Last Groom Standing

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Last Groom Standing Page 6

by Kimberly Lang

“You don’t do drama. You don’t do conflict.”

  “I’m an attorney, for God’s sake. I do conflict all day long.”

  “Not outside the office,” Tuck countered.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I think it shows good sense. Plus, it’s good for my mental health and blood pressure.”

  “If your blood pressure drops any lower, you’ll be dead.”

  Dylan wondered if it was too late to just go back to their game. “And your point is...?”

  Tuck shrugged. “You’re a shark. Act like one.”

  “Fine. I’ll sue Reese for breach of contract.”

  “What?”

  The look on Tuck’s face was priceless and Dylan had to fight to keep a straight face. “That’s what we sharks do.”

  “That’s not what I meant at all.” Tuck shook his head. “Boy, you do have ice water in your veins. You give sharks a bad reputation.”

  “Sharks are cold-blooded, you know.”

  “But they go after what they want.”

  “So do I. Just because it’s not what you would want...”

  Tuck nodded like he was coming to a hard-fought-for conclusion. “So that’s why you paired up with Reese in the first place. No drama, no conflict...”

  “Again, you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “It is. It sounds boring.”

  Dylan shoved stuff into his gym bag in the hope Tuck would get the hint. When Tuck just kept sitting there, squirting water from a bottle into his mouth, Dylan gave up on the subtle hints. Unfortunately, he knew Tuck too well to hope he’d let the topic die. “I disagree.”

  “That’s only because you’re an emotionally detached control freak.”

  Oh, good Lord. “Since I know for a fact that you lack the education or training to know what the hell you’re talking about, I’d strongly advise you—as an attorney—not to practice psychotherapy without a license.”

  Tuck waved that warning away. “This is too easy to be considered psychotherapy. It’s barely Psych 101.” He raised an eyebrow. “Your parents still only speaking to each other in public?”

  He nodded. “It’s worked quite well for them the last four years. And it beats the hell out of the previous arrangement.”

  “You do know that’s not normal, right?”

  “Of course I do.” No one would ever mistake his family for normal—not if they knew the truth, at least. Individually, both of his parents were nice enough people, and once upon a time, their romance had been written about in the society pages. But that had been a long, long time ago. The rest of the world thought his parents were still a perfectly lovely couple, but only because every employee who worked in his parents’ house had signed a nondisclosure agreement, and the Brookes family paid well enough to buy loyalty. “But I also know that there’s no way in hell I’m taking the chance of putting myself back into that kind of situation.”

  “Listen to yourself. You grew up in a household where your parents were constantly at war with each other.” Tuck was warming to his subject and he leaned forward, forearms on his knees, as he spoke. “You now run a foundation for victims of domestic violence. Ergo, you seek domestic tranquility above all else—and at the expense of all else—when most people are actually able to achieve that without sacrificing love and happiness for the sake of stability.”

  Tuck had a point—or at least most of one—but Dylan really didn’t want to deconstruct it. He knew what he wanted and he had his reasons for wanting it. There was no sense arguing the issue with someone deep in the throes of honeymooning bliss. “Now you’re an expert on relationships? You’ve been married for three days to a woman you’ve known for three months.”

  He grinned. “When it’s right, you know it.” Tuck slapped his shoulder as he stood and grabbed his gym bag. “One day, you’ll meet someone who lights a fire in you. It’ll be anything but easy, but it’ll be worth it. That’s the girl you should marry. And you’ll know because you’ll definitely be willing to fight for her.”

  Hadn’t Marnie said something similar? They were both wrong. Dylan grabbed his bag, as well, and followed Tuck to the glass doors of the court. “I could’ve taken Mason, you know,” he muttered.

  Tuck looked over his shoulder and grinned. “He’d have kicked your scrawny ass and then used it to wipe the floor. He’s a marine, for God’s sake, and you can’t even get a basketball through a hoop anymore.”

  The trash talk was a nice flip back to normalcy from Tuck’s unexpected foray into therapy. “Former marine,” Dylan corrected.

  “Which also means he probably knows a dozen ways to kill you without leaving a mark. What are you gonna do, lawyer boy?” Tuck shoved him good-naturedly. “Bury him in paperwork?”

  He shoved back. “Hey, don’t knock that idea. Death by a thousand papercuts is still death.”

  Tuck rolled his eyes. “A slow and boring death?”

  “And painful. It’s the most miserable kind of death there is. Quick and easy gains little satisfaction.”

  Tuck grinned. “Now you sound like a shark.”

  FOUR

  The sound of Carter’s ringtone blaring from the bottom of her purse was the last thing Marnie wanted to hear Thursday morning.

  She was at a coffee shop three blocks from the Brookes Foundation’s office and at least half an hour early for her interview, so she really had no reason not to answer. She’d been dodging his calls all week, but she would have to talk to him before he went back to Savannah.

  If nothing else, it would take her mind off her interview for a little while. She didn’t want to obsess and work herself into a nervous mess.

  The truth was she’d never been able to shake that last thread of hope that things might get better with Carter. When she felt generous, she told herself that Carter had done the best he could—taking on both the responsibility of the family and the family business at a young age after Daddy died. It had been years before she realized how Carter had pulled the business back from the brink. His divorce had only made things more difficult for him. And them. She tried to convince herself that he meant well, that his attitude and actions stemmed from concern and were merely shaped by the nineteenth-century attitude of their upbringing.

  It helped, but not nearly enough.

  As always, she debated whether to answer. Then, with a sigh, she pushed the talk button before she could talk herself out of it.

  Things would never be what they once were, but he was the only family she had left. She just didn’t know if his relationship with Gina would strengthen or snap that last thread. Or would he ruin her renewed friendship with Gina instead?

  She had to try. “Hey, Carter.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before Carter jumped in without any preliminary pleasantries. “You lost your job?”

  Ah, hell. The accusation in his voice rasped over already irritated nerves, and she fired back immediately. “You’re sleeping with Gina?”

  Carter seemed taken aback by her retort. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, injecting enough false sincerity into the words to ensure he got the point. “I thought we were playing the ‘Things That Are None Of Your Sibling’s Business’ game. My bad.”

  “I think the fact you’re now unemployed is my business.”

  Other brothers might call out of concern for their sister’s feelings or self-esteem. This, however, was her brother, and she knew better. “How, exactly? You don’t pay my bills.”

  “I would disagree with that statement.”

  Same fight, different day. “But, in reality, you don’t, and you know it. I’m not a child. You may want to play big brother and call it an ‘allowance,’ but I own part of that business and the money is mine regardless.”

  “But I run the business and make the money—”

  “Do you really want me to come stick my two cents in Price Paper to properly earn my money? Because I will.” The threat had few teeth in real
ity, because she really didn’t have the skill set or desire to involve herself, but Carter was a control freak as well as a workaholic who’d have to have any part of the business pried from his cold, dead hands. She knew it, he knew it and, more important, he knew she knew it.

  There was a moment’s silence, which meant he was conceding that round, however unwillingly. It was a small victory. Then, in a tone she hadn’t heard in a long time, he asked, “Seriously, Marnie, what happened?”

  The sincerity touched her. “Budget cuts. Last one hired and all that.”

  “I’m sorry. I know how much you liked that job.”

  “Thanks. How did you find out anyway? Gina wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

  “I called your office to see if you wanted to go to lunch— Wait, Gina knew?”

  Oops. Spurred by her need to make amends for old issues with Gina, she tried to defend her friend. “I asked Gina not to tell you because I didn’t want that hanging over your reunion. I wanted to tell you myself.” Carter made that noise that meant he was mollified for the moment. “And anyway, I already have a line on a new job and I’m interviewing today.”

  “That was fast.”

  There was a gruff, and possibly grudging, admiration in his voice. “I’m good at what I do, and unfortunately in today’s society, there’s always someone who needs that kind of help.”

  “When will you know?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think they’re wanting to move pretty quickly on this, so...”

  “Good luck.”

  He sounded sincere, and it made something glow in her chest. “Thanks. But that means I’ll have to take a rain check for lunch. Anyway, I’m sure you and Gina would like some time alone.”

  “That’s kind of why I wanted to take you to lunch. To talk about Gina.”

  That sounded important. Almost ominous. “What about Gina?”

  “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  She hadn’t been prepared for that, and she nearly dropped the cup of coffee she was holding. Carter had been left so cynical after the divorce that even with every eligible woman in Savannah—and most of the surrounding states—lining up for him, he’d kept a distance from anything remotely serious. Carter was the last man on earth she’d expect to fall that hard or that quickly for anyone—much less Gina, who embodied the dictionary definition of “opposites attract.” And while Gina might have once been a maneater, the one thing Marnie did know for sure was that Gina loved Carter—as strange as it might seem. She’d been so blown away by the revelations that she hadn’t really thought about the possible long-term repercussions—much less thought that the repercussions would come this soon. “That’s rather quick.”

  “Well, when you know it’s right...”

  Carter had dated Missy for at least two years before proposing. Things were moving at warp speeds. “And you’re sure it’s right?”

  Carter got huffy. “I realize you and Gina had some problems, but I hoped you’d be happy for us nonetheless.”

  “And I want to be, but...really, Carter?” She was breaking her vow not to get involved again, but this could end badly for Gina. And Carter, too. “She’s not really your usual type.”

  “That’s what I like about her.” He sounded offended, but, for Gina’s sake, she didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “Well, be sure. You’ve put her through a lot already and...” She sighed. “Just don’t hurt her, okay?”

  “I won’t.” There was a wealth of emotion behind those two words that caught her off guard, but it eased her concerns. Of course, he hadn’t proposed yet—and might still change his mind—so she’d have time to come to terms with this. And possibly even talk to Gina before Carter popped the question.

  “Then congratulations. And tell Gina welcome to the family.” God help her.

  Carter muttered something and said goodbye, and Marnie had to assume she’d responded appropriately. She pondered her coffee as this new development rattled around her head.

  Gina would be her sister-in-law. She hadn’t seen that one coming, but maybe she should have. She gave herself a strong shake. When would she have been able to see that coming? She didn’t even know it was a remote possibility until Friday, and she’d been a little preoccupied since then.

  Gina was totally opposite from Missy, which was probably a good thing. Carter needed someone who’d stand up to him. She just wouldn’t have expected Carter to admit that or fall for a woman who actually would.

  This might be a train wreck in the making.

  The world was just getting crazier by the minute.

  But she had to shake it off. She’d needed a distraction, but not that much of one. She had an interview, and this time, she really had to bring her A-game. She’d worry about weddings and new sisters-in-law later.

  Another wedding. Ah, damn it. This was getting ridiculous.

  All three of her friends and her brother headed down the aisle. She really was beginning to feel like the eternal bridesmaid in the wedding season that would never end.

  * * *

  Marnie sat facing the Director and the senior staff across the Foundation’s large conference table, while Dylan had intentionally seated himself further down the table, out of her direct line of vision. While he, technically, had the final say on who would replace Reese, he believed it was far more important that a candidate for the position be vetted by those she would be working directly with and for. This seating arrangement also allowed him to observe Marnie a bit more candidly.

  She was a very qualified candidate, but he knew that already, and her résumé had already impressed Julia and the staff. She seemed far more collected today, less flighty, and while she shot the occasional glance his way, it seemed more as a way to include him in the conversation as opposed to the wary nervousness of Saturday’s lunch with Reese.

  Maybe it had just been the unusualness of Saturday that had thrown her.

  Her well-cut suit was professional yet feminine, and her blond hair curled perfectly around her face. Knees together, spine straight and hands clasped in her lap—a posture she’d claimed Friday night to have mastered in endless cotillion classes—she leaned forward as she spoke, answering each question enthusiastically and thoroughly, her drawl present enough to be charming but muted enough to not be distracting.

  It was almost disconcerting. He’d seen the bubbly, sparkly, social Marnie, the Marnie who could toss back enough tequila shots to fell a horse and still walk, a sultry-siren Marnie who occasionally haunted his dreams, and a Marnie who’d stuttered her way through lunch like a nervous schoolgirl. He hadn’t expected to find another Marnie in there—regardless of the fact her résumé had claimed she existed.

  He’d never met someone with so many personalities.

  She was definitely a puzzle.

  But she was killing this interview. Seemed she really did want the job after all, which was a bit of a surprise. And Julia looked ready to offer it to her.

  “So, Marnie.” It was the first time he’d spoken during the interview, and there seemed to be some surprise that he had now. “I’m curious as to why you want to come work for the Foundation.”

  She smiled. “This organization was one of Reese’s favorite topics of conversation, and I’ve always been impressed by not only what the Foundation does, but also the way y’all work. And while I’ve never been a victim of domestic violence, I do know what it’s like to feel trapped in a life you don’t want but can’t figure out how to escape.” The smile dimmed a bit and her voice turned serious. “Any change is hard, but when we’re talking about losing everything you have in the hope you’ll find something better. It helps to have someone to not only say it’s possible, but to offer that really basic, concrete support to make it happen. That’s why I loved my work at the Refugee Center and why I want to work here.”

  It was a passionate, personal speech, and an effective one. If Marnie hadn’t cinched the job before, she had now. Julia shot him a look, seeking h
is okay, and he nodded briefly. Then he stood. “I have a phone call I need to make.”

  Marnie also stood and extended her hand. “It was good to see you again, Dylan.”

  “And you, Marnie.” As he took her hand, that rush he’d felt last Friday night slammed back into him from out of nowhere, catching him completely off guard. His skin felt hot, and he realized that the feeling had only been banked and held at bay by the situation, and her touch had fanned it to life. It was very disturbing—and not in the least part due to the fact it was happening in front of four of his staff members.

  Those blue eyes widened a fraction, her pupils dilating, and whatever it was, he knew she’d been hit by it, too. Her grip loosened and he released her hand.

  Julia was looking at him expectantly, but not oddly, so maybe his reaction hadn’t been outwardly noticeable. “Julia, once you all finish up, why don’t you send Marnie up to my office?”

  Julia looked surprised but nodded and indicated for Marnie to sit again. He quickly left the room.

  How strange, he thought, as he went up the stairs to his office.

  The Brookes Partnership—the family firm whose raison d’être was to make rich people richer—occupied the top four floors of the building, with space on the lowest floor given to the Brookes Foundation and the smaller, more broadly-focused Brookes Charitable Trust. While this layout saved the Foundation and the Trust the true cost of rent in Manhattan, more importantly, it had allowed his father, and now him, the ability to stay, quite literally, on top of everything.

  He didn’t really know what had possessed him to have Julia send Marnie upstairs after the interview, but he knew he needed to talk to her. He hadn’t seen her since Saturday and all the awkwardness, and that had nagged at him—for a multitude of reasons. Whether it was unfinished business, or simple curiosity, or just some latent chivalry that said it was wrong to sleep with a woman and not even call, the simple fact was that Marnie was about to get this job, and they needed to be on the same page as they went forward.

  He didn’t like having things unsettled.

  Yep. That was the problem.

 

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