Summer Heat (The Storm Inside #5)

by Alexis Anne

  This time I followed my instinct. I slid over the inch that separated us and put my arms around him. “Thank you, Jake.”

  “Thank you, June. Your letters made a difference.”

  I screwed my eyes shut. “Then I’m glad I wrote them.”

  “When you’re ready, please talk to me. I’m here.”

  I squeezed him tighter. “I will.”

  I sat in my usual spot between Eve and Max. Max and Sam sat side by side, with Zoe completing the munchkin sandwich on the other side of Sam. Jake sat at the head of the table beside Eve, and Mom sat at the opposite end. Greg and Marie sat opposite us. When their daughter, Natalie, was in town, she sat beside them, but at the moment she was finishing up an internship in Chicago.

  “She’ll be home in two weeks for spring break.” Greg beamed. He was technically Natalie’s stepfather, not that anyone would ever know it. He adored his daughter, even before he’d met Marie, but that was a long, adorable story in and of itself.

  “Good. I want to hear all about this grant she’s won.”

  This time it was Marie grinning from ear to ear with pride. “She’s so excited and I know she’ll want to hang out with you as much as she can.”

  In the same way that Marie was an older sister to me, I was the surrogate big sister to Natalie. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Conversation drifted over a variety of topics from what the girls were studying in school to Greg and Jake’s latest project at work. Marie was unusually quiet and I had a feeling I was to blame.

  After dinner I helped clear the table while Mom took the girls upstairs for story time. As I carried a stack of dishes from the table to the kitchen I caught a glimpse of Jake and Greg in the hallway. Their heads were bowed toward each other and they spoke in low voices.

  Curiosity got the better of me and I stopped just inside the kitchen to eavesdrop.

  “She keeps too much to herself. It’s the self-reliant streak in the Daniel’s women. It’s admirable but also a fucking pain in the ass when you want to help and they won’t let you,” Jake said.

  “You’ve offered. If she doesn’t want to talk . . . ”

  Jake sighed. “If she’s anything like her sister then the more she doesn’t talk the bigger the problem will grow.”

  “Look, I know it pisses you off to be left out but Marie and I have got this. I swear, man.”

  I swallowed down the lump that had formed in my throat. The heavy dishes started to make my biceps ache, but I didn’t dare walk away now.

  “Just . . . how bad is it? Is she okay?”

  I heard some shuffling and then Greg grumbled. “She’s okay.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “I don’t know why it’s a fucking secret. I mean,” he sighed, “it’s hard. I’ll give her that much, and Marie swears up and down that there’s more to this than I understand, but from where I sit, knowing your family the way I do, I don’t understand.”

  “Well that’s confusing.”

  “We’re speaking in fucking code!” Greg’s voice rose. “Here’s what you need to know: it’s a secret, no one’s hurt, no one needs to be beat up, and we’ll keep talking to her. There. That’s all you need to know, Jake. Now, let us be there for her if she wants us to be there for her, and let it go until she’s ready to talk.”

  I heard the sound of footsteps so I rushed toward the sink with my stack. I grabbed up the sponge and pretended to be scrubbing a particularly difficult spot on a pan.

  “How much did you hear?” Greg asked from the doorway.

  “Enough.” There was no point in lying. I eavesdropped, he caught me. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” He didn’t move or say anything else.

  “Marie said you have a strong opinion on my situation.”

  “I do.”

  “Care to share?” I was stubborn but the people in my life were good people. If they had something to say I should probably hear it . . . even if I didn’t want to.

  “You should talk to your family.”

  I dropped the sponge and spun around. “That’s your opinion?”

  “I know you’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t start talking.”

  “What if I don’t want to go anywhere?”

  He laughed, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “Well, if that were the case, Buttercup, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. You’d have told him to go fuck himself, then you would have told the rest of us to do the same. You would be angry but you wouldn’t be tortured and sad.”

  “Fuck,” I swore under my breath.

  “Yeah. The truth is a bitch. I suggest you start the conversation with your family. This is a big bad one and it may take a while to wear down the castle defenses.”

  “I think this is an impenetrable fortress.”

  “Nah. They love you.”

  Everyone kept saying that, but they didn’t understand.

  “How about this?” I raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Bring up his name. See what happens. We’ll go from there. Deal?”

  He frowned, probably suspecting that he’d just been duped. “Deal.”

  Two minutes later everyone had a small glass of brandy and conversation was flying back and forth across the kitchen as we all worked together to clean up dinner. Jake and Greg put away leftovers while Marie and Zoe put away clean dishes. Eve and I washed and Mom sat on the stool of honor watching everything.

  Greg’s eyes kept darting back and forth with the conversation, probably trying to figure out how to turn it toward the St. James. I cocked an eyebrow in challenge. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. Not yet.

  It wasn’t until we were nearly done and the first round of brandy was gone that he cleared his throat. “So, I met Roman St. James.”

  I tried not to groan out loud. That had to be the most ineloquent way to drop a name into conversation ever.

  And sure enough, the room fell deadly, painfully silent. Every head swiveled his direction.

  “What?” Eve demanded. “When? Where? Why?” She threw the dishtowel she was holding and marched over to him.

  He cleared his throat again, looking completely uncomfortable. “Ate dinner with him actually. He seems like a really great guy.”

  Oh Greg. He was so clueless.

  Eve’s eyes bulged out of her head. “What?”

  Marie turned white. “Oh, Greg.”

  The tension in the room grew so thick I was surprised a fog didn’t roll in.

  Eve turned and gaped at her friend. “You too?”

  “He’s very nice, Eve.”

  “Ha!” Mom’s voice cut like a knife. “He’s the spawn of the devil.”

  And there we were: battle lines clearly drawn across the kitchen just as I expected. Greg and Marie were alone on their end of the counter, Mom on the opposite side, and the rest of us standing to either side ready to take up arms.

  Greg shot her a glare. “Have you actually met the man?”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I have. He’s just like his father—entitled, crude, and immature.”

  That had been in college when they’d dragged me off while George screamed at Coach Williams. It had been a very brief and very inaccurate impression and it was unfair of her to use it against him.

  “Not the man I met,” Greg said, his face turning red with anger. “He was wonderful. Very nice, very generous, actually. It was hard to believe he was the same guy you all seem to hate so much. It made me wonder if you’d given him a chance or just written him off because of what his name happened to be.”

  “Greg!” Eve gasped. “I don’t care if he’s the nicest man on the planet. He’s a St. James.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Eve.”

  She picked up another towel and reared back to launch it at Greg but Jake moved faster, plucking it from her hand first. “Calm down.”

  She glared at him.

  “Stop!” Mom yelled. “Just stop. Gre
g, I respect your right to meet with anyone you wish, but do not speak his name in our presence ever again.”

  “That’s unfair, ma’am.”

  “Unfair?” She stepped toward him, fire in her eyes. “This family has made a decision. A decision that ensures our happiness. The St. James are not to be mentioned in our presence. They are dead to us. We do not share friends and we do not attend the same functions. Period. It’s best for everyone if we all stay far, far apart.”

  Her last words rang through the kitchen for several beats, filling the silence. No one dared say a word to interrupt what was taking place between Mom and Greg, least of all me. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? A reminder of exactly how deeply Roman’s family had hurt mine.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Greg finally murmured.

  She nodded once and turned. “Good night, girls. Thank you for dinner. I think it’s best I head on up to bed before I start saying things I shouldn’t.” She squeezed Greg’s arm and gave him a quiet smile—essentially telling him she was sorry without actually saying it.

  No one moved or said a word until we heard Mom’s door close upstairs. Every footfall echoed through the silence, nailing my broken heart back shut.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Marie whisper-yelled at her husband.

  He half-shrugged.

  Eve’s eyes flicked back and forth between Marie and Greg. “What aren’t you telling us?”

  Marie closed her eyes and shook her head. “Please don’t be mad at me. This is business.”

  Eve’s eyes went wide. “What did you do?” she hissed.

  Marie swallowed. “I hired Roman.”

  I expected Eve to scream or throw some dishes—she was known for that—but instead she did the exact opposite. She stood there like a statue, turning whiter by the moment.

  The fact that she was reacting in the exact opposite way than she usually would scared the crap out of me.

  After a solid minute of silence she carefully to turned to Jake. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Eve . . . ”

  “No,” she held up a hand. “I can’t process this and I don’t want to say anything I regret. I’m going to follow my mother’s example and go to bed.” She shot Marie an evil glare. “We will talk about this, but you might want to steer clear of me for a few days. Or weeks.”

  Then she stormed out of the room, taking all my energy and dreams along with her. I felt strangely empty, as if something I needed inside me to survive had been stolen away.

  I was so overwhelmed by the sensation that it took me a while to realize everyone was staring at me. “What?” I wanted to burst into tears but I couldn’t. It was like I was stuck in purgatory. So close to falling apart, but not allowed to actually do it.

  “Are you okay?” Jake asked carefully.

  I jerked away from his hand. He knew. It wouldn’t exactly take a genius to piece together why Greg had dropped that bomb and why I probably looked like I as about to start crying and never stop. “Of course,” I lied. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  Zoe frowned. “You don’t have to lie to us.” She glanced around at Jake, Marie, and Greg. “I could be wrong but I think we all know what’s really going on here.”

  Jake’s shoulders sagged but he was smart enough to keep from saying anything else.

  “Well, you won that bet, Buttercup.” Greg frowned. “Fuck, I never thought it would go that way.”

  “Now you understand. This isn’t a simple case of secrets and old arguments.” I locked eyes with him. “This is deeply personal and it’s not something a few conversations can fix. So if you would all stop interfering I’d really appreciate it.”

  “June.” Jake reached out and placed a gentle hand on my arm. When I looked up he was imploring me with his eyes to give him the answers he wanted.

  A part of me relented. “What Greg said is true. Roman isn’t like his father. I’m not sure exactly what that means or why it matters so much to me, but it does.”

  “Then it matters to us.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “I appreciate that.” I gave his hand a squeeze. “Truly I do. But I think I’ll follow the example set by my mother and sister and go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

  Jake pulled me into a hug and before I knew it, everyone had squeezed in, wrapping hands around until I was the center of a giant hug. “Good night,” Jake said, kissing the top of my head.

  And even though I was completely surrounded by supportive people who loved me, I couldn’t remember ever feeling so lonely.

  8

  T he Rusty Nail was the favorite bar of local baseball players and reporters—a place where they could kick back and drink without their careers being a problem. The owner, Rusty, had seized on the foodie explosion and opened a farm-to-table bistro in historic Hyde Park that quickly became just as popular with the baseball community as his bar.

  What can I say? The baseball community was a funny one. We liked Rusty and we liked that we could always feel comfortable in his establishments. Comfortable because there were unspoken rules: secrets stayed secret, everyone remained friendly, and absolutely no gossip was tolerated about what was said or seen under his roof. Violate his rules and you were blackballed by Rusty for life, and by extension, anyone who liked Rusty.

  I suppose in a way it was a good spin on the “good old boy” system. The longer you were part of this world the more keenly aware you became of how much power someone like Rusty had over who succeeded and who failed in the industry.

  So I never crossed him.

  Which was why my skin pricked up when he smiled at me as Zoe, Carrie, and I stepped inside Rusty’s Bistro.

  “Miss Daniels! It’s so good to see you tonight!” Rusty loved working the front. Half the reason he owned his restaurants was so he could socialize with his favorite people. He was short and round, in his sixties, and despite his name, did not have red hair.

  “Good to see you, too. There’s three of us tonight.”

  He rubbed his hands together and took in a long deep breath. “Here’s the thing . . . ”

  The hair on my scalp rose with awareness. “Rusty?” I drawled like a frustrated little sister. I’d known the man since I was a child when he used to take me back into the kitchen to ply me with sweets when my dad wasn’t looking.

  “I’ve just seated a St. James party. Now,” he went on quickly, “they are seated near the front window,” he waved his hand at the opposite side of the restaurant from which we’d entered. “And I have a table open in the back by the garden where I would be happy to seat the three of you. But I understand completely if you’d prefer to leave.”

  I swallowed hard. A St. James party? Was it Roman or George? Or both? Ugh, or Cecil? I hated Cecil.

  “I think we can manage to be civil, Rusty. The table in the back is fine.”

  I could feel my friend’s eyes on me as we followed our host to the intimate table overlooking the rose gardens. It was a balmy, beautiful night. The kind that would be lovely to spend outside if it weren’t for the blood-sucking mosquitos. Instead, a fine mesh screen separated us from the miniature vampires, allowing us to enjoy the night air without the itching.

  “I will do my best to run interference,” Rusty murmured in my ear as he pushed in my chair.

  Zoe watched him leave with wide eyes. “Did he seriously just seat us on the opposite side of the restaurant because of your last name?”

  I shrugged. “You saw how Eve and Mom reacted last night. I told you the feud is a big deal.”

  “But?” she sputtered. “This is ridiculous!”

  Carrie shook her head. “Oh no it’s not. I’m actually a little impressed you decided to stay.” Then she grinned. “And a little nervous I’ll see a brawl before the end of the night.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

  “1999. Edgar’s in Chicago,” Carrie said with a tap of her nail on the tabletop.

  I rolled my eyes. “That was years ago.”

 
She laughed. “All right. How about something more recent then? 2008. World Series.”

  Okay, so that one had been bad but there were extraneous circumstances. “Cecil and Mom were just clearing the air,” I lied.

  “Your mother pulled a 1964 signed Harmon Killebrew bat off the wall and took a swing at Cecil,” Carrie countered.

  Zoe’s jaw fell open.

  I looked away and focused on Carrie. “And now you know where the Daniel’s girls get their fiery tempers. It’s not from Papa Joe, contrary to popular belief.”

  Carrie snorted and looked down at her menu. “Anyone who’s worked in Tampa for longer than a year knows Eve’s reputation.”

  Ah, my oldest sister. She could always quit her job and go work for Marie as an agent.

  Like Roman.

  And just like that my mind wandered back to wondering which St. James was seated on the opposite side of the restaurant.

  “What can I start you off with tonight, ladies?” our waitress, a lovely young woman with long blond hair and an infectious smile, asked.

  “Alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol,” Carrie said, then added, “We’re celebrating. Let’s start with a bottle of champagne.”

  “Absolutely. Rusty told me to take very good care of you. If you need anything, my name is Sarah. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  I seized the silence to make a point. “Tonight we’re celebrating Zoe and her book deal. Let’s stay focused on that.”

  Zoe snorted. “You can help me celebrate by entertaining me with your love life. This will be such good fodder for my next series.”

  “Traitor.”

  “Seriously, after what I witnessed last night I don’t know whether to hug you or force you to talk.”

  Carrie’s eyes went round. “What happened last night?”

  I glared at Zoe but she ignored me and replied. “You shouldn’t have skipped dinner. I would say it was epic if it wasn’t so damn sad.”

  I hadn’t slept a wink after the explosion in the kitchen, despite how truly exhausted I was by the whole ordeal. I kept tossing and turning with Roman’s smiling face stuck in the front of my mind. I liked him and I was attracted to him. I could freely admit both these things, but what I wouldn’t even consider was the idea that there was a future for us. Whatever fantasy I’d started to conjure after my conversation with Marie, went flying out the window after my mom lost it.