by Debbie Mason
He tossed the football in the air and then caught it as he walked across the lawn toward the bridge. His brothers and cousins and their significant others—kids and pets too—were gathered in the wide-open space on the other side of the pond. No windows or guests to take out with an errant football. Watching his cousins and brothers joking around, Connor was tempted to stay for the day. They’d had good times growing up together, and it wasn’t like he had anything waiting for him in Boston.
There was a telling thought. Feeling guilty about it, he tucked the football under his arm and pulled out his phone. Brooklyn picked up on the second ring. Only it wasn’t Brooklyn’s voice on the other end; it was Lyndsey. “You finally managed to pull yourself out of the blonde’s arms, did you?”
He really didn’t want to deal with this now. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but she’s an old friend and she’s going through a difficult time.”
“Thanks to you, so is my old friend. Make this right or else, Gallagher.” Before Brooklyn came on the line, he heard Lyndsey mutter, “I don’t know why you waste your time with this guy. He’s not into you, not like Ben was.”
Lyndsey’s observation brought him up short. Halfway across the bridge, he leaned against the rail, remembering the emotions that had swamped him as he’d stood by Arianna’s hospital bed back in July. How he’d felt watching her today and holding her in his arms. As hard as it was to admit, as much as he didn’t want to, Lyndsey was right. He’d never felt those same pulse-pounding, breath-stealing emotions with Brooklyn. Except up until that night in the hospital, he’d thought his feelings for Brooklyn had been just as deep as they’d been for Arianna.
He looked over to where Logan was laughing with Jenna and his brother Michael stood watching Shay love on his dog, which was the size of a pony. Connor wished his feelings for Brooklyn were as deep and true as he’d once believed. He wanted what his brothers and his cousins had. And Brooklyn had seemed like his chance to have it.
It wasn’t fair to lead her on. Not that he planned to tell her over the phone. There was a part of him that wanted to act like a jerk for the next few weeks so she’d break up with him instead, but he didn’t want to be that guy.
There was a gasp on the other end of the line, and he was afraid he’d said the words out loud until he caught part of a whispered conversation. “I can’t believe you invited Ben for drinks, Tiff. Jeez.” After a ticked-off sigh, Brooklyn said, “Hey, sorry I left you stranded.”
They invited Ben for drinks? Connor opened his mouth to ask but cleared his throat instead. In the end, he wanted Brooklyn to be happy. Not immediately, of course. He did have a healthy ego, after all. But maybe her friends were right and Ben was the better man.
“No. I’m the one who should apologize. I shouldn’t have kept you waiting. But it wasn’t what it looked like, Brooklyn. Arianna’s an old friend. She’s practically family. You met her sister Jenna at brunch.”
“Hang on a sec.”
Connor heard her muffled voice as she spoke to someone, the sound of a chair scraping across a wooden floor, people laughing and talking loudly, and he figured she was stepping outside for some privacy. He took the opportunity to throw the football to one of his cousins, earning a scowl from his brother.
He heard horns honking and then Brooklyn’s voice came back over the line. “I know who she is, Connor. I was at your place the night you came back from the hospital, remember? I’ve never seen you that torn up before.”
“Swear to God, there’s nothing going on between us.”
“Maybe not, but I saw the way you looked at her. You’ve never looked at me that way. Not once. Lyndsey’s right. I wish she wasn’t, but she is.”
“We’re not doing this now, Brooklyn. Not over the phone. Logan’s leaving for DC in a few hours. He can drop me off on his way to the airport. We’ll order in. We’ll talk. Okay?”
“Not tonight. I need a couple days.”
He heard the dejection in her voice and wished he could say Love you, babe, but he couldn’t. He’d never said it before, so it wouldn’t be fair if he said it now. They made a date for early in the week and arranged a time for him to pick up his car.
“You look like you just lost your best friend.”
Connor turned at the sound of Logan’s voice, disconnected the phone, and shoved it in his pocket. “It’s been one of those days,” he admitted.
“You wanna talk about it?” Logan asked, looking toward the parking lot. “Where’s Brooklyn?”
“In Boston, with my car. I’m going to catch a ride in with you.”
“What’s going on? Everything seemed okay with you guys at brunch.”
“It was. Until I ended up on Holly Road at Mrs. Ranger’s place.” He saw his brother Michael glance their way, frown, say something to Shay, and then saunter over. “What’s up?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” Logan said. “Arianna lives on the corner of Holly and Ivy, across from Mrs. Ranger. This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with her, would it?”
“Everything. You know how fond I am of Jenna, Logan, but it’s bad. She should have intervened long before now. Arianna needs her.”
His brother crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. The three of them looked a lot alike. They had dark hair and blue eyes, but whereas Connor and Michael were six two, Logan was closer to six four and more blatantly muscular than they were. And at that moment he was wearing his intimidating Secret Service face. He was an agent with the president’s security detail.
Michael raised his eyebrows at Connor as if to say, You’ve done it now. He kinda already got that from Logan’s expression, but he didn’t care. They hadn’t been there.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Logan said, his voice almost a growl.
“Then I guess I’ll find out.” Connor went to walk past his brother.
Logan’s arm shot out and grabbed his. “You’re not talking to her about this. It’ll just upset her. You know Jenna, Connor. Do you really think she wouldn’t be there for Arianna when she needs her? But you weren’t there when Arianna’s mother and grandmother kicked Jenna out of the hospital room. As bad off as she was, Arianna stood up to her mother. Told her Jenna was her family too, and if she couldn’t deal, to go back to California, and that’s what Beverly did. Helen is tougher and smarter than her daughter. Arianna probably has no idea how often Jenna has stopped by or called only to be turned away. She’s lucky if she’s managed to see Arianna a handful of times.”
“And…?” Connor said, because he could tell his brother was holding something back.
“Jenna says Arianna has given up. She rarely leaves her room. The nerves in her hand are damaged to the point she can’t use it. And if she can’t use her hand—”
“She can’t design wedding dresses, so she has no reason to live,” Connor finished for him.
“Really? I had no idea it was this bad. I doubt anyone in town does,” Michael said.
“It’s worse than even Jenna probably knows,” Connor said, and filled his brothers in on the insurance claim and Helen.
“Okay. I’ll help Jenna deal with the insurance claim. I’m sure Serena will help with it too. It doesn’t sound like she knows how bad things have gotten either,” Logan said.
“All right, you guys handle the insurance, and I’ll talk to Finn about Helen.” Their cousin Finn was a doctor at the family clinic in town. “See what options are available,” Michael said. “And you know Grams. As soon as she finds out Helen and Arianna are in trouble, she and the Widows Club will get involved.”
“Hey, wait a minute. Who put you two in charge? I’ve got this, thanks. I’ll take care of the insurance claim with Jenna and Serena. And I’ll talk to Finn. As far as Grams and the Widows Club, are you out of your mind? Arianna is as proud as her grandmother. She’d rather be out on the street than know people are talking about her.” His brothers shared a glance. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You d
o realize you sound like a man looking out for his woman, don’t you?” Michael said.
“And you do know you sound like you’re eighty and not thirty-six, don’t you?” Connor said to Michael.
“Well, that explains why Brooklyn is in Boston with your car and not you,” Logan said.
Michael frowned. “Wait a sec. Mom was all but planning your wedding at the brunch, and you didn’t look like you were going to lose your ever-loving mind like you usually do when someone starts talking about weddings featuring you in the starring role. What happened between then and now?”
“Arianna,” Logan said, fighting a grin. He patted Connor on the back. “It’s for the best. Brooklyn wasn’t that into you.”
“You can’t be serious. Of course she was into—”
Michael cut off Connor. “I don’t know. She was pretty into him. At least into his fancy wheels, million-dollar condo, and his high-powered job. But once she finds out you’re now an unemployed lawyer who will probably have to get rid of his wheels and condo to make ends meet, she’ll move on to someone else anyway.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but there could be some truth to his brother’s observation. It might be the reason Connor had put off telling Brooklyn about losing his job. One way to find out—he’d come clean before they had their talk. “Just FYI, I won’t have to sell my Porsche or condo. I’m fine financially.” At least for a while.
Chapter Four
Arianna stared at the piles of Tupperware containers and plastic-wrap-covered dishes and platters on the kitchen counters. The cupboards, refrigerator, and freezer were jam-packed, thanks to the man knocking on their front door. She knew it was Connor not only by the confident knock but because he’d called earlier and talked to her grandmother to arrange a time to come over today.
Glamma loved him now that he’d promised to take care of the insurance claim. Arianna didn’t. And if Glamma knew half of what people in town were saying about the two of them, thanks to Connor sharing their private business, she wouldn’t have the warm fuzzies for the man. He certainly wouldn’t be standing on their front porch knocking on the door. He might very well be six feet under.
The knocking continued. A part of her wanted to throw open the door and tell Connor exactly what she thought of him, while the other part of her wanted to crawl back into bed and go to sleep. Except he was so annoyingly persistent he’d probably stand there all night, drawing the attention of their nosy and interfering neighbors. The thought made up her mind. She strode to the front door, slowing as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the entry table.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and she was wearing pajamas. She tilted her head to the side, looking at herself through his eyes. The gray fleece top and bottoms could pass for sweats. Even her hair could pass for workout hair instead of bedhead. She considered slipping on a pair of sneakers to complete the subterfuge but didn’t have the energy to hunt them down.
She walked to the door, taking a moment before opening it. She had to prepare herself before she saw his face. It didn’t seem to matter that she’d spent years nurturing her anger toward him. One full-on, close-up look at his gorgeous face was all it took to turn back time.
As she’d noticed the other day, the years had been kind to him. If possible, he was even more attractive. Time had etched faint lines at the corners of his vibrant blue eyes and bracketed his mouth, adding more character to his too-handsome face. His hair was as thick and as dark as she remembered, only now it was obvious a talented—and no doubt expensive—stylist cut his raven-black locks. Lucky stylist, she thought, remembering how his hair had felt sliding between her fingers and over her body when he…
“Are you insane, you ridiculous woman?” she whispered to her reflection, rolling her eyes when the knocking turned to pounding.
“Arianna, if you don’t open up, I’m calling the police.”
She stormed to the door, fighting to get it open with her left hand. Finally, the knob turned, and she wrenched it open. “Have you not embarrassed us enough? Or is this just some ridiculous ploy by your uncle to get my grandmother out of the race?”
He rubbed his fingers across his mouth. He had beautiful hands, strong, talented fingers and…Wait. Was he holding back a laugh? She curled her good hand into a fist, tempted to punch him. There was nothing remotely funny about the situation. He’d made her and her grandmother the object of everyone’s pity.
“Helen’s dead last, honey. I don’t think she even shows up on my uncle’s radar.”
“Don’t you honey me.” She’d like to tell him not to look at her either, because his eyes were her downfall. They always had been. “And you might want to tell your uncle not to underestimate my grandmother. Polls have been known to be wrong.” She narrowed her eyes at him. He was smiling now, a sexy smile with an annoying display of perfectly white and even teeth. “Why are you smiling at me?”
“Because you’re mad.”
She was afraid she knew what he meant. “Your powers of observation are as sharply honed as ever, I see.”
He laughed. She wasn’t going to ask why. She didn’t have to. She could see something other than just amusement in his eyes. He used to like nothing better than to tease her into a temper. “What do you want, Connor?”
He held her gaze for a moment too long. She must be misreading his intent. He couldn’t possibly be intimating he wanted her, a scarred cripple who had nothing left to offer. He had a girlfriend, a woman of stunning, glossy perfection.
The thought caused an odd mixture of desire, envy, and despair to flare to life inside her. “You might as well come in. You’ve already given the neighbors enough to talk about.”
“What do you mean?” he asked as he closed the door behind him.
“Oh please. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She strode into the kitchen and gestured at the island and counters. “We could feed a small country. The fridge and freezer are full too.”
“I don’t understand,” he said, doing a slow turn, his eyes narrowing on the table before shooting back to her. “Is that—”
“Envelopes of money? Yes. Bills, coins, checks, even some IOUs.” Heat rose to her cheeks, and she turned away. She’d cried in front of him yesterday; she wasn’t about to cry in front of him today. Even if they were angry and embarrassed tears. Even if it meant he might take her in his arms again. It had been so long since she’d been held by a man, especially a man she’d once loved with all her heart and soul.
She’d been such a romantic back then, positive they’d be together forever. Then her life had begun to unravel, and she’d made choices based on emotions and pain that had nothing to do with Connor. She’d regretted the decision to end their relationship almost from the moment she’d made it, but her father’s affair with another woman had cut deep and Arianna couldn’t think straight or see past the pain to know how big a mistake she’d made. And then, just when she’d decided she’d been foolish to allow her father’s betrayal to mess with her head and her relationship with Connor, life had thrown her a curveball. Everything had changed, and her decision and choices were no longer just about her or hers to make.
“It wasn’t me, Arianna,” he said from behind her. She heard him put down the messenger bag he’d been carrying, and then his hands were on her shoulders, drawing her back against his chest. He smelled like fall, fresh air and autumn leaves. He felt solid and strong, and she let herself relax against him in hopes of absorbing some of his confidence and strength. She didn’t know this woman she’d become. She didn’t like her very much.
He wrapped his arms around her chest and dipped his head, his warm breath tickling her ear. “I know you. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
She should move away from him. Show him she wasn’t as weak or as pitiful as he and everyone else seemed to think. But she was weak and pitiful, and he felt like a warm, heavy blanket wrapped around her.
If her body wouldn’t do as it should, she’d
use her mind and mouth to push him away. “I don’t believe you.”
There wasn’t an ounce of the sarcasm she had intended in her voice. He wouldn’t step away to defend himself now, not with her sounding all swoony and breathless. But before she could berate herself, Connor released her, gently turning her to face him. So, it had worked after all. She should be happy, not disappointed at the loss of his comfort and warmth. Or maybe terrified that he was making her feel anything at all. She preferred the numbness, the dark well of nothingness of the past several weeks.
“Arianna, look at me.”
There was something about the tone of his voice, deep and soothing, yet demanding, that reminded her of the one she’d been hearing in her nightmares and dreams ever since leaving the hospital. The voice that had begged her to stay, pleaded with her to fight, and reminded her of those she’d leave behind. “You told me you loved me,” she said without meaning to, though certain now that it had been Connor’s seductive baritone that had crept into her head and heart that night and demanded she live.
He stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. He wore a black leather jacket, jeans, and a blue V-neck sweater that deepened the color of his eyes. Wary eyes that stared back at her. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. I used to tell you I loved you all the time. But that was a long time ago.”
She should let it go, but instead she shook her head. “No. It was mere weeks ago actually. At the hospital. I heard you. You told me you loved me. You told me not to give up.” Anger tinged the edges of her speech.
It was him. Connor was the one who’d dragged her back into the nightmare that was her life. She’d spent hours in the hospital listening to the voices of doctors, nurses, techs, and porters, hours thinking of what she’d say to the man once she found him. And here he stood, right in front of her, and all she could do was stare.