by Linda Seed
Colin turned back to him, little lines of tension at the corners of his eyes.
“Drew, I can teach you what you need to know. I can—”
“Yeah.”
“If you’re afraid you’ll make the wrong decisions, or that you’ll make a mistake, that isn’t—”
“Yeah, I got it,” Drew said, growing irritated. They’d had this conversation before.
Colin wasn’t a man who was easily angered, unlike Liam. He shared a more even temperament with his brother Ryan. But now, facing yet another brush-off from Drew regarding the family business, Colin looked like he was beginning to lose his patience. He stretched his neck, leaned his butt against the porch railing, and sighed.
“I’m going to tell you this because you’re my cousin and you’re also going to be my brother-in-law. You’re family, like it or not, so what I’m about to say, I say with all due respect, and with only your own best interests at heart.”
“Okay,” Drew said.
“You’ve got to pull your head out of your ass.”
Drew opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again.
“I know that when you first got your inheritance, you were dealing with a lot,” Colin went on. “It was a shock. I get that. You didn’t know what to do, so you didn’t do anything. Fine. Makes sense. But it’s been two years, Drew. What have you done with the money? Have you invested it? Have you talked to one of the financial advisers whose names I gave you?”
“Well, I—”
“No, you haven’t,” Colin finished for him. “You don’t want to live some flashy lifestyle, that’s fine. I get that, too. We’re not really about that here, anyway. But every day you sit on your ass and do nothing is a lost opportunity.”
Drew was beginning to feel defensive, the way he had with Liam. But he couldn’t very well offer to knock Colin on his ass.
“Look.” Colin leaned toward him, his face intense, his voice low to avoid being overheard. “The business—it means something to us. It means a lot. Generations of our family have built this, and we care about it. Every time you refuse to read a document, it’s like you’re rejecting us, rejecting the family.”
That, at least, got Drew’s attention. Was that how they saw it? Hell, was that how he meant it? On some level, it might have been. It was no secret that he’d had a hard time learning that he was a Delaney. If a person really stretched their imagination, they could maybe see a little of why Liam was so pissed.
“That’s … I don’t mean it that way. It’s not … you know. Rejection.”
Colin nodded, his face tense. “What we’ve made here? It’s worth more than just, ‘I’ll vote however you want.’ The least you could do is read the documents.”
Having said what he had to say, Colin walked down the porch steps and went to see whether his father needed any help at the grill.
Drew was sulking in a corner, wishing that his mother would just get here already so he could say hello to her and then run. He wasn’t a fan of parties in the first place, and this one had featured not one but two people telling him he was an asshole.
The fact that they both might have been right didn’t help much.
But he had beer, and that did help, at least a little.
He was on his second one, getting the beginnings of a welcome buzz, when Sandra walked up to him and thrust a paper plate full of food into his hand.
“Boy, you’d better eat this. You’re thinner than you were when I saw you two years ago, and you were too skinny then.” She appraised him critically, her eyebrows drawn together like two caterpillars who’d suffered an unfortunate collision.
“Thanks, but I’m not that hungry.”
“You got a problem with my food?” she snapped at him.
“Uh … no.”
“Well, good. Go on and eat it, then. You haven’t had a bite since you’ve been here.”
Drew wondered how she knew that, when she’d been in the kitchen through most of the party and he’d been outside or in the front room. But then he decided not to question it. He’d always heard that Sandra Delaney was spooky that way—she knew everything that went on under her roof, and much of what went on beyond it.
He gave a sullen shrug, sank down into the folding chair that had been set up in a far corner of the front room, and began eating some potato salad. It was very good potato salad.
Sandra grabbed another folding chair, put it beside Drew’s, and sat down. “You didn’t invite me to sit with you, but it’s my damned house, so I figure I’ve got a right to do it anyway.” She let out a grunt as she sat. “Been on my feet since this morning. If I’m not due for a rest, I don’t know who the hell is.”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he ate. In his limited experience with Sandra, he’d never known her to tire, even after long days of caring for everyone in her sphere. He doubted she was tired now, even though she had a right to be. It was more likely that she’d come over here because she had something to say to him.
He hoped he wasn’t about to be told off a third time at the same party. That would be harsh—though not unprecedented.
“Have a good talk with Megan, did you?”
At least she hadn’t wasted time.
Sandra had a reputation for knowing everything, but she didn’t have a reputation as a busybody. Still, he was just getting to know her. Maybe that was a facet of her personality he just hadn’t learned about yet.
“Sure,” he said. He focused on his potato salad.
“She seemed a little worked up.”
“Did she?” He tried some of the baked beans.
“Don’t toy with me, boy,” she said in a growl that had probably served her well when her children were young. Then, in a softer voice: “I’m not asking because I’m nosy, or because I want to get into your business. I’m asking because I know it’s hard for you to be here. Hmph. And I wanted to make sure you’re getting along okay.”
He might have been suspicious of the Delaneys since the day he’d met them, but Sandra’s words felt real. They felt true. He looked at her—really looked at her—and decided to give her something true in return.
“Liam and I got into it a little when I got here.” He shrugged. “Megan wanted me to apologize to him.”
Sandra let out a delighted hoot. “Well, I figure that’s gonna happen the day they start selling ice cream cones in hell!”
Drew grinned. “Yeah, well.”
He let his gaze drift across the crowded room, to where Liam and Megan were standing with drinks in their hands, talking to Mike.
Megan was lean, with long, glossy hair and a way of holding herself that suggested both confidence and ease. She was standing closer to Mike than to Liam, and she leaned in as Mike said something into her ear, then threw her head back in laughter.
Liam’s face darkened slightly, then he put his arm around her waist and drew her close to him—apparently jealous, even though Mike was balding and nearing sixty. Megan said something to Liam before disengaging herself in a move so smooth he probably didn’t even know he was getting the brush-off.
Drew didn’t hear Sandra talking to him until she gave his ankle a kick with her sneaker-clad foot.
“Ow!”
Sandra was giving him a look that was half scowl, half grin.
“Why, boy, do you have a thing for Liam’s girl? Because that’s the kind of thing that leads to emergency room visits and new dental work.”
“What? No. Of course not. Why would you say that?”
Why would he have a thing for a woman who apparently didn’t like him much? Why would he have a thing for someone he’d just met less than an hour before? And why would he have a thing for any woman foolish enough to take up with Liam?
“I say it because I’m not an idiot.” She let out a hmph. “And because I’m not blind. Your eyes haven’t left that woman since she came in the room.”
He ran a hand through his hair and turned to Sandra. “I wouldn’t do that. I might not get al
ong with Liam, but he’s family. I guess. Sort of. And guys don’t do that to other guys in their family. Even if I did have a thing for her. Which I don’t.”
She held his gaze for a long time, then nodded. “Well, all right then. You know what, boy? I don’t mind the sound of that.”
“Of what?”
“Of you calling us family.” She gave his jean-clad knee in a brisk pat-pat with her hand. “I’d best get back to the kitchen.”
Isabelle finally arrived at the Delaney Ranch, which, for Drew, was a good news–bad news situation. It was good news, because once he had a chance to see her, he could finally leave. But it was also bad news, because these days, seeing his mother was pretty much always bad news.
“Drew! Oh, come here, give me a hug.” Isabelle leaned in on a cloud of White Shoulders perfume and gave his cheek a kiss that was sticky with red lipstick. “My goodness, where have you been?”
“Where have I been? I’ve been here, waiting for you, for more than an hour.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I meant, what took you so long to get into town?”
He started to tell her that he’d only learned about Wedding Week the day before, but she cut him off.
“Oh, you’re here now, that’s the important thing. Here’s the itinerary for this week.” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her oversized purse and handed it to him.
“Do we really need an itinerary?”
“Of course we need an itinerary. How else do you expect everyone to know where to go and how to dress, and … Well. Look it over. Tomorrow’s golf for the men, and the bachelorette party for the ladies.”
“Golf?” Drew held the piece of paper in his hand, feeling helpless. “I don’t golf.”
“Nonsense. Just because you never have, doesn’t mean you can’t. I have you scheduled as part of a foursome with Colin, Liam, and Ryan.”
Drew’s stomach sank. Golfing with Liam was likely to end with somebody wearing a nine-iron like a hat, and Drew didn’t especially want it to be him.
“Aw, hell. Can’t I go with Matt?” Drew wasn’t exactly close to his stepfather, but they got along well enough that neither of them was likely to give the other one a concussion.
“Matt’s not coming into town until Saturday. He couldn’t get the time off work.”
Drew wondered how Matt had managed to get out of this, if Drew himself couldn’t. He imagined the fight Matt and Isabelle must have had, and then decided he was better off not imagining it at all.
He wished Matt were here, and not only so that he would have a semi-friendly face in attendance. Looking at the thinly veiled tension around Isabelle’s eyes and in the fine lines around her mouth, Drew figured his mother probably needed her husband. She was fully made up and a bit overdressed for the occasion, and she’d recently had her hair done—all sure signs that she’d felt it necessary to gird herself for battle.
“Mom? How are you doing with … you know. With all this?”
He saw a spark of something in her eyes—a sign, maybe, that he’d truly seen her, had recognized her for who and what she was, just for that brief moment. But then that spark died as she pasted a for-company smile on her face.
“Why, I’m fine, Drew. Just fine. Your sister’s getting married. I’m thrilled.”
Chapter Five
Megan didn’t want to sleep with Liam, but she didn’t want to have that conversation with him. At least, not until after the wedding, when they could air out the problems in their relationship without causing drama that would take the focus off of Colin and Julia.
So when the party was wrapping up and Liam suggested going home with Megan, she had to think fast.
“Breanna’s coming over tonight,” she said, without any rationale in mind for why that might be the case. “I’m sorry. We’ve had it planned for days.”
“Well, hell. What for?”
“Wedding stuff,” she blurted out.
“What kind of wedding stuff?”
“Girl stuff. Girl wedding stuff. If you really want to hear about it, I could—”
“No.” He shuddered theatrically. “I can’t think of anything I’d less like to hear about than girl wedding stuff.”
“Well, all right then.” Megan felt an inner wave of relief.
“Let me at least drive you home. I could just—”
“Oh, jeez. I told Breanna we’d go over there together. Besides, you’re already home. It wouldn’t make much sense for you to have to leave when Breanna’s going over there anyway.”
He was clearly unhappy, but he put on the brave face of someone who hadn’t been laid in a while but who was trying to act like it didn’t matter.
“Fine,” he said. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
She frowned. “Tomorrow I’ve got work, and you’ve got golf with your brothers.”
“Ah, fuck. I forgot about that. I don’t even golf. I could get out of it.”
“But I can’t get out of work. And anyway, Colin does golf, and he’s probably looking forward to it. And he’s the groom; this is his Wedding Week.”
“Fuck,” Liam said again.
She kissed him on the cheek—because that, at least, was something she could do with sincerity—and ran off to find Breanna.
“You’re coming home with me,” Megan said, grabbing Breanna by the arm and yanking her into the hallway outside the kitchen, where she’d been busy helping Sandra clean up.
“What? Why?”
“There’s no time to explain. But if anyone asks, it’s about wedding stuff. Girl wedding stuff.”
“Is it about girl wedding stuff?” Breanna’s dark, curly hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but a loose tendril had drifted into her face.
“No! Of course not! But that’s what you need to tell Liam if he asks you.”
Breanna raised her eyebrows in question.
“Please?” Megan begged. “Oh, God. Here he comes.”
Liam walked up to them, looking even more irritable than usual. “Bree? Megan says—”
“Oh, good. I’ve been looking for you,” Breanna said. “I’ve got to go to Megan’s tonight, and I was wondering if you could keep an eye on the boys.”
“Well … I …”
“Please? It’s wedding stuff, and it really can’t wait.”
Liam looked as though he’d enjoy an unmedicated root canal more than he would enjoy an evening of babysitting. But he also looked like a guy who didn’t want to say that in front of his girlfriend.
“I guess.”
“Thank you!” Breanna raised up on tiptoes and gave Liam the second friendly kiss on the cheek he’d received in the past ten minutes. He didn’t seem to enjoy this one much more than the last.
When he was gone, Breanna looked pleased with herself.
“Well, that worked out pretty well for you,” Megan observed.
“If I’m going to play along with your alibi, I might as well get a kid-free night out of it. Get your stuff, and let’s get out of here.”
They headed toward Megan’s house, but it was still early, and Breanna didn’t want to waste a night of babysitting by going straight there. So instead, they took a detour to De-Vine, a wine bar on Main Street that Breanna particularly liked.
Rose Bachman, a close friend of Ryan’s wife, was behind the bar, her hair dyed in shades of pink and blue, a silver barbell glittering over one eyebrow.
“Hey, ladies. What can I get you?”
Rose, whose status as the mother of a toddler had not diminished her fashion sense, wore a black tank top emblazoned with the image of two skeletons embracing.
“What’s good?” Megan asked.
“It’s wine. It’s all good,” Rose replied.
Megan settled on a glass of Opolo sparkling wine, and Breanna ordered the J. Lohr Signature Cabernet. When they were settled in at the bar with their drinks, Megan launched into it without preamble.
“He was jealous. Of Mike. You know, Julia’s friend? The old guy?”
“We’re talking Liam, then?” Rose asked, wanting to get caught up.
“Yes, Liam,” Megan said. “I was chatting with Mike—who’s really nice, by the way—about dogs. Because he’s thinking of getting a dog, and I was giving him some advice on breeds. And Liam didn’t like it!” She shook her head in disgust. “What is his problem?”
“His problem is, you’re about to break up with him, and he’s not stupid. He knows it’s coming,” Breanna said.
“Well … I’m not breaking up with him for Mike,” Megan said.
“But you are breaking up with him,” Rose put in, for clarification.
Megan winced. “After the wedding.”
“Ouch. Are you sure?” Rose asked.
“Yeah.” Megan picked up her glass by the stem and twirled it in a slow, clockwise motion. “Yes. It’s overdue. I have to. I really hate this.”
“In that case, you need more wine.” Rose reached over the bar and topped off Megan’s glass.
Megan sipped, and then said, “Hey. What do you guys think of Drew McCray?”
“I met him for about a minute once when he was in town before,” Rose said. “Seemed kind of pissy. I liked him.”
“I’m reserving judgment,” Breanna said. “But Mom likes him. And you know Mom.”
They all nodded, acknowledging Sandra’s uncanny instincts. If Sandra liked somebody, that meant something.
“Why are you asking about Drew?” Breanna wanted to know.
“Oh … no reason. I just met him at the house earlier. Liam got into it with him.”
“Uh oh,” Rose said.
“It’s just …” Megan twirled her wine glass a little more. “Whenever Liam’s talked about him, he’s made Drew seem like this awful person. And he didn’t seem like an awful person.”
Rose and Breanna exchanged a look.
“How did he seem?” Rose wanted to know. “Did he seem hot? Scrumptious? Delightfully delectable?”
“What are you talking about?” Megan demanded.