by Anthology
“How’s he holding up?” Treat lifted his eyes to his father. His father was sixty-five years old and still strong as an ox, but that didn’t keep Treat from worrying about him. He worried about them all, but since his mother died when he was eleven—an age when every kid believes their parents will live forever—he counted every day with his father as a blessing.
“He’s good.” Rex put his arm around Treat and walked him away from Dane, who was hovering close by. “You okay?” Treat was close to all of his siblings, but each relationship was different. Rex was three years Treat’s junior, and as such, the competitiveness Treat felt with Dane, who was just a year and a half younger, had never been present in his relationship with Rex. Although he and Rex often confided in each other when it came to personal matters, Rex carried a chip on his shoulder about the family business.
“Yeah. I needed a break. Got a little burnt out.” Treat watched Rex narrow his eyes. He knew his brother wasn’t buying his excuse, but he wasn’t ready to expose his feelings for Max just yet.
“Yeah? You sure?”
Treat nodded. “Of course. I’m fine. Really.”
“Can we have him back now, Rex?” Dane asked with a grin.
Rex feigned a punch to Dane’s gut as he walked past.
Dane embraced Treat. He was three inches shorter than Treat and every bit as dark and handsome, the only difference being Dane’s brown eyes always seemed to be dancing with optimism, while Treat’s often appeared more serious, contemplative. “You should have seen the girl I banged last night,” Dane whispered.
Treat laughed at their running joke. In reality, Dane was more likely to be chasing big fish than bedding women. “I already had her mother,” Treat joked, but this time, the joke tasted wrong as it rolled off his tongue. He looked at his father. His dark eyes had harbored the pain of missing his wife for more years than Treat could count, and he once again felt the newfound draw of wanting to experience the love his parents had shared—the draw that he’d begun to recognize when he’d met Max.
Dane pulled away, laughing. “You always were the king.”
Treat went to the stone barbeque pit, where Josh was tending to steaks and baked potatoes, and put an arm around his brother’s shoulder.
“And how’s my famous dress-designing brother?” Josh was the leanest, least aggressive of the Braden crew. With a love of fashion since the day he could pick out his own clothes, Josh was a designer to the stars and owned several high-end fashion boutiques.
“Hey.” Josh smiled. “I do more than dresses.” Because Josh had a sweet demeanor and had always been tight-lipped about his female conquests, Treat and his brothers had spent many nights of their youth pestering him to kiss and tell. He’d held strong then, even about the heart-quaking crush he’d had on Riley Banks—the one that everyone else knew about but Josh thought he had hidden. No matter how much his brothers prodded him for details, Josh continued to keep his private life just that—private.
“Yeah, yeah. I hear you’re wiping Vera Wang off the map.” Treat was proud of Josh, and his only hope for Josh was that he was happy.
Josh shook his head. “One day.”
“Where’s Hugh?” The youngest of the Bradens, Hugh was the biggest risk taker of them all, and his career as a race-car driver was a testament to the way he lived his life—fast cars, and even faster women. He was supremely self-centered, which at times rubbed Treat the wrong way.
Josh shrugged. “Race, maybe? Steaks are ready. Shall we eat?” Josh asked.
“We shall.” Treat took off his jacket, watching his father walk to the table with one arm around Savannah, the other around Dane. Boy, he’d missed them.
Treat set the platter of steaks in the center of the long table, alongside the salad, wine, beer, vegetables, and three types of sliced bread—typical Braden fare. There weren’t many family gatherings that weren’t centered around a barbeque of some sort.
“You started without me?” Hugh barged into the yard with his arms open and a grin on his face. His wind-tossed, thick, wavy hair gave him a playful appearance. “Treat, you’ve graced us with your presence after all.”
“Good to see you too, Hugh.” Treat stood and wrapped an arm around him.
“Had a race. Sorry.” Hugh sat down and was the first to snag the largest steak off the platter.
Treat shook his head. “So, Dad, are you ever going to let me pay for that stone patio you keep talking about?”
Rex smirked. “He doesn’t need your money, Treat. He needs my time.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Treat said.
“We’re so busy running the ranch that I haven’t had time to get started. But I will,” he said with a harsh stare.
He and Rex could get along like two peas in a pod, but it could change on a dime when the family ranch was brought up. “I was just saying that I could help. Bring a crew to help you out,” Treat offered.
“Are you the crew?” Rex asked pointedly.
Treat stared him down. Rex was never going to let up about the family ranch, and exactly what his beef was, was never quite clear to Treat.
“Boys, settle down. I need a patio like I need a hole in my head. Tell me about your resorts, Treat. What did you decide about Thailand?” his father asked.
“I’m thinking about it. It’s a solid resort and the numbers work. I’m just…Lately I haven’t been in an acquiring mood,” Treat explained. He’d been negotiating a deal on a resort in Thailand, and when the Justice of the Peace who was supposed to preside over Blake’s wedding had fallen ill, Treat had stepped in to officiate and had canceled his trip to Thailand. He and Max had been heading to the island for the wedding when they’d been caught in a storm, and it was then, while they were trapped on the boat and he couldn’t ignore the fear and pain in Max’s eyes, that he realized it wasn’t the raging sea she feared. It was him—and that realization had cut him to his core. That was the moment when Treat had known he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.
Spending that time on the boat with Max had left an imprint on his heart that he couldn’t shake. He’d tabled the Thailand deal and had begun to reexamine his motivations and view himself with a whole new perspective.
“He’s in Max mode,” Savannah added.
Treat glared at her.
“Who’s Max?” Josh asked.
“Some hot girl who works at the festival and has Treat all googly-eyed,” Savannah said.
“Hmm…Max is a girl?” Josh arched a brow and grinned.
“Yes, she’s a woman. No, I’m not in Max mode. Jesus, Savannah.” Treat bit into a hunk of steak, wishing Savannah had never seen her. Max’s number had been burning a hole in his pocket ever since she’d given it to him, and it was all he could do not to get up and call her right that second.
“Treat, googly-eyed? You gotta be kidding me. The man eats women for breakfast,” Hugh said with a deep laugh. He was always quick to throw a barb and just as quick to return to whatever he was doing for himself beforehand—in this instance, he turned his attention back to his plate of food and speared a forkful of salad.
Treat threw his napkin on the table. “Cut the shit, okay?” He knew he was overreacting, and he knew Hugh was only stating what had once been the truth. Bile rose in his throat just thinking of himself in that player role. Yeah, he’d been with a lot of women, but not because he didn’t want more. He’d been afraid to fall in love.
Hugh shrugged off his roar. “I won today. First place.”
“Good job, son.” His father raised his beer bottle. “To Hugh.”
“To Huge!” the boys said in unison.
Savannah shook her head. “Idiots,” she said with a laugh.
AFTER DINNER Treat, Dane, and Rex cleared the table and did the dishes while Savannah visited with her father, and Josh and Hugh talked about Hugh’s racing.
“Something you want to tell us about?” Dane asked once they were safely in the kitchen, away from the others.
�
�I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Treat turned his eyes away from Dane and began digging in a drawer for a dish towel.
“Is that Max from Blake’s wedding?” Dane asked.
“How would you know Max from Blake’s wedding? You never even met her.” Treat watched Dane cringe under his scrutiny. “You’re seeing Lacy, aren’t you?” Lacy was Blake’s wife Danica’s half sister, and Dane had given Treat a message to pass on to Lacy after he’d had to leave before the wedding.
“Nope.” Dane set his mouth in a harsh line and focused on scrubbing a plate dry, much harder than it called for.
Treat wouldn’t let Dane get away with cutting him off. “Then how do you know Max?” Treat briefly wondered if Dane had somehow met and hooked up with her. He’d bedded Treat’s girlfriend when they were in college, and Treat was still not over it. Dane was known for one thing among his brothers—well, ten inches of one thing. The thought of him anywhere near Max made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge and his muscles twitch.
“Dane?” he asked with a fisted hand. He and his brothers had come to blows many times over the years, but it had been forever since he’d felt the urge to punch anyone. Max wasn’t even his to protect, but he couldn’t stop his protective claws from showing.
“Leave him alone, Treat.” Rex planted himself between them.
Treat stared at Dane until he relented.
“I talked to Lacy a few days later, to apologize for not being at the wedding. She told me about Max coordinating the event, and the storm, and…”
Treat clenched his jaw. Don’t say anything about me and Max on the boat or I might have to kill you.
“Anyway, I know she hooked up with Justin, and I just assumed...” Dane shrugged.
Savannah breezed into the kitchen just in time to catch Treat as he lifted his hand to grab his brother.
“What are you doing?” She looked from one brother to the other.
“Dude’s out of control,” Dane said, taking a step back. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this jealous since Mary Jane.”
“Dane! Rex, get him out of here,” Savannah ordered.
Treat lowered his fist. “Sorry, Dane. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” he said as Rex and Dane left the room. He straightened his shirt and calmed his breathing. “Sorry, Savannah.”
“Are you all right? Why was he bringing up Mary Jane?” she asked.
Mary Jane had been Treat’s girlfriend his second year of college. Dane had come up for a weekend, and Treat had found them in bed together. She had tried to reconcile, but he’d known there was no way he’d ever measure up after she’d been with his brother—nor would he want to. Any girlfriend who would sleep with his brother was not a girlfriend he needed. He’d gone out and slept with the most beautiful girl on campus the next night—right after sending Dane back home.
It had taken months for Dane and Treat to get back on sure footing after the incident with Mary Jane. The frightened look in Savannah’s eyes pulled Treat from his jealous rage. Savannah was particularly sensitive to her brothers being at odds, and even though it had been years since they’d fought over a woman, he knew she worried about him and Dane falling right back into that uncomfortable pattern. He bit back his anger and reassured her.
“I’m fine. He was just being an ass,” Treat answered.
“Yeah, well, you all can be one at some time or another,” Savannah said, fixing his collar.
Dane and Rex came back in carrying more dishes.
“Is it safe?” Rex asked.
Treat locked eyes with Dane in a silent warning not to talk about Max and Justin in the same breath again. Ever.
“Treat, you have to go out with me and Hugh tonight,” Savannah said. “There’s an event.”
“What are we, dog shit?” Rex asked.
Savannah put her hand on his and Dane’s shoulders. “You’re anything but dog shit. That’s the problem. I don’t want to spend the evening beating women away with a stick.” She turned back to Treat. “Besides, it’s the festival after-party. Hugh has a date and two extra tickets, and Max might be there.”
Treat shook his head. The mention of Justin and Max had made his blood boil, and he wasn’t sure he could even look at Max without feeling it rip right through him again. “I’m beat,” he said.
“Yeah, well, wake up. You’re going.”
Chapter Five
WHY THE HELL had she given him her number? Why hadn’t he called? She’d taken out her battery and rebooted the phone—twice—and had been checking her messages like she was obsessive compulsive. As she walked through the gates with Chaz, she kept waiting for him to say something to her about Treat.
“Max?” Chaz lifted his lips into a crooked smile. “You’ve done it again.”
She and Chaz had reviewed the finances from the morning before leaving, and it was obvious that Chaz was still thinking about their overwhelming success. They’d already almost matched the previous year’s total festival revenue.
She shook her head. “Not me, boss. We did it. At least the first day went off without a hitch.”
“Don’t forget, you said you’d do the after-party swing tonight. I can’t wait to go home and see Trevor and Lexi. It’s been a long day.” Chaz and Kaylie had been married for only six months, but their twins were almost three years old.
The after-parties were one of the highlights of the film festival. Intimate gatherings with celebs, where locals and fans could dance the night away and take home expensive swag, to boot. Crap. She’d forgotten about the parties. Maybe she could get out of it. “Aren’t the kids asleep by now?”
“Yeah, but I like to see them. Besides, they’re asleep.” He raised his eyebrows. “We’re still newlyweds, after all.”
HER CLOSET LOOKED more like a teenager’s than that of an almost-thirty-year-old woman, with too many T-shirts and jeans to count and not nearly enough grown-up clothes. Max inspected the few dresses she owned. She selected two and hung them on the closet door so that she could visualize herself in them. They were both black and short, standard party attire. One was tight fitting with a plunging neckline, leaving very little to the imagination, while the other was more conservative with a ring neck and slit pockets at the hips.
Her cell phone rang and Max froze. The incoming phone number was restricted. Treat? What would she say? What would he say? What if he asked her out? It rang two more times. She stared at it as if she were trying to decide whether or not to touch a land mine; her heart pounded against her rib cage, her body trembled, and her brain was unable to form a coherent thought. When the phone stopped ringing, she dove onto the bed and pushed the green button.
“Hello? Hello?”
Silence.
Max pushed the End button and banged her head against the mattress. She waited for her message light to blink on. When it didn’t, she pushed herself to her feet with disgust.
“You’re such a fool,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. She stripped off her clothes and stepped angrily into the shower. “An idiot, a chicken.” She scrubbed her scalp so hard she was sure she was leaving a trail of cuts. “Maybe it’s better this way.” She rinsed the suds from her hair, soaped and scrubbed her body, and then dried herself off and stood in front of the mirror.
“You’re better off without him,” she tried to convince herself. She flipped her head upside down and turned on the hair dryer. Her wavy brown hair fluffed into a sultry style that hung almost below her shoulders. “You can do better,” she said with a wicked grin.
Max hadn’t been on a date since she’d left Nassau. She’d been denying her sexual urges for years—literally—because of a frightening scenario that had unfolded in the bedroom years earlier. Maybe it was time she broke that wretched streak and forgot Treat altogether. It wasn’t in her nature to pick up a man, and even the thought of it petrified her. But on another level, maybe having a one-night stand was just what she needed to get over him.
“Maybe that is w
hat I need. A distraction.” She hadn’t even had a reason to dress like a woman since Nassau, much less feel like one.
She went heavy on the makeup. Swinging her hips to the music on the radio, she stepped into one of the few lace thongs she owned, and then slipped into the skintight dress with the plunging neckline. She spun around as the tunes escalated and slipped her bare feet into her efficient black heels. She stood before the mirror, surveying herself from top to bottom. Her dark eyeliner said, Take Me, her body screamed, Touch me, and her crimson lips whispered, Now, but the total package, including the efficient heels, shouted, Faker!
She kicked off her heels and stared at her other footwear options with a frown. Efficient, efficient, efficient. No matter which dress she chose, she’d feel like a fake. How on earth did I make it this far? She snagged her phone from the bed and texted Kaylie, who had become one of her closest friends since she and Chaz married.
Can I borrow your high black heels?
Her phone vibrated. High black heels lol. U mean the fuck-me heels? Lol.
Max rolled her eyes and texted back. I guess.
Kaylie’s text came through seconds later. Who’s the guy?
She texted, Festival after-party. Yes or no?
A minute later her phone vibrated. Yup. Babies R sleeping. Will leave on porch.
Max spritzed on her sexiest perfume, put on her flip-flops, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed for Kaylie’s.
Twenty minutes later she was walking up Kaylie’s front steps. As promised, the black stilettos were on the front porch.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about Treat!”
Max started. “Kaylie, you scared the crap out of me.”
Kaylie came out of the dark garage and into the light of the porch. She wore a nighty that barely covered her underwear—at least Max hoped she was wearing underwear—and fuzzy slippers beneath one of Chaz’s winter coats, which hung open and dwarfed her thin frame.