped onto the sofa. “Nope.”
“That’s not encouraging.”
“It helps if you admit you love him, can’t live without him. Hard, I know, but it helps.”
“Hard for you?”
“Oh, yeah.” But she smiled when she said it.
Isabel was so strong and independent-minded. Tough, and some would say distant. But Darcy had seen her pacing for her husband and his team. She’d seen her compassion for sick kids whose greatest desire was to meet and talk to Cade. She’d seen her appreciation for his fans, when she’d delivered water to lines of people waiting in the hot sun at an autograph session. When she’d given private tours through the GRI shops to those who’d shown up the night before Fan Fest activities, wanting only to be the first in line the next morning.
“I’m working on admitting it,” Darcy said finally. “I really am.”
Cade walked into the room, a half-eaten cupcake in his hand. “What’s this invitation to dinner from Dad? Is he crazy? We’ll miss the end of the race.”
Darcy blinked. “You got one, too?”
“Yep,” Cade said, sinking onto the sofa beside his wife. “And so did Rachel and Parker. Isabel called them on the way here.” He extended the cupcake toward Isabel. “You want a bite, honey?”
“No. I’d rather—”
“Why am I always the last one to get a cupcake?” Bryan asked as he appeared in the room, dressed in black pants and a white button-down shirt with the GRI logo stitched over one pocket in red.
“Oh, good grief.” Darcy darted into the kitchen, her mind still on the invitation. She, Isabel and Cade wore jeans and casual shirts. Could there really be casual dress for a formal dinner invitation? What was Mitch up to?
They’d talked frequently over the last several weeks, mostly about him wanting to win back his ex-wife, but he’d given no hint about organizing a family get-together. Not that she expected him to discuss all his plans with her. He’d probably organized a nice dinner, some private time with his kids in the middle of the crazy race season. Parker had undoubtedly helped, and they both thought it would be fun to make the event a surprise.
The hand-delivered invitation and formal cardstock absolutely screamed Parker Huntington.
Bryan slid into the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you to jump up and fetch me a cupcake.”
She placed one in his hand. “Oh, but I know you. You’d have eaten one in here in secret, then carried one out with you, then blamed the trick on your brother.”
He frowned at the treat. “Where’s the icing?”
Shaking her head at her own susceptibility to that boyish disappointment, she pulled the tub of icing—homemade with artificial sweetener instead of sugar (not that she planned to tell Bryan)—out of the fridge, then smoothed on the frosting and handed it back. “Your brother didn’t get icing, you know.”
He wrapped one arm around her waist. “But I’m special.”
She pressed her mouth to his. “Oh, yeah, you are.”
“What do you think the invitation means?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll talk about it in the car.” She turned away and grabbed her cooler of snacks—the low-fat, actually good-for-you variety. “We need to get going. The chopper’s supposed to meet us in ten minutes.”
Bryan and Cade’s neighborhood had the advantage of a helicopter pad. It was an odd luxury among such otherwise normal people. Most people in NASCAR were like that, actually. They had these strangely public, high-pressure jobs, yet you could hang out with them over a barbeque and a beer or a tall glass of iced tea without a moment of awkwardness.
As Isabel drove, Darcy glanced from Bryan to Cade, both still enjoying their cupcakes. “Big Dan is making chicken and steak fajitas at the track, you know.”
“He got icing,” Cade mumbled around his cupcake.
“Sometimes I think you guys would trade sex for cake,” Isabel said.
The guys exchanged a glance. “Let’s not go crazy,” Cade said as Bryan nodded his agreement.
“What do you think this invitation is about?” Isabel asked.
Cade shrugged. “It’s too formal for Dad. Did he and Leanne get back together?”
Nobody knew, but his suggestion got Darcy thinking all the way to the track and even during the race. She questioned Parker, but he claimed he’d had no part in the dinner party.
Darcy knew Mitch wanted his wife. He wouldn’t really go back to Leanne, would he?
Though questions remained, Darcy fought to concentrate on the race, making sure the over-the-wall guys were well-hydrated, and still keeping her eye on the time.
At nine-thirty, she and Isabel dragged everybody away from the pits and into the helicopter again. There was very little said on the way to the marina. Parker had generously arranged for a limo to meet them at the GRI helipad, and popped a bottle of champagne for the ride over.
“We might as well be comfortable,” he said as he filled glasses for the tense crowd.
Rachel was the first to raise her glass. “It’s a party,” she said, smiling bravely.
“For who?” Cade asked, though he tapped his sister’s crystal to his.
Nobody knew.
Darcy clenched her hands around her champagne glass after one sip and had no desire for another. What was going on? Bryan was already cynical of commitment. Was his dad really going to jump from woman to woman forever? She’d been so sure he was sincere in wanting Barb back in his life.
And a boat? A boat you could have dinner on with formal, hand-delivered invitations was a yacht. And at night? On a busy race weekend? It all spelled something significant.
They stepped out of the limo and walked down the sidewalk to the dock. A big boat—a yacht in Darcy’s mind—was pulled into the first slip with the words Victory Lane printed across the hull and bright red, flaming stripes along the side. Obviously recognizing the bobbing boat, the Garrison siblings headed that way.
A man in white pants, shirt and cap, reminiscent of a navy dress uniform, greeted them at the edge of the dock. “Good evening,” he said, extending his hand to help Rachel, who was first in line, across the gangway. “Please proceed inside to the dining room.”
“Who’s that dude?” Cade whispered as they all headed in the direction indicated.
Nobody knew.
Darcy squeezed Bryan’s hand as Parker slid open the door to the dining room. He glanced at her, and his usual controlled expression was gone. He was concerned. She had no idea what to say, since she felt the sam
e.
As they stepped into the room, Darcy noted the elegant flower arrangements and flicking candles all around, throwing shadows and light on the plush gold and deep red furnishings. She saw handmade canapés on trays, champagne in a bucket…and a collared minister standing on the far side of the room.
Before she could do more than draw a shocked breath, Mitch stepped forward. He was smiling. Barb, wearing a peach silk dress, her face glowing, stood beside him. They were holding hands.
“Hey, kids. Welcome to our wedding.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BRYAN FLINCHED.
When Darcy, who’d been holding his hand, squeezed his back, he realized he didn’t have to deal with this head-turning, mind-boggling moment that had raced into his life alone.
“Oh, my gosh,” Rachel exclaimed, embracing Mom. “This is…Wow. Oh, my gosh.”
Cade and Parker stepped forward, giving Dad a brief hug. Isabel kissed Mom’s cheek. Darcy, after glancing at Bryan, approached the couple, then hugged them both.
Bryan remained frozen.
“How did this happen?” he finally managed to ask.
Everybody else stopped talking, hugging and—in Rachel’s case—crying. They all stared at him.
“It’s kind of a long story,” Dad said, clapping Bryan on the shoulder. “I’ll give all the details after the ceremony.”
A weird buzzing hummed through his ears. Shock, he thought faintly, he was in shock. His marriage hadn’t lasted. His parents’ marriage hadn’t lasted.
Love wasn’t forever.
Darcy laid her hand on his arm. “Bryan?”
He looked at her, her golden gaze fixed worriedly on his face. His heart contracted in a hard, almost painful squeeze. Could I? Do I lo—
No. Look at the pain so many people in his life had gone through on account of that single emotion.
“I—” He looked at his dad, so happy and hopeful. He cleared his throat. “Congratulations.” He embraced his father, then his mother, and some part of the coldness in his heart warmed. He hadn’t seen them this happy in four years.
Cade clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s get married.”
The ceremony was brief, but moving. The minister offered words of faith and encouragement. The ladies sniffled. The guys beamed.
Bryan was proud of himself for acting normal, for smiling, offering congratulations and even raising the first toast once the presentation of the happy couple had been made. All the while, though, buzzing panic settled in his belly.
He couldn’t feel…that way about Darcy. It was simply their proximity, the bond of rehab and yoga, the shared pain of their pasts. Eventually, their interest in each other would wane, and he’d go back to—
What? What did he have to go back to?
Defensiveness and anger. Impatient surliness. Disillusionment and misery. Cold as steel.
“Nice ceremony,” Isabel said, approaching him.
“Yeah,” he managed to say before swigging champagne.
“You look a little pale. You’re not sick, are you?”
“No. I was just thinking about tomorrow night. Cade could really use a good run.”
Her direct gaze met his. “Liar.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“You turned sheet-white the moment you noticed that minister, and you haven’t remotely recovered since. What I want to know is—are you thinking about your wedding or your divorce?”
“Neither.”
Isabel simply cocked her head.
Sighing, he leaned close. “Look,” he whispered, “don’t you think this is all a little too precious and perfect? Everybody wants Mom and Dad to get back together. For four, long, lousy years we’ve watched them fight, ignore each other and date other people. Now, all of a sudden, everything’s peaches and champagne?”
“That’s a strawberry,” she said, pointing to the red fruit on the side of his glass. “And what’s wrong with precious and perfect? What’s wrong with realizing you made a mistake and doing everything in your power to make it right again?”
“Maybe it could be right. Maybe, in time, they could have reconciled. You can’t tell me you don’t think this is coming out of left field.”
Isabel shrugged. “I told you guys I saw something between them in Richmond.”
“But this? How can—”
“You two look way too intense over here,” Cade said, sliding his arm around his wife’s waist. “It’s a party.” He flicked his finger against the side of Bryan’s champagne glass, making the crystal sing. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”
Bryan drained his glass, then set it on a table nearby. “Yippee.”
“What’s with him?” he heard Cade ask Isabel as Bryan stormed away.
He escaped to the deck.
Mercifully, the breeze was even cooler than when they’d boarded. Was it really less than an hour ago that his parents had been bitterly divorced?
“Bryan?” his dad called.
“Up here,” he answered back, bracing his hand on the bow railing.
He didn’t turn when his dad moved alongside him, but he could feel his stare. “I thought you’d be happy for us. Everybody’s happy for us.”
“I am. I’m—” Bryan ducked his head. “It’s great, Dad. It’s just…sudden.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ve known for more than a year that I made a mistake leaving your mother. It’s just taken me this long to figure out how to tell her and make things right again.”
He turned his head and met his father’s gaze. “So she just took you back?”
“It wasn’t that simple.” He sighed. “I made phone calls, asked her to dinner, sent flowers and gifts. She couldn’t have cared less. At Richmond, after our family portrait, she slammed the door in my face, said she didn’t want me to bother to apologize.
“But I refused to listen. I knew my life would never be right without her. I told her I loved her—always had, always would. Eventually, she believed me.”
“Sounds simple to me.”
“Admitting you’ve been a jerk and throwing your heart out to get stomped on by the one person you want above anyone or anything else in the world isn’t at all simple.”
Refusing to acknowledge the truth of that possibility in his own life, Bryan looked away. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
“You don’t look it.”
“It’s the Chase. Cade’s championship. It’s a heavy goal on all of us right now.”
“But everybody else is inside, drinking champagne, and you’re out here by yourself.” As they both obviously heard footsteps on the deck, he added. “Though not for long, I guess.”
As his dad started to walk away, Bryan asked, “Would it be weird to get wedding gifts from your kids?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got everything I need already.”
As he heard his father and Darcy talk quietly, her offering congratulations and him thanking her for all she’d done for the family, Bryan stared at the rippling black water.
There was an entire world of living things beneath the surface. Humans polluted their environment and dropped down baited hooks, but they kept swimming. Bigger, prettier, stronger fish came along, but they—
Stop. Stop now.
You are officially losing it.
He shook his head, then turned toward Darcy. He extended his hand, which she grasped.
She shivered, pressing her body against his, wrapping her arms around his waist. “It’s cold out here. Why aren’t you inside?”
“I just needed a minute to take it all in.”
“Your parents—together again.”
He heard the smile in her voice and allowed himself to relax for the first time since walking onto the boat. “Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered against her temple.
“I thought I already was. I brought my suitcase over yesterday, remember?”
“Right.” He searched his brain for a qui
ck reason why he’d be so desperate not to be alone. But, in some ways, he was alone. He, alone, hadn’t made his marriage work. He, alone, was terrified of commitment.
Because that’s what all this ridiculous buzzing was. Fear. He didn’t want to commit his heart, only to get rejected again.
And Darcy deserved so much more.
She deserved a life free from the past, unburdened by a man who’d been betrayed by love and was unwilling to risk his heart again. He didn’t want to be that man anymore.
Could he find the courage to change and embrace a hopeful future with her, or would he lose her forever?
DARCY STUDIED her cookbook in vain.
There was absolutely nothing within those normally reliable pages that could substitute for a Martinsville grandstand hot dog. Nothing healthy anyway.
The GRI teams were determined to consume them, hoarding them in cardboard containers along with every man and woman on every team, retired or active, young or old.
Everybody she consulted about their ingredients just smiled. Her own team, who’d loved every meal she’d ever prepared for them, told her not to bother cooking this weekend, advised her to quit being paranoid and just eat one already.
It completely went against her grain, yet, like the chocolate breakdowns, she was tempted.
She looked away from the slaw, chili, mustard-and-ketchup-slathered dog—which was a strange shade of bright red, by the way—Rachel had brought her earlier, assuring her she couldn’t truly be part of the team until she’d tasted the legend that brought fans, teams, officials and generations together.
She’d forbidden Bryan to go within fifty feet of the infield concession stands set up by the track to serve the teams, but had little doubt he was even now passing out money to GRI employees, getting them to buy his race-day breakfast.
Wincing, she ducked into the fridge for an apple. Who ate hot dogs for breakfast anyway?
She had bigger problems than hot dogs, though. Namely, the man she loved didn’t know she did. And probably didn’t want to know.
Yet, not telling him felt like lying.
And though she’d spent the last few years living for the moment, trying to get through each day, barely acknowledging next week, now she wanted to know…what’s happening next week?
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