by Brea Viragh
“I just wanted to let you know. Thought you’d appreciate another heads-up. He’s not like us and he won’t easily let you forget it.”
Lorelei fidgeted with her napkin. “I suppose I do appreciate the forewarning.”
“Good.” Sawyer was adamant. “Another warning. Try to at least act like you like me. It’s important.”
“I do like you.” She huffed out a sigh. “Sometimes.”
The server returned with a bottle of wine which he held out for Sawyer’s approval. He’d barely glanced at the label before nodding and accepting the glass he was offered. A basket of rolls arrived shortly after, still steaming from the oven.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions about our combined background,” he said when they were alone again. He held out a second glass and waited for her to sniff before filling it to the halfway mark. “Questions about our relationship.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Try and remember as much as you can. How long have we been married?”
She twisted the corners of her napkin into tiny tornadoes. Here came the pop quiz. She was used to those as a middle school teacher. Now if only she could do as well as her students and remember the answers. “A year and a half.”
“And we met…?”
“At a farmers’ market downtown. I was ogling your eggplant.” She smiled at the joke. Sometimes her father was wrong about her brain. Tonight, it was tightly screwed on and prepared for action. She fully anticipated getting one hundred percent.
“Nice improvisation, but let’s stick to the script. Where did we get married?”
“At the…Brotherhood Baptist Church.”
“Methodist Church of the Brethren, Lorelei.” Sawyer swung his fist down on the table and the silverware jumped. “Dammit.”
To her credit, she wasn’t affected by his display. Besides, she knew better than to give any credence to a man on the edge. She was here today as a favor. She had a good life, good friends, and was able to provide a good home for her daughter. All in all, she could handle Sawyer.
“He’s going to think something is up if you can’t calm down,” she retorted, hiding a snort in her glass of wine. “Try to breathe. You’re turning red.”
Sawyer looked like a fish out of water. Not physically, of course. Physically he fit in fairly well with the restaurant’s opulence. Emotionally…he needed a little work. Lorelei felt her heart soften when he bit his lower lip and said, “I need to make sure this evening goes perfectly.”
“It will.” She could imagine nibbling her way along that lip. Maybe working her way higher to kiss his cheeks… Stop that! She had no time to be fantasizing about her wind chime maker. She just had to make sure he could impress his brother. Then they’d both be on their separate ways.
“Only if you remember your lines,” Sawyer insisted.
“I’m doing a bang-up job for someone who could pass for a dementia patient. Not to offend anyone with dementia, mind you. I’m just saying my memory is stinky.”
“You’re among adults. It’s okay if you use the word crap.”
“Fine then, my memory is crappy. Try me with another question. Go on. Try me.”
“Okay, where did we go on our honeymoon?”
She drew in a deep breath and smiled. She could handle the man. She could handle the restaurant. And the questions? Not a problem.
“Ocracoke Island, in the Outer Banks. We wanted to go somewhere low-key without breaking the bank. My words, not yours. You were ready to lavish attention on your blushing bride. Willing to take me wherever I wanted to go and damn the cost.” She gave him a heated grin and a gentle stroke of her fingers along the top of his hand. “You like to spoil me.”
Sawyer was satisfied—if not surprised—by the tale. “There you go again with the improvisation. At least this time it makes me sound like a nice guy. Instead of a cheap bastard.”
“All right, Mr. Cheapo, I have a few questions of my own now.”
“And you were doing so well answering mine.” He turned his intensity to her once again. His gaze looked like it could steam its way through solid rock.
“Enough sarcasm,” she scolded. “Where did I get my college degree?”
“You have a college degree?”
“Sawyer!”
“Kidding. University of Virginia. Next question, and make it a hard one.”
She took a small sip of wine before moving forward. “What was the name of my best friend growing up?”
“Well, you and Maisie Richardson were pretty close. Then again, I was told you spent a lot of time at Elizabeth McManus’s house. I’d draw a hard line between the two, but as I wasn’t actually there I can’t give you a concrete answer.”
Lorelei leaned back in her chair, suddenly feeling like she’d been exposed under a microscope. And not liking it one bit. “How do you know all those things?”
“Jesus Christ, woman, stop looking at me that way. Don’t you think I made it my business to talk to your mother about this before continuing?”
“You talked to my Mom?”
“Yes, and she was very forthcoming with information,” Sawyer stated. “Seemed to think this was a good chance for you to get out of your comfort zone. She also seems to think you’re spending too much time around the house and none with people your own age. She even gave me a list of foods you will and won’t eat, along with a warning to keep you away from any kind of fried food place. I didn’t realize you were such a picky eater.”
Lorelei opened her mouth then snapped it shut.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” a smooth male voice interjected.
CHAPTER FOUR
Maverick Parksdale towered over the table, stealing the light from the room. Lorelei blinked rapidly and shifted to face him. It took Sawyer a moment to tear his attention away from her and her reaction to put it where it now belonged: on his snake of a brother, who had probably timed his arrival for maximum effect.
“Well, well, what do we have here? You’ve brought an angel with you, brother.” With Maverick’s charcoal-black hair and tanned complexion, it was entirely reasonable for anyone comparing the two of them to question whether he and the fair-skinned Sawyer were actually brothers. Their differences were only heightened by the obvious disparity in their clothing choices—one Tom Ford and the other bargain basement.
The quick, witty greeting he’d prepared flew from his memory and Sawyer’s eyes narrowed at the way his brother kept staring at Lorelei.
“Evening,” Sawyer finally said, the word barely audible. Maverick was dressed accordingly, a fitted shirt and black suit outlining his strong build. Although his facial features were average—Sawyer had always considered himself the more handsome of the two, although money does tend to impact one’s “hotness” rating—Maverick had an unnamable quality the ladies could not dismiss. It had helped him get ahead in the business world as well. People were more apt to trust a pretty face, men and women alike.
“Aren’t you going to get up and greet me?” the older brother asked, a flash of white showing when he grinned.
Sawyer sighed and pushed out of his seat. Held out his hand when he’d rather swallow mud. “Maverick. It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise.” The two brothers gripped forearms, squeezing each other in a barely camouflaged tug of war before releasing their grip. There had always been a power struggle between them. “It’s been a long time.”
“You were too high and mighty for my little neck of the woods. No, you had to get out before it was too late. You don’t even enjoy a good tractor pull,” Sawyer retorted tongue-in-cheek.
Maverick indulged in a long, low laugh. “Nor do I open beer bottles with my teeth. That has always been a special talent of yours, hasn’t it?”
“Well, I wouldn’t quit my day job, but I’ve been known to crack open a few brews in my time. Have a seat.”
Lorelei didn’t understand their teasing. He saw it in her posture, the way her eyes darted between them.
She wasn’t used to the verbal horseplay or the subtly veiled hints of aggression in their interaction.
He hated to say anything, but the volley had just begun. There would be a lot more back and forth before they’d get to the heart of the matter. Everything in due time, Maverick had always said. Which meant they were all in for one hell of an evening. Then there was sure to be another two weeks of beating around the bush before Maverick either agreed to the deal or said no. By that time he would be halfway across the country on a plane to home. Which meant no chance for an ass-kicking if he gave the wrong answer.
Sawyer reached under the table to where Lorelei’s hands knitted together on her lap. She glanced his way, surprised when he covered them with his. “Sweetheart, I’d like to introduce my brother, Maverick Parksdale. Maverick, my beautiful bride, Lorelei.”
“I’m charmed to make your acquaintance,” the other man stated as he reached across the table. Waiting. Expectant.
It took effort to raise her hand, to let it drop in his palm and feel the caress of his fingers. “Pleasure,” she answered slowly.
“I see you picked the best restaurant in town,” Maverick commented, dropping her hand and situating himself in his chair with flair and poise and elegance. “Is your taste improving? Or did my visit warrant a special occasion?”
How many years had it been, Sawyer wondered as he glanced around the table. It had to be more than three years since he’d last sat across from his brother. He remembered all those nights at the dinner table where the two had been compared nonstop.
Maverick finished his peas. Why can’t you do the same?
Sawyer, sit up straight. Try to be more like your brother.
Why, Maverick, thank you so much for helping with the dishes! Sawyer, did you finish your chores?
“I appreciate your making a special trip out here,” Sawyer began instead of answering the question. His words nearly tumbled over each other in a rush. “I know you hardly put in an appearance anymore. Rustic charms have never been to your taste.”
Maverick inclined his head to the left and reached for an empty wineglass. As if conjured, the server appeared at that moment to grasp the bottle and pour. “There are better ways to spend my time than attending the farmers’ market on Saturdays. Or the annual summer flea market. I remember it was rather a to-do.”
“Ah, but you miss a great show. Tons of junk to fill your mansions to the brim. How is Los Angeles?”
“It’s fair. The weather has been abysmally muggy, but what can you expect? It’s the West Coast, after all.” He flashed a smile, one which gave Sawyer the impression that, even though the reservation was in his name, he and Lorelei were nothing more than Maverick’s guests.
There followed a small but welcome interruption as the waiter appeared at Maverick’s elbow to take their orders. Although he hadn’t even looked at the menu, Maverick rattled off his dinner selection to the server and then ushered the poor man on just as quickly.
Sawyer cleared his throat and struggled for something to fill the silence. “Did you bring Daisy with you? I made the reservation for four.”
“She’s at the hotel making herself comfortable. As comfortable as one can be in Hicksville.” Maverick shuddered. “Hotel Heartwood is a welcome addition to the area, but still a far cry from the five-star resorts she’s used to. You know how women can be.” He winked and then he and Sawyer shared a forced chuckle. “They want what they want when they want it. Better for all of us that she stayed in tonight.”
Sawyer gritted his teeth. There was nothing like the underlying superiority in his brother’s voice to set him on edge. Not to mention the sexist way the man spoke about his wife. Like she was a mindless machine taking her sustenance from spa days and shopping trips rather than more human nutrients. Sawyer might be an asshole, with three serious—albeit failed—relationships under his belt, but he knew better. Besides, was Maverick also inferring that Lorelei should have stayed home too?
“I’d like to get down to business, if you don’t mind,” he put in quickly, before the conversation strayed farther than it already had.
“Can’t I at least finish a glass of wine before you try to wring money out of me?” Maverick asked, a smirk appearing over the rim of his glass.
“I…yes, of course.” This was going to be a long evening. Sawyer found his appetite diminishing by the minute. It figured. He’d come to a great place, the once-a-year kind, and now he wouldn’t be able to eat anything. He’d better get his dollars’ worth out of the wine.
He saw the moment Lorelei decided to take part in the conversation. Despite her uncharacteristic paleness, she turned to Maverick with a sweet smile. “You have such an interesting name, Mr. Parksdale. Is it a family name?”
Though he quirked an eyebrow, Maverick continued unfazed. “Please, Mr. Parksdale is our father. Mom, well, she was a real James Garner fan. She decided her firstborn needed a strong name to set him up for success. Either that or she wanted me to be one hell of a poker player. I still can’t decide which.”
“Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the brain for cards. Does better with stocks and bonds. Prefers to get his money through traditionally established means rather than take a chance or a gamble on anything less than a solid investment.” Sawyer hid his bitterness in a sip of cabernet and scowled when the dry red hit his tonsils.
“There you go again with the thinly veiled insults. I thought we’d be able to have a civilized conversation over dinner. Was I wrong?” Maverick asked. He laced his fingers together on the table and shifted in his seat, crossing his legs under the table. “Or would you rather hash it out right now in front of your lovely wife and the rest of the restaurant?”
Lorelei, bless her, deflected the jab by placing her hand over Sawyer’s and giving it a pat. Hard. “Sweetie, the server is still standing here waiting for you to order. Why don’t you pick something out for us? I’m not exactly sure what to have.” She glanced down at the menu and chuckled. “It’s outside my normal fare.”
Sawyer took the cue and ran with it. Sure enough, the poor waiter was still standing at the side of the table with a pad and pen in hand. How had he not noticed? “This one here is a picky eater,” he said to lighten the tension, pointing at Lorelei. “I can hardly feed her at home. If it isn’t peanut butter and jelly, she isn’t biting.”
Maverick quirked one corner of his lips northward in his particular version of a smile. “I’m sure there’s something we can find for her to eat.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this,” Sawyer replied when Lorelei blushed a pretty shade of pink. It was dusty rose on her golden skin. Damn, but she was pretty. Shaking his head to clear it, he rattled off a dish without mushrooms or garlic or basil, in accordance to Lorelei’s list of preferred foods, then turned back to the asshole on his left. Oh, why hadn’t Sawyer been born first?
And why couldn’t the damn man stop staring at Lorelei?
“Now, if we can discuss the finer points of this business proposal—”
A languid hand rose to stop him, manicured nails polished to a sheen. “I don’t want to get into it now. I just pulled into this godforsaken town. I’d like to get my bearings and enjoy a halfway decent bottle of wine before you start your spiel. Sorry, I know you’ve probably been practicing.”
If Sawyer had thought to get through a simple discussion with his brother without drama, he was stupider than he looked. And right now, in his shabby sports coat and cheap tie, he looked pretty damn stupid. Lorelei continued to play with her napkin and avoided eye contact. Totally unlike her and, if he’d had half a mind to spare, would have given him pause.
Instead he was forced to keep his attention on Maverick. “Sure, of course. Order whatever wine you want and I’ll buy the second bottle as well.”
Maverick grinned and did just that, raising his gaze to the lingering server and signaling his attention with another flick of his manicured nails. Sawyer lunged for a dinner roll while Maverick spouted off the orde
r for another bottle of red wine. Of course it would be the second-to-most expensive one on the menu. His vague recollection of the prices reminded him of that much.
He tried to consider the dinner an investment. The sort of money one would put down on any business starting out. Except he already had a platform. He already had a business plan in place and hundreds of loyal customers throughout the surrounding area. This dinner was, in all actuality, nothing more than posturing. A conscious circus act to ease his brother into a—hopefully—giving state of mind.
Stranger things have happened in this world.
“Let’s speak of more pleasurable things. Tell me…Lorelei, was it? How did you and my brother meet?” Maverick’s grin showed another flash of white teeth courtesy of monthly whitening appointments. “I confess, this one hasn’t told me a thing about you. I didn’t even know he was seeing someone, let alone married. It came as quite a shock when I was told his wife would be joining us at dinner.”
“I—” Lorelei began.
“I damn sure did tell you.” Sawyer curled his fingers into a fist. “You just never listen.”
“Um, we actually met at a farmers’ market,” Lorelei said, picking up the cue. Stopping to clear her throat. Fiddle with the napkin. Look anywhere except at Maverick. Her eyes darted across the table to meet Sawyer’s for a fraction of a second. He reached under the table, his hand falling on her knee and resting there.
“Did you, now?”
Sawyer wanted to let his head drop and slam against the wood table. What would he do if she blew it? He opened his mouth to cover for her hesitancy, whatever tale he could spin about nerves and public places and social anxiety, when Lorelei beat him to it.
“I know your disdain for them, but this was a chance meeting I was happy to have despite the setting. You should have seen Sawyer.” Her response was quick and light. Her fingers stilled. “Haggling about the price of an eggplant from his garden. Which he has since let go to seed! I told him I’d seen bigger ones in the supermarket and his was nothing to be proud of.” Her voice steadied and she and Maverick shared a chuckle. “He called me a no-good harpy. Our relationship progressed from there, although it took this one a couple more months to get up the courage to ask me out.” She looped her fingers through Sawyer’s, making a show of the display. “We’ve been together ever since.”