by Regina Cole
Her eyebrows knitted together slightly. “Wedding related, I guess?”
The question reminded him that she knew he was lying, and that he hadn’t bothered—or rather, dared—to tell her the truth.
“Just business,” he said shortly, tossing his jacket over the chair by the door. “Smells good.”
He nodded toward the bar where she’d started spreading out the various takeout containers.
“Yeah, this place is good.” She let it go, thankfully.
As they both grabbed plates and started eating, a silence fell between them. It was halfway comfortable and halfway filled with unanswered questions.
But Trey couldn’t think of what to say to her. So he just ate, and prayed that she’d be satisfied with not knowing.
Chapter Fifteen
The food might have been delicious, but as far as Bethany could tell, it might as well have been made from sawdust and Elmer’s glue.
Trey was hiding something. A lot of somethings. And the fact that she’d slept with him even though he wasn’t being honest with her was beginning to bother her a lot.
As she scraped the plates and set them in the sink to rinse them off, she glanced over her shoulder at him.
He was packing the leftovers back into their containers and stacking them neatly on the corner of her table. His face was serious, every motion slow and studied. Obviously preoccupied, he’d only said about ten words through the course of the meal.
She cut the tap and dried her hands. “So,” she said, putting the dish towel back on the oven door handle, “should we take a look at these invites?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Trey said shortly. He filled up way too much of her small dining area, his presence almost overwhelming in its silence.
Damn it. She wasn’t handling this well at all.
Instead of saying something else, and probably putting her foot in it, Bethany just headed to the spare bedroom where the die-cut machine and the paper supplies were still waiting from the other day.
Gathering everything they needed, she started to bring it back to the living room, but met him halfway.
“Let me carry that,” he said, and before she could protest, he’d taken the machine and the bag of supplies straight out of her hands. “Where do you want it?”
“Kitchen table,” she said, pointing. He set the things down and located an outlet for the die-cut machine.
“Okay,” Bethany said, pulling paper and stamps and other assorted supplies they’d collected into neat piles on the table. “Let’s do this.”
Using the best of the ideas Trey had brought as a guide, Bethany began to assemble a wedding invitation with custom die-cut flowers and an elegant scalloped edge. Trey, who she’d been surprised to find out had beautiful handwriting, wrote out the information in several different styles for them to choose from.
They fell into a rhythm, asking each other for opinions and working steadily. It was good. Nice to feel some of the worry and strain drain away as she just enjoyed being beside his strong, quiet presence.
“I always enjoyed art,” Bethany said, breaking a stretch of quiet that had been much more comfortable than what they’d experienced during dinner. “It’s therapeutic for me. Even when I was a kid.”
“I can see that,” Trey said, looking up from where he’d been testing out a set of calligraphy pens Bethany had unearthed from a tote full of craft supplies.
“Yeah. When I was a kid, we moved around a bit. Well, a lot. So I was the new kid in every grade. It was hard, but I drew a lot and painted a lot, and that made me forget about how tough it was sometimes.” Bethany kept her gaze trained on the delicate paper petals she was arranging on top of the layered card stock.
“Your dad was a Marine, right?”
Bethany’s gaze flew to his, questioning.
He shrugged. “Your grandmother mentioned it.”
“Oh.” She looked down again. “Yeah. The military kept us moving. And kids being how they are, it wasn’t exactly easy to make new friends every year or two.”
Trey was silent for a moment. She shot a look over at him. His jaw was set, a dark wave of hair curling just at his temple, making her long to smooth it away.
“Yeah. I get that.”
He didn’t say anything else, and she sighed internally. She’d hoped—well, she’d hoped that her confession about her past would encourage him to open up to her. It appeared that she’d been wrong.
But maybe… He’d been kidnapped as a kid. And he’d just found the family who’d been searching for him. So now that he knew what kind of childhood he’d missed out on, was he having trouble dealing with what was instead of what could have been?
It made sense.
“I was kind of an ugly kid.” She kept talking. If she wanted him to trust her, she had to show that she trusted him too. “Seriously. I was so thin that my dad constantly worried that there was something really wrong with me. There wasn’t. I was healthy, just couldn’t gain weight no matter what I tried. And I got made fun of for that. A lot.”
She bit her lip, reaching for the next set of die-cut paper petals. “It’s hard to be a teenager and still have to shop in children’s sizes because everything’s too big. And my skin was awful, my hair not any better. I just wished I—”
She hissed in a breath, jerking her hand away as blood welled on the tip of her index finger. “Damn it, paper cut.”
“Let me,” Trey said and grabbed a paper towel. His big hand cradled hers as he dabbed gently at the cut. She watched him as he moved, confidently, gently, as if he was taking care of something much more precious than a cut finger.
When the bleeding had stopped, he bent down and pressed a kiss on her palm. “You might have had it rough when you were a kid, but damn if you’re not beautiful now.”
His words took her aback for a minute. She was speechless, unable to do anything but watch him as he examined her little cut.
The miasma of feeling swamped her, confusing and overwhelming.
Beautiful? He thinks I’m beautiful?
“You don’t mean that.”
He stared straight into her eyes, his expression serious as a stone. “I do. I don’t exaggerate, Beth. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She searched his expression for any hint of untruth, but there was none. His gaze was naked, open, and for a moment, she actually believed what he’d said. That she was beautiful to him. Tilting her chin up to him, she waited.
He closed the distance between them in half a heartbeat, and he kissed her.
She clung to him, afraid that if she let him go, this dream would be over.
She’d never imagined this. It was too new, too exciting, too much. And she never, ever wanted it to end.
He leaned forward, standing, his big body crowding her against the back of her chair. She didn’t care. She wanted more of him. Winding her arms around his neck, she leaned back, slanting her mouth open for him. He took advantage, his tongue delving deep.
Her blood sang in her veins, her heart pounding deep in her core as her hips lifted, needing to be nearer to him. It was as if it had been days rather than hours since she’d been with him.
He stirred that much hunger within her.
But before they went any further, his cell phone started a deep, insistent buzz in his pocket.
He tore away with a groan.
“God, Beth. I… Sorry. I’ve got to take this.” He scowled with a dark expression that would have made her shiver if she wasn’t sitting in that kitchen chair with her mouth swollen, her hair mussed, and her eyes bleary from his kiss.
“Harding,” he said as he answered the call and strode from the kitchen into the living room.
The voice on the other end was deep, although Bethany couldn’t make out any words they were saying. But Trey’s response was cryst
al clear.
“Wolf, slow down. Who is it?” Trey fell quiet, and the deep voice started up again. Bethany looked down at the cut on her hand.
It was already closed up, a faint red line and the lingering sting of pain the only evidence it had happened.
Trey’s voice floated to her ears again. “Jameson? God. Okay. I’m heading down there right now. Have Flash get the money and meet me.”
Silence fell again, and Bethany looked over at the table. There were four invitations in various states of completion, and several more in bits and pieces strewn all over the oak top.
“Beth, I’m sorry,” Trey said as he grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it. “I’ve got to go.”
“What is it?” She stood, her nerves jangling. “Can I help?”
“Don’t worry.” He bent down and pressed a quick, fierce kiss to her lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And then he scooped up his helmet and walked out her front door, leaving her feeling like she’d just been kicked in the chest.
Heavy, hurting, and alone.
* * *
Night had long since fallen by the time Trey made it to the county lockup. And the drive over hadn’t done a damn thing to cool his temper.
He wasn’t sure who he was pissed off at the most—Wolf for interrupting his kiss with Bethany, Jameson for getting arrested, or himself for blowing off his brothers to be with Bethany in the first place.
It was a toss-up of screwups, and the trifecta had definitely killed his good mood.
The red tape was thick, and even with the money Flash had brought, it still took a long time to get Jameson’s bail posted. By the time they walked out of the jailhouse, it was past two in the morning.
Trey had sent Flash out to join the rest of the Shadows, and he alone escorted Jameson from the lockup.
“What the hell happened, man?”
Jameson darted a look Trey’s way. The streetlight above them was flickering, the cold night air making their breath come out in white puffs. “You told me to handle Vinnie. I handled him.”
Trey snorted. “You handled him right into your right fist in front of an undercover, you asshole. You know we don’t do business in public. What were you thinking?”
Jameson stopped in front of the pickup Wolf had dropped off for them. Jameson’s bike had been left at the club where they’d hunted Vinnie down, and Doc had picked up Trey’s bike at his request.
“We tracked him down like you said. He was down at Cherry Ice, dealing. When he saw us, he tried to take off, so I grabbed him. I was walking him toward the exit to get some privacy for the shakedown when he said it.”
Jameson’s pacing was getting to Trey. It was almost like the man was fighting himself inside his own skin, the pain in the lines of his face clearly visible.
Trey planted his feet and crossed his arms as he looked at Jameson. He took a deep, steadying breath, hoping that his calm would rub off on the other man.
“What did he say?”
Jameson stopped, his face ashen as he looked at Trey. “He said he wished he’d killed those kids when he’d had the chance, because they were fucking up his life now.”
Trey’s stomach dropped to the pavement, and his insides went as cold as the surrounding air.
Jameson covered his face with his hands as he leaned against the pickup’s front bumper.
“I lost it, Boss. I just… I thought about those little girls at Ginger’s wedding, standing beside their mama, how happy they were, and then I thought about Cady. My girl. How I’d give anything—anything—for her to be alive. And that son of a bitch…” Jameson shoved off the pickup, bouncing it on its tires. “That son of a bitch is threatening those girls?”
Trey stepped forward. One step, then another, and then he wrapped his arm around Jameson.
“I know, brother,” Trey said. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
Silence fell. They stayed there for a long time as the anger and sadness tormented Jameson. Trey couldn’t ever know the pain the man had gone through, but he’d made a promise to himself to be there for Jameson. And he’d let him down.
He’d let them all down.
And for what? The chance of reclaiming a past that could never be regained? The chance to be with a woman who was much too good for him and always would be?
He needed to get his head on right.
Jameson pulled himself together and stood up straight, looking Trey in the eye as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Boss. I let you down.”
“No, J. I let you down tonight by not being there.”
Trey grasped Jameson’s hand and pulled him in for a back-pounding hug—an acknowledgment of fault, an unspoken promise to do better.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jameson said. He climbed into the passenger seat while Trey took the wheel.
With the engine of the Ford growling underneath them, they headed toward home. Jameson looked out the window, silent. Trey didn’t bother him. If Jameson wanted to talk, he would. And Trey would listen. But if not, Trey would use the drive to think through some of the things he was mulling over.
He owed it to his mother to finish this wedding stuff. She’d spent his whole lifetime searching for him. She’d had someone precious taken away from her, and the only thing she’d gotten in return was his sorry ass. He wanted to give something to her to make her proud. And, like it or not, this wedding was it.
But Bethany—Beth. She’d stolen his wits and left him acting like a gobsmacked teenager with too much heart and not enough good sense. He had to balance things. And right now? He wasn’t.
There were some decisions to be made there, some hard things to think about. Sooner or later, he’d have to face them.
But for now? He drove the pickup toward home, his brother in the seat beside him, nursing his heart’s terminal wound.
Trey had to put his family first for the moment. The family he’d built with his own two hands.
The rest would have to wait till later.
Chapter Sixteen
Dawn crept over the horizon, its slow gray fingers stretching up, then turning purple, then red, then orange as they lit the eastern sky.
Trey watched it all, the only sounds in his home his heartbeat and the hum of the refrigerator. Somewhere along the way he’d lost himself, and he knew exactly when that moment was.
When he’d heard his name. His given name, the one that he’d lost as a baby.
At that moment, he’d caught a glimpse of a future that might have been. He’d been blinded to his present by the wisps of a past that had never existed except maybe in some alternate universe.
But Samuel Yelverton was dead. He’d died in that car crash with his abductor. And though Trey Harding had the same eyes, the same hair, the same DNA, he was—and always would be—a different person.
The fiery orange ball hefted itself over the horizon, each second that ticked by giving Trey more clarity.
He’d neglected his business by chasing this dream. Jameson hadn’t been ready to handle Vinnie. The only saving grace was that Vinnie had fled before he could be questioned by the undercover cop who’d witnessed the scuffle. There’d be no charges.
If Trey had been there… He scoffed to himself, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in the deck chair. If he’d been there, the best he could have done was yank his boy back and pound Vinnie into the ground himself.
But still. The rest of the Shadows trusted him. They leaned on him. And if he wasn’t there, supporting them, anything that went sideways was directly his fault.
He stood, the chill of the morning long since having numbed his skin. He’d texted the need for a meeting first thing this morning. They’d be gathered at Wolf’s, and he was going to confess.
He’d screwed up. They’d paid. And even though they hadn’t complained, he was going to call it off.
His boots crunched on the gravel drive as he walked toward Wolf’s. It was only a quarter of a mile, and the time alone was something he still needed.
Alone. He smiled to himself as he kicked a rock toward the tree line. It was his preferred state. At least, it had been before—
He stopped dead in the middle of the path, his chest giving an uncomfortable squeeze.
Beth.
If he gave up this wedding-business charade, what would she think? Say? Do? Would she still want to see him?
Even if she knew he was a lowlife, a common criminal?
The image of her came to his mind, as painful as it was beautiful.
Her pale-blond hair, her beautiful blue eyes. The way she dressed, so neat, so sleek. Her loyalty, her goodness, her strength and integrity.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who could be his old lady. She was too good for that. And if he pulled the plug on this charade, his chance to be near her would be gone.
He resumed his walk, determination setting his jaw.
As wonderful as she was, Bethany had been a temporary distraction. Better to go ahead and rip off that Band-Aid than to prolong the inevitable. He’d become too soft, too attached. That had to stop now.
His footsteps were heavy on the steps to Wolf’s front porch. As he stopped, his fist raised to knock, voices inside met his ears.
“…would just listen to me for a minute, I know what I’m talking about.”
“Come on, Ace. You don’t know anything more about this crap than any of us do.”
“No, no, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been watching a documentary series about weddings, and now I know how brides think.”
A snort came from someone, probably Wolf. “And what series is that?”
“Say Yes to the Dress.”
A chorus of groans and curses followed, with some yelps that indicated Ace’s smart-ass ways were earning him a few punches to the arm.