Bullshit.
“They are headed to Atlanta to see Chelsea’s family.”
“I mean-”
“-You do know that I work with these guys, right?” he asked, watching her frustration build. It was fun watching her try and get out of his offer, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. “Every single day.”
Her mouth resting against Quinn’s black hair, she fidgeted. “We have a very busy weekend planned,” she announced as if that changed anything.
It didn’t, but it should mean something to him. To leave it alone and let her be. But he wasn’t letting this go.
“We’re going to pull out the Christmas decorations and decorate the tree.” She looked down at Quinn. “And go to the holiday Regatta.”
As exciting as trimming a tree and watching decorated boats pass by at a snail’s pace on the inlet sounded, he doubted she would be satisfied with that. Plus, Quinn deserved a real Thanksgiving. One with family, food, and comfort.
“And Quinn only takes a bottle, so I’ll just grab a turkey heat up meal and some pie,” she shrugged, her southern drawl picking up a notch.
Rolling his eyes, he knew she was going to give him a hard time. And maybe he should let her? What was it to him if she stayed behind and had a frozen dinner and decorated her tree?
“Alright,” he nodded, moving across the kitchen into the living room. He felt too big inside this place. Maybe he was just used to his house, but everything about this place seemed small and crammed and for a reason he couldn’t understand he didn’t like Quinn living in such a small space. “If you’re going to be difficult, then we’ll let the kid decide.”
Whitney’s eyes went round, pulling Quinn tighter into her side. Leaning down at eye level with the little monster whose dinner was still drying against his skin, he rested his hands on his knees. “Chipmunk, do you want to stay here and decorate some boring ass tree-”
“-Hey!” Whitney stood up straighter. “Language.”
Staring back at him, Quinn chewed on her little fist, her brown eyes blinking back at him. “And go to the Regatta,” he mocked, making a face. “Or do you want to spend Thanksgiving in the mountains with a shit ton of food-”
“-Language,” Whitney groaned.
“And a lot of kids and toys and family?” he asked animatedly. It was a crazy family, but she didn’t need to know that. Her eyes opening wider, he knew he had every pound of her on board. Shooting her fist out of her mouth, Quinn squealed another toothless smile lighting up her face, an uncanny resemblance to Whitney.
“Boom,” he grinned standing up. “There you go.”
“Okay, you can’t ask a twelve-week old how she wants to spend her holiday.”
“Why not?” he shrugged grabbing his shirt off the counter.
“Because.”
Chuckling, he grabbed his keys out of his pocket, not waiting for her to struggle for an excuse. “And you can’t tell me that you’re okay with staying here alone all weekend watching tacky decorated boats.”
“You really have something against those boats, don’t you?”
Smirking, he rubbed Quinn’s head quickly. “Than do it for her.”
And there it was.
He had her.
Her eyes full of guilt, she looked away. That was a low blow. He knew it was, but he wasn’t leaving without her agreeing. Again, he wasn’t sure why it mattered, but it did. Pity maybe, or perhaps sympathy, but he headed for the door pausing to look back at her. Those damn eyes already a million miles away.
“Plus, I can promise you that my mother is a better cook than Marie Calendar.”
Ready to plead temporary insanity, Whitney glanced back at Quinn’s car seat nestled inside the backseat, her diaper bag swaying gently beside her. It had taken her all of three minutes to fall asleep in the backseat of Shay’s mountain terrain truck coasting down the highway. It wasn’t brand new and shiny like she would have expected, but an older truck, more weathered, which surprised her. Turning forward she glanced out of the corner of her eye at Shay relaxing into the driver’s seat, one hand over the steering wheel. After insisting one last time that there was no way she was going to West Virginia to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family, he had given her that gosh darn grin and told her to be ready to go by seven a.m. Without another word he had left. Spending the better part of the last two days debating whether or not to take him seriously, she had convinced herself to pack a few necessities for both her and Quinn just in case; which had quickly turned into her packing enough bottles, diapers and wipes for Quinn to last her through a backpacking trip to Europe. By the time her own bags had been packed, she knew she had lost it.
Waking up at five-thirty in the morning hadn’t had her feeling any less silly either. There was no way Shay had actually been serious. Why in the world he would even offer spending the holiday with him was mindboggling and the fact that her bags were packed and sitting outside her bedroom door waiting to go, made her feel even more desperate. People made promises, sure. Even Adam had promised to love her forever, but it hadn’t happened. And she needed to be smarter. For Quinn. She couldn’t and wouldn’t let any man break her baby girl’s heart. Or her own. Not that she was in danger of that happening. No, she had more pressing things to worry about like finding her and Quinn a place to live and get financially secure again. To get back on her feet. She needed to make sure that the people in Quinn’s life were people that she could depend on. Not ones that made empty promises because they looked at them as a charity case. After convincing herself that he indeed, had just been trying to be nice, she rolled back over falling back to sleep. The banging on the front door had woken her up again shortly after. Answering the door rocking her vintage Edward Cullen t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks to boot, Shay stood on her welcome mat.
But now, glancing across the truck cabin, she had momentary thoughts of fleeing. She had no idea what to make of this. Was he just being nice? Did he really want her coming home with him? And why? Did he just feel sorry for her? Gosh, she hated thinking that. Looking out the window, her hair blew around her passing another interstate sign for Statesville. Last she knew they were somewhere in North Carolina, but she had no idea where they were now. Driving out into the middle of God’s country with her infant daughter and a man she hardly knew, she would need to chalk this one up as another impulsive decision. Although, Shay didn’t figure her for the murderous type. Too pretty. Too talented. And he definitely had enough money to hire somebody to do it for him.
“Are you hungry?”
Collecting her hair out of her face at the rush of wind blowing through the cabin, she nodded. “Sure.”
She knew Quinn would need to eat something soon and heaven forbid if her girl missed a meal. Shay’s family would hear them coming from miles away.
“There’s a rest stop with decent food as soon as we enter Virginia,” he yelled over the wind. With his aviators resting above his stubble of hair dusting his jaw and the sun shining through the window, he looked like a model. Or a cowboy. Or a sexy cowboy model.
“I’m sorry Sunshine, but I can’t take any more of this crap,” he complained, switching the radio as she forced herself to concentrate on something else other than how good he looked. Something like the radio dial.
“Hey, that’s not junk.”
His eyebrows lifting behind his shades, the sides of his mouth turned up. “I didn’t say it was junk. I said it was crap and I can’t take any more Reba. Or Garth.”
Pushing a preset button, rap music filled the truck. Cringing she shook her head, switching the music back. “Absolutely not.”
Alternating his eyes back and forth between her and the road, his mouth dropped a fraction. “Did you just touch my radio?”
“I will not listen to that and neither will my daughter,” she said, crossing her arms. Bold maybe, but it went against her foul language rule.
“But it’s okay for her to listen to old songs about drinking beer and a dude’s odd obsessi
on with his dog?” he asked, settling back into his seat.
“Garth Brooks is a musical icon.”
“He’s boring,” he accused.
They were quiet a minute and she could hear him getting restless.
“We’ll compromise here, Sunshine,” he finally said, pushing another button as Dave Matthews filled the truck. “Good enough for you miss goody two shoes?” he mocked, taking a swig of his water.
“For now,” she looked over at him. “And I’m not a miss goody two shoes.”
Snickering, he plopped the bottle back in the cup holder looking slightly amused. “Yes,” he said quickly, reaching for the volume knob, turning up the next song fighting against the wind.
“Are you serious?” she grinned, watching his head bob.
“What?”
“I never figured you for a nineties boy band fan,” she giggled.
“Hey, those dudes were ahead of their time and had women throwing themselves at them,” he informed, thumbing his fingers to the beat of The Backstreet Boys. “I was a fan,” he shrugged, flipping down the visor against the blinding sun. “Of course if you tell anybody that, I’ll come after you. I have a reputation to protect, you know.”
“Mmm hmm,” she chuckled, looking out the window again. Resting her arm outside the window against the air, she closed her eyes swallowing back visions of him doing just that. Visions of him coming after her.
Three hours and a detour to Waffle House where Shay proceeded to devour two large waffles, two sides of bacon, toast and a large chocolate milk like a man eating his last meal, Whitney sat on a bench outside a rest stop, the air noticeably cooler with every mile they inched towards West Virginia. With every interstate line they crossed, she was becoming more and more anxious. What in the world was she supposed to say to Shay’s family? More importantly, how was she going to spend an entire weekend with a man she barely knew and one whom provoked too many inappropriate thoughts? Why was she even here? Groaning to herself, she looked down at Quinn, her eyes bright and well rested.
For her.
Quinn deserved an enjoyable, humble holiday and she couldn’t give that to her. Not this year. Which is why she supposed she hadn’t fought Shay the moment she had opened the door this morning. He hadn’t said a word as he took their bags, throwing them into the back of the truck bed and waiting for her to get dressed. Watching him walk out of the restroom now, taking long strides towards her, he looked a bit out of place in the humbly muted country setting. Too gorgeous and big and luminary.
“We got about another hour before we hit town and then another twenty minutes to get onto my parents’ property from there,” he said, grabbing the diaper bag. Ruffling Quinn’s hair gently, he walked to the truck and she quickly gathered her purse and the empty bottle. She wondered what he got out of all of this as she slipped Quinn into her car seat while he held the door open for her. Knowing full well that she was about to find out a lot sooner than she hoped. An hour and twenty minutes to be exact.
Pushing the gas past the city line, Shay rested back into his seat. He was anxious to get to his parents’ house. Or maybe just anxious about what was going to happen once he got to his parents’ house. Either way, he wanted to get the hell out of the car and grab a cold beer. Checking his watch, he knew unwinding and catching up with his pops wasn’t going to happen if his entire family had already beat them there. They were a rowdy crowd, strung together by competition, yelling over one another and his ma shoveling food down everyone’s throats. It was alright though, he loved them and it had been a real long time since he’d been home.
Too long.
“If you need to grab anything in town this weekend,” he said, pointing to the small brown pharmacy on the corner of the street before banging a right, “that’s where you can go.”
His truck tires rolling over the feeble old bridge that him and his brothers had spent most of their childhood summers jumping off of into the lake below, he snickered. Almost every single one of those times they had ran off with half their clothes and only one shoe before they got caught by the cops.
He missed the jerks.
He was also concerned about Whitney being thrown into the middle of all the insanity. He still wasn’t sure if this was the best idea he had ever had, but he felt bad for her. And he wanted to enjoy his holiday. Not have half a mind picturing her and Quinn home alone. Not able to enjoy his ma’s turkey knowing that Whitney was eating a frozen dinner. He had no idea why any of that was his concern, but maybe with these next few days he would finally be able to brush off whatever it was that had him caring so damn much. And also brush off how good her ass looked every time she nearly crawled into the backseat to check on Quinn.
“This is amazin’,” Whitney whispered looking on the other side of the road. The sun was setting in the west, highlighting the tall trees painted in oranges and yellows.
Heaven on earth.
He almost forgot how crazy awesome it was here. Especially in the fall. Hanging left on the gravel road, he almost instinctively went right, where his childhood home still persisted. The tiny, aluminum siding house with his favorite metal chain fence that he had done flips off of every single day. The giant side yard where he had learned to catch a football. It had been a tight squeeze, him and his three brothers all sharing a room. His parents were Irish immigrants and hadn’t had a lot. Every penny they banked had been a penny they had earned. By the time his parents had finally gotten their footing, his brother Cian had been ready for college. The first thing he had done with his signing bonus, was find the best piece of land in town and built them their dream home. He hadn’t even secured a place to live back in Charleston, residing his first few months in an extended stay hotel. But he had made sure that the six bedroom, eight and a half bath, seven thousand square foot home was paid off and ready as soon as possible. It was too big for just his parents, he knew that, but he wanted them to have room to host family and enjoy life. God knew they had sacrificed enough. Rolling up the stone path off the side road, he gave the truck some gas getting up the sudden hill. Quinn was getting restless and he wanted to get out of the car already. His parents’ house inching into view, he looked out of the corner of his eye seeing Whitney’s eyes widen a bit. It was impressive. The architect had done a great job and he was happy that he had been able to do it for his parents. For his family.
“Small really isn’t in your vocabulary is it?” Her eyebrows rose looking between him and the house.
“Sunshine,” he smirked, shifting the gear and pushing down the brake. “I can assure you that the word small is not an adjective used to describe any part of me.”
Her face turning pink, she looked away quickly. He loved getting to her. It was too easy. And he enjoyed it. Maybe a little too much. Pulling down the tailgate he grabbed his duffel before reaching for Whitney’s suitcase, the bag almost taking his arm off. “What the fuck did you pack in here, woman?”
Straightening from the side of the truck with Quinn in her arms, the tiny girl stretched out her legs before shoving her fist inside her mouth. “Alright, listen here.” Whitney pulled her hair off her face with her free hand, not at all looking like a woman who had just endured an eight-hour car ride with a baby. “I have a no cussin’ rule and if we’re going to be spending the weekend together, I need that mouth to stop shooting off obscenities.”
“Excuse me?”
Yeah, he really needed that cold beer.
“Sunshine,” he blew out between his teeth grabbing Quinn’s diaper bag, another woman who had over packed, he shook his head. “If obscenities, is what you’re concerned about, than you’re spending this holiday with the wrong family.”
Cursing was a time-honored, deep seeded method of communication and self-expression in his family. And little Miss Sunshine would just have to get over herself.
And her rules.
“I’m serious, Shay,” she said, her accent hitching and for a moment he considered minding his fucks and shits. Walking p
ast her towards the large porch, he grinded through his teeth picking up her suitcase again.
“So am I, baby doll.”
Shooting him a look she grabbed her sweater. He could feel the chill starting up his arms, the West Virginia nightfall a severe difference from Charleston. Taking the five steps up the substantial porch, he dropped their bags. He’d get them later. The wind was fierce tonight and he didn’t want Quinn getting sick.
What the hell?
Didn’t want Quinn getting sick? What the hell was happening to him?
Standing at the top of the steps, he waited for her. She was as slow and steady as they came. Meticulous and never rushed, delicate and thorough. He was learning that about her. He was learning a lot about her. Like her awful taste in music and the way her small sighs hit places they shouldn’t.
Finally meeting him on the porch, she looked up at him, Quinn grabbing for the ends of her hair. “What did your parents say when you told them Quinn and I would be joining y’all?”
Opening the door, a pandemonium of screaming, yelling and laughter roared before them. Yep, he was home. His jaw tightening, he looked down at her. “I didn’t tell them.”
Hearing her heart thump inside her ears, Whitney clenched Quinn closer into her hip. Wrapping her fingers around Quinn’s small, chunky leg, she wasn’t confident in her ability to move her feet. Charming Irish inspired Christmas decorations adorned the foyer, the smell of fresh bread and a tart resemblance to beer stirred around as squeals of children bounced off the large ceilings, an array of booming voices darting from all angles of the house. He hadn’t told his family that she was coming? What in the world was wrong with him?
She reckoned a lot.
A lot was wrong with him.
“Uncle Shayyyyyyy.”
Watching a thin, blonde-haired little boy slide down the staircase railing, he jumped off the edge before plowing towards them with a toy sword. Picking him up in one swift movement, before he knocked them all off their feet, Shay smiled as the boy hugged his chest. The resemblance between the two of them was striking. They both shared the same sandy blonde hair, the young boy’s a bit lighter, the same profound blue eyes and that grin.
Hail Mary (The Mavericks Series) Page 7