“From what I hear, she was more like Peg Bundy.”
He was obviously letting me know that he’d done his homework when it came to my background. For all I knew, he’d spoken to my mother. The question was why? Why was he making sure I knew that?
My mind was swimming with questions when there was a sharp knock on my door. I glanced up and saw Daisy standing in my doorway. She was wearing the same sour expression that she always did when she spoke to me. It looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon as she spit out, “Your two o’clock is here.”
“Thank you.” I smiled sweetly. “I’ll be right with them.”
Abernathy waited for Daisy to leave before he rapped his knuckles on my desk twice. “Better get to it. We don’t want to keep our clients waiting, do we?”
His condescending tone was like nails on a chalkboard. Fortunately, I’d had my fair share of dealing with pompous assholes. I kept my smile in place, not allowing him the satisfaction of knowing his subtle dig had gotten under my skin.
He pushed off of my desk and his mouth turned up in what could only be described as his best politician’s smile. He hovered above me, staring down at me with nothing behind his eyes. Attorneys were often accused of having no soul, no conscience, but this was the first time I’d actually seen it. “I’m glad we had this little chat. I hope we understand each other, Miss York.”
I stood up, wanting to reclaim my space and show him that I was not so easily intimidated. I smiled widely. “Thank you so much for stopping by, Mr. Abernathy. It was nice getting to know you.”
As we stood, squaring off face to face, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up. There was something dangerous behind his cold stare. But I managed not to let my grin slip until after he strode out of my office.
The minute he was out of sight I pressed my hand to my stomach and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
If there was one thing I was certain of now, it was that there definitely was something to find in that police report. There must be, because that was quite a show that Abernathy had just put on.
Billy hadn’t opened the report this morning. He said that he was going to call a family meeting and do it then. I was going to be seeing him after work because Cheyenne had invited me to his house, where she was making dinner. I wanted to text him about what had just happened, but I thought it was best to talk about it in person.
“Miss York?” A couple stood at the door that I assumed must be Mr. and Mrs. Lamont, my two o’clock.
Daisy must have told them to come on back.
“Come in. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Coffee?”
“A tea would be lovely,” Mrs. Lamont said as she took a seat across from me.
I pressed the intercom button. “Daisy, please get Mrs. Lamont a tea.”
Her only response was an irritated huff that I heard from the hallway. I knew there was no point in mentioning her behavior to Mr. Abernathy. If anything, he would encourage her to be snotty to me.
“She’ll bring it right in. Now what can I do for you?”
CHAPTER 49
Billy
“Smells good, sis.” Jimmy dipped his finger in the sauce simmering on the stovetop and popped it in his mouth. “Tastes good, too.”
“Hey!” Cheyenne swatted him away. “Out!”
I sat at my table and watched as my younger brother was banished from the kitchen. It wasn’t the first time, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. He plopped down in the chair across from me at the kitchen table and kicked his feet up.
I reached across and shoved them off. “We’re gonna eat off that.”
“We’re gonna eat off plates, not the table,” Jimmy clarified.
Hank was on his phone out back on the deck. Cash was covering for me at the bar, but I’d promised him that I’d be in by eight. That was usually the time we really got slammed on Friday nights. Reagan was due here in about twenty minutes, so if I wanted to get this family meeting done, it was now or never.
“Cheyenne, can you come sit for a minute?”
“Um…” She opened the stove then closed it. Lifted a lid off of a pot and stirred it. Turned one of the heat dials down. And twisted an egg timer. “I can sit for fifteen minutes.”
“Even better.”
From my seat at the table I pulled open the glass slider and whistled. When Hank looked over I said, “Family meeting. Now.”
“You really are turning into him,” Jimmy taunted me as he put his feet back up onto the table. Cheyenne promptly knocked them off on her way to sit down.
“Thanks for the assist.” I gave her a fist bump as she took the seat beside Jimmy.
Hank hadn’t even closed the sliding door behind him before Jimmy started in with the questions. “So what is this about? Did Reagan get knocked up? Am I going to be an uncle?”
I knew he was joking around, normally I’d knock on wood, put up the sign of the cross, or do something else superstitious to send a message to the Universe, God, Karma—whatever or whoever was out there—that I did not want that to happen. But, thinking of Reagan carrying my baby was not something that I would be upset about if the forces that be granted it.
“What are those?” Hank pointed to the documents in front of me, getting straight to the point, just like he always did.
“First, I wanted to start off by letting Cheyenne know that before Pop died, he mentioned to Hank that there was a trust in our mother’s name.”
Cheyenne’s face lit up. “My grandpar…I mean, our grandparents—”
“Nah sis, they’re all yours.” Jimmy made a show of wiping his hands.
“I overheard them talking about a trust. I asked Reagan to look into it.”
“You did?” That was news to me. I wondered why she hadn’t mentioned anything to me about it. Was that why she’d offered to go to the police station?
“Yes. Do you remember after the will reading, I stayed behind? That’s what I wanted to talk to her about.”
I pushed down, for now, all thoughts about why Reagan might’ve kept that to herself. I had big news to share. I’d deal with that later.
“What did the old farts say about the trust?” Jimmy smiled, enjoying his own joke.
Her eyes darted around the table, and she looked down at her hands nervously. “I didn’t really hear too much.”
“They talked shit about us, didn’t they?” Jimmy asked the question we were all thinking.
“Um…” She bit her bottom lip.
“Just tell us what they said,” Hank said flatly, which for him was damn near nice.
I’d noticed he didn’t growl as much to Cheyenne as he did to us.
She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “Grandmother said that she would do anything to stop James Comfort’s demon seeds from getting a penny of Wentworth money.”
There was a moment of silence before Jimmy’s face broke out in a wide smile. “James Comfort’s demon seeds. Damn I wish I would’ve had T-shirts made with that phrase plastered across the front for the funeral. In burgundy, of course. Pop would’ve loved that.”
I chuckled and even Hank cracked a smile. Well, that might be overselling. The right corner of his lip twitched.
“I’m sorry.” Cheyenne appeared horrified. “They are…”
“Horrible human beings. Yeah, we know.” Jimmy patted her hand.
“And you have nothing to apologize for, Shadow.” I grinned.
Cheyenne’s shoulders relaxed as she blew out a breath.
“Okay.” Jimmy clapped and rubbed his hands together. “What did you find, Nancy Drew?”
“Nancy Drew?” My brow furrowed.
“Yeah, Nancy Drew and the Case of the Missing Trust Fund.” Jimmy said with a self-satisfied look on his face.
“You know that all you did there was to reveal that you used to read Nancy Drew books.”
“What did you find?” Hank set his hand down on the table, not amused by our banter.
“In the attic, I found
some journals from Mama and in them was this. It’s the trust.” I passed the trust papers to Hank first. He looked through them before passing them to Cheyenne who did the same before handing them to Jimmy.
“I had Reagan look them over and basically it says that Mama’s trust would’ve been available to her when she turned thirty. Since she passed three months before that date, the trust is split evenly between her benefactors.” I pointed to our names listed. “Us.”
“Holy shit!” Jimmy shouted.
I figured he must’ve seen the amount we were talking about.
“Henry Moonlight Comfort, and William Sunshine Comfort?! How in the hell did I not know your middle names?”
Hank snatched the paper back from Jimmy, whose eyes were the size of golf balls.
We were getting sidetracked and we only had a few more minutes to wrap this up before Reagan showed up. And from the murderous look in Hank’s eyes, Jimmy wouldn’t last that long if he said one more word about the middle names.
“The only reason that the funds wouldn’t be released is if there were outstanding circumstances surrounding Mama’s death.”
“Outstanding circumstances?” Cheyenne asked the same thing I had of Reagan.
“Foul play.” I explained. “Meaning if she was murdered or committed suicide.”
“It was an accident.” Jimmy looked between Hank and I, probably not trusting that he knew the whole story since he’d recently found out he had a sister he didn’t know about, and that our middle names were Moonlight and Sunshine. “Mama died in a car accident. Right?”
“That’s what we were told. But Reagan and I went to the police station this morning and got the official report.” I pulled the pages out.
“What does it say?” Hank asked as I slid them across the table to him.
“Not a lot from what I could piece together. There have to be pages missing or something. That, or they were intentionally left out of what I was given. Which could be the case. Dawson didn’t even want to give me that. If Reagan hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have.”
“Okay, so let’s say we get the report and can prove that it was an accident. What kind of money are we talking about?” Jimmy leaned forward on his elbows.
“Fifty—”
“Fifty k, holy shit!” He smiled.
“Million,” I corrected. “Fifty million.”
Jimmy’s face went white and he sat back in his chair, his jaw hanging down to the ground. Cheyenne had no reaction at all. Hank’s expression somehow turned even stonier.
I heard the squeak of the screen door before Reagan appeared around the corner. She wore a wide smile but it dropped when she saw us all sitting there silently. “Did I come at a bad time? I can go.”
As she started to turn I grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto my lap. I loved that I could do that now. “I just told them how much is in the trust. Hank, you always wondered how much it would take to shut Jimmy up. I guess you got your answer.”
Cheyenne and Reagan both chuckled. Hank and Jimmy remained quiet.
A timer dinged and Cheyenne asked, “Is the meeting over? I need to—”
“Meeting adjourned.” I pretended to hit the table with an imaginary gavel. “You are dismissed.”
My sister smiled and rolled her eyes as she stood.
“Can I help you with anything?” Reagan started to stand but I held her in place.
“No!” Cheyenne waved her hand. “I’ve got it.”
“No.” I whispered in Reagan’s ear as I squeezed her ass. “I got it.”
She side-eyed me as she shook her head as her lips curled. “Stop.”
I winked at her at the same time a loud chime I didn’t recognize rang out.
“What’s that?” I asked Cheyenne thinking it was some sort of alarm.
My sister shrugged.
Reagan tilted her head to the side. “I think that’s your doorbell.”
“Oh. I’ve never heard it before.” I stood and scooped Reagan into my arms, cradling her.
She gasped as she threw her arms around my neck. “What are you doing?”
“Checking to see if you’re right.”
“Put me down.” She squirmed, giggling as I rounded the corner.
I couldn’t see clearly through the screen but I was able to tell from the outline that there was a man in a suit standing there.
“Reagan.” The man spoke her name and Reagan’s entire body stiffened as her head spun toward the sound.
“Blaine?” she breathed as I set her feet on the ground.
So many questions were flying around in my head at the situation I was being presented with. The main one being: What in the hell was Reagan’s ex doing on my porch?
CHAPTER 50
Reagan
I blinked several times before my brain caught up to what I was seeing. Blaine was in Firefly. At Billy’s house.
I pushed the screen door open and stepped onto the porch. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
I hadn’t even realized that Billy was beside me.
“No. You need to leave.” I pointed to the driveway where I saw a black SUV parked. “Now.”
Blaine ignored my instruction and extended his hand. “Blaine Whitford the fourth, Reagan’s fiancé-”
“Ex-fiancé.” I interjected.
Blaine continued, unfazed by my clarification. “And you are?”
“The man who’s gonna make sure you do as the lady asked and leave.” Billy’s voice was calm, deadly calm and infused with authority. It was hot.
I could feel the alpha energy radiating off Billy as I stood beside him. A shiver raced down my spine. I would definitely be filing this exchange away in my erotic treasure chest of memories.
Blaine returned his attention to me. “Reagan, we need to talk.”
“No. I have nothing to say to you. And there’s nothing you have to say that I want to hear.”
The screen door creaked behind me and I looked over my shoulder. Hank was standing in the doorway, his nostrils flaring like a bull ready to charge.
Jimmy was right behind him smiling widely, obviously enjoying the show. “Everything okay out here?”
Billy didn’t even acknowledge that Jimmy had said anything. His gaze was still focused on Blaine. I saw this shoulders tense. Things had escalated quickly. It had gone from being awkward, to tense, to volatile in a matter of seconds.
“Yes!” I turned around to face Hank and Jimmy and held up my hands. “Everything’s fine.”
“Fancy!”
No. I didn’t believe what my ears had heard until I turned around and saw my mother standing beside the SUV.
“Just hear Blaine out,” she pleaded, putting her hands together like she was praying. “Please?” She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.
She always did that whenever there were good-looking men around. She thought it was cute. I thought it was pathetic.
So many emotions were rushing through me but the top three were shock, anger, and embarrassment. This could not be happening. And…yet, it was. Later, I’d allow myself the luxury of being mortified, but right now my brain flipped to damage control.
“Mom, get back in the car. Blaine, I will talk to you but not here.” I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Cheyenne had joined the porch party. “I’m sorry, Cheyenne. I need to take a rain check on dinner.”
When I turned my head back, I was relieved to see my mother climbing back into the SUV and Blaine walking toward it.
“I’m sorry about all this,” I apologized to Billy as I started to walk down the porch steps.
He didn’t answer me but followed behind.
“What are you doing?” I stopped.
“Going with you.” His eyes were still trained on Blaine, his expression reminded me of when he was staring down Abernathy after the funeral.
I placed my hand on his chest, just like I had then. “Stay here. I’ll call you later.”
&
nbsp; When he stayed in place and didn’t even look at me, I said his name. “Billy.”
His eyes lowered to meet mine.
When they did I whispered, “Please.”
He must’ve sensed my desperation because he took a deep breath and responded with a clipped nod of agreement.
With that fire put out, or at least turned down to a simmer, I turned and finished walking down the steps. Blaine was holding the door open for me but I strode right past him to my own car. I got in and drove to the only place I knew that I could have privacy, my room at the boarding house.
I was seething by the time I pulled up in front of the heritage house covered in ivy. When I got out I was relieved that Mrs. B wasn’t in her rocking chair out front. Not having to introduce my mother and Blaine to Mrs. B was the sole silver lining to the situation.
My mom was commenting on how quaint the exterior of the boarding house was as she and Blaine followed me to my room. I remained silent until we got inside and I shut the door.
The moment the latch clicked into place I spun around to Blaine and demanded, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“You’ve had your fun. But it’s time to come home,” he said with zero emotion. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”
“And don’t worry, Fancy. I picked up your dress,” my mom chimed in.
All of the anger and frustration I’d ever felt in my life bubbled to the surface as I stared at two of the most self-involved, self-serving, delusional people to ever exist. I shook my head as I crossed my arms so I didn’t start swinging them. The last fight I’d gotten into was when I’d socked Kenny Riser in the second grade for tripping my friend Carly. I was furious then, but I was seething now. You could take the girl out of the South but you couldn’t take the South out of the girl.
“I’m only going to say this one more time, so I need you both to really listen to me.” My eyes bounced between my mom and Blaine before stopping on him. “I am not going to marry you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”
“Reagan,” Blaine reached out to me.
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