“And,” Serena added, giving Frances a sharp look, “if I understand correctly, you were out to get her when you were a kid.”
Frances laughed. “Maybe,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “There might have been some incidents. But that was more between Lucy and Toni. I was too old to play with babies by that point. Besides, do you know how much crap Phillip used to give me? I swear, he’d put me on the meanest horse he could find just to watch me get bucked off and cry. But I showed him,” she told Whitney. “I learned how to stay on and I don’t cry.”
Serena rolled her eyes and looked at Whitney. “It’s a strange family.”
Whitney nodded and smiled as if it were all good fun, but she remembered Matthew telling her how his older brothers used to blame him for, well, everything.
“Okay, yeah,” Frances protested. “So we’re all a little nuts. I mean, I’m never going to get married, not after having that many evil stepmothers. Never going to happen. But that’s the legacy we were born into as Beaumonts—all except Matthew. He’s the only one who was ever nice to all of us. That’s why Lucy and Toni were here today—he asked them to come. Said it was important to the family, so they came. The only person who doesn’t listen to him is Eliza, Chadwick and Phillip’s mom. Everyone else does what he says. And seriously? That man not only wouldn’t let me take you guys to the hottest club, but he wouldn’t even let me hire a stripper.” She scoffed while rolling her eyes, a practiced gesture of frustration. “He can be such a control freak. He probably even picked out your shoes or something.”
There was a pause, and then both Frances and Serena turned to look at Whitney.
Heat flooded Whitney’s cheeks. Matthew had, in fact, picked out her shoes. And her hairstyle. And her lipstick. Right before he’d mussed them all up. She wasn’t about to argue the control-freak part. But then, he’d also let her tie him up. He’d kept up the illusion even though her knot hadn’t held. Just so she could be in control.
“So,” Frances said in a too-bright tone. “You have met Matthew.”
“Yes.” The one word seemed safer. She wasn’t used to kissing and telling. Heck, she was still getting used to the kissing thing. She was absolutely not going to tell anyone about it.
“And?” Frances looked as if she were a lioness about to pounce on a wounded wildebeest.
Whitney hated being the wildebeest. “We’re just working to make sure that the wedding goes smoothly. No distractions.” She thought it best not to mention the shoes. Or the ties.
Serena nodded in appreciation, but Frances made a face of exasperation. “Seriously? He’s had a huge crush on you for, like, forever! I bet he can barely keep his hands off you. And frankly, that man could stand to get distracted.”
“Frannie!” Jo and Serena said at the same time. The baby startled and began to mew in tiny-baby cries.
“Sorry,” Serena said, draping a blanket over her shoulder so she could nurse, Whitney guessed.
“Well, it’s true! He’s been driving us all nuts with this wedding, insisting it has to be perfect. Honestly,” Frances said, turning her attention back to Whitney, “I’m not sure he ever just does something for fun. It’d be good for him, you know?”
Whitney was so warm she was on the verge of sweating. She thought of the way he’d ignored his phone while they cuddled on the couch, watching a Christmas movie. Was that fun?
“He had a crush on Whitney Wildz,” she explained, hoping her face wasn’t achieving a near-fatal level of blush. “That’s not who I am.”
They’d cleared that up before the clothes had started to come off. He knew that she was Whitney Maddox. He liked her for being her, not because she’d once played someone famous. End of discussion.
Except...Matthew was, in fact, having trouble keeping his hands off her. Off her, right? Not Whitney Wildz?
She didn’t want the doubt that crept in with Frances’s knowing smile. But there it was anyway. She couldn’t be 100 percent sure that Matthew wasn’t sleeping with Whitney Wildz, could she? Just because he’d called her Ms. Maddox a few times—was that really all the proof she needed?
“Sure,” Frances said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Of course.”
“You’re being obnoxious,” Serena said. Then she added to Whitney, “Frances is good at that.”
“I’m just being honest. Matthew’s way too focused on making sure we all do what he thinks we should. This is a rare opportunity for him to do something for himself. Lord knows the man needs more fun in his life. You two should go out.” She paused, a smile that looked way too familiar on her face. “If you haven’t already.”
This was it. After all these years, all those headlines and horrible pictures and vicious, untrue rumors, Whitney was finally going to die of actual embarrassment. She’d have thought she couldn’t feel it this much anymore—that she was immune to it—but no. All it took was one affair with a Beaumont and an “honest” conversation with his little sister and boom. It was all over.
Jo sighed. “Are you done?”
“Maybe,” Frances replied, looking quite pleased with herself.
“Because you know what Matthew’s going to do to you when he finds out you’re treating my best friend like this, don’t you?”
At that, a look of concern managed to blot out Frances’s satisfied smile. “Well...hey, I’ve been on my best behavior ever since you guys decided to get married. No headlines, no trouble. I leave that to Byron.”
And Byron had gotten into trouble only because Matthew had asked him to. For her. There was a moment of silence, during which Whitney considered getting her coat and going. Except she couldn’t leave without Jo. Damn it.
Then the silence was broken. “But what about—?” Serena said, joining the fray.
“Or the one time when you—” added Jo.
“Hey!” Frances yelped, her cheeks turning almost as red as her hair. “That’s not fair!”
“We’re just being honest,” Serena said with a grin that bordered on mean.
Jo nodded in agreement, giving Whitney an encouraging grin. “What did Phillip tell me about that one guy? What did he call you? His Little Red—”
Frances’s phone chimed. “Sorry, can’t listen to you make fun of me. Must answer this very important text!” She read her message. “Byron says he can’t believe that’s really Whitney Wildz.” She began to type a reply.
“What are you going to tell him?” Whitney asked.
“What do you think?” Frances winked at her. “That your name is Whitney Maddox.”
* * *
“Is that...Whitney Wildz?” Byron held his phone up to his good eye. “Seriously?”
“What?” Matthew grabbed the phone away from his brother. “Jesus.” It was, in fact, Whitney, standing next to Frances, smiling for the camera. She looked good. A little worried but that was probably because Frances had a death grip on her shoulders.
He was going to kill both of them. Why would Whitney let anyone take her picture? And hadn’t he warned Frances not to do anything stupid? And didn’t taking a picture of Whitney and plastering it all over the internet count as stupid?
The phone chimed as another message popped up.
Tell Matthew that she made me promise to only send it to you. No social media.
Matthew exhaled in relief. That was a smart compromise. He could only hope Frances would hold up her end of that promise. He handed the phone back over, hoping he appeared nonchalant. “That was a character she played,” he said in his most diplomatic tone. “Her name is Whitney Maddox.” He shot a look at Phillip, who was enjoying a cigar on Matthew’s private deck.
Phillip gave him his best innocent face, then mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.
The guys had managed to arrive at Matthew’s place without notice. It was just the five of t
hem. Byron didn’t get along with their other half brothers David and Johnny at all and Mark was off at college. Matthew had decided to keep the guest list to the wedding party. Just the four Beaumont men who could tolerate each other. Most of the time.
Plus the sober coach, Dale. When Phillip was out on the farm, he was fine, but he’d been sober for only seven months now and with the pressure of the wedding, no one wanted a relapse. Hands down, that would be the worst thing to happen to the wedding. There would be no recovering from that blow to the Beaumont image and there would be no burying that lead. It would be game over.
Matthew and Phillip had made sure that Dale would be available for any event that took place away from the farm. Currently, Dale was sitting next to Phillip, talking horses. This was what the Beaumont men had come to—soda and cigars on a Saturday night. So this was what getting old was like.
“Who?” Chadwick asked, taking the phone.
“Whitney Wildz.” Byron was studying the picture. “She was this squeaky-clean girl who starred in a rock-and-roll update of The Partridge Family called Growing Up Wildz. Man,” he went on, “she looks amazing. Do you know if she’s—?”
“She’s not available,” Matthew said before he could stop himself. But Byron was a Beaumont. There was no way Matthew wanted his little brother to get it into his head that Whitney was fair game.
All three of his brothers gave him a surprised look. Well, Chadwick and Byron gave him a look. Phillip was trying too hard not to laugh, the rat bastard. “I mean, if anyone tried to hit on her, it’d be a media firestorm. Hands off.”
“Wait,” Chadwick said, studying the picture again. “Isn’t this the woman who’s always stoned or flashing the camera?”
“She’s not like that,” Matthew snapped.
“What Matthew means to say,” Phillip added, “is that in real life, Whitney raises prize-winning horses and lives a fairly quiet life. She’s definitely not a fame monster.”
“This is the woman who’s the maid of honor?” Chadwick’s voice was getting louder as he glared at the phone. “How is this Whitney Wild person not going to make this wedding into a spectacle? You know this is the soft opening for Percheron Drafts, Matthew. We can’t afford to have anything compromise the reception.”
“Hey—easy, now, Chad.” Chadwick flinched at Phillip’s nickname for him. Which Phillip used only when he was trying to piss off the oldest Beaumont. Yeah, this little bachelor party was going downhill, fast. “It’s going to be fine. She’s a friend of Jo’s and she’s not going to make a spectacle of anything. She’s perfectly fine. Matthew was worried, too, but he’s seen that she’s just a regular woman. Right?” He turned to Matthew. “Back me up here.”
“Phillip’s correct. Whitney will be able to fulfill her role in the wedding with class and style.” And, he added mentally, with a little luck, some grace. He hoped he’d put her in the right shoes. “She won’t be a distraction. She’ll help demonstrate that the Beaumonts are back on top.”
Funny how a few days ago he’d been right where Chadwick was—convinced that a former star would take advantage of the limelight that went with a Beaumont Christmas wedding and burn them all. Now all Matthew was worried about was Whitney getting down the aisle without tripping.
He glanced up to see Byron staring at him. “What?”
It was Chadwick who spoke first. “We can’t afford any more distractions,” he said, half punching Byron on the arm. “I’m serious.”
“Fine, fine. I prefer to eat my own cooking anyway.” Byron walked off to lean against the railing on the balcony. Then he looked back at Matthew.
Matthew knew what that meant. Byron wanted to talk. So he joined his little brother. Then he waited. It was only when Phillip distracted Chadwick by asking about his baby daughter that Matthew said, “Yes?”
“Did you ask Harper?” Byron kept his voice low. Yeah, there was no need to let Chadwick in on this conversation. If Chadwick knew that they’d asked his nemesis to the wedding... Well, Matthew hated bailing people out.
“I did. He refused. The Harpers will not be joining us at the reception.”
“Not even...?” Byron swallowed, staring out at the mountains cloaked in darkness. “Not even his family? His daughter?”
Suddenly, Matthew understood. “No. Is she the reason you’ve got a black eye?”
Byron didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Is Whitney Wildz your reason?”
“Her name,” Matthew said with more force than he probably needed, “is Whitney Maddox. Don’t you forget it.”
Byron gave him the look—the same look all the brothers shared. The Beaumont smile. “Exactly how ‘not available’ is she, anyway?”
Deep down, Matthew had to admire how well his little brother was handling himself. In less than a minute, he’d completely redirected the conversation away from Harper’s daughter and back to Matthew and Whitney. “Completely not available.”
“Well,” Phillip announced behind them, “this has been lovely and dull, but I’ve got a bride-to-be waiting for me who’s a lot more entertaining than you lot.”
“And I’ve got to get home to Serena and Catherine,” Chadwick added.
“I swear,” Byron said, “I leave for one lousy year and I don’t even know you guys anymore. Chadwick, not working? Phillip, sober and monogamous? And you?” He shot Matthew a sidelong glance. “Hooking up with Whitney Wild—”
“Maddox,” Matthew corrected.
Byron gave him another Beaumont smile and Matthew realized what he’d just done—tacitly agreed that he was, in fact, hooking up with Whitney. “Right. You hooking up with anyone. Next thing you know, Frances will announce she’s joining a nunnery or something.”
“We can only hope,” Chadwick grumbled before he turned to Phillip and Dale. “You okay to get home?”
Dale spoke. “You’re going straight home to the farm?”
“Yeah,” Phillip replied, slapping the man on the shoulder. “Jo’s waiting on me. Thanks for—”
Matthew cut him off. “I’ll see that he gets home.”
“What—” Phillip demanded. He sounded pissed.
Matthew didn’t look at him. He focused on Dale and Chadwick. “There’s been a lot of pressure with this wedding. We can’t be too careful.”
“—the hell,” Phillip finished, giving him a mean look.
Matthew refused to flinch even as he wondered what he was doing. At no point during the wedding planning had Phillip been teetering on the brink of dependency. Why was Matthew implying that he suddenly needed a babysitter?
Because. He wanted to see Whitney.
“Good plan,” Chadwick said. “Dale, is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow at the rehearsal dinner.” Dale took off.
When it was just the four brothers, there was a moment of awkward silence. Then the awkwardness veered into painful. What was Matthew doing? He could see the question on each man’s face. Byron’s black eye. Casting doubts on Phillip’s sobriety. That wasn’t who Matthew was. He was the one who did the opposite—who tried to make the family sound better, look better than it really was. He put the family name first. Not his selfish desire to see a woman who was nothing but a PR headache waiting to happen.
Phillip glared at him. Yeah, Matthew had earned that. “Can we go? Or do you need to take a potshot at Chadwick, too?”
Chadwick paused. He’d already headed for the door. “Problem?”
“No. Nothing I can’t handle,” Matthew hurried to say before Byron and Phillip could tattle on him.
He could handle this. His attraction to Whitney? A minor inconvenience. A totally amazing, mind-blowing inconvenience, but a minor one. He could keep it together. He had to. That was what he did.
Chadwick nodded. That he was taking Matthew at his word was something that s
hould have made Matthew happy. He’d earned that measure of trust the hard way. It was a victory.
But that didn’t change the fact that he was, at this exact moment, undermining that trust, as well.
Yeah, he could handle this.
He hoped like hell.
Fourteen
The drive out to the farm was fast and tense.
“After this wedding,” Phillip finally said as he fumed in the passenger seat, “you and I are going to have words.”
“Fine.” Matthew had earned it, he knew.
“I don’t get you,” Phillip went on, clearly deciding to get those words out of the way now. Matthew thought that it’d be better if they could just fight and get it over with. “If you wanted to come out to the farm and see her, you could have just come. Why’d you have to make it sound like I had my finger on the trigger of a bottle? Because I don’t.”
“Because.”
“What the hell kind of answer is that?”
Matthew could feel Phillip staring at him. He ignored him. Yeah, he’d bent the truth. That was what he did. Besides, he’d covered up for Phillip so many times they’d both lost count.
“You don’t have to hide her. Not from us. And certainly not from me. I already know what’s going on.”
The statement rankled him. The fact that it was the truth? That only made it worse. “I’m not hiding.”
“Like hell you’re not. What else would you call that little show you put on back there? Why else does Byron have a black eye? You can dress it up as you’re protecting her because that’s what you do but damn, man. There’s nothing wrong with you liking the woman and wanting to spend time with her. You think I’d hold that against you?”
“You would have. In the past.”
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