by Bria Quinlan
“Cutting through?” he asked, giving my hand—which he’d held the entire time and was the nicest thing ever—a squeeze. “To where?”
“Your mom’s?”
Tim laughed, as if this were funny. “No. We’re almost there.”
I tried not to panic, but this was a totally different kind of wealth than I was used to. And, I was feeling a little blindsided. Tim had never mentioned he came from money. Obscene amounts of money.
“Am I dressed all right?” I asked, suddenly more nervous than I could have expected.
“Yes. You look great.” He turned to give me a smile as he slowed to pull into a drive, passing through a huge gate.
Maybe she’d rented the place for her event. That made sense. But, still.
“I mean, I look appropriate. Like, red satin? No one is going to wonder if you bought me or something.”
Tim all but drove off the gravel drive when he did a double take at me.
“Minx, you are a beautiful, classy woman,” he said, giving my hand a little squeeze. “No one would think I could afford you.”
“Tim!” I’d been almost relaxed at the first part, but now I was just not feeling it. “Oh my gosh. You need to let me out. Let me out right here.”
“In the driveway, halfway to the house?” He sounded incredulous.
“Yes. I’ll…I’ll wait for you here.”
“Minx, what has gotten into you?”
“I can’t go in there looking like a high-end call girl.” I thought about just jumping out of the car. How hard could a tuck and roll really be? Angelina Jolie did one in that Mr. and Mrs. movie in a dress, right?
“Hey.” Tim pulled the car to the side of the drive and put it in park. With smooth movements, he took my hand so I came around to face him. “Hey, I was kidding. You said call girl, and I thought we were joking. You look gorgeous. Every guy there is going to be completely stunned that you’re with me—not to mention jealous.”
“You’re just saying that so I don’t sit out here with the ducks.”
“Mother doesn’t have ducks. Too low class. Swans.”
“Are you serious?” The panic was rising again. “I’m a duck. I’m just a duck!”
“Minx, you’re the most swannish swan out there.” He took my other hand in his and rubbed his thumb over the back, calming me down. “You’re beautiful and smart and funny, and you have the best heart of anyone I’ve met. You come from fame and wealth, but you’re solid and true to yourself. You don’t need any of the things so many other people chase after. You understand contentment and joy. That is what a swan is. All those things. All those things are you.”
Before I could even recover from those words—those beautiful, wonderful words—he eased forward, his lips brushing mine gently, softly. I leaned in, needing to feel him, to drown in his kisses. The rest of it didn’t matter. Just Tim.
Before I knew it, it was over. He was pulling away and setting me apart.
“So.” He cleared his throat, and I couldn’t help but smile at his tell. “No more of this. My family has money. Apparently, a lot of it. But, I’ve made my own way working. We’re not so different in that way, are we?”
“No,” I said, falling a little more in love with him right then. That he could look at me and think we were alike—him with his classy, Southern upbringing on a freaking plantation, and me in the back of a tour bus with who knows what going on—then, no, we weren’t that different.
He had, after all, followed his math nerd passion out into the world to do his money guy thing.
I leaned over, sweeping a kiss across his lips, trying to keep it light enough that he couldn’t read into it how hard and fast I’d fallen for him.
“Okay, then.” He gave a decisive nod—no throat clearing now.
I grinned. We could do this. We could be an us. So what that I was about to meet his family and see the life he was from? So what if there would be “dating the help” comments? So what that he came from money since he didn’t live in it?
We just had to make it through tonight and we could go back to being just us—and Gus—when we got home.
I tried to brush away the idea that Gus and Nocturne Falls didn’t belong to us, to either of us. But it sat there in the back of my head. I knew Gus needed his mommy, but I needed Willow to give us a little more time, even as I doubted her more as each day went by.
But, I knew I wasn’t just falling in love with Tim. I was falling for Gus also, and no matter what happened, I saw heartbreak in my future.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MINX
The average girl…has never been to a ball at a plantation.
We pulled up to the house and—yes, it was a plantation mansion. The columns alone were awe-inspiring.
“Don’t look at the house like that,” Tim whispered, before getting out and coming around to open my door, handing his keys to the valet on the way. “It’s just a house. It might even be smaller than that thing we’re staying in in Nocturne Falls.”
I glanced around. Just a house. I’d been in larger, maybe even nicer. My mother’s friends were women who loved to show off their money and taste. So, old money versus new money—it was all just rich people showing other rich people that they were rich.
I took the hand Tim offered and slid out of the car, straightening my wrap as I did. I let myself, just for a moment, lean into him and feel his strength and heat and presence.
We climbed the low-riding marble stairs to a grand, double-door entrance that was held open by two footmen…um, guys.
We stepped into a foyer with a grand staircase climbing up the middle and splitting each direction at the first landing. Very Gone with the Wind. I was questioning satin for hoopskirts.
Tim led me toward what appeared to be the main room, keeping a low profile to dodge behind what was an honest to goodness receiving line.
We’d almost made it by…almost.
“Timothy.” The voice came from just inside the entryway where a beautifully distinguished woman held court.
Tim leaned down and whispered, “Ready?” and I realized that we weren’t even going to get inside before I had to face the band.
“Mother.” Tim didn’t let go of my hand as he leaned down to kiss her powdered cheek. “You’re looking as lovely as ever this evening. And you obviously outdid yourself.”
“Thank you. I see you didn’t bother to cut your hair.”
“No, I didn’t.” Tim gave her such a cheeky grin that I had to stifle a giggle.
“Well.” She sniffed a bit as he grinned down at her. “At least you’re here. And not late. It was nice of you to come all the way down. I know you’ve taken on responsibilities that aren’t yours.”
“I’m enjoying getting to spend time with Gus,” he responded in a way that made it clear to anyone with a bit of self-preservation that the discussion of Gus was off the table.
“I suppose you would. You have much too soft a spot for that woman.” She raised her head a notch, obviously meaning the statement as a challenge.
“That woman is my sister, so it’s completely normal for me to have a soft spot for her. Just like the one I have for you.” There was nothing soft about the way he said it. This was obviously a different Tim than I was used to. He was drawing a line in the sand and making it clear that her behavior was beyond the mark and that only his soft spot was allowing her to continue on. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll allow you to get back to greeting your guests.”
“You haven’t introduced me to your friend.” I felt the cold seep into my bones as her gaze swung my way. “Aren’t you darling?”
“Mother, this is Minx.”
I was eternally glad he didn’t mention I was the nanny. I could just see what dating the help would get him—and me.
“Minx. What a unique name.” She gave me such a cold smile, I wished I’d had that sweater after all.
“Mother—” Tim chided as I spoke over him.
“Thank you.” I smiled bac
k. This was something I knew. I’d watched this game played far too many times between my mother and her model and actress friends. “My mother is a very unique woman.”
Because, I didn’t name myself. No use blaming the kid for the stupid name.
“She must be. Trust me, this family is familiar with hippies.” This was obviously another dig at Willow and her mother. Tim’s line could only be so thick when it came to dealing with his mother in public.
I suppose I wouldn’t really love the woman who had been my husband’s lover just as I was marrying him, either. But, displaced anger, anyone?
I gave Tim’s hand a squeeze. If I couldn’t handle his mother, there would be bigger problems in my future. But, knowing that he would handle her for me was an eye-opening relief.
“Oh, I don’t think anyone would mistake her for a hippy. Actually, it’s rumored that Herb said she was the most exquisite example of classic beauty of her generation.” I gave my sweetest smile. “Obviously, I got my looks from my father. Unfortunately, I didn’t get his talent.”
It was apparent that Mrs. Johnson was realizing that her son had brought someone as his date, she just couldn’t figure out who.
And since I was only the daughter of someones, I never really considered it myself. But, arsenal? Yes, please.
“Well.” Mrs. Johnson cleared her throat, proving where Tim got his tell. “I guess when you grow up in that atmosphere, you do name your children a little differently.”
“You named me Ashley,” Tim spoke up beside me.
I turned, looking up at him with such a smile that he paused when he looked down at me. I was about to say I wasn’t laughing at him, but he knew—he just knew. Because we were, whether his mother liked it or not, becoming an us.
“And you left my hair long. It was horrible.”
“It’s a family name.” His mother sniffed and took a sip of her champagne. “You should be proud of your heritage.”
I could tell this was a lifelong argument. And, as someone who grew up in the most liberal of houses, I could see where the issues might be. Especially knowing how much Tim loved his free-spirited sister and her son.
“Yeah, not wanting to be mistaken at ten for a girl or a civil war general, I’m more than happy going by my middle name. Which,” he gave his mother a smile that was obviously meant to placate her, “was very kind of you to name me after your grandfather.”
Both Johnsons had stiffened, facing down one another with those polite Southern smiles glued to their faces.
“Tim, you had asked me if I wanted to dance,” I said, trying to break the standoff.
“He did?” his mother asked, incredulous.
Oops. I’d obviously misstepped with that escape plan.
“I did.” Tim wrapped his hand around my waist. “So, if you’ll excuse us.”
Without further excuses, Tim turned me and headed toward the ballroom—they had a ballroom in their house—where a string quartet played.
“I hope you have closed-toe shoes on.” He laughed as he swung me into the waltz they were playing. “I’m a horrible dancer. Mother actual gave up on my learning and just shifted to fencing.”
“Oh my gosh.” I laughed up at him, so happy to be in his arms that he could squash my toes all he wanted. “Fencing? Seriously?”
This family became more and more a walking cliché of Southern old money everywhere I looked.
“Yup. I loved the idea since I was a King Arthur freak. I was convinced I was going to grow up to be the archeologist who found Camelot.”
“What happened?” I tried to hide my wince as Tim caught the edge of my toe on that last turn.
“Giving sharp, pointy objects to klutzy young men—not the best plan.” He grinned as I laughed, obviously what he was hoping for. “The coach suggested I might like running.”
“And?” I asked, wanting to know everything about him, and know it now.
“I loved it. It was everything I’d been wanting in a sport.” He shrugged when I laughed. “No one was trying to kill me. I didn’t have to throw or catch anything. And, it was quiet. So quiet. Just me and the road or the trail. Time to think.”
The waltz changed to something else, and Tim spun me to the edge—clipping my toe again—and stepped us off the floor.
“Was the damage worth the escape?” he asked as he led me back to the main room.
“It was wonderful.” I smiled up at him, letting him see the truth of it. It had been wonderful, no matter how well we did, because it was with him. Just being with him was all I needed.
We stood there, as out of the way as we could get, just smiling at one another.
“I told you you look beautiful, right?”
“Yes.”
“And, that I think you’re just as lovely in your little skirts and T-shirts?”
“You didn’t exactly say that.”
“Oh, how remiss of me.” He grinned and swept a kiss over my temple as he pulled me a bit closer. “And that I’m never as happy as when it’s just you and me—and Gus?”
“No, I don’t believe you mentioned that.”
“And that I just want to leave here and convince you to do wicked, wicked things with me on our free night with a babysitter?”
“I’m fairly sure I would have remembered you mentioning that.”
“And that I’m fa—”
“Timothy!” A heavy hand came down on Tim’s shoulder, making me want to scream Noooooooooo!
It was easy to see that Tim obviously felt the same way as he closed his eyes, giving my waist his hand was wrapped around a quick squeeze, before turning a bit to greet the older gentleman who had intruded on our very private moment.
“Senator, how are you?” he asked, obviously annoyed.
“Fine, son, fine. You’re looking well.” His gaze slid toward me in that way that every woman knows—just polite enough to not call out. “And what’s your lovely friend’s name?”
Tim, bless him, wasn’t the oblivious man you feared to have by your side when an icky old guy made subtle moves.
“This is Minx.” No introduction, no setup. Just my name.
For a moment, I was offended by it, but then I realized that, no. Tim was being protective. Not giving the man an opening or ammunition. It was odd watching him run interference with these crazy people all night.
I was used to crazy, but not this type. It was like everyone had an agenda and you couldn’t guess what it was.
In my world, you always knew what it was. There were only three options—fame, money, and sex—and honestly, I’d learned that the sex was typically just a brush with fame, so maybe there were just two.
“Minx, charmed.” He held out his hand, leaving me no option but to shake it. “I’m Maxwell.”
He said this as if I should know who he was, but I couldn’t think of a senator who was named Maxwell. Of course, I’d been out of communication at my last job—and out of the country for most of my youth, so…
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“Sir?” He laughed a deep, uncomfortable sound that felt more like a prop than an emotion. “Now, doesn’t that make me sound old?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to this, especially since he was still clutching my hand.
Tim fixed this by reaching out his own hand, since the senator guy hadn’t shaken it yet. “It’s good to see you. Is Mariam here with you?”
“Oh, the old bag? She’s in with The Ladies figuring out which one of the spring chicks they’ll invite to join the charity circle this year.” He winked at me like this was a special inside joke between us. “Too much charity circling out there. But, gotta keep the women busy, don’t we now, Timothy.”
“Sure. Busy hands, etc., etc.” How the man did not hear Tim’s sarcasm was beyond me.
“Speaking of, when are you going to give up that hobby company and run for governor?” he asked. “We need more people like you in politics. I’m more than glad to donate to the cause. I was talking to your mo
ther about it just the other day at the club. She was saying how you were definitely considering the opportunities for office. It’s what your father wanted.”
Beside me, Tim stiffened.
I tried not to react, but this was definitely getting out of hand. The money and the plantation were enough, but now this? People were pushing him to run for governor? How in the world did I not know this? How had he said we were the same? No one would want me anywhere near politics.
And, what was he talking about with the company?
“Tim, what exactly do you do?” I asked.
He turned, sensing that something had just gone horribly wrong besides having to put up with the creepy older guy.
“I’m the numbers guy at my company,” he said, as if this was a discussion we’d already had.
“Ha!” The senator guy, not realizing he was unwanted and unwelcomed, slapped Tim on the back again. “Timothy here’s being modest. Always has been. His company is a multi-million dollar startup. He does the numbers, alrighty.”
“Wait,” I said, waving a hand at Senator-whatever without looking away from Tim. “You own the company?”
“Well, yes. I started it after college, and it just kind of became a thing.” He studied me as if he wasn’t sure why being a successful entrepreneur was a bad thing.
“What company?”
“My company.”
“And the name of that company would be?” I asked, fearing that it was something like, say, Google.
“EverApp.” He said this in such an offhanded manner that I thought for a moment he was kidding.
“EverApp?” I glanced up at him, trying desperately to not angry sweat through my dress. Sweat stains on satin were unhidable.
“Um, yes?” He glanced over to the guy who either was or was not a senator. But was getting no help there as the man slowly backed away. “I’m not sure why you’re looking at me like that.”
“Really?” I asked, not sure if I was sure he was not sure.
“No. I’m not. I’ve been confused for the last two hours.” He went to run his hand through his hair and must have remembered the gel, because he dropped it to his side, fisting it there.
“I’ve told you all about my life. About growing up with rich, famous parents. That all I wanted was something normal. That rich and famous is outside the realm of where I want my life to be.” He started to interrupt, and I cut him off. “You asked me out knowing all this, knowing that you were not only rich by legacy but also started and own one of the most famous tech companies. I feel—”