* * *
Bree peeked into her rearview mirror for one last check before subjecting herself to the inspection of her family. She didn’t have a problem with them knowing she had been well and truly fucked. She did have a problem with the questions that could arise, especially with Jenna already suspicious. She wasn’t ready to go public with this, particularly since she could safely say that whatever was happening between her and Spence would probably be short-lived.
Pity, that. The man had talents.
She was on the step, reaching for the door, when her hand was stilled by a thought that blindsided her. What if she was the reason for this last-minute gathering? What if Jenna had taken her suspicions to Neenee, and—
No. That was ridiculous. For one thing, Bree was the only one in the family who had ever had a real problem with Spence. For another, unless there was a suspicion of abuse or infidelity, the Elias women had a strict no-interference rule in one another’s love lives. Bree was off the hook.
Though for a moment there, it had been kind of fun to think that she might have done something worthy of being talked about.
And for another moment, she had an idea why Spence might have taken some secret pleasure in those lies that had been spread about him.
It was such an unexpected insight that she was still grinning to herself when Margie surprised her by throwing open the door and yanking her by the arm.
“For the love of all that’s holy, Bree, don’t stand there at the door like some princess waiting for the commoners to notice you’ve arrived.”
“Sorry,” she said as she trailed after Margie into the kitchen. “I wasn’t— I just remembered something. For work.”
“Work, huh?” Jenna, perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter, smirked over her can of Coke. “Sure, Breezy. Sure.”
Oh God.
Sure enough, Annie paused in the middle of stirring a bowl of something and looked from Jenna to Bree and back. “Do I smell a story?”
“Ooh, I do.” Kyrie, at the table in the center of the room, aimed her laptop toward Bree. “Make sure you talk loud enough so Paige can hear.”
Bree glanced at the screen, where Paige waved and blew a kiss. Margie rolled her eyes and thumped her way up the stairs.
“Sorry, folks. Maybe Annie has some stories, but I don’t have anything today.”
“I don’t know,” Jenna drawled. “Seems to me you were awfully fluttery and in a hurry to get rid of me the last time we were talking about work. You know. When Spencer James dropped in.”
The earth could swallow her up at any time now.
“As I told you that night, we are on a task force together.”
“Right. And that’s why he had to come to your apartment. Because studly single men always drop in on the hot single women they’re working with in a volunteer capacity.” Jenna tipped her head. “It’s a shame they haven’t invented something that would make it possible for people to communicate over distances without needing to see each other in person. Isn’t it, Paige?”
From somewhere in the middle of Edinburgh, Paige burst out laughing.
“I had materials for him to pick up,” Bree said. Yeah, it was an out-and-out lie, but when the odds were four against one, she figured she was entitled to all the help she could get.
Food would be a good place to start.
“Annie, is that crab dip?”
“Like we could have a sleepover without it?”
“I picked up some funky cheese,” Jenna said. “And nuts.”
“I brought leftovers from the shop,” Kyrie said with a sorrowful sigh, then perked up. “Not that any of you are into s’mores brownies, of course.”
You’ll be making s’mores and you’ll remember this and start laughing.
Damn the man. She couldn’t hold back the involuntary snicker.
“What’s so funny?” Jenna asked. Her gaze narrowed. “And what has you blushing all of a sudden?”
Uh-oh. Evasive action, stat.
Bree glanced toward the stairs. No sign of Margie or their mother. “Listen, you guys. Before Mom comes down here, you might want to know. Daddy Dearest barged into my office a while back. To tell me that he and Mom were talking.”
Silence fell over the kitchen.
“Okay.” Kyrie was the first to speak. “I can’t say I was expecting that.”
“Or that I like it,” added Jenna.
“She’s a grown woman.” Paige’s voice was slightly muffled, but Bree could still hear the uncertainty, like Paige was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. “She’ll be fine.”
Annie scowled into her crab dip. “She’d better be.”
The sisters looked at one another, their faces an odd assortment of worry, anger, and hopefulness, with a smidge of defiance. Everything Bree was feeling, in fact, all reflected back at her.
In a way it was comforting to know that she wasn’t alone.
But given the sudden bleakness hovering over the usually cheery kitchen, she almost wished they were still talking about her and Spence.
* * *
The next few weeks passed quickly, at least for Spence. Spring had finally arrived, bringing with it the predicted surge in business. The task force still met, but the bulk of the work now had thankfully fallen to Mercy and Keenan, who were doing the preliminary work on the grant applications. The committee to stop Rob was on temporary hold while their unofficial leader was dealing with her mother’s death. Bree was swamped with end-of-semester assignments, exams, and grades, not to mention the book deadline that seemed to weigh more heavily on her each time they got together.
Which wasn’t nearly often enough. At least not for Spence.
The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted, and not just to sleep with her. He liked being with her. It felt . . . comfortable. He tried to tell himself it was because he’d known her so long, but he’d dated women he’d known forever before, and it hadn’t been the same.
Maybe it was because he’d told her about things he never told anyone else. Maybe it was because she understood the way he was grounded in his family. Maybe it was because when he told her stuff, she heard more than the words. She said she couldn’t read minds but damned if she couldn’t read his feelings, sometimes better than he could.
Throw in the fact that she knew exactly when to make him laugh and precisely how to drive him to the brink in bed, and yeah. He found himself counting the hours more than once. The first time it happened, it scared him to the point where he had to go home and get drunk that night, because seriously? That was some major league idiocy.
But the night after that, she came over. And as they worked together in the kitchen, catching each other up on their days while they made dinner, he decided to stop freaking out and simply enjoy it while it lasted. Just because he felt more settled with her than with anyone before didn’t mean anything significant. He had simply found someone he could talk to, someone he connected with. Someone he could trust.
It wasn’t as if he was going to do anything idiotic like fall in love.
The one dark spot in his days was Livvy. She never came out and said anything, but he could see the tense lines in her face, the way she seemed less patient with the kids, and he knew things were bad again. The need to help her made him ache in ways he wouldn’t have believed. But until she asked, he had to stay out of it.
Though that didn’t mean he couldn’t ask for a little insight from someone who was a good listener and totally understood about the need to stay quiet.
So when, on a sunny April Sunday, he and Bree arranged to meet for a walk around the grounds of the future food forest, he decided to speak up. He wasn’t really violating any confidences. Bree had already pieced together the important bits, and the sad truth was that half the town was already muttering about Carl’s inability to keep it in his pants.
Though when Bree climbed out of her car and her smile lit up as she spotted him—leaving him warmer than the sun beating down on his back—he almost decided to stay quiet. Why bring that unhappiness into such a perfect day?
“Hi,” she said, rising up in her hiking boots to give him a quick kiss. “Did you have any trouble convincing the guard to let you park here?”
“Nope. I flashed my pass from the last meeting, told her I was here to look over the land, started into a long and detailed discussion of what we are doing and what we plan to do, and her eyes rolled back in her head, and she gave me a new pass.” He squeezed her hand as they stepped off the pavement and onto one of the many paths that led into the wooded field. “Bullshit is my hidden talent.”
That got a laugh out of her, one that seemed to soak into him and reassure without a word. Sure, there was ugliness and betrayal in the world, but at this moment, with this woman, everything was fine. Who could ask for more than that?
They wandered under birches and maples, catching up, laughing, holding hands. Enjoying.
“Do you know where we’re going?” she asked when the trail forked off before them.
“Yeah, I checked out the aerial photos. If we keep veering to the right, we should loop all around the perimeter of the space.”
“And if we want to check out the center?” Her eyes twinkled. “You know. To see where the wedding pavilion might be.”
“Sorry. That’s not on the plans.” He laughed as he pivoted to the left. “But if you want to see the future playground space, we should go this way.”
She made a huffing sound, like she was trying to think of a comeback but couldn’t manage anything more than a grunt of exasperation. Good. It was nice to know she had let go of the need to constantly one-up him.
They walked in silence for a couple of minutes. He took advantage of the time to cast an assessing eye over the trees currently lining the path. Many of them would be able to stay. Some would need to be cleared to make room for the fruit trees that would be the big draw, but especially here on the outer fringes, the mixed deciduous and conifers should be mostly intact. Especially the sugar maples. Those could be tapped and—
“You’re awfully quiet today.”
He barely stopped himself from startling at her words. Truth to tell, he’d almost forgotten she was there. Not in a bad way. More like in the way he didn’t notice his breathing unless there was a problem. That, not her voice, was what had him momentarily reeling.
He was going to have to think about it. Later.
“I’m worried about Livvy.”
It was the first time he had said the words out loud. He didn’t like how much more real it made things.
“Not that I officially know anything,” Bree spoke carefully, “but would this have anything to do with—”
“Carl. Yeah. He’s a lying, cheating bastard, and I’m pretty sure he’s at it again. I keep trying to convince her to leave. She won’t. So all I can do is stand back and watch, and listen, and wait.”
“Which is all she probably needs at this moment. Just knowing you’re there probably helps her more than you realize.”
“I hope so.”
She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
“I know she’s an adult,” he continued. “She has to make her own choices and all that, and she wants to keep going for the kids, and I might not be a parent, but I get that. The one thing Carl has going for him is that when he’s around, he’s a good father. He’s Max’s Scout leader and goes to all the soccer games and teacher conferences, and Livvy swears he’s the only reason Emma is passing Biology this year.”
“Almost makes it worse, doesn’t it?” She lengthened her step to go over a puddle. “Because you can’t hate him completely.”
“Not to mention it makes it harder for Livvy to kick him to the curb.”
“Maybe she has an evil scheme to lull him into a sense of false security while she learns his weaknesses so she can use them against him.”
“I only wish.”
She sighed. “Too bad. That’s what Batman would do.”
“No, I think Batman would just walk up to him and punch him until comic book words danced in front of his face.”
She stopped in the middle of the path to face him. “You can’t be Batman, Spence.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been told that black leather works for me.”
“It would be a very good look on you, and once we get through the end of the semester, I would happily dress up like Robin if you wanted to put this to the test. But not for Livvy. You love her and want to protect her; like you said, she’s a grown woman who has to make her own choices. Your job, unfortunately, is to step back and let her make them so she doesn’t end up hating you. Because when it all falls apart—and you know it will, sooner or later—you want to still have a relationship so she knows she can come to you and you’ll help pick up the pieces.”
“Sometimes I swear those glasses of yours aren’t normal. They’re like X-ray vision. Except instead of bones and muscles, they let you see . . .” Just in time, he stopped himself from saying that she could see inside his heart. “You can see what I’m thinking before I even say it.”
“Um . . . remember when my father told me that he and my mother were talking?”
He got it then.
“Feels like you’re banging your head against a brick wall, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“Exactly.” Some of the light leached from her face. “But they say there’s a silver lining to everything, and I guess this is it.”
“What is?”
“That I know exactly how you feel, watching Livvy do something that you know will only break her heart.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It sucks.” She gripped his hand harder as she moved slowly forward. “I don’t know about you, but I have always, always been able to make things happen. You know. Put my head down, work hard, study the situation to find out what I had to do and then do it.” Her laugh was bitter. “I even made my father come back from the dead. Or at least, that was how it felt in that first breath when the FBI or CIA or whoever it was came to our door and told us they’d found him. But this . . .” Her voice trailed off. She turned to him with despair in her face. “This is out of my hands. And I hate it as much as you hate having to stand by while Livvy keeps going.”
He could well imagine.
Except she had one factor on her side that he didn’t.
“I can’t do anything about Carl right now,” he said slowly. “And you can’t do anything about your mom. But my committee—we’re meeting on Tuesday night. You said something once about working with them. Still interested?”
“Oh.”
She came to a standstill, head bowed. As if she was debating.
When she spoke, her voice was thinner than he thought he’d ever heard. “Do you think it would bother people? Me being his daughter, I mean.”
“I think it would add some extra legitimacy to the group, to be honest.” His gripped her arms, tugging her close. “But the big question is if it would bother you.”
She shook her head. Bit her lip. Then lifted her face to his with a determined smile.
“I’m in.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “I still get to be Batman,” he whispered, and grinned when she laughed and leaned against him.
He just wished that when she’d said she was in, she hadn’t sounded like she was talking herself into it.
Chapter Eleven
Tuesday night, as they walked up to the standard-issue four-bedroom Colonial where the meeting was being held, Bree had to take Spence’s hand. Not because of the unevenness of the walkway, but because her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might pass out. She was doing something. She was taking part. She was going to help make things better—for her town, he
r family, her mom.
She was in charge of the story once again.
But as she walked back to his truck at the end of the night, she had to restrain herself from an almost instinctive desire to put as much distance between herself and the others as possible.
She slammed her door, grateful that she had agreed when Spence had offered to drive. As soon as he was in the driver’s seat she let loose.
“What the hell!”
He started the engine and seemed to concentrate on getting them out of the wide-open parking space in front of the house. When he spoke, his words were slow and measured. “I did warn you that things got a little heated sometimes.”
“I guess I assumed they needed to let off steam the first couple of times you got together. Totally understandable. But this?” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to find some warmth. “For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to check some of them for rabies. I mean, foam at the mouth much?”
“Will it help if I tell you that that’s the worst it’s ever been?”
She didn’t even have to think. “No. Because that means their anger is feeding off itself. They’re encouraging each other in their hate instead of finding constructive ways to work it. It’s like, I went in there ready to . . . to . . . to make an agenda. Or prepare talking points for when they go to the town planning board. Maybe make some signs or draw up a petition or . . .” Disbelief rippled through her. “I’ve seen more focused work from the kids in Annie’s day care.”
He chuckled as he turned the corner, but she could tell that his heart wasn’t in it.
“Though maybe it’s better this way,” she went on. “If they’re this worked up over Rob and his plans, they’ll never get themselves organized enough to do anything concrete.”
Spence shot her a sideways glance. “You mean you want him to stay in town now?”
“No! God, no! But I don’t . . .” She shifted to turn as far sideways as her seat belt would allow. “Look. I don’t want him to stick around, and I really don’t want him to set up shop with an organization that would be like a constant mockery of everything he put us through. Even though, for the record, I think it’s a good cause.”
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