by Marie Force
He’d been surprisingly… nice and insightful. In addition, he was a great dancer, a fun companion and a gentleman. At the end of the evening, he’d walked her back to the Surf and left her at the front stairs with a hug and thanks for a fun time.
As she’d gone inside, aware of him watching her, she’d felt strangely let down, which was ridiculous. She wanted nothing from him or any other man. So what possible reason could she have for feeling deflated by the way their awesome day together had ended? She’d told him she was on a man diet, a dick diet, for crying out loud. She cringed when she recalled telling him that. What did she think was going to happen after he had that information?
And what exactly had she hoped for?
“Ugh,” she said in a growl that thankfully only she could hear. She was so frustrated by everything lately. And now she had to get up after sleeping like shit, pull herself together and pretend to be fine in front of her family for one more event before the wedding weekend was finally over.
She’d perfected the fine art of pretending to be okay so they wouldn’t be up in her business. That’d been easier since Katie moved to Gansett. Without her nurse sister watching over her, Julia had been able to relax somewhat. Enough to let some old bad habits back into her life.
She had that under control.
Mostly.
This weekend had been a test, but she was determined to get through brunch and then figure out her next move.
She sat up and groaned. Her head hurt from too much champagne and not enough food. The story of her life. When her emotions were in an uproar, she found it all but impossible to eat. As her emotions had spent years in an uproar while she was growing up with an abusive, domineering father, she’d worked her way into anorexia by the time she was in middle school. She’d graduated to bulimia in high school. Even after Katie had sounded the alarm and gotten her into treatment—twice—followed by years of intensive therapy, the old fiends still reared their ugly heads often enough to remind her she had control over nothing.
Stress, anxiety and depression exacerbated her disorders, and she’d been suffering all three lately. As a result, eating had been a chore, and she’d lost weight she didn’t have to lose. She had to be careful until Katie left on her honeymoon. Her twin knew the signs of trouble in Julia better than anyone and was always vigilant when they were together. Julia hadn’t told her sister the latest about what Mike had done to her. The last thing Katie needed was her maid of honor showing up to her wedding dragging a suitcase full of drama.
There’d been a time when Julia’s problems had been Katie’s and vice versa. Although Katie had fewer problems than Julia, or so it seemed. All the Lawry kids walked around with emotional scars from their tumultuous childhood. Some were better at hiding them than others. Katie had coped by never dating—at all—until she met Shane. Julia had taken the exact opposite path, and look at where that had gotten her.
Lonely, broke and basically homeless.
Her stomach grumbled at the same instant a wave of nausea hit. That happened far too often. She’d feel hungry and nauseated at the same time. Doctors had told her over and over to feed the nausea, but that was so much easier said than done when a lump the size of a grapefruit basically lived in her throat during times of distress.
Most of her life had been a time of distress, thus the eating issues.
Julia got up, showered, washed and dried her hair and brushed her teeth. She studied her reflection in the mirror with the usual feelings of inadequacy. Her eyes were too close together, her nose too prominent, her cheeks sunken. All she saw were flaws. Others told her she was beautiful. She didn’t see it. She’d never been able to see what they saw in her.
She put her long dark hair up in a bun and got dressed in a lightweight summer dress since the brunch was being held on the hotel’s deck. The forecast was for a warm, sunny day.
A knock sounded at her door, and Julia went to answer it. As usual, the sight of her beloved grandmother, Adele, raised Julia’s spirits. Adele and her husband, Russ, had been a lifeline to Julia and her siblings. She hugged her grandmother.
“Good morning, my love. I hope you slept well.”
Julia tried to respond, but she couldn’t get the words out as her emotions overtook her. Being around her grandmother often had that effect on her.
“Julia, honey, what’s wrong?” Adele released her and stepped into the room, closing the door.
“Everything is wrong. Every single thing.”
She guided Julia to sit with her on the unmade bed. “Talk to me.”
Julia was too ashamed of what’d happened with Mike to tell even her grandmother about it. “Things in Texas are a mess.”
Thankfully, she didn’t ask for specifics. “So stay here for a while. Spend the summer in your favorite place.”
“I honestly don’t have a choice. I lost my job, I’m broke and all but homeless since I didn’t have the money to renew my lease.”
“You’ll never be homeless as long as I’m around. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve sent you the money.”
“You’re the best, Gram, but I’m not taking your money.”
“Why not? I gave your brother a hotel. The rest of you are our heirs. Why wouldn’t I take care of you now rather than after I’m gone? Your mother has come into a fortune through Charlie, and they’d happily give you whatever you needed.” The state had given Charlie half a million dollars for each of the fourteen years he’d spent unjustly imprisoned. “You have a lot of people who love you and would do anything for you.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m not taking charity from you or Mom or anyone else. I’ll figure it out. I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to fix it.”
“You’ve always been my sweet, stubborn girl.” Adele’s pretty, lined face lit up with a smile. “I admire that about you. You’ve been so fiercely independent from the time you were a little one. No one could tell our Julia what to do or think. She had her own ideas about everything.” Adele put her arm around Julia. “I’ve always wished that you could see what I see when I look at you.”
Julia leaned her head on Adele’s shoulder. She liked the way she looked to her grandmother.
“Spend the summer here with us. We’ll make everything that’s wrong better.”
“You always do.”
“That’s what grandmothers are for.”
“I need a job. You know of anyone who’s hiring?”
“I heard about something just yesterday at bridge that might be perfect for you. Let me make a phone call and see if it’s still available.”
“Thanks, Gram.”
“My pleasure, love. I know that sometimes it takes more than a summer on Gansett to fix what ails you, but a couple of months in your favorite place is a good place to start.”
“Yes, it sure is.”
* * *
Deacon shaved and tried to find a shirt nice enough for the occasion so he wouldn’t embarrass Julia—or Sarah, who’d been kind enough to invite him. As he rifled through the clothes he’d thrown into a bag while Blaine had waited impatiently for him to pack what he needed for the summer in exile, he seethed all over again at the memory of his older brother standing over him, telling him what was going to happen.
“You’re coming home to Gansett with me for the summer,” Blaine had said, “and that’s the end of it. Otherwise, I’m going to let them charge you with assault.”
Blaine hadn’t wanted to hear the reason for the fight. After he got the call that his younger brother was in trouble, Blaine hadn’t heard anything but the sound of his own voice. Deacon had been a bit of a troublemaker as a kid, getting caught drinking, smoking pot, doing what kids did when they were trapped on an island with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Because their father had worked on the mainland during the week and their mother had younger kids to care for, Blaine had responded to the calls when Deacon screwed up.
Once, while still in high school, Deacon had been caught screwing the mayor�
�s daughter out at the bluffs. They were both sixteen at the time, and that might’ve blown up into a nightmare if it hadn’t been for Blaine agreeing to personally ensure that Deacon would never go near the girl again. He’d liked that girl a lot and had resented Blaine for years for making such a promise on his behalf.
Every time he got Deacon out of one of his scrapes, good old Blaine had acted like Deacon had robbed a bank or committed murder. However, putting up with his sanctimonious brother had been far preferable to the wrath of his parents. For all his faults—and he had many faults—Blaine had never ratted Deacon out to their parents. He’d cleaned up Deacon’s messes and kept his secrets.
After the bar fight, Deacon had told the local cops he was retired from the job in Boston, which had gotten him a cell with no one else in it. During the long night he’d spent alone in that cell, he’d debated whether he should tell them that his brother was the police chief on Gansett Island. When Deacon heard he might be looking at a felony charge, he’d played the brother card.
Blaine had come in loaded for bear, as their father used to say, agreeing to remove Deacon from the area for the time being and to personally see to it that he stayed out of trouble. It had taken about four minutes for Deacon to regret calling him. As he’d followed Blaine’s truck to the ferry landing on his motorcycle, he’d had to resist the urge to turn the bike and head west, away from everything and everyone.
Deacon pulled a rumpled light blue dress shirt from the bag, smelled it to determine if it was clean—it was—and held it up for inspection. No question it had to be ironed before he could wear it to brunch.
Shit.
Moving to the apartment door, he looked out to see if Blaine’s police department SUV was gone. Seeing that it was, he went down the stairs and across the driveway to knock on the back door of his brother’s home.
Tiffany came to the door with baby Addie on her hip. “Hey, Deacon. What’s up?”
“I wondered if I could borrow your iron.”
“Of course. Come in.” Tiffany had her dark hair up in a bun on top of her head and wore a tank top with yoga pants. His brother’s wife was a beautiful woman. “The iron is in the laundry room off the kitchen. Or I’d be happy to do it for you if you wouldn’t mind watching Addie.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t, and I don’t mind.”
Deacon eyed the baby warily. “Will she mind hanging with her uncle Deacon?”
“She’ll love it.” Tiffany handed over the baby and took the shirt from him. “Did you sleep in this thing?”
He laughed as he tried to figure out how best to hold the squirming baby. “Despite how it might seem, I didn’t actually sleep in it.”
“You’re in luck. I’ve got a good iron.”
“Excellent.” He looked down at the baby, who watched him with a serious expression, as if she wasn’t sure what to make of this man who looked a little like Daddy. A much younger version of Daddy.
While Tiffany got out the ironing board, Deacon stood awkwardly in the doorway to the laundry room. “What’s up, Addie?”
“You know she can’t talk yet, right?”
“Duh, of course I do.” He had no idea when babies started talking.
Tiffany laughed, which meant she knew he was full of shit.
Deacon offered a sheepish grin and a shrug. “I think it’s awesome that you named her after our grandmother. She’s the best.”
“I absolutely love the name Adeline, and I love your grandmother. She’s a firecracker.”
“Yes, she is.” She lived in Connecticut in a senior community that kept her busy and entertained. Deacon had heard rumors of a “boyfriend,” but thankfully she didn’t bring that up during their weekly chats.
Tiffany got busy ironing his shirt with a ruthless efficiency that impressed him.
“You’re good at that.”
“I iron Blaine’s uniform shirts for him.”
“He’s a lucky man.”
When she smiled, her whole face softened. “We’re both lucky. He and my girls are the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“Huh, you really feel that way about boring old stick-up-his-ass Blaine? My brother?”
She laughed again. “I really do, and PS, he’s the farthest thing from boring.”
Deacon responded with a barfing sound that made Addie laugh, so he did it again and again when he kept getting the same reaction from her. Making his baby niece laugh, he found, was a rather delightful way to pass the time.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
Deacon rolled his eyes at Tiffany and turned to face his surly jackass brother. “I came to borrow an iron.”
Blaine took Addie from him, which hurt Deacon’s feelings, not that he’d let on to Blaine.
“Then why is my wife ironing for you?”
“Knock it off, Blaine. I offered to do it.”
Deacon wanted to kiss Tiffany for coming to his defense, but he had a feeling that would earn him a knife through the heart, so he kept his appreciation—and his lips—to himself.
“I’m happy to have the chance to get to know my brother-in-law,” Tiffany added with a pointed look for her husband. She finished the shirt in half the time it would’ve taken Deacon and tugged it off the ironing board to give it a thorough inspection before handing it back to him.
“Thank you so much for this.”
“Any time.”
“No,” Blaine said, “not any time.”
“Don’t mind him.” Tiffany put her hand on Deacon’s arm. “You’re welcome here any time, and you don’t have to knock.”
“Yes, he does have to knock.”
Deacon ignored his brother and smiled at Tiffany, who was his new best friend. “Thanks a million.”
“Hope you have fun wherever you’re going.”
“I was invited to the brunch the Lawry and McCarthy families are having at the Surf.”
“Who invited you to that?” Blaine asked.
Deacon wanted to tell him to fuck off and that it was none of his business, but he took the diplomatic approach instead. “Mrs. Lawry.”
“How do you know her?”
“I met her at the wedding.”
Blaine eyed him with suspicion that Deacon should’ve been used to by then. “And she suddenly asked you to come to a family thing?”
“Yep.” He made a face at Addie that had her cracking up again. Her laughter was his new favorite sound.
“What’s up with that?”
“It may come as a shock to you, but I’m a rather nice guy. People tend to like me, present company excluded, of course.”
“I like you,” Tiffany said. “And Addie does, too.”
He winked at Tiffany. “I like you, too. I can already tell you’re much too good for my brother.”
The low growl from Blaine made Deacon’s day, and it was only nine thirty. “Have a good one, everyone.”
“Don’t be late for work on Monday.”
Blaine had wanted him to start right away, but it had taken a few extra days to transfer his license from Massachusetts to Rhode Island, which had postponed his start date. “I wouldn’t dare be late for my first day. I’ve heard the boss is a stickler for punctuality.”
Blaine muttered something under his breath, but Deacon didn’t hear it and didn’t care enough to ask him to repeat it. He headed for the back door with his ironed shirt in hand, a new friend in his lovely sister-in-law and a baby niece he couldn’t wait to see again.
Chapter 6
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tiffany asked her husband the second Deacon was through the screen door that led to their back deck.
“Why was he in our house when I wasn’t here?”
“Are you seriously implying that you have something to worry about? That the minute your back is turned, I’d go running into the arms of your brother?”
“I’m not worried about you. It’s him I don’t trust.”
“News flash—it takes two to tango, and neither of us is interested. He’s my brother-in-law, for crying out loud. He asked to borrow an iron. I offered to do it for him. He was entertaining Addie. Unless you’re spoiling for a really big fight, stop making it into something it wasn’t.”
She took Addie from him and headed for the stairs to change the baby and put her down for her morning nap. Sometimes she thought baby Addie understood everything that went on around her. Addie gazed up at her mother with wise eyes and a furrowed brow, feeding off Tiffany’s annoyance.
How could Blaine even hint at such a thing? Deacon was his brother. Why did Blaine have to be so intense when it came to him? He seemed like a nice enough guy, and he’d been nothing but polite and respectful toward her and Addie.
“Your daddy is in bad need of an attitude adjustment.” Tiffany picked Addie up off the changing table and snuggled her for a few minutes before putting her in her crib with a light blanket over her. As always, the baby popped her thumb into her mouth and rolled onto her side, as ready for her nap as her mommy was. Ashleigh had fought the naps, but Addie was a big fan.
When she was certain the baby was settled, Tiffany left the room, closing the door behind her. She had monitors strategically positioned around the house so she’d hear her if she woke early. Tiffany went into her own room and stopped short at the sight of Blaine stretched out on their bed, hands behind his head, the picture of relaxation at a time of year when he almost never fully relaxed.
She eyed him suspiciously. “What’re you doing?”
“Taking a break. Care to join me?”
“No, I’m mad at you.”
He propped himself up on an elbow and gave her an imploring look. “Please?”
Tiffany found him irresistible, even when she was mad at him. She sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I’m here.”
“Not close enough.”
“As close as I’m getting until you explain to me what that was about downstairs.” The familiar scents of sandalwood and citrus coming from him would normally have her snuggling up to him. Not today.