Fail to Trust (The Casteel Trust Series Book 2)

by Scarlet Wolfe

  “Hey, you OK over there?” Clay asks.

  I breathe in and out and smile at him.

  “I’m nervous. Does this seem too early to you?”

  “Does what seem too early?”

  “Me meeting your family. It’s a big step.”

  “Do you not want to meet them?” His eyes slant my way a few brief times.

  “I want to, but I also want to be sure you don’t feel rushed into it.”

  “Becca, it’s a difficult day for me. I miss my father terribly, and I can’t think of anything that would comfort me more than having you by my side on this holiday.”

  As always, his words are sweet, poignant and direct. I slide my fingers farther into his.

  “I’m happy to be there for you, and I feel special that you want me there.”

  “You are special.” He brings up our entwined hands to kiss mine.

  “Are you upset I didn’t invite you to my family’s dinner?”

  “No. I respect that you’re not ready. Besides, I have an appointment this evening with a, uh, client. Let me tell you about my family. Maybe that will settle your nerves.

  “My brother, Cole, is twenty-eight, and he’ll insist he’s superior to me. He loves to put on a show when first meeting someone. He’s the more charismatic one, and I wouldn’t put it past him to flirt with you.

  “My sister, Karissa, is forty and quieter than the rest of us. Her husband will be with her. We work together and are good friends.

  “Since Dad recently passed, Mom wanted to host a private dinner, so my cousins and aunts and uncles won’t be present this year, but you’ll get to meet them at Christmas.”

  “I’m eager to meet everyone.” Eager … I think anxious might be a more appropriate word.

  We park in the drive of his parents’ lavish home. It’s older but classic with its light brick and white shutters.

  Matching pillars hold up the overhang of the front steps, and additional sections of the home stretch out from each side of the middle living space, which has a taller roof.

  Tall green bushes guard the outer sections, and dormant rose bushes grace each side of the steps. My nerves prevent me from expressing to Clay the beauty of the home.

  He gives a light knock before he’s opening the door and announcing our presence. In an instant, a man younger than Clay steps out of a room and advances toward us. He’s grinning as his eyes skate over me.

  “Early for a change. I’m impressed.”

  “I’m Cole, Clay’s younger and much more handsome brother.” He’s certainly handsome. I’ll give him that. His hair is not as dark as Clay’s, but his eyes are the same hazel color as his brother’s.

  After shaking his hand, I glance up at Clay who’s ending an eye roll. I look back to Cole and find him studying me, now serious.

  “Wow, she’s the spitting image of Alice.”

  “Who’s Alice?” I ask.

  Cole’s eyes dart to Clay, and I sense he’s regretting his comment.

  “She’s an old friend,” Clay says.

  Without another word from either of them, Clay’s hand resting on my back gives a light push, encouraging me to walk forward. His brother turns and leads us to a living room.

  A beautiful woman stands from a sofa. Unlike Clay’s and his brother’s, her eyes are a chocolate brown and match her hair color. A man is next to her, so I’m guessing this is Clay’s older sister and her husband.

  “Hello, I’m Karissa, Clay’s sister, and this is my husband, Donovan.”

  I stretch my trembling hand out, knowing any moment I’m going to meet Mrs. Carlton.

  “I’m Becca, and it’s so nice to meet both of you.” Donovan is handsome, too, and his blond hair is short and neatly styled like Clay’s.

  My eyes trail away and take in the surroundings. Tiny pink and mint green flowers give life to a tan sofa that rests on an ornate oriental rug, and pale pink high-back chairs sit nearby.

  Many windows let in the early day sunlight, and a white fireplace is the centerpiece to it all, the light showing off the intricate molding of it. Cherry curio cabinets filled with trinkets are settled into each corner beside it.

  “Hello, dear,” I hear from behind me. I spin around and an attractive, older woman is smiling. Her silver hair is short and rolled into a wavy style. She’s the epitome of elegance.

  “Mother, hi. I’d like you to meet Becca. Becca, this is my mother, May Carlton.”

  “Aren’t you stunning?” She takes hold of both of my hands and holds out my arms. Her eyes linger over me, much like her son Cole’s did. “You’re so young.” Her round eyes shoot to Clay’s. “Son, she’s so young.”

  He clears his throat. “Yes, mother. I think we all heard you the first time.” Her eyes fall back on mine, and she grins. “I apologize. I’m only surprised since Clay hadn’t mentioned the age difference.”

  “I didn’t mention it because it’s irrelevant.”

  I believe his mother disagrees.

  “I was checking on our meal. Florence finished dinner a little early, so we can head to the dining room.”

  Clay’s hand grabs mine, and he lets his family go before us. His head leans down, and once he’s kissed my cheek, his breath coats my ear.

  “I’m sorry. My mother often speaks before she thinks.”

  “It’s fine. There is a distinct age difference between us.”

  “I don’t think about it.”

  “I know, and I don’t anymore, either.”

  He smirks. “Anymore, huh?”

  Snickering, I pull on his hand to follow his family to the other room. We take our seats at a long light oak dining room table.

  A full Thanksgiving spread is before us, and the turkey looks too perfect to carve. I can’t get over how fancy the trays and serving dishes are, too.

  Is that real silver?

  After a sad prayer is said, where Mr. Carlton Sr. is mentioned, we begin eating. The men talk business, and Clay’s mother speaks often to her daughter. I chime in when there is something said I can relate to.

  They’re talking about people I don’t know and social events I’m not familiar with. It grows quiet on this end of the table, so I look up at May, who’s seated at the end.

  She’s staring at me as she chews up a bite of food. She’s squinting, obviously thinking about something.

  Swallowing, her eyes grow rounder.

  “Alice … That’s who. For the life of me I couldn’t think of who you reminded me of, but now I know why you look familiar.”

  “Mom, why are you bringing her up?” Clay asks. He’s grimacing at his mother, and I’m now quite curious about this Alice.

  “I’m sorry, dear, but she looks just like the Alice I remember. You can’t expect me not to comment on it.”

  Her mother turns her head to the side as if she’s tossing back her hair, but it’s too short for that, and I try to imagine her with longer hair in her youthful years.

  “Mom,” Karissa says, giving her mother a hard stare.

  “Fine,” she murmurs with an irritated tone to her voice. “So, are you employed, Becca, or are you in graduate school?”

  “I work, ma’am.”

  “Oh, call me May. Where do you work and what do you do exactly?”

  “I’m a graphic designer and marketing rep for a retail store.” OK, I made that sound more prestigious than it is.

  “It’s, uh, Casteel Motorsport in Marietta. They sell dirt bikes, all-terrain vehicles, and a small selection of motorcycles, along with all the gear and parts to go with them. They also have a repair shop and do airbrushing.”

  “How interesting.” Her fork goes out to point toward Clay. “Your job is about to get quite interesting and hectic,” she says before looking to me.

  “You know, Clay will soon be living in D.C. There’s still a lease on his father’s apartment there, so he’s going to take it over.”

  My head snaps Clay’s way as May grabs my hand across the table.

  “Yo
u know, we could go shopping together to purchase some proper dress suits for you, along with evening gowns for events you’ll attend with Clay. It’ll be my treat.”

  “When is this happening?” I ask him.

  “January.”

  “You said you’d be visiting D.C. often, but I didn’t realize you’d be living there.” His gaze is unsettled as he squeezes my knee under the table.

  “I’m guessing you don’t follow politics,” his brother says with a brief laugh.

  “Cole,” Clay says in a warning tone.

  “What? I thought it was common knowledge that congressmen spend most of their time in D.C.”

  Clay sighs. “Mom, maybe we should serve dessert. Becca has another dinner to attend soon, and I’m sure she’d like time for her food to settle.”

  “Certainly, dear. I’ll have Florence bring it out.”

  ***

  Clay’s arm is stretched across the loveseat behind me. His other fingers are reaching over and playing with a curl of my long hair. We’re quiet as we lounge alone in a separate smaller living room of his parents’ home.

  “I’m sorry I hadn’t told you about the move. I didn’t think about my family bringing it up, which was foolish of me. Actually, I was planning to discuss it with you on our ride home today.”

  “Is that what you were speaking about yesterday?”

  “Yes.” Clearing his throat, he shifts to face me and places my hands between his.

  “I was thinking maybe you could move to Washington with me.”

  “You want me to move in with you? What would I do there?”

  “I have connections. I’m sure I could find you a marketing position at a prominent business. You could live with me in the apartment.”

  Pulling my hands away, I push my palms down against the sofa cushion.

  “That’s … that’s a lot to take in. I–I’m happy with my job at Casteel, and moving in together is a major commitment, especially this soon.”

  I think back to how soon Travis and I were going to move in together only months ago. Clay’s hand behind me slides up to my neck. His fingers lightly press into the nape of it.

  “Becca, I’m ready to take that step. I wish to take care of you, and I could give you a comfortable life. I’d like to have children soon, and if you wanted that, too, we could start a family right away. You wouldn’t have to work.”

  My hand flies out toward him.

  “Whoa. You’re way ahead of me here. It sounds like you want me to be a trophy wife who stays home to raise the kids.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I was only suggesting it if it was what you longed for.”

  “I’m twenty-two, Clay. I graduated college in the spring. I’m only getting started in my career, and I’m excited about this new chapter of my life. I don’t want children for a very long time.”

  I can’t tell him that it would be too emotionally painful of a risk for me to take any time soon.

  “OK, then I can help you find a job in D.C., and we could fill our evenings with fine dining, the symphony at the Kennedy Center, or we could jet off to romantic places on the weekends. I’m willing to wait to have a child.”

  “You’re thirty-five.”

  He grins. “Are you calling me old?”

  “No, but I imagine you don’t want to wait long for a family.”

  He exhales loudly. “Forget what I said about that, and just consider moving with me. I don’t want to spend my weekdays away from you.”

  Clay’s phone rings, and once he sees who’s calling, he stands facing away from me and answers.

  “Hello ... Not feeling well … Then I’ll just visit her tomorrow.”

  He hangs up and turns around. His gaze falls to the floor, and his brow furrows.

  “We should probably say our goodbyes so I can get you home.”

  I want to ask who he’s meeting with. He mentioned earlier he had an appointment this evening, but even for a busy attorney, working today seems odd. Is this female really a client?

  I feel I can’t ask, though, especially since I don’t want to mention the fact that my family dinner includes Travis.

  Once we return to the main living room, his mother kisses both of my cheeks and reminds me we should go shopping soon. The comment leaves me looking down at my dressy outfit and doubting that it’s stylish enough while on the arm of a Carlton.

  His siblings and brother-in-law are kind to me as we part ways, and at least they weren’t too judgy. At least not outwardly.

  I’m fidgeting in the car as a dozen different emotions inundate me. I felt out of place with his family, and now I have to go to dinner at Reese and Everett’s, where I’ll be in Travis’s company.

  On top of that, sadness has taken over Clay. The silence is giving it away, and I’m not sure what to do. Is it from his father’s absence or something else?

  I pray he says no, and from his mood I believe he will, but I have to invite him to dinner. It’s the right thing to do after he shared more of his private life with me.

  “So, did your client cancel for the evening?” I ask.

  “Uh, yes.”

  “Would you like to come to dinner with me?”

  “That’s kind, Becca, but I don’t feel up to it. I should go back and spend more time with my family. I hope you understand.”

  “I do.” Nibbling on my lip, I stare at him. “You said Alice is an old friend. Was she ever more than a friend?”

  He grips the steering wheel. “Yes, she was.”

  “Do we really look that much alike?”

  “There’s a similarity in your looks, but I believe my family exaggerated a bit. Anyway, enough about that. Do you think you’ll have room in your stomach to eat again?”

  He glances over and smiles as if we never discussed something uncomfortable. I wish I could let it go that easily, but my gut tells me Clay’s not disclosing something relevant.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Travis

  Anxious over being in close proximity to Becca soon, I’m helping Everett set the dining room table.

  Normally I wouldn’t give a shit about helping my family get things ready for dinner. I guess I never thought about how labor intensive it is.

  That was before I worked my ass off earlier today at the food pantry. I didn’t even prepare that meal, and I was exhausted after.

  Because of it, I feel bad for my mom and Reese. From what I hear, they’ve been cooking all day. More of my family have been arriving with dishes of food, too.

  I keep listening, waiting to hear Becca’s voice come from the other room. We’ve dodged each other for a month now. I hated it, but I’ve been trying to give her space to show her I’ve matured. I’m hoping we can talk today and start a friendship.

  It’s phase two. She doesn’t want to see it yet, but phase three will be happening after that. It’s only a matter of time before she’s mine again.

  Reese slipped and mentioned that she was with Clay today. It pissed me off, but the new and improved me kept my cool about it.

  I hear her father’s boisterous voice first. I freeze, and my eyes flit over to Everett’s as he stands across from me at the table.

  “She’s here … Don’t make an ass of yourself today,” he warns.

  “I’m past that, but I am going to talk to her. It’s time.”

  “I agree.”

  “You do?”

  “She’s spent enough time with Clay to know if it’s going anywhere. It’s time you show her you’re even better than before. Even Reese agrees you’re a better fit for her.” I give him a whopping grin. “Ah, shit. My words are going to swell that already big head of yours,” he says.

  “I’m grinning because you’re proud of me. I’m giving thanks for that today,” I say as I stroll around to his side of the table. He clenches the back of my neck.

  “We’re all proud of you, baby brother, and maybe it’s time I stop calling you that.”

  “It doesn’t bother me that you call m
e that. I’ll always be younger … more attractive. Did I mention younger yet?”

  He compresses his hold on my neck and gives me no choice but to move with him toward the entryway. As soon as my eyes meet hers, I straighten, and Everett releases me.

  She grins as she slips her shoulders from her coat, and I wonder if it’s because she likes seeing me happy. I am happy, and it’s the first time in over four months. The only thing that could make my life more perfect is Becca.

  “Hi. Here, let me take your coats,” I say to her and her parents. They hand them to me, and I love that Becca’s still staring into my eyes. Her smile has faltered, and she’s gnawing on that pink lower lip of hers, but she’s still looking at me with those spectacular eyes, so that must mean something.

  When I return from putting the coats in a bedroom, I see she’s already busy helping her sister in the kitchen.

  The house is noisy and full of family, and once everyone arrives, we gather around the dining room table and another long table that’s been brought in for this occasion.

  Sarge, being the oldest sibling, stands at the head of one to make an announcement. He put forth his best effort at dressing up, wearing a wrinkled white dress shirt and new blue jeans.

  I’m guessing he’s nervous from the way his hand glides over his receding brown hair. I hope he doesn’t lose all his hair too soon since he’s only pushing forty. I’d hate to think I’m destined for the same fate. Oh, man. If he’s nervous, then that means he’s giving a sentimental speech.

  “Before we pray, I want to give thanks for my family being here with me today. I love each of ya, and on this holiday, I will only find you irritating a little bit.”

  The room fills with laughter, and I’m grateful to be here. “It’s a tradition in this family for two members to break apart the wishbone. Travis and Franklin, could you two please come and stand next to me?”

  It’s quiet as we take a look at each other and push away from the table. “Without getting too emotional here, I want to say I’m super proud of these two young men. They work hard at the store every day, but most importantly they support each other.