Worth the Trouble (St. James #2)

by Jamie Beck

  “Sis, I’d never let you end up with some guy who doesn’t love you as much as I do, which means he’ll love you enough that this won’t be an issue. Count on that, okay?” Jackson sighed. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could come to me sooner. I’m not sure if I’m angry or impressed that you’ve hidden this so well for so long. But it’s not healthy.”

  “Aren’t secrets the St. James way?” Now she saw another chance to get him to confide in her. “I don’t hear you confessing your sins to me.”

  “You got me there.” He shut down her attempt to unearth the root of his trouble with a sheepish grin. He then glanced at the bottle on the table. “Maybe we both need another drink.”

  “No. Even I know there aren’t any answers at the bottom of that bottle.”

  “Maybe not, but it sure helps pass the time.”

  “Jackson,” she started.

  He glared at her with one brow cocked, so she bit her tongue.

  “Fine, but I can’t sit here and watch you drink that whole bottle, so I’ll get going.” She stood up and whipped her hair behind her shoulder. “Thanks for listening. Please don’t share this with anyone.”

  “Of course not.” He stood and hugged her. “It’s your secret to tell.”

  When Jackson had warned Hank that Cat was no cakewalk, he’d sure as shit been right. Trouble with a capital T.

  Throughout the week following the photo shoot, she’d run hot and cold. One minute she’d hammer him with dozens of questions pertaining to the business, the next she’d surprise him by tossing aside her spreadsheets and whisking him into the shower or guest bedroom. Admittedly, those moments were more than pleasant. Yet all the while, a thick emotional wall remained between them—one he couldn’t bust open.

  Sighing in frustration, Hank shut off his engine. Looking at his home, he prayed his mother would have a peaceful night because he really needed the rest.

  Hank walked through his front door at nine o’clock to find Meg asleep on the sofa with Eddie tucked against her side. Ever since their argument, she’d offered to watch their mom one of the nights when Jenny had class so they didn’t have to pay Helen extra. Looking at his exhausted sister and her son on the sofa filled him with guilt. He’d always been more comfortable doing favors than receiving them.

  He knelt beside the couch. “Shhh. Just me.”

  Despite his attempt to be gentle, Meg woke with a start.

  Hank carefully slid his arms around Eddie and hoisted him against his chest while Meg stretched and became fully alert.

  “Jenny’s not home yet?” Hank swayed side to side with Eddie in his arms.

  “She mentioned something about a study group tonight after class.”

  Hank rested his cheek against Eddie’s head, loving the feel and scent of the sleepy child. “How was Mom?”

  “Nothing different from what you’re used to, but I think we need to have a serious talk about the future.”

  “What about it?”

  Meg glanced at Eddie. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Let’s talk now. He’s dead asleep.” Hank settled himself on the sofa. He brushed his big palm across Eddie’s back as the child snuggled against his chest. “God, I love this little guy. You’re so lucky.”

  “One day you’ll get your chance.”

  “Hopefully.” At the rate Hank was going, it didn’t seem like it would happen anytime soon. “Now, what’s up?”

  Meg combed her fingers through her hair to push it off her face. “I think it’s time to make alternative arrangements for Mom’s care. I know you’re loath to send her elsewhere, but this situation can’t continue. Her faculties have declined sharply, even since the weekend I stayed here when you went to the wedding. This isn’t a safe environment for her anymore, or a healthy one for you and Jenny.”

  “All due respect, Meg, I’ve been dealing with this for a long time. I think I know what I can handle.”

  “It’s past nine. You’ll be keeping this crazy schedule while getting your business off the ground, and you can’t expect Jenny to handle Mom alone. It was hard for me with Eddie here, too, but at least I’m a nurse and used to dealing with sick, elderly people.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “If we all pool our resources, we can afford a nearby facility for Mom and you’d finally have some freedom.”

  “That’s too high of a price, and I’m not only talking about the expense.” When Eddie shifted, Hank stilled for a second, then spoke in hushed tones. “I’m doing okay. Don’t hold my recent outburst against me, or use it to come in here and change everything.”

  “Just because you think you can handle it doesn’t mean it’s what’s best. And, all due respect, I’m a nurse. I think I have a better take on Mom’s condition and needs than you.”

  Pow! She’d pulled the nurse card on him and it stung. Closing his eyes, he inhaled slowly, counting to ten. He didn’t need a nursing degree to tell him how bad the situation had become.

  He knew his Mom rarely recognized him. He knew she was in diapers, couldn’t remember how to shower or dress, and ate things like toothpaste and glue when she found them. He knew it was a pain in the ass to live with baby-safety locks on doors and drawers, to hide sharp objects, to give up a normal social life to babysit his sick mom.

  But what Meg, Jenny, and no one else seemed to get was that Hank couldn’t live with himself if he passed those problems over to strangers. Strangers who wouldn’t genuinely care whether his mom was comfortable or afraid. Strangers she’d never recognize, not even for a millisecond.

  “I won’t put Mom in a home. I can’t do it. I’d never sleep peacefully worrying about how confused and alone she’d be in completely unfamiliar surroundings with unfamiliar faces.”

  “Hank, we’re unfamiliar to her ninety percent of the time.”

  “That still leaves ten percent of the time when she has a flash of recognition. I’ve seen it, Meg. Those few moments now and then bring her a little serenity. And maybe she hasn’t retained every little memory of this house—like cleaning up the glitter after a visit from the tooth fairy, or soup and pizza Friday nights, or Monopoly marathons—but it’s familiar to her. It’s her safe place. I can’t take it away. I won’t. If it’s too hard for you to come here and help, then I won’t complain. But I’m not moving her out of her home.”

  Meg buried her head in her hands. “You make me feel like a bad daughter, and that’s not fair.”

  Hank laid Eddie on the sofa and then hugged Meg. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I’m only telling you what I won’t do, even if I’m a little crazy.”

  Meg eased away. “Do you think any of this is good for Jenny? She worries about messing up, about what she’d do if Mom got hurt on her watch, and she worries about you, too. And more of the burden will fall on her as you become invested in this new business. You’re so busy thinking about how you feel, I doubt you’ve had an honest conversation with Jenny about her concerns. Yes, Mom may struggle with the change at first, but at least she’d be physically safe. Isn’t that most important consideration?”

  Hank’s muscles twisted and tightened in defense from her accusations. He rubbed his hands against his thighs, feeling like a failure despite all he’d sacrificed. Throwing back his shoulders, he turned to Meg.

  “I hear you. I’ll think about it. But as long as I’m able to care for Mom, that’s probably what I’ll choose to do.”

  She threw her hands heavenward. “You’re more stubborn than Dad on his worst day.”

  He grinned at the remark, knowing it wasn’t a compliment. “Maybe.”

  Sighing through a smile, she hugged him. “This conversation isn’t over, but I’ll drop it for now. I’m going home to get some sleep. Good luck.”

  Hank carried Eddie to the car for Meg before going back inside. His phone buzzed in his pocket, so he checked the incoming text.

  Site is live. Check it out then call me ASAP.

  He typed the URL and landed on their webpage. The home
page featured a great shot of his dining table with tabs to other pages that discussed their mission, their background, and the upcoming trade show.

  It looked sophisticated and professional. The portfolio page featured the side table he’d built for Vivi, his coffee table, the sideboard from his dining room, and sketches he’d drawn with several other designs. He liked his new designs, but still wanted to reconsider her plan to create “lines” rather than concentrate on client-commissioned pieces. He just hadn’t found time to really think it through or discuss it with her in his zeal to finish her closets before the trade show. But time was running out. He needed to tell her before they went any further.

  He’d make sure to raise it when he saw her tomorrow.

  Still, seeing his pieces online allowed him to view them objectively. A burst of pride shot through him. Cat may not be giving him everything he wanted from her, but she’d helped change the direction of his life, and he couldn’t deny getting caught up in the thrill.

  Vivi had snapped some photos of him and Cat, one of which Cat put on the site. He stared at it—at her—wishing he could find the key to unlocking the door to her heart.

  It was getting harder to settle for glimpses of her feelings, for the fits and starts of her affection that were always followed with her nearly frantic need to retreat.

  The extent of damage other men, including her own dad, had done to her self-esteem couldn’t be underestimated. But when would she finally see that he was different from them? That the woman he liked best was the one he saw beneath her physical beauty?

  He dialed her. “Looks great, Cat.”

  “Learning WordPress isn’t a major accomplishment, but I think I did a pretty good job, right? And as soon as I posted it on my Facebook and Twitter pages, they blew up. Go search hashtag Mitchell-StJames.”

  Hank took a second to pull up her Twitter page and began browsing the comments. Within a minute, he scowled. “Who the hell is SecretAdmirer and why is he calling you ‘love’?”

  “That’s what you’re focused on? Not the comments about the furniture?”

  “It’s a little disturbing, Cat. Don’t you think?”

  After a brief silence, she replied, “Look, I get a lot of flirtatious love notes from harmless fans. All models do. But I admit, SecretAdmirer makes me a little uncomfortable because the wording is similar to the letters I’ve been receiving this summer.”

  “What letters?” She’d been receiving random love letters?

  “Short notes. They never threaten me or anything, but they’re . . . possessive.” She paused before adding, “I think they may be from Justin.”

  Hearing that man’s name injected liquid heat into Hank’s veins, but he kept his cool. “Why him instead of someone else?”

  “Because he was possessive. And because I don’t know who else would take the time to find me after I went to some trouble to cover my tracks when I bought the condo.”

  Hank cursed, his body temperature soaring even higher at the idea that Justin, or any man, was watching her, stalking her, scaring her. “What do the cops say?”

  “Oh, please. They didn’t even put Justin in jail the first time, and without proof that he sent the letters, they can’t do anything about nonthreatening mail. And there’s no way to get a restraining order against an anonymous author.”

  Dammit, he didn’t like being powerless to help. “At least Justin’s forced to keep his distance.”

  “Not anymore. The restraining order expired today.”

  Both of his hands balled into fists. “I don’t like any of this, not one bit.”

  “Then don’t think about it. Honestly, I’m okay. My building’s very secure, and I’m always aware of my surroundings. No one’s going to catch me off guard.” He heard her sigh. “How about you focus on all the compliments about your work. And by the way, you don’t see me getting worked up by all the women making sexual overtures to you. It’s mostly playful chatter.”

  Hank scanned more tweets and felt flush with embarrassment. “I don’t like being part of this virtual world.”

  Once again Cat fell silent for a few seconds. “Unfortunately, it’s part of my life. If you want a personal relationship with me, you’re going to have to get comfortable with it. Can you do that?”

  Hank had never once stopped to consider how his life might be invaded by her relative fame. How had he been so naïve? And could he ever be comfortable with random men constantly hitting on her, whether online, in public, or apparently by sending private love notes?

  “Guess I’m gonna have to adjust.” Overwhelmed by exhaustion and a fair amount of distress, he yawned. “Listen, I need to catch some z’s. I’m planning on finishing up at your place in the morning.”

  “My publicist helped me get an interview with someone from Town & Country magazine tomorrow at eight, so I won’t be here when you arrive. If we can get in front of its audience, we’ll reach over half a million wealthy, middle-aged home owners. Just the type who can afford handcrafted furniture.”

  “That’s great, Cat. But I guess I might miss you altogether then, because once I hang the doors and add the hardware, I’ll be coming back to Connecticut to work with Jackson’s new hire.” Hank refrained from mentioning his lingering regret about how they’d handled things with Jackson, or his concerns about whether or not Jackson’s present emotional state would cause problems with his new crew.

  “Training your replacement must be weird. Is Jackson treating you okay?”

  “Pretty much. Our friendship will survive my leaving. At least, I hope so. Right now he’s focused on making sure he and I get the new guy up to speed. He makes wisecracks about my new job, but it’s mostly good-natured.”

  “Don’t let him make you feel bad about leaving, Hank. It’s business, not personal.”

  “I don’t know that he can separate the two like you can.” Shit, did he say that out loud?

  A beat of hesitation passed before Cat spoke, her voice subdued. “I warned you that I’m not good at relationships. If you’re not happy, then you should move on. But you did promise we could take it slow, and that we’d concentrate on the company in the short term.”

  “You’re right.” He was about to reassure her that he didn’t want to move on, but he heard a noise coming from his mother’s room. “Hey, my mom’s stirring. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  He jogged to his mother’s room and found her on her knees reaching under the nightstand for her sippy cup.

  “I got it, Mom.”

  He settled her back in bed before refilling the cup with fresh water. “Here you go. What else do you need?”

  Out of nowhere, she touched his face, eyes alert. “Good boy.” For a millisecond, she appeared to recognize him.

  “Right here, Mom,” he answered, with tears in his eyes. He felt foolish crying in a dark room, but the rare moment of recall overwhelmed him.

  Then, like fog in sunlight, the moment vanished and a glaze engulfed her eyes. He tucked her under the covers and closed the door behind him when he left.

  The once-in-a-blue-moon memory made it impossible to seriously consider Meg’s warnings or Jenny’s concerns. For more than a dozen years, he’d taken care of his work and his family. There’d be some readjustment thanks to his new schedule, but he’d handle it without dropping any balls.

  Mom,

  I’ve been thinking about my discussion with Jackson and the way Hank adores his nephew. Hank promised I could tell my secrets only when I was ready. But will I ever be ready for him to look at me as anything less than a whole woman? Maybe that sounds silly, but that’s how I feel. Did you feel that way, too?

  Should I tell him everything and see what happens?

  Please send me a sign. I want to believe he could accept me—the real, unvarnished me.

  But I don’t want his pity.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Cat turned the corner and continued walking toward her building, frowning. The woman who interviewed her must’ve
seen Hank’s photo on their website, because she’d asked a lot of questions about Hank’s personal life that seemed wholly unrelated to the business or the furniture. Cat replayed the interview in her head as she strode up the block, thinking about what she could or should have said.

  “Catalina.”

  That stringent voice had haunted her nightmares since last fall. She froze, eyes glued to the pavement, mind blank. Chills rushed through her limbs, tightening her muscles.

  “These are for you.” Justin thrust a bouquet of flowers under her nose.

  Her peripheral vision blurred; passing cars drove by in slow motion. Her arms stiffened at her sides, unmoving, as if caught in a hunter’s gun sight.

  “Catalina, take the flowers.” He wiggled them again.

  “Justin.” She briefly closed her eyes before raising her gaze to meet his. “What are you doing here?”

  “The restraining order terminated yesterday. I’ve paid for my mistake, learned from it. Now I want a second chance. You know I never meant to hurt you or Vivi.” He reached for her hand to force them around the flowers, but she withdrew. “Come on, Cat. Please take the flowers.”

  Cat straightened her shoulders and cast a furtive glance toward her building. The thirty yards between her and the front door may as well have been a mile. Alone with Justin—the very last place she wanted to be. The memory of Vivi lying in a pool of her own blood flashed through Cat’s mind.

  Stay calm. Be smart. You’re safe in public, but you are in public! Don’t draw unwanted attention.

  “Thank you, Justin.” She offered a weak smile. “Unfortunately, I’m not interested in a reunion. I’m sorry.”

  He blocked her when she tried stepping to his left, then he grasped her arm.

  “Why not?” His grip tightened in concert with the muscles in his jaw. “You and I have something special.”

  “Whatever we shared is in the past, Justin.” Fighting only makes him worse. “Please let me go.”

  “How can I when I’m always thinking of you?” A flicker of agony dimmed his eyes. “You were the best thing in my life. Please, Cat. Give me another chance. I love you. I swear I’ll never hurt you. Come on, you know I’m the only one for you.”