Not with all the cradles.
36
Mac
No surprise to me, Nash jumps at the idea of partnering with Homes 4 Humans. Then after he jumps, my boy runs with it. Fast. Just like high school.
He spends half the morning crunching numbers and reconfiguring our budget. After presenting a viable plan to me, he gets on the phone with someone at H4H.
Turns out, they’re into the idea too.
So now, instead of letting another company like World Build buy us out, McCoy Construction is going to expand our pro bono work. Nash and I both think teaming up with H4H, donating our time and resources, will be great for our reputation. And it’s even better for the people we’ll be helping. That’s the real future Ted McCoy would’ve envisioned.
I’ve got to think there’s a reason no big offers to buy us out came our way while my father was alive. That’s because Ted McCoy wasn’t about making more money at all costs. Dad wanted to create things that mattered.
Brooke was the first one to remind me of that when she accused McCoys of building things that didn’t need to be there. She had a point. Dad was proud of the library. A lot of projects we did made him proud. But he wouldn’t be happy if we got too big for our britches. If we became a part of World Build.
Not for nothing, but Mr. Dudley inspired me too. He finally got back to me on our quid-pro-quo deal, and said the best project we could donate to the library would be a new community room. He said the library needs a space for local authors to speak. And musicians to play. Magicians to perform. Guest speakers. Programs from the university. Well. That got me thinking. I want our company to be about building connections too. People gathering. Community. Apple Valley.
It should be about that.
Not to get too corny, but I swear I heard my dad’s voice again.
This is it, son. You have your answer.
Next question: How involved do I want to be? And I think I’ve got that answer too.
Also from Brooke.
For her sake, and for Daisy’s, I don’t want to be the guy whose life is ruled by work. But—and this is a big but—I do want to stick around McCoys to be sure my dad’s legacy is protected.
Solution: Bring in Nash Hendrix. Not just to take the lead with Homes 4 Humans, but to take my seat as CEO while I step down to a smaller role. When I call Nash into my office and throw out the idea, he declines.
Not what I expected.
“Why?”
“Two words.” He blows out a breath. “Herman and Blake. The guy will bust my chops at every turn. Not that I can’t take the guy in an arm wrestle. I just don’t want every day to be an arm wrestle, you know?”
I lean back in my chair. “On the contrary. I’m willing to bet Herman would love having you in charge.”
Nash squints at me. “How do you figure, boss?”
“He’ll blame me for the decision not to sell McCoys. I’ll present it as unilateral. He’ll call it misguided and asinine.”
“Yeah.” Nash smirks like he’s hearing Herman’s complaints already. “He’s not gonna like that. At all.”
“He’ll get especially riled up after I hit him with the Homes 4 Humans partnership. But don’t worry your pretty little head, Nash. I’ll take the fall for both ideas. Then I’ll step down.”
“Whoa.” Nash shoves the hair out of his eyes. “That would be big news too.”
“After that, if Herman gets his tighty-whiteys in a wad, it won’t really matter. The guy already hates me. And he’ll be more likely to support you as the man who comes in to save McCoys from me. Heh. You’re going to end up being Herman Blake’s new best friend.”
“Not likely.” Nash rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck. “I’m no pushover.”
“I’m well aware. But by the time everyone else figures that out, well, it’ll be too late.”
Nash plants his feet wide, and his Adam’s apple bobs. He’s feeling the idea. I can tell. So I get up from my chair and come around the desk. Put out a hand.
“I can’t shake on it yet,” he says. Then a grin cuts across his face. “I’m still coming up with my conditions.”
I chuckle. “Look at you. Playing hardball.”
“Come on now, boss. Hear me out.”
I flash him an exaggerated wince. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not since third grade you haven’t.”
“Ha! All right then. What are your terms?”
He scratches his chin. “After some consideration, I’ve got two requests.”
I hold back a smile. “I can’t wait. Lay them on me. One at a time. Please.”
“First of all, we’ve got to be co-CEOs.”
“Why? You got someone special in the wings you want to make time for too?”
“Nah.” Nash scoffs. “After watching my dad leave one wife after another, I’m staying single for life. And you know it. But you also know your dad would want you in the mix around here at the top level. So how about it? You and me both. A team. As equals. Just like the old days. Quarterback and receiver.”
I raise an eyebrow. “As the quarterback in that scenario, I’d argue we weren’t equals, my friend. I was definitely more valuable. And my prom date was much cuter.”
His mouth goes crooked. “Yeah. You keep telling yourself that, man.”
“Don’t you worry,” I say. “I will. And I’ll also accept your terms.” To seal the deal I punch Nash in the arm. Not hard enough to warrant retaliation, though. My best friend might actually be able to take me down if he tried hard enough. And I can’t take that chance. Not when I’ve got a birthday party to attend.
“Consider it done,” I say.
“Good.” He rubs the spot where I hit him. “But I’m not done yet. That was just the first term.”
“Right. What’s the second term?”
He grins. “I still get to call you boss.”
“Man.” I crack my knuckles. On both hands. “I hate when you do that.”
“That’s why it’ll never get old.”
An hour later, I’m heading back from McCoys, feeling on top of the world. Riding high. I’ve got the windows rolled down. Got the wind on my face. Got Bruce Springsteen growling about “Glory Days.” (Now, he’s the real boss, no matter what Nash calls me.) Most importantly, I’ve got my best girls waiting for me at home. Daisy’s finally happy. Brooke is finally free.
And as for me, I’m happier and freer than I felt when I left for work this morning. And for a good long while before that.
If there’s one small cloud shadowing the day—at least I’m hoping it’s a small cloud and not some storm rolling in—it’s that I’ve still got to come clean to Brooke about who I am. I would’ve told her sooner. I should’ve told her. But tonight’s the night. I’m done waiting. Right after her parents head to their hotel. And after Daisy stops hopping around. But the girl can’t stay awake forever.
And once Daisy’s asleep, I’m going to take Brooke down to the creek.
Under the stars.
Just us.
Hopefully, in the dark she won’t see my face turning red. She’ll just hear the truth in my voice when I tell her I love her. And that my real name is Bradford McCoy.
But mostly, that I love her.
Sure, she might be thrown at first, but at least she’ll be hearing the news from the horse’s mouth. Learning about both the love thing and the McCoy thing straight from me. First. Finally.
And yeah, I might not be a great explainer, but I’ll do my best to find the right words.
As soon as she hears the McCoy-Bradford switch started because of Daisy, I think Brooke will understand. She’ll remember being in the truck that first night, saying she hated McCoy Construction. Saying she didn’t like kids.
So why would I have wanted her to know who I really was then? I needed to protect my daughter. And I wanted to protect myself from another Gwen. At that point, Daisy and I had both been hurt too badly. We couldn’t have predicted how different Brooke would be.
She never wanted our money or our name.
She just wanted us.
I expect Brooke might wonder why I didn’t tell her I’m a McCoy sooner. That’s when I plan to ask her what she thinks the right time would’ve been to break that kind of news.
Answer: There was no good time.
But now, Brooke and I have got nothing but sunshine and good times stretching ahead of us. After this one last speed bump, it’ll be all smooth sailing. Me. Daisy. Brooke.
I trust that beautiful woman. With my heart. With my life.
With my daughter.
That’s what I’m thinking about when I pull up to the house and see a pink banner stretched across the roof. It says HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY EVER!
Well. Can’t argue with that.
Grabbing the gift bag with Daisy’s present, I head inside and run smack dab into a hurricane. It’s a blur of red and green that’s actually my daughter. She’s spinning and twirling and hopping even more than usual. Which is probably not easy when you’re wearing a costume with a mermaid tail.
“Hey there, Ariel. Looks like you had some sugar for breakfast!”
She stops spinning long enough to say, “No, Daddy. I had three waffles.”
“Sounds about right for a birthday girl.”
Daisy hop, hop, hops with me into the kitchen. Lenore and Robert are seated at the table. “Daddy! Guess what MeeMaw and PeePaw got me!”
“Hmm.” I put a finger on my chin. “A stuffed animal? Maybe a turtle friend for Tuttle?”
“No. They got me a pony!”
A what? “Holy cow.”
“No, Daddy. A pony. A real pony!” Hop, hop, hop.
Cue Lenore setting down her tea. “Every girl should have a hobby,” she says. “We could have a little equestrian on our hands, Mac.”
We? Our?
I know I’m gaping, but I don’t know what to say. Literally.
“We realize it’s a bit extravagant,” Robert says, “and that you probably can’t afford to board a pony. So please allow Lenore and me to cover all the expenses. Including stable fees. Food. Gear. Lessons.”
Lenore puts in her two cents, which actually costs way more than that. “Of course, we’ll pay for a full complement of riding habits. Daisy must look the part.”
Whoa. No wonder Brooke is wary of pushy people. Of wealth. Of … her parents.
On that note.
“Where’s Brooke?” I ask.
“Book, Book, Book!” Daisy chirps.
“She got a bit dusty hanging that banner outside.” Lenore sniffs. “I believe she’s freshening up. I suggested she change out of the costume into something more appropriate, but I doubt she’ll listen to me. She rarely does.”
I shake my head. “Yeah. Well.”
Daisy snatches the gift bag from my hand. (Note to self: no more waffles for her for a while.)
Before I can tell her to hold on and wait for Brooke, she’s pulled all the tissues out along with my present. “A basketball?” She looks up at me, blue eyes wide. My throat gets tight and my face heats up.
A basketball probably doesn’t seem like much of a gift to the Wallaces, but I put a lot of thought and heart into it. Anyway, it’s about my daughter. I don’t care what they think. Much.
“I thought I could teach you to play,” I tell Daisy. “The goal and hoop for the front yard will be here in a couple days.” I glance at the Wallaces. “This party was last minute, so you know. I had to order those.”
Robert nods. “We understand. Lenore and I had a terrible time tracking down a pony on such short notice. Not to mention the errand we ran for Brooke this morning.”
As if on cue, Brooke comes into the kitchen. Thank goodness. Finally some backup. This must be the costume her mother didn’t approve of, but I think Brooke looks adorable as Snow White. Her pale skin and black hair sure fits the bill. Not to mention those red lips of hers.
Lips I can’t wait to kiss again.
“Hey. Did you hear what your parents got Daisy for her birthday?”
She nods. Quick and tight. She’s probably upset about the pony. But I don’t want Mr. and Mrs. Wallace to ruin even one more day for Brooke. So I’ll do my best to keep things light for now. My being angry will only add to her frustration.
“Quite the surprise, right?” I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe all the adults can have a talk about boundaries later.”
She nods again. Her eyes are shining, like maybe she’s been crying. Oh, man. I hope Lenore wasn’t too rough with her judgment of that costume. “You look great, by the way,” I say. “A perfect Snow White.”
“I’m hardly perfect,” she says under her breath.
Daisy goes to the table and grabs the gift in fancy pink gift-wrapping paper. “Can I open this, Daddy?” Hop, hop, hop.
“Hmm.” I look at Brooke. “The king defers to his lovely queen.” I offer her a deep bow. I’m not sure when Brooke’s planning to fill her parents in on the truth, but we might as well send them home feeling like she’s well and settled.
Until I marry her for real.
“So what do you say, wife?”
Brooke shifts her weight and chews on her lip. “Emi should be back with the frosting soon,” she says. “But I’m sure she won’t mind. Anyway, it’s more of a family gift.”
“Yay!” Hop, hop, hop. Daisy climbs onto a chair and settles the gift on the table in front of her. Then she rips right into the paper like a lion tearing apart its prey.
I chuckle. “Guess we won’t be saving this wrapping paper.”
Lenore cuts a glance at Robert. “Let’s try to remember to buy more wrapping paper for Brooke and Mac before we leave.”
“I can afford wrapping paper, thanks.” I smile at them with my teeth. A real grit show.
Daisy’s ignoring us and trying to make out what’s written on the book in front of her. “Daisy!” she reads. Then she holds up the cover for me to see.
Daisy Rae Bradford.
Whoa.
“It’s a baby book,” Lenore announces. “Robert and I had it personalized for you this morning.”
Robert adds, “It was Brooke’s idea. She says Daisy doesn’t have a baby book, so she wants to make one for her. You married a smart one there, Mac.”
“I sure did.” I gulp. “Hey, Daisy. Can I see that?”
I take the book from her, hoping no one will say the whole name out loud. Daisy would recognize her real last name, McCoy, but she’s never learned Bradford. Why would she?
Of course, Brooke doesn’t know that yet.
“Mac,” she says, still chewing her lip. “I hope I didn’t overstep.”
My heart swells at the same time the rest of me twists into knots. I hope Brooke can forgive me when she finds out I’m a McCoy. “You did not overstep,” I say. “This is exactly the right amount of stepping. Off-the-charts sweet.”
Daisy, who has no idea what a baby book is, hops down from the table, takes the basketball, and starts bouncing it in the kitchen.
“Can you say ‘thank you’ to Brooke, Daisy?”
She giggles. “Thank you to Book, Daisy.”
Brooke smiles at her. “You’re welcome, Princess.” Then she takes the book from me, slips it into the gift bag from the basketball, and collects the shreds of wrapping paper from her gift. I’m about to ask if anyone’s ordered pizza yet when the front door slams and my sister calls out, “Hey! I found Cinderella on your front porch. Where’s the ball?”
“We’re in the kitchen,” I call back. Tess comes around the corner with a bubbly blonde wearing a blue gown and carrying a grocery bag.
“Your frosting Godmother has arrived,” the blonde chirps. “But I had to go to three stores to find pink buttercream.” She looks at me and drops her bag.
“Mac. Is that you?”
Oh, no.
“Hello, Emily.”
37
Brooke
Emi’s eyes sweep over to me and a pit opens in my stomach. I don’t know what’s happe
ning, but from the look on Emi’s face, I gather it’s not good. My gaze bounces between her and Mac. He just stands there with his mouth moving wordlessly.
“You two know each other?” I ask.
“We went to school together,” Emi says. “But everyone knew me as Emily back then.”
“Emily. Emi. Right.” Mac groans with the recognition.
Emi’s mouth flattens. “I’m sorry, Brooke, but that’s not Mac Bradford. His name is Bradford McCoy.”
“No.” I shake my head. My brain’s doing a total somersault. “Bradford is his last name.”
Emi folds her arms across her body, hugging herself. “I’ve got no idea why he told you that, but it isn’t true. Mac is just a nickname. That’s Mac McCoy. You know. From McCoy Construction? That’s his company.”
Daisy pipes up, hopping up and down, chanting a name each time she lands. “Mac McCoy. Daisy McCoy. Auntie Tess McCoy.”
“Daisy.” Mac puts a hand on her shoulder to settle her. Then his focus drifts to me. Slowly. Like he’s afraid of what he’ll see when it gets there.
“I swear I was going to tell you,” he says. “Tonight.”
I draw in a breath, but I can’t get the pieces to fit. “But … why?” My question comes out so soft, I can barely hear it myself.
“Because I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
“No, I mean why did you lie to me in the first place?” It feels like there’s glass in my throat. Like I swallowed fire. “Why did you keep lying all this time?”
Tess takes a step between us. “He had a good reason.”
Mac lifts a hand to stop his sister. “You don’t have to defend me, Tess.”
I make a small noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. While everyone stares at me, I close my eyes, wishing I could just disappear. Or that the ground would crack open and gobble me whole. But it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t.
“Ahem,” my father says. I open my eyes as he stands to address the group. “Maybe we should let these two talk. Privately.”
“No.” I start backing away in slow motion, one step at a time. “You all stay. Please.” When I reach the back door, I fumble to let myself out with no real idea where I’m going. If anyone tries to stop me, I can’t hear them, because my whole head is stuffed with cotton.
The Mostly Real McCoy: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Apple Valley Love Stories Book 1) Page 21