What Matters Most

by Longley, Barbara

  “Let me guess.” She grinned at him from over the rim of her beer mug. “You’re adopting a couple of cats. You should choose littermates. They’ll already get along.”

  “Um … no.” He flashed her a disgruntled look, eliciting a laugh. “I’ve been researching different nonprofit organizations in the area. I’m considering a career change. Maybe I can make a positive difference in the world.”

  His parents would have complete meltdowns. Perhaps they’d even disown him. His gut tightened at the thought, but it wasn’t like his relationship with them had ever been close. He could live without the pressure and their particular brand of passive-aggressiveness.

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, looking pleased. “But won’t working for a nonprofit cut your income by quite a bit?”

  “I’m sure it will.” He knew better than to mention he’d been gifted with the thirty acres along the river bluffs. The millions he’d netted selling the lots in his townhouse complex, and partnering in the development had been added to his already healthy trust fund. If he never worked another day in his life, he’d still be exceptionally well-off.

  Still, he needed to work. Idleness would drive him nuts, not to mention it would incite his parents to new heights of manipulation where he was concerned. “If I’m happier with what I’m doing, the cut in pay will be well worth the sacrifice. I’ll be fine.”

  “Good for you, Will.” Josey rested her warm hand on his for a heart-skipping moment. “I support anything you do that will bring you more job satisfaction. Here’s to your future endeavors.” She held her beer mug up in a toast.

  “Here’s to our future endeavors. After all, we’re both determined to make changes.” He clinked his mug with hers, and they put their heads together over the forms he’d brought. Will scooted his chair a little closer and draped his arm over the back of her chair, savoring the scent of her flowery perfume and the underlying unique essence that was Jo. For the first time in a long, long while, an intoxicating combination of happiness, anticipation and desire filled his otherwise empty heart.

  By the time Lucky’s hostess announced bingo would begin in ten minutes, they’d both consumed a couple beers and had dinner. Will passed her one of the sheets of paper containing four bingo squares. “Bingo is a game of chance, which is not generally my thing.”

  “I figured you’d prefer games of skill,” Jo said. “So do I. I never win at stuff like this.”

  “Neither do I, but at least we’ll be able to commiserate over our losses.”

  “There is that. Do you play any sports?”

  “I play hockey, or I used to. I golf and pick up a tennis racket now and then.”

  “No kidding?” She beamed. “My older brother coaches Pee-Wee Hockey, and he played all through school. He even got a hockey scholarship at the University of Minnesota, but he passed it up to become a carpenter in the family business.”

  “Coaching little kids sounds like a blast.” If he didn’t work so many hours, he might enjoy coaching little kids. Something to consider.

  “The children are a hoot to watch.” Jo straightened her silverware, which she hadn’t used because she’d had a sandwich. She lined up her fork and knife so they were perfectly parallel. Then she played with her nearly empty beer mug, turning it back and forth by the handle a few times.

  Amused, Will watched as she rearranged the napkin in her lap and squirmed in her chair. She straightened the salt and pepper shakers and aligned the container holding the sugar. Jo obviously had something on her mind.

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin, placed it over the remains of his meal and moved his plate to the corner of the table. When she inhaled and blew out her breath twice, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

  “Will, I have a favor to ask, and please feel free to say no.” Her eyes met his for a nano-second before returning to her place setting.

  “I’m all ears.” He studied her, and her cheeks turned an attractive shade of pink. Just then, a woman with a basket of bingo daubers inserted herself between them.

  “Here you go.” The hostess dropped one orange and one pink dauber on the bingo sheets. “Just leave these on the table when you go.”

  “Thanks,” he said, tempted to growl at her for interrupting. The dauber distributor left, and Will once again focused on Jo, who was now biting her lower lip. “You were about to ask a favor,” he reminded her.

  Josey swallowed a couple of times. Finally, she lifted her chin, her gaze meeting his, no turning away this time. “Would you be my date for my brother’s wedding?”

  It was all he could do not to fist pump the air. Triumph thrummed through his veins, while he strategized how to maximize the opportunity. Struggling to appear more passive than jubilant, he picked up his beer mug and peered into the thick glass at the remaining lukewarm swallow at the bottom. “As long as I don’t have a scheduling conflict, I’d be happy to be your date. When is the wedding?”

  Oh God Oh God Oh God. Did I really just ask Will to be my date? Had to be the beer. Hadn’t she always been a lightweight when it came to drinking? She blew out a breath. “It’s on the second of June. I have to be at the church at three for family pictures. The wedding is at four thirty, and the reception will be held at the Saint Paul Hotel.”

  All calm, cool and unaffected, Will finished his beer before pulling out his phone. He opened his calendar. Jo tried to peek at the screen, but he tilted it up before she could see. She watched him while he checked his calendar. If he said yes, she’d be with the best-looking man present at the wedding, including her brothers. She squelched the prideful smile threatening to give her away.

  “Hmm. I believe I can rearrange a few things to accommodate your need for a date on the second.” He used his thumbs to type, his brow creased. “We’ll have to negotiate terms though.”

  “Terms?” She should’ve known, dammit.

  “Quid pro quo, Josey,” he teased. “If I do this favor for you, will you agree to do one for me?”

  His sexy, gray-eyed perusal drilled straight through her, and her cheeks flamed. She had no idea what he had up his sleeve, but whatever it was, his quid pro quo request put her somewhere between laughing out loud and bristling with righteous indignation. “I take my request back.”

  He leaned closer, his shoulder touching hers. “Don’t you even want to know what I want in return first?”

  A delicious tingle of awareness shot through her. She inhaled as unobtrusively as possible, taking in the subtle notes of his aftershave, laced with his own alluring, masculine scent. “Honestly? I’m a little afraid to ask.”

  “I would never suggest anything inappropriate.” He straightened and placed a hand over his heart. “I’m deeply wounded.”

  “I doubt that.” She rolled her eyes. “All right. Tell me. What do you want in return?”

  “Weddings are a big deal, and I will be subjected to the scrutiny of your entire family. Do you agree?”

  “I do.” She creased the napkin in her lap. They would both be subjected to scrutiny, speculation and horribly embarrassing comments and questions. Especially as the reception

  wore on, and her relatives took advantage of the open bar.

  “Still, I am willing to suffer through—”

  “Wait.” She glowered and tossed her napkin on the table. “An evening spent with me is something you will suffer through? My favor includes a wonderful dinner at the Saint Paul Hotel, wedding cake, an open bar and dancing.” Wait. Was she trying to talk him into agreeing? Yep, and now he looked ready to pounce.

  “Just to be clear,” he said, grinning wolfishly. “You asked a favor, rescinded the request, and now it’s back on the table?”

  His gaze was so intense, she felt as if she was in court and on the witness stand. “That depends entirely upon what you expect in return.”

  “Would you like me to be your date for the wedding or not?”

  “It was just a thought.” She did want to show up with a date
. Desperately. Jo shrugged. “This wouldn’t be the first family wedding I’ve attended solo if necessary.”

  Will chuckled. “All right. I’ll lay my cards on the table. In exchange for escorting you to your brother’s wedding, thereby subjecting myself to extreme speculation and scrutiny, I want three more dates with you, and I get to choose the venues.”

  Her heart ran laps around her ribcage. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want to date me?” And there came the rush of hope she dreaded—the familiar excitement and thrill, surely to be followed by crushing disappointment. Only, with Will, the excitement and thrill were far more intense than she’d ever experienced before. Didn’t that mean the heartbreak would also be much worse?

  Will put his hand over hers and squeezed. “Why do you need to question my motives? I enjoy your company. I can just be myself around you, Jo, and it’s a relief. I love that I don’t have to try and impress you every second we’re together.”

  “Ouch.” She arched a brow. “So, you don’t care whether or not you make a good impression on me? I’m beneath impressing?”

  “Wait. That didn’t come out right at all.”

  She snatched her hand back and crossed her arms in front of her, a bit stunned to admit his comment affected her as much as it did. “It didn’t?”

  Will sighed and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I do want to impress you, Jo, but not in the way I would try to impress most women.”

  “Digging yourself in deeper,” she said, adding a scowl. She caught a glimpse of hesitation flit across his features. Or was it uncertainty?

  “I want to impress you with who I am, the inner me the rest of the world never sees. That part of me has nothing to do with social or economic status, and it really did sting that you were willing to reject me over the trivial differences in our backgrounds.”

  “I’m sorry.” Oh, hell. He was right, and she had been petty. “I didn’t mean to insult or to hurt you.”

  He scrutinized her as if gauging her sincerity. “Apology accepted.” Will wrapped both of his sexy hands around his beer mug. “Other women have been impressed with what I have and what I do for a living, and it did nothing for me. If you asked me why it’s important that I can be my true self with you, I couldn’t give you a definitive answer. But it is … important, I mean.”

  Bemusement softened his features, and again her insides went squiggly and her heart thumped. Dammit, she could so easily fall for Will.

  He draped his arm around the back of her chair again, not touching her, just close. “There’s just something about you, something indefinable that gets to me.”

  No no no! Why had he said exactly the right thing to get to her as well? “Three dates in exchange for your presence by my side at my brother’s wedding. Those are your terms?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh, brother, she was not safe with him. The hopeful earnestness radiating from him melted away any shred of resistance. “All right. I agree to your terms.” She surveyed the interior of the bar and grill, no longer able to look at him, much less breathe. “Let’s play bingo.”

  Will cupped her chin, turned her face to his and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. “You won’t regret this, Jo. I promise.”

  Well didn’t that just choke her up and bring a sting to her eyes. “Good to know.”

  “Are you free this Saturday evening?”

  “I believe so.”

  He pulled out his phone again. “Great. What’s your address? I’ll call or text with the details once I’ve figured out what we’re going to do.”

  She gave him her address, and he typed it into his contacts. “What do you enjoy, by the way? Besides work, I mean.”

  “I love plays, concerts, movies, visiting new places. Regular stuff. I’m not picky. I’m interested in finding out …” Who you are inside, the man you keep hidden from the rest of the world. She couldn’t say that out loud, because she’d be revealing too much. “You choose. I’m curious to see what you come up with.”

  Josey picked up the orange dauber as the man with the microphone announced the first game, this one regular bingo. As the letters and numbers were called, her attention drifted to Will, and she had to stifle a laugh. He held that pink dauber poised over the bingo sheet with intensity, completely absorbed in the game of chance. Despite his earlier comment, clearly he wanted to win.

  She found this side of him both endearing and daunting. Three dates and a wedding loomed. Could she prevent herself from getting in too deep? Did she even want to prevent herself from falling for him?

  A high-octane lawyer from old money and a plumber from a working-class family—didn’t that make for one hell of a Cinderella story? Or, were they more a Romeo and Juliet tale? Would their drama lead to happily ever after, or would she end up the heroine in yet another romantic tragedy?

  Jo had gotten through her Thursday without even a hint of sewer gas or worse. Yay! Plus, she’d gotten off work at a decent hour. She walked up the front steps of her building, taking note of the Restoration Experts truck parked by the curb.

  Before unlocking the inner security door, she stopped to get her mail, tossing the junk into the recycling bin in the corner. Then she headed up the short flight of stairs to the first-floor foyer. Wyatt and Sam stood idly by, chatting while the restoration expert filled a crack in the elegant multi-colored marble starburst at the center of the lobby. The grand old art deco elevator’s brass grate gleamed like gold, and new period light fixtures and sconces completed the elegant picture. She’d grown to love the old building, with all its historic charm.

  “Hey, Jo,” Sam glanced at her. “Don’t step on the cracks.”

  “Or I’ll break Gram’s back?” she quipped.

  “The filler needs time to set.” Wyatt shook his head and flashed her a brotherly frown.

  The restoration expert spared her a look. “The filler takes twenty-four hours to dry.” He pointed to a sign he’d placed in the corner, instructing residents to avoid stepping on the newly filled cracks and chipped spots. “I’ll be back on Friday to polish and seal the entire floor.”

  Sam rubbed his hands together. “Once the floor is sealed, I’ll start installing the new wainscoting.”

  “Speaking of installing, do either of you have a few hours to spare Saturday morning? I need an extra set of hands while I replace the last of the old water pipes in the basement. Then my part of our restoration project will be competed, and I’ll finally be able to begin new projects on my own place.”

  “Sure. I can help.” Wyatt came to stand beside her. “I’ll have to check with Kayla first though.”

  “Thanks.” She sucked in a breath. “Do you two have a few minutes to talk?” Her brothers exchanged a what now look.

  “Of course.” Sam jutted his chin toward the man working on the floor. “He’ll be done here soon, and then we’ll knock on your door.”

  “Great. See you in a few.” Avoiding the recently filled cracks, Jo crossed the foyer to her condo and unlocked the door. Crossing her very own threshold always gave her a thrill. Sunlight poured through her south-facing windows, giving her living room a warm, cozy feel. She dropped her keys into the ceramic bowl set on the credenza against the wall just inside her front door. The antique had once belonged to her parents, and Jo had painstakingly refinished the piece until the burly maple patina shone a honey-colored gold.

  An overstuffed, comfy couch and matching chair with an ottoman took up most of the living room space, along with a couple of craftsman style end tables and a matching bookshelf. A sense of satisfaction never failed to overtake her while she was in her own space. Here she allowed her sentimental, girly-self free rein.

  She’d been bookended by brothers while growing up, and she’d developed a tough outer shell, always proving she could do whatever they did, only better. In the privacy of her own home, she watched sappy movies and read romance novels to her heart’s content. She also surrounded herself with decorativ
e touches proclaiming her feminine side.

  Jo unlaced her clunky work shoes, toed them off and tossed them into the walk-in closet off the living room. The conversation she wanted to have with her brothers filled her thoughts as she undid her braid and massaged her scalp. She set out for her bedroom to exchange her work clothes for comfy yoga pants and an oversize T-shirt. Dammit, they were her brothers, and they needed to support her.

  Just as she’d brewed herself a cup of tea, a knock on her door sent her heart racing. “Showdown,” she whispered, hurrying to let her brothers in. “Hey, do either of you want a beer?”

  “Nah.” Sam headed for the kitchen table, a pub style high-top with four chairs. “I can’t stay long.”

  “I’ll have one, since all I have to do to get home is walk across the hall.” Wyatt helped himself to a bottle of beer in her fridge. Then he leaned against the counter and twisted off the top. “What do you want to talk about, Jo?”

  She set her mug of tea on the table and took a seat next to Sam. “I’ve brought this up before, and I have the feeling neither of you have taken me seriously.” She paused, considering her words before she spoke. “I need your support regarding—”

  “Is this about changing the name of Haney & Sons again?” Sam cocked a brow. “Because for some weird reason, Haley’s been—”

  “Yes, dammit, and I can already hear by your tone you’re not in favor.” Her throat tightened. “This is important to me, and nobody seems to care how I feel. I’m not a son, but I am a Haney, and I do own shares in our business.”

  “I care,” Wyatt said, finally joining them at the table. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll agree to the change.” He sent Sam a pointed look, and her older brother shrugged.

  “Tell me, Sam.” She lifted her chin. “How did you feel when we added ‘Handyman Services’ to the side of our trucks and to the sign on our building? You were the one who started that part of our business. Look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t pleased by that nod from Grandpa Joe and the uncles.”