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Good Neighbors (Book 1 of the Home Again Series)

Page 7

by Alyssa Kress

CHAPTER THREE

  "I believe your party is already here." The gentleman manning the restaurant's arrival podium made a check mark on his list of reservations.

  Both of them? Brennan wanted to ask. Not that he'd be able to avoid sitting down with Erica if she'd arrived before Clint. He was already pushing past the limits of acceptable behavior here by inviting her and Clint to lunch today with the express purpose of telling them what to do. For all Brennan knew, they'd already crossed their i's and dotted their t's.

  But as he followed the maître d' through the skylit landscape of beige upholstered booths, Brennan had to remember that Clint's good intentions were not always coupled with concrete action. As for Erica, she was a complete unknown.

  Even if he was out of bounds here, this meeting had to happen.

  The maître d' led Brennan around a corner where he could now see the main part of the sun-filled restaurant. He spotted Erica right away, alone, sitting in a u-shaped corner booth.

  She was here first, just as he'd feared. And, just as he'd feared, he felt a punch in the gut simply from looking at her. He had no idea why. She was not a stunner. Her figure was more boyish than womanly. But it was as if she were, in some mysterious way, a key that unlocked his door.

  A door he'd kept shut for almost a decade, ever since finally acknowledging that Lois was never taking him back. A door he needed to keep shut. He wasn't safe when that door was open. And he sensed he particularly was not up to handling a woman like Erica. Her brave front cloaked a wealth of hidden emotional rocks.

  Besides, she wouldn't like Brennan if she knew the truth about him.

  She looked up. Brennan felt another punch at the slight shift in her expression.

  Whatever this was, she was feeling it, too.

  With a little bow, the maître d' drifted off.

  Brennan walked up to the table. It wasn't easy, but he managed a smile. "Hi."

  She smiled back. "Hello."

  Her underlying anger, grief, and sorrow were like clouds in the air around them. As he curled into the booth, Brennan couldn't help himself from asking, "How are you doing?"

  "Oh." Her lashes lowered. "A little better." She raised her eyes again. "How are you?"

  Brennan paused. She'd recognized that he was grieving? He cleared his throat. "I'm a little better, too."

  She nodded. "Liam went to school today. Said he wanted to." Her brows lowered. "He's kind of a nerd, isn't he?"

  "More than 'kind of.'" Brennan smiled. "He's taking math at the community college. He ran out of options at his high school."

  "Oh." Her expression showed significant surprise. "He didn't tell me. Jeez, does he need a ride over there or anything?"

  "I believe he takes a bus from school after fifth period. And another one home. He's very independent."

  She appeared to process that and then tilted her head. "You know him very well." It was stated as fact, not accusation.

  Brennan gave her a wry smile. "As well as anyone can know a teenage boy."

  That sparked a small laugh out of her.

  Brennan felt slugged. It was the first time he'd ever heard her laugh. That he had caused the brief moment gave him a strange sense of power. While looking away in self-defense, he was relieved to see Clint hurrying toward them.

  Thank God Brennan wouldn't be alone with her any more.

  Clint glanced over his shoulder briefly before scooting into the booth on the opposite side from Brennan. "Hey, all right. Unless she's followed me, which isn't beyond the bounds of possibility, we're good." He puffed out a breath. "Hi Erica. Brennan, my man. So, what's up?"

  Brennan felt taken aback. Clint wasn't usually so direct. Perhaps he sensed what was coming, which was basically a scold.

  Feeling more out of bounds than ever, Brennan stalled. "Let's order first."

  "No." It was Erica's voice. With a serious expression, she looked directly at Brennan. "You asked us to meet you here. You obviously have something to say. What is it?"

  Brennan spread his palms. He was butting into their family situation again, but there was no way around it. "I don't mean to step on any toes, and, formally, it's none of my business." Morally, however, he was on the hook. "But I promised your father I'd make sure Liam was settled when he was gone."

  A hunted expression jumped onto Clint's face. "I'm going to take care of him. Really."

  Nodding, Brennan acknowledged Clint's intention. "That's great, but do you have any idea how that works, Clint? Have you spoken to a lawyer?"

  Looking like a deer in the headlights now, Clint asked, "Does it have to be that formal?"

  "As a general rule, I'm not sure. But in this case, I assume you want Liam to be able to access Richard's union pension. It would help with his current expenses and, for all I know, might assist in college tuition. I'm pretty sure that in order to use that money, someone would need to be named legal guardian."

  Silence greeted this little speech. Clearly, neither Clint nor Erica had thought this out very clearly.

  "This is beyond me," Erica stated.

  "It's beyond me, too," Brennan assured her. "And that's when I go to an expert." He reached into the inner pocket of his sport jacket. "I asked the lawyer I use for my business if he knew any family law attorneys. For what it's worth, he gave me this list." Brennan set on the table the list he'd written down while on the phone with his lawyer last Thursday.

  "You folks get served yet?" A woman with a white apron over black pants appeared at the table.

  While Clint and Erica peered at the list Brennan had set down, he turned to the waitress. "Could you please give us a few minutes?"

  "Sure thing."

  While the waitress hurried off to another table, Clint put a forefinger on Brennan's list and looked up at him. "You're right. We could use some professional assistance here. I hadn't even thought about Dad's pension."

  Erica leaned back in the upholstery with an expelled breath. "Neither had I. But we obviously should."

  "I can help with the lawyer's fee," Brennan offered.

  "No, no," Clint quickly said.

  "We can handle it," Erica claimed.

  Brennan bit his tongue. He was quite sure Clint's finances were currently in a tangle due to his separation. Erica probably didn't have a lot of disposable income given her occupation. But they said they could handle it. For now, he was going to have to accept that. At least they knew he was willing to help.

  "I'll make an appointment today," Clint declared. "In fact, let me call the first guy on the list right now."

  Brennan could see Erica regarding her brother with some concern as he dug a cell phone out of the pocket of his leather jacket. Brennan wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was: how was Clint going to house a teenager in his present circumstances, with a crazy ex and associated financial problems?

  "I think I should be at this meeting, too," Erica told Clint as he turned on his phone. "The more ears to hear, the better, right?"

  "Absolutely." Clint paused before punching in the number and looked toward Brennan. "Can I pick a time that would be convenient for you, too, Bren? I wouldn't mind your ears taking this in as well."

  It was exactly what he'd wanted, but Brennan hesitated. He glanced toward Erica.

  She looked back at him. A few days ago, her expression would have shown resentment and resistance. Today, she appeared almost eager for Brennan to insert himself into her family situation.

  She looked like she was very close to trusting him.

  The gratification that gave him was not a good thing. He didn't want her trust. He didn't want the charge he was now getting from meeting her eyes.

  If she knew his past history, she wouldn't look at him with anything close to trust or the hint of attraction she'd earlier revealed.

  But for right now, she didn't know the truth. For Liam's sake, Brennan was not about to tell her. He didn't want her having any evidence to muck things up if he eventually applied to be Liam's guardian himself.

&n
bsp; Brennan turned back to Clint. What he wanted was the exact role Clint was offering him: part of the process, trusted confidante.

  "Pick a time between eleven and one, and I can make it," Brennan said.

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