No Fooling Around: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy

by Hunter, Talia

  Asher sounded wounded, but I was pretty sure he didn’t feel as bad as I did. My heart was breaking. I’d fallen in love with him, and he had no idea.

  “Was spending time with me part of your scheme?” I sounded as bitter as I felt.

  “Iola, don’t do this. You know it wasn’t.”

  “How do I know? You’re more cunning than I realized. There really is ice in your veins.”

  “Are you somewhere close? I’ll come to—”

  I rubbed the skin between my breasts, trying to ease the pain shooting through my chest. “No, I don’t want to see you. I need to think things through.”

  He was silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, he sounded cautious. “That’s all you need? Some time to think?”

  My anger sparked again, its embers lighting up the blackness of my despair. “You don’t get to pressure me, Asher. I’ve had enough of men telling me what to do.”

  “That wasn’t what—”

  “Goodbye, Asher.”

  I hung up and screwed my eyes shut, dropping my forehead onto the steering wheel. I felt like I’d just amputated a limb, sawing through my own flesh and bone. Even though the limb was going bad and had to be separated, the pain made me want to scream.

  How did everything get so messed up?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Asher

  Iola needed time. I accepted that.

  And it was underscored by the blinds she’d fastened over her windows to block my view into her house. As hard as it was for me to keep from calling her, from trying to explain, it was better to let her process what she’d found out.

  But by Monday morning, I couldn’t wait any longer. I’d given Iola two days to think things through, and they’d been the longest days of my life.

  Now I needed to reach out to her, to tell her how I felt. But at the same time, I wanted to show I was respecting her wishes and giving her the time she’d asked for.

  There was only one answer. Exchanging notes was how all this had started, so now I’d write the most important one of all.

  But what should I write?

  Sitting in my home office, I stared at a blank sheet of notepaper for so long, Nemesis eventually jumped onto my desk to see what I was doing. She sat down, her tail curled around her body, and gazed at me with unblinking yellow eyes, as though waiting for me to start writing.

  “Dear Iola,” I said aloud, testing the words by sounding them out. “As you know, I’ve never wanted to fall in love.”

  I wrote the words down. My handwriting wasn’t cursive and expressive like Iola’s. It was neat and functional. We complimented each other perfectly, and somehow I needed to find a way to make her believe that.

  “My mother was a victim of her illness, and though I like to believe she meant well, her love couldn’t be trusted. She was so unpredictable, I never felt safe around her.”

  Nemesis stared blankly at me as I spoke, clearly reserving judgment. I wrote down the words, then looked back at my cat while I thought of what I needed to say.

  “Until I met you, I thought I’d never trust anyone but my brothers. The irony is, I’m the untrustworthy one. I’m the one who lied, and kept secrets from you. But you make me feel so much, I can’t hide it anymore.”

  Nemesis examined one paw as I added the new paragraph. When I started talking again, she kept her gaze down as though filled with too much disdain to look at me.

  “You’ve changed me, Iola. You’ve inspired me to let go. To laugh. To trust you in spite of how vulnerable that makes me feel, and to care about more than just protecting my family.”

  This time I wrote as I spoke. “Now I have no more schemes, tricks, or sleight-of-hand. You said you needed time, so I’ll wait. I’ll give you whatever you need. And even if you walk away, it won’t change the way I’ve come to feel about you.”

  I dragged in a breath.

  “I love you, Iola. I can’t control it or contain it, and I’ve discovered I don’t want to. All I want is a chance to make up for the pain I’ve caused you.”

  I looked back up at Nemesis. The cat yawned, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. Then she jumped off the desk. With her tail lifted, she stalked outside.

  “I accept your criticism,” I told her as she disappeared. “But I’m still going to send it.”

  At the bottom of the letter, I sketched an anatomically correct heart, complete with muscles, arteries, and veins. Below it I wrote, I have a heart-on for you.

  I considered pinning the note into a pair of my boxer briefs, and decided that could be a step too far. Instead, I folded the page into an envelope with Iola’s name on the front. Taking it outside, I slipped it into Iola’s mailbox.

  Surely she wouldn’t see a letter as a violation of my promise to give her time. I could only hope it would convince her to call me.

  I’d just gone back inside when my phone rang.

  “This is Doctor Greene,” said the caller.

  My heart lurched. “Doctor Greene? Has something happened to my father?” I’d met my father’s doctor after Dad had heart problems last year, but Doctor Greene had never called me directly before.

  “I asked your father if I could contact you. He came to see me with shortness of breath, and I thought you should know I’ve sent him to the hospital.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “It could be nothing, but his ECG indicated a possible issue with his heart. They’ll be able to tell you more at the hospital.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Rushing to the hospital, I tried not to picture the worst possible outcome. To my relief, I found Dad lying awake, alone, and decidedly grumpy in a curtained-off bed, wired up to a heart monitor that was giving reassuring beeps.

  “I hate this place,” he growled in lieu of a greeting. “Can’t trust doctors. I’m as healthy as a jackrabbit, and they keep trying to convince me I’m sick.”

  I let out a long breath, feeling my own accelerated heartbeat slow to a more normal level. “How are you feeling, Dad? You had trouble breathing?”

  “I just told you, I’m as fit as a twenty-year-old.”

  “Doctor Greene said your ECG—”

  “Doctor Greene’s not so bad,” Dad interrupted. “But I don’t trust any of the others. They come up with fake illnesses just to make money.”

  “Doctors aren’t paid on commission.”

  “Wake up, Asher. They need to make people sick so they can keep their jobs. That’s how it works.”

  “There are plenty of sick people.”

  “See! That proves it.” He looked triumphant, as though he’d won the argument. “Did you call Mason yet?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to see how you were before I worried him.”

  “Tell him to come quickly. If he flashes his badge, the so-called doctors might think twice before making up illnesses I don’t have.”

  I motioned to the No Cellphones sign next to the bed. “I’ll need to go outside to call him.”

  “They don’t need cellphones here, because they inject trackers straight into their patients’ veins. No way am I letting them stick any needles into me.”

  My sigh was heavy. “I’ll go and call Mason. Back in a few minutes.”

  “Get me a donut while you’re at it,” he said as I went out. “Chocolate dipped.”

  After finding a doctor to take me through my father’s test results, I called Mason.

  “Apparently Dad’s tests are okay now,” I assured my brother. “They have a few more to run, but they think it was a false alarm.”

  He told me he’d be there soon, and after hanging up, I went to the hospital’s café on the ground floor to check their selection of food. The sign in front of a basket of apples made me smile.

  Today’s Special: Buy one apple for the price of two and receive a second apple completely free!

  Iola would appreciate the joke. I even reached into my pocket to take my phone back out, thinking I’d send her a picture.

 
Then I stopped myself. Better to show I respected her request to give her space.

  “Two apples please,” I said to the server, knowing they’d go to waste but unable to stop myself.

  Sure enough, when I took the apples back to Dad’s room I was treated to a lecture on how the evidence on healthy eating was part of a global conspiracy. By the time Mason turned up, he’d explained the entire fiendish plot in intricate detail.

  Mason had brought Carlotta with him, though being Trixie’s daughter, Dad was still suspicious of her. Apparently Mason had taken our father aside to lay down strict rules of civility, but we all knew how impossible it was for him to stick to rules. I could see Carlotta trying not to take it personally when he greeted her with nothing but a grunt.

  The three of us sat with him for a while, before Dad talked us into getting him some real food. Then we set off on a probably-doomed mission to find something he’d agree to eat that wouldn’t put him into a sugar coma.

  Mason stopped me just outside Dad’s room.

  “Before we go anywhere, I need to ask about Dad’s insurance,” he told me.

  “I’ll go on ahead,” Carlotta volunteered. “You two talk, and I’ll bring back supplies.”

  As she walked away, Mason said, “I should have checked before. Dad does have health insurance, right?”

  “He does.” I didn’t tell Mason that I was paying our father’s premiums. He hadn’t been back from Houston for long, and his jumpiness combined with the shadows under his eyes kept reminding me how difficult his assignment must have been.

  “What about deductibles and co-pays?”

  “Don’t worry, he has the best insurance possible.” Besides, I’d be able to easily cover any out-of-pocket expenses once my plan came to fruition.

  But I felt a flicker of doubt.

  Iola had said, ‘You shouldn’t be able to buy and sell people,’ as though it were something she thought I tried to do.

  Was the fact I was secretly paying Dad’s medical bills and keeping it from my brothers a bad thing? I’d figured it was my responsibility, so there was no point in burdening them with it. But lying to Iola had been such a serious miscalculation, I’d promised to never make that mistake again. Should I reevaluate the importance of being honest with everyone in my life?

  Before I could decide, Mason said, “We should call Kade and tell him what’s happened.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  My brother frowned. “He should know Dad’s in the hospital.”

  “The doctor said it was a false alarm. Why worry him?”

  “Because it’s not fair to keep it from him.” Mason pulled out his phone. “I’ll call him.”

  More doubts about the assumptions I’d been making crowded into my brain. Could I have been wrong in wanting to shield people from problems they were better off not knowing? I thought protecting Kade would be better than letting him worry, but Mason seemed to share Iola’s views on the importance of being open.

  I waited while Mason and Kade had a short conversation, and when Mason hung up he said, “Kade’s in the middle of filming and can’t get away, but he’s going to drive here on Friday.”

  “Did you tell him Dad’s not in danger?”

  “He still wants to come, and I would too if I were in his place.” He hesitated. “You’re not going to call Iola?”

  I wanted to call Iola. I’d spent every minute of the day wanting to call her. But I just shook my head.

  Mason frowned. “What’s going on with you, Asher? And don’t say it’s nothing, because you’re even more silent and withdrawn than usual. You don’t always have to keep everything to yourself, you know.”

  I blinked at my brother, surprised at the irritation in his voice. “Iola’s upset with me, so I’m giving her some time.”

  His expression softened. “Hey. I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s your fault, I take it?”

  “Completely my fault.”

  Mason lightly punched my arm with one meaty fist, and it felt like being pounded with Thor’s hammer. “You should have told me about it. I might have been able to help. You’re hanging on too tight, Asher. Sometimes you need to let people in.”

  “I kept secrets from her, and they turned around and bit me on the ass.”

  He gave me a rueful grin. “I have a few ass scars myself. Secrets are dangerous things.”

  Carlotta came back down the hallway with her hands full of small packets. “I got your father these little packs of different nuts and dried fruit.” She looked from Mason to me. “You think he’ll eat any of these?”

  “Only one way to find out,” I said.

  “You give them to him.” Carlotta piled the packets into my hands. “If I do it, he’ll think I’m trying to poison him.”

  Mason grinned. “As difficult as Lennox men can be, we’re worth all the trouble. Right, Carlotta?”

  Her eyes met his and lit up. An unspoken communication passed between them, like they were sharing a private joke.

  When they smiled at each other, a surprising pain hit me in the chest. Envy wasn’t something I was used to feeling. But the open emotion written into their faces made me wish more than ever that Iola were here.

  “Lennox men are worth a whole bucketful of trouble,” Carlotta agreed, bumping her hip against my brother’s.

  I could only hope it was true.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Iola

  I was in my bedroom, pulling on the tailored capri trousers I was going to wear to Santino’s sentencing, when I heard a soft thump in the hallway.

  Ruff heard the sound too. He’d been lying on the floor watching me dress, but he scrambled to his feet and lumbered into the hall.

  I yanked the trousers up, my nerves jumping. Though I knew Benedict was thousands of miles away, my first thought was still that he might have come back and broken in.

  But when I stuck my head out of the door with my capris still unbuttoned, I saw Ruff’s tail wagging furiously as he sniffed Nemesis. The hall window was open, and the thump must have been the cat jumping off the windowsill.

  Nemesis had something in her mouth. It looked like an envelope.

  “What’s that?” I asked, fumbling with my buttons, trying to do them up. Nemesis was holding the envelope face down, so I couldn’t see if it was addressed to me.

  Nemesis stalked past me and Ruff, slipping into my bedroom.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I followed the cat. “No more panties for you.” With everything that had happened between Asher and me, the last thing I needed was for his cat to present him with any more of my underwear.

  Nemesis evaded me easily, vanishing under the bed.

  Instead of trying to get her out of there, I went to the dresser. Though Santino had asked me to move all his stuff into storage, so far I’d only packed up his clothes and other personal items. I didn’t have enough money to pay for storing his furniture, and besides, I needed to check whether that would be legal.

  “I don’t have time for your shenanigans today, Nemesis.” Yanking open the second drawer, I pulled out all my T-shirts and dumped them onto the bed. Then I transferred my underwear from the broken drawer into my T-shirt drawer, and slammed it shut. “There. Problem finally solved.”

  Going to the bed, I peered under it. Nemesis was sitting just out of reach with the envelope still in her mouth. She studied me impassively with her intense yellow eyes.

  “You may as well leave. My underwear is secure.”

  Slinking out from the other side of the bed, Nemesis leapt on top of the dresser.

  “Fine, see for yourself. Go ahead and check the drawer. It’s empty.”

  Nemesis swung her head to the wall and let the envelope go. It dropped into the crack between the dresser and the wall.

  “That was petty. I don’t have time to get it out now, so it better be junk mail and not something urgent.” I waved toward the d
oor. “Time for you to leave.”

  Keeping her gaze fixed on mine, Nemesis curled her tail around her body.

  “Ruff, will you help me get her out of here?”

  His tail between his legs, Ruff looked from me to Nemesis and back again. He gave a little whine, his eyes sagging apologetically.

  I threw up my hands. “Fine. I’ll be back in two or three hours. Don’t let Nemesis convince you to carry out all our stuff for her while I’m gone.”

  I only just made it to the courthouse in time. When I arrived, my brother’s sentencing hearing was about to begin.

  Two guards led Santino into the dock, waiting on each side of him as he sat down. He looked dignified in a suit, and the sight was reassuring. I hadn’t been here for his trial—I hadn’t even known about it until he’d called me several weeks afterward—so this was the first time I’d seen him in normal clothes instead of a prison jumpsuit.

  The sight both made me glad, and twisted my heart. My brother didn’t look like a criminal. Whatever crimes he’d been convicted of, it had to be some kind of mistake. Hopefully the judge would release Santino, and I’d get my brother back.

  The thought of having a family again filled me with such intense hope, it was painful. I had to remind myself to breathe.

  I was trying to catch Santino’s eye in the crowded courtroom when the judge strode in. He was a tall man with metal glasses perched on a craggy nose, his brows creased into a permanent v-shape. His black robes swished around him and the courtroom stood while the judge took his seat, then the list of my brother’s convictions was read aloud.

  My heart sank as the list went on. It was longer than I’d expected. Though I watched my brother’s face, he showed no emotion as the crimes were read out.

  Then the prosecutor spoke. “We have some victim impact statements to present to the court, Your Honor.”

  A woman stood up. She was middle-aged, with sad, sunken eyes, and her dress and ugly woolen cardigan hung off her thin body as though she’d borrowed them from someone bigger. She carefully unfolded a piece of paper, and her voice trembled as she read what was written on it. “My son Robby meant everything to me. He was so good to his momma, he made me proud. Now he’s gone, I don’t know if I can keep going. Santino Martin offered him a job.” She pointed a wobbly finger at my brother. “Robby thought he was just going to make a little money, but he never got to come home.”