by Abby Gaines
Daniel tugged her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Who’s your date for the wedding, Sadie?” Trey asked, his voice sharp.
Meg smirked.
“I’m not seeing anyone.” Sadie fidgeted with her knife.
“Still pining for Wes?” Trey asked coolly.
Sadie’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t reply.
Once again Meg felt a twinge of hurt that Sadie hadn’t told her about her romance with Wes. But maybe Meg had been so caught up in her excitement about Daniel she hadn’t paid as much attention to Sadie’s life as she should. Maybe a little fling with Trey would help Sadie get over Wes.
“Sadie, how about we set you up with that friend of Daniel’s I mentioned?” she suggested, hoping to spur Trey into action.
Manipulating Trey had never worked.
“Great idea, Sadie,” he said. “Get back on the horse.”
Meg gave him a warning frown. If he was interested in Sadie, he needed to do better than that. As if he’d ever take advice from her.
Sadie forked a mouthful of coleslaw. “You’re right,” she said after she swallowed. “I should date someone new. Trouble is, I’m not great with first dates.” She set down her fork. “Meg, maybe you and Daniel could double-date with me and Daniel’s friend, just to get us started.”
“Great idea, Sadiebug.” Daniel raised his glass to her. “One double date, coming up.”
“That’d be so cool,” Meg said. “If you hit it off with him we can all hang out together.”
Trey looked distinctly annoyed, but Meg couldn’t swear he was jealous.
“Where do you two plan to live after the wedding?” he asked.
She should be used to his abrupt changes of subject; he’d had no patience with her since Dad and Logan died.
“My place is big enough for now,” Daniel said. “Until we have kids.” His tender smile was balm on the sting of Trey’s brusqueness.
“Kids will be a few years away.” Meg had seen a flare of surprise on Sadie’s face. “We need to get to know each other first.”
“Which could take a while, given you’re away so much,” Sadie said. “You’re barely here.”
She really must be feeling neglected.
“My absence keeps the place tidy, at least,” Meg quipped. Daniel was as tidy as Sadie. Hopefully he’d be equally flexible about clearing up after her when the mess got too much for him.
“True,” Sadie said. “Though I admit it can get lonely here on my own—you think you’re living with someone, but half the time you’re not.”
Trey let out a hiss.
Daniel looked disconcerted. “We’re thinking Meg will switch to ground staff sooner rather than later, aren’t we, darling?”
“Sooner or later,” Meg amended.
“But you love to fly,” Sadie said.
She was right—Meg couldn’t imagine not being able to take off every week. She sipped her wine. “I guess everyone needs to compromise sometime…which is what I want to talk to you about, Trey.”
The lead-in was far from ideal, but at this stage of the night she couldn’t see a chance to talk to him alone.
“What’s that?” He was giving Sadie the evil eye for some unknown reason, and he didn’t look at Meg.
“This plan of yours to skip town—you need to change it.”
Meg found herself with the undivided attention of everyone at the table.
“Excuse me?” Trey said.
She didn’t allow his glacial expression to put her off. This had been possibly the happiest week of her life, hands down the happiest week of the past eleven years, and if she could just convince Trey to stick around, it would be perfect.
“Trey, I get that you want a new job, no problem,” Meg said urgently. “But Mom needs you here. She might say she’s okay, but who knows when the next stroke will hit?” She grabbed his arm, which unfortunately caused his wine to slop over the edge of his glass.
“Hey!” He used his napkin to mop the puddle on the table. “Of course I’ll come back if I’m needed.”
“But…” She cast an agonized look at Daniel. Couldn’t her idiot brother make the effort to figure out what she was trying to say? “If Mom had to go into the hospital…”
“You’ll be fine,” he said.
Meg had the impression he was enjoying her discomfort. Jerk!
“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Daniel asked.
She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Trey, I’m the first to admit you’ve had to bear the brunt of the responsibility in our family. But if you’re leaving just so you can punish me—”
“Don’t be stupid,” he said, his face flushed. “I’ve worked my tail off at a job I don’t particularly like to secure my family’s future. The years after Dad died went into keeping the business going, then sending you to college, then building the firm into something that can provide for Mom in the long term and cover any emergencies. I’ve done my time. Now I’m finished.”
“But where will you go?” Meg knotted her fingers in her lap.
He sat back, challenging her with his gaze. “It’s as easy as ABC,” he said. “Anywhere But Cordova.”
Damn. She’d handled this wrong. She was casting around for another argument when Sadie spoke up.
“Trey, Meg won’t cope if your Mom gets sick.”
“Sadie!” Meg said, mortified. It was the point she was trying to make, but not so blatantly. Not in front of Daniel.
To her surprise, Trey looked just as appalled.
“That’s it!” he barked at Sadie. “Out in the kitchen.”
Sadie looked down her nose at him.
“Now,” he growled. “Or I’ll tell—”
She jumped to her feet and stalked from the room.
Tell what? Meg wondered.
Trey folded his napkin with deliberate movements that suggested a man summoning restraint. Then he stacked their empty plates with the same controlled force and carried them to the kitchen.
The heated exchange and his methodical clearing away had combined to kill the conversation about Meg’s ability to support her mom through an illness.
“What was that about?” Daniel asked, looking after Trey.
“I think—” relief lightened Meg’s voice “—they like each other.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“YOU’RE TRYING TO break Meg and Daniel up,” Trey accused Sadie as soon as the kitchen door closed behind him.
She didn’t pretend ignorance. “I’m pointing out some of the factors they may not have considered in their rush to get engaged. Such as, Meg enjoys her job far too much to be grounded.”
He put the plates on the counter and opened the dishwasher. “More grounded is exactly what she needs.”
“Daniel told me he hates living alone—which is what he’ll be doing when Meg’s flying.” She stacked the plates in the machine.
Trey clattered silverware into the cutlery basket, then looked around for more dishes. The counter was clear. The pans had been washed and put away.
“Daniel hates mess.” Sadie followed his gaze, read his mind. “I love Meg, but she’s a slob.”
“He loves her, too,” Trey pointed out.
Sadie flinched. “I’ve had years to adapt and I’m not planning to live with her forever. Daniel doesn’t know her. Someone needs to point out the facts. To both of them.”
Trey tipped the remainder of his wine down the sink and put his glass in the dishwasher. “All I see is you desperately scrabbling for reasons why Meg shouldn’t marry the man you want.”
Sadie poured powder into the dispenser. “I just don’t think two people so totally unsuited should rush into marriage.”
“Next you’ll say you’re just being a good friend,” he mocked.
She closed the dishwasher door so fast, she almost took his hand off. “I am a good friend. I’ve always been the one to point out dangers to Meg.”
That was true. It was thanks to Sadie that Meg hadn’t driven home from
a party one summer with a senior who’d been drinking. Two other girls had been injured in the ensuing crash. And Sadie’s predictions of stained teeth had led Meg to abandon a brief flirtation with smoking, after Trey’s and his mom’s lung-cancer warnings had achieved nothing.
“This is nothing like telling Meg not to smoke when she was a kid,” he said. “She and Daniel are adults—they can make their own decisions.”
“Their own mistakes,” she corrected him.
Here on her own territory she was more collected than she’d been at her parents’ place. So confident she was almost starting to sound reasonable.
“You have way too big a conflict of interest to get involved,” he said.
“Think of it as a science experiment. I have a hypothesis—Meg and Daniel are making a mistake—that I’ll test by asking questions. If they’re right for each other, my questions won’t make any difference. And if they’re wrong, they’ll appreciate—”
“And if they’re wrong for each other,” he interrupted, “you’d take Daniel after he’s been with Meg?”
She paused, her finger on the dishwasher’s start button. “He’s had a few weeks with her. Intense weeks, yes. But in the big picture, the rest of his life, that’s nothing.”
Trey put his finger over hers and pressed to turn the dishwasher on. Hard.
“Ow.” She pulled away.
“I can’t decide if I admire your single-mindedness or if I feel sorry for you.”
She drew in a breath. “Just as well your opinion doesn’t matter to me. And that you have no say over my life.”
He loomed over her. “Where my sister’s concerned…”
“Stop,” she ordered. “I don’t know why you’re so determined to interfere, when you don’t have the first clue about Meg. You don’t even know she hates to be around sick people.” Her voice was furious, but low enough to be covered by the noise of water spraying in the dishwasher.
Trey snorted. “That’s your excuse for trying to make her look unsympathetic in front of Daniel? You were covering for her squeamishness?”
“That’s not exactly it,” she hedged. “But when she hears about people being ill or having an accident, she always goes into denial about how sick they are. I remember one time my doctor thought I might have meningitis, and Meg flat out refused to discuss it. She insisted it was flu and I didn’t need to go to the hospital.”
“What was it?” he asked, alarmed at the thought of Sadie—of anyone—having meningitis.
“Flu,” she admitted.
“Dammit, Sadie!” Relief roughened his voice. “All you’ve proved is that Meg has good instincts. The reason she doesn’t want to stick around if Mom’s sick isn’t squeamishness. She said herself she’s never had to take responsibility, which I admit is partly my fault. And she doesn’t want to start now—but that’s too damned bad.”
Sadie stared.
“What?” he asked.
“That’s why you’re convincing yourself Daniel and Meg are right for each other. You want Meg to grow up, and you’ll marry her off to the wrong man, then leave town to make it happen.”
“I’m not marrying her off, and my leaving town has nothing to do with her.” He leaned against the counter. “But you’re damn right it’s time she grew up. So don’t tell me I shouldn’t leave because she has a hang-up about illness.”
“There are lots of good reasons you shouldn’t leave,” she snapped.
He groaned. “Please don’t enlighten me.”
“Your mom thinks the sun rises and sets on you, Meg loves you even though you’re mean to her, you’re part of a family business that links you with your father and your brother forever. You have no idea—” she poked him in the chest “—how lucky you are.”
He grabbed her wrist and tugged, jerking her close to him. “Don’t. Do. That.”
His knuckles grazed the soft curve of her breasts; she tensed. Trey didn’t back away.
“It’s eleven years since Dad and Logan died,” he said evenly. “Aside from that first year and a bit at college, I haven’t done any of the things I planned. I’ve been living my father’s life, my brother’s life…anyone’s but mine.”
“It’s too late to resume your football career.”
“I know that.” He eyed her with hostility.
“So…what? Your leaving is about sowing your wild oats?”
“Do you really think I’m that one-dimensional?” he asked.
“Aren’t you?” She dropped her gaze to where his knuckles still touched her breast.
He let out a huff of laughter. “Touché.” And didn’t move.
She smiled. And didn’t move.
“Mind you,” he mused, “I can’t promise there won’t be any wild oats sown.”
“Does your mother know about this?”
His shout of laughter must have been audible in the dining room. “The fact that my mother, along with everyone else around here, knows too much about my life is the whole point.”
“So you plan to go wild.”
“I plan to find a job I really love,” he said. “But if I meet a few nice women along the way…”
“Nice being a euphemism for slutty,” she guessed. Humor made her eyes a brighter, forget-me-not blue.
“You have a way with words,” he deadpanned.
His hand still snug against her chest, he felt the quiver of her laugh. Sensation shot through him, conjuring up the memory of that kiss in his office, a memory he’d thought he’d firmly expunged. Now he remembered the heat of her mouth, the imprint of her body against his…
Trey relinquished his grip, stepped away.
With the fingers of her other hand, Sadie circled her wrist where he’d held her. “Trey, be careful,” she said, serious again. “What if you go away, and when you want to come back, it’s too late?”
“You mean Mom’s health?”
“I mean what if you grow apart? You have something really special with your mom. It would be sad to lose it.”
As far as Trey knew, he had the same ups and downs with his mom as anyone else did with theirs. Probably a few more downs.
Sadie was biting on that lush bottom lip of hers. I’ve definitely been here too long if I’m thinking of Sadie-next-door as lush.
“You told me I’ve been in Cordova too long,” he reminded her. “That night you were looking in Mom’s windows.”
She colored. “I didn’t mean you should leave. I’m worried for you.”
Trey blinked, oddly touched. “Do you think you’re putting your own feelings onto my situation?” he asked. “Just because you grew apart from your family doesn’t mean I will. Not least because Mom won’t have other kids to cozy up to, especially once Meg’s married.”
The mention of Meg’s impending marriage put an immediate distance between them.
Sadie grabbed the kettle and began to fill it from the faucet.
Trey ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how we got so far off topic.”
“We were talking about you wanting Meg to marry Daniel because it suits your plans.”
Trey sighed. “We’re not going to agree on that, but can we at least agree that due to your conflict of interest, you should refrain from pointing out what you consider their insurmountable differences?”
“I didn’t say they were insurmountable,” she prevaricated.
“Their noninsurmountable differences, then.”
She turned off the faucet. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he said suspiciously. “Why do I get the feeling that was too easy?”
She set the kettle on the stove. “I’ll agree not to point out Meg’s and Daniel’s noninsurmountable differences, but in exchange I want Wes Burns dead and buried.”
“Poor Wes,” Trey said.
“I mean it, Trey. No more mention of him, and no threatening to tell Meg or Daniel the truth about him.”
“Okay.” This still felt too easy. “So we’re agreed,” he clarified, “that Wes Burns’s name
will never cross my lips again. And you won’t say anything else about Meg being afraid of sick people or traveling too much, or about Daniel getting lonely.”
“That’s right,” she said patiently.
So why did he have the feeling he was missing something?
“Sadie,” he warned, not sure exactly what he was warning her against.
She sighed theatrically. “Tell you what, as a sign of good faith, I also promise not to spill coffee over the wedding dress, lace the cake with rat poison or kidnap the best man.” She sauntered to the door, stuck her head out. “Do you guys want coffee?” she called.
“You’re scary,” Trey said from behind her. Despite her promise, he made a mental note to keep an eye on the wedding dress, the cake and the best man.
He still felt as if he was missing something. He kept thinking about it while he and Sadie made coffee, assembled mugs, milk, sugar, spoons. At some stage he realized he was having a good time.
Doing battle with Sadie, guessing what she’d do next, trying to outwit her, was the most fun he’d had since…since he’d helped Mrs. Jones with her garden design.
Go figure.
CHAPTER NINE
“AND THAT’S IT. Profit up twenty-five percent on the same quarter last year, on revenue that’s up eighteen.” Trey closed the red budget folder that had been around since his father’s time and slid it across the boardroom table to his mom. The numbers were all on the computer, but Nancy preferred paper.
She patted his hand. “This calls for cake.”
The “boardroom” was his mom’s kitchen, and the table was part of the scarred oak dining set where Trey had taken for granted countless meals when his family had been intact. His mother helped out packing orders at the main branch of Kincaid Nurseries one day a week, but she liked to discuss the financial side here at home.
“I made red velvet,” Nancy said over her shoulder as she opened the refrigerator.
“Sounds great, Mom.” Red velvet cake was Meg’s favorite. His, too.
A minute later he was facing a large slab of cake and a cup of steaming coffee, two things whose contribution to his well-being were disproportionate to their value.