The Grand Opening

by Ava Miles

  “No. Why don’t you stuff some more chicken into your mouth?” she fired back.

  “Thanks, I will. So, why are you all white–faced and back–scratching?”

  She was white–faced? Probably the shock of realizing how deep Mac’s confidence in her ran.

  “Okay, I’ll ask it. Have you finally realized you’re in love with him?” Meredith asked, sipping her ruby–red wine.

  The question made her flinch. “What? No! Ah.” God, why was everyone talking about love all of a sudden? It wasn’t like she was living in the 60s in a yurt.

  “Ah…” Jill trilled encouragingly.

  Peggy gave her the stink eye. “You have even less of a filter when you’re pregnant.”

  She gave a drumming impression on her tummy. “I know. Isn’t it great? It really cuts through the bullshit. So has Mac told you he loves you yet? When a guy clams up like he has it usually means he’s in The Grip.”

  Peggy couldn’t sit still anymore. She stood and turned in a circle, yanking on her hair. “Yes! Okay, he’s told me. Will that make you leave me alone?”

  Meredith rose and put her hands on Peggy’s shoulders, and she stopped spinning around like a top. “It’s totally normal to feel like you’re off your rocker when you get involved with someone new—especially when you’re as busy fighting it as you are.”

  Jill reached for more chicken. “Exactly! Don’t you remember how messed up I was when Brian and I first got together?”

  “Your shrieks could have curdled milk,” Peggy replied dryly.

  “See! That’s what we’re talking about.” Jill spooned some fancy herb–crusted fingerling potatoes onto her plate. “You’re about ready to combust.”

  “Peg,” Meredith said gently. “We’re only trying to help.”

  “Look. I know you are. I don’t process like this. Talking isn’t my MO. I need to think about it.”

  “You can’t think your way through a feeling,” Jill commented, popping open the lid of a jar of the smallest pickles Peggy had ever seen. There was a joke there.

  “Yes, I can. I’m a cop. I think my way through my feelings all the time.”

  “This isn’t work, Peg. Won’t you please sit back down?”

  She threw a hand out at the table. “What? And talk about my private feelings over chicken, potatoes, and pickles? No thanks. Mac and I are doing what we need to do. That’s all I’m going to say.”

  “You called him Mac!” Jill cried out. “That’s a huge step forward.” She rose, came around, and gave her a hug, bumping her with the kids. One of the twins kicked her, obviously unhappy about being squashed.

  Her cheeks flamed. “Yes, I call him Mac—sometimes. Are you happy?”

  “Yes, especially since you’re blushing,” Jill cooed.

  “Jill, leave her be. You’re being a pest.” Meredith handed her one of the little pickles. “Suck on this.”

  She rolled her eyes, but did as her sister suggested.

  “Tanner has told me a bit about your parents, especially your dad,” Meredith continued.

  “Stop right there.” Her heartbeat raced like she’d done a sprint up the stairs. “Tanner can talk to you about whatever he wants, but I don’t have to. That subject is off limits.” Even the mention of it made acid pool in her stomach.

  Meredith’s face fell. Jill bit into her pickle.

  “I don’t want to upset you,” Peggy said, her cheeks burning, “but this is not something I want to talk about. Okay?”

  Jill twirled her napkin around her finger when she sat back down. Meredith joined her, so Peggy felt weird standing up. She landed hard in her chair.

  “People around town are going to see you together and ask questions,” Jill said “I just want you to be prepared. We’re afraid you might sock someone.”

  Clearly she needed to dial it back a bit if they were worried she’d lose it that easily. “No one’s going to talk because we aren’t going to be seen like that together.”

  Meredith’s brow knitted. “But you’re sleeping together. That means you’ll go out.”

  In Mac’s world. “No. It doesn’t. We don’t have that kind of an arrangement.”

  “You’re fuck buddies?” Jill’s mouth formed an O.

  “Jeez, well, that’s blunt.” She hadn’t thought about that phrase. She’d had friends–with–benefits before when she was younger. This wasn’t at all the same. “I wouldn’t call us that.” She had no idea what to call them.

  “What term would you use then?”

  Jill could always be counted on to push the envelope.

  “I don’t know. Who are you? Sherlock Holmes?”

  “No, but I love the BBC version. That Benedict Cumberbun is smokin’ hot.”

  “His name is Cumberbatch, you idiot.” Peggy finally shoveled in the coq au vin. God, it was good, but the cocktail onions looked like eye balls to her. “Stop, please,” she said when she finished chewing. “You’re confusing me.”

  “So, Mac’s in love with you. You’re sleeping together, but you’re not going out. That sounds like—”

  “It’s none of your beeswax,” she interrupted, quoting Keith.

  “Keith seems to be really crazy about Mac and Dustin… Are you sure you don’t want to talk about where this is going?” Meredith asked.

  “I can handle everything myself. Thanks.” She piled the food in so she wouldn’t have to talk. Unlike Jill, she didn’t spout off with her mouth full.

  “You’re a tough cookie, Peg, but we love you. If you change your mind, let us know.” Meredith pointed at Jill when she opened her mouth to object. “Nope. That’s all she wrote, sis. Peg’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk, so let’s eat.”

  Jill made a clucking sound under her breath.

  Meredith gave her a warning glare.

  “Apparently she’s eaten so much chicken she’s starting to sound like one,” Peggy commented.

  “Ha ha,” Jill said.

  “I think it’s boc, boc, boc,” Meredith perfectly imitated.

  The chicken talk reminded her of Mac doing Foghorn Leghorn—both with her and Keith and Dustin. A fuck buddy wouldn’t make Looney Tunes’ voices with you and your kid.

  Then again she’d known that all along.

  They ate the delicious food, discussing safer topics—Arthur’s shenanigans at Bingo night and Jill’s best story of the week from Don’t Soy with Me.

  Until Keith burst through the door an hour later, saying “Mom! You’re never going to guess who we saw at the ice cream shop.”

  Tanner regarded her warily.

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Maven, Dustin, and Abbie. She told me I could call her that when I said it’s weird calling her Ms. Maven since she and Mr. Maven aren’t married. They’re brother and sister and that would be so gross.” He made a gagging sound, ever the actor. “Mr. Maven likes Cherry Garcia like I do, and Dustin let me try his peanut butter crunch. Abbie even gave me a taste of her lemon sorbet. It kinda tasted like a pie without the crust. Mr. Maven and Dustin teased her about eating girly ice cream.”

  “Did they now?” she asked.

  “Yes, and I asked Mr. Maven and Dustin when they were coming over next time. Mr. Maven said he’d have to talk to you. I love it when they come over. Dustin’s like my friend—even though he’s so much older than me.”

  Meredith was right. Her kid was already emotionally involved.

  “Keith—”

  “Dustin says he’ll show me how to dribble the ball and shoot it right between someone’s legs. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  Tanner, Jill, and Meredith all avoided her gaze.

  “That’s great,” she managed and started packing up the food they’d brought over. It was time for them to go so she could talk to her son alone.

  “I asked Mr. Maven if he’d teach me how to play poker, but he said you don’t like the game. I told him you just don’t like it when people play for real, and since it won’t be real, he can teach me.”

&nb
sp; A potato fell off the spoon she was using and rolled across the table. Tanner caught it and handed it back, that knowing glint in his eye. She finished packing the leftovers. Leave it to her kid to come up with that logic.

  “Mac’s right,” she responded. “It’s not a game I approve of. Let’s stick with soccer for now.” She didn’t say until you’re older, because it wouldn’t make any difference in how she felt.

  “But Mom!”

  “Let’s say goodnight to everyone. It’s getting close to the twins’ bedtime.” She’d have high–fived herself over that one if no one else had been around.

  His eyes widened. “They have a bedtime even in there? ”

  Jill caught her pleading glance. “Yep. Me too. These two tucker me out. Come give me hugs and kisses.”

  Keith basked in the glow of her adoration. Peggy managed weak hugs with everyone but Tanner, who just gave her that big–brother stare, daring her to man up.

  Keith continued to chatter as she shut the door behind their uninvited guests.

  “Keith,” she called as he pulled off his shoes and socks by the door.

  “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Why do you think Mr. Maven comes over with Dustin to help us around the yard?”

  “I know he’s making up for something he did.” His grin accentuated the chocolate stain in the corner of his mouth. “But I really think it’s because Mr. Maven likes you like a girl.”

  She gulped. “Where did you hear that?”

  He ducked his head. “Don’t be mad, but I heard you talking about him biting you. When you went outside, I asked him why he did it. He said he got excited like I do sometimes when I want to hug you and hurt you on accident. He said he really liked you and was sorry.”

  He’d talked with her son about liking her and hadn’t told her? “You were eavesdropping again.” God, she hoped her voice was stern.

  “I said I was sorry. I know you didn’t like him at first, but I think you like him now, right? Plus, you wouldn’t let him kiss you if you didn’t. Sometimes you smile after he leaves. Uncle Tanner says that’s what a girl does when she likes a boy. I thought everything was okay until you two fought last night. Are you breaking up? Dustin wouldn’t tell me anything. ”

  When had he become this grown up? Here he was talking to her about adult relationships. She wasn’t ready for his childhood to end. She dug her fingernails into her palms.

  He threw his socks aside and scurried up to her. “Mom, don’t be upset. I told Mr. Maven I’d punch him if he hurt you. He might be bigger, but I’m not afraid.”

  The whites of his eyes made him look like a frightened horse during a storm, but the bravado and toughness couldn’t be missed.

  She’d seen that look in the mirror throughout her life.

  “Do you need me to punch Mr. Maven?” he asked, his voice serious.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “No. He and I had a disagreement. We’re back to being…friends.”

  The word seemed as weak as plain toast.

  “You mean like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  God, who had come up with those titles? She stared into his happy face. “Adults don’t use those terms, honey. Now, you should head up to take a bath.” Her nose tunneled under his armpit. “You stink.”

  He sniffed like a little piggy. “No, you stink.”

  The game ensued. She repeated the phrase. He volleyed it back. And on and on it went.

  When she put him to bed, she walked down the hallway to her room. Fell against the wall, exhausted from the discussion. She hadn’t told Keith anything definitive because she didn’t know how long she and Mac would last.

  Her son was too observant by half. He’d caught her smiling at Mac? She rarely smiled, and she detested it when people sent her emails with smiley faces. Even frowned when she saw those happy faces on all the signs at Wal–Mart. Who needed smiles anyway?

  Certainly not her.

  Chapter 34

  Extending a dinner invitation to your brother’s… Abbie realized she didn’t know what to call Peggy. Girlfriend seemed ludicrous. Love interest seemed too intimate.

  She waved to a few members of the staff as she made her way to the hotel’s flower cooler. If Mac wanted Peggy in his life, she was going to support him. That meant inviting Peggy and Keith over for a family dinner. And since she suspected Peggy wouldn’t want to come, she was going to make it hard for her to say no. Showing up with Dustin and a bouquet of flowers to invite them in person for a casual dinner in a few hours would test the manners of even the brusquest person.

  After selecting the flowers she wanted and wrapping them in white paper to match the assorted calla lilies, tying the bundle with a simple blue ribbon, she headed out to find Dustin. She had a feeling he was watching poker somewhere.

  She found Aaron on the main poker floor and asked him where her son was. He told her Dustin was watching Rhett and some Silicon Valley executives in the Aspen Room. Her heart quickened. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Rhett since their talk, and she wanted to see him again. Badly.

  As soon as she walked into the room, she changed her mind. He was sitting directly across from her, wearing a partially open black leather jacket showcasing his gorgeous chest. His poker babes were leaning over his shoulders, mounds of cleavage pouring out of matching red sequin cocktail dresses.

  Dear God, sequins during the day. Who did that?

  Rhett, that’s who.

  And to top it all off, Dustin was looking at their boobs—and not the poker table.

  The distraction she darn well knew Rhett encouraged from his “babes” clearly worked on most men, even those who weren’t playing poker.

  This was why they so didn’t suit. She’d almost forgotten it the other day.

  Rhett was so engrossed in his cards that he didn’t notice as she walked along the edge of the room toward Dustin. The executives, most of them dressed in polo shirts sporting their company logos, gave her a quick glance before returning to the death–defying cleavage on display. Rhett told a dirty joke that made her blush.

  Dustin was laughing right along with everyone else when she put her hand on his arm. He jumped and sent a final guilty look at the poker babes. She wanted to say, yes, I saw you ogling those women, but this wasn’t the time. Who could refrain from looking when their boobs were out there like that?

  “We need to go,” she whispered.

  “Uh…okay, let me tell Rhett goodbye.”

  She didn’t answer, just watched as he checked his fohawk like he was Danny Zuko in Grease. Fantastic, she thought. Now her son was trying to impress Rhett’s poker babes.

  Rhett looked over as Dustin approached. And then he saw her.

  She’d seen enough of his easy charm to identify when there was a crack in his composure, even if it lasted only a second. His eyelids flicked down and then he stood, causing his poker babes to quickly straighten and step back. More cleavage bounced. Abbie ground her teeth.

  “Excuse me a minute, boys,” he drawled out as he grabbed Dustin in a one–arm hug and came forward. “Hi, Abbie.”

  Rhett had been playing poker at the hotel frequently, but she hadn’t really watched him since the grand opening weekend tournament. This is what Rhett was. This is what he did.

  Despite all he’d said to her, nothing had truly changed. He was still the wild poker player who told dirty jokes and had poker babes named Raven and Vixen who could have doubled as porno actresses.

  She still felt ashamed of this side of him and didn’t want to be associated with it.

  “Dustin, it was good to see you, son. Why don’t you give me a minute with your mom?”

  Her son must have known it was a smart move to dash off because he was out the door in three strides. Rhett grabbed her elbow and led her to the bar, motioning away the room’s private bartender.

  “I need to go,” she told him, but he wouldn’t release her arm.

  “You want to run,” he retorted, “and I’m not letting th
at happen. We got closer than I ever dreamed of the other day. You are not retreating.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “I could see you bristling from across the room. Dammit, how many times do I have to tell you that this is all an act?”

  “I know it’s an act, Rhett,” she whispered, acutely aware of the eyes watching them. “It’s just one I don’t want to be associated with. My son either.”

  His mouth turned grim. “I would never allow Dustin to be hurt by what I do.”

  “And yet he was just ogling your poker babes’ cleavage like every other man in the room.”

  “Well, I wasn’t. The only breasts I want to see are yours, and I hate to be the one to tell you the obvious, but teenage boys—heck all men—like to look at breasts.”

  She set the bouquet aside so she wouldn’t crush the flowers. “Which you have no qualms about encouraging in your act. Rhett, I have to think of Dustin here.”

  He growled low in his throat. “Don’t use Dustin as an excuse. That kid knows this is an act, and he knows I love you.”

  She shook her head. “Dustin is impressionable, and recent events have proven that. I don’t like him being around this kind of display.”

  He took off his black cowboy hat and ran a hand through his ash–colored hair. “You let him watch Mac play all the time. And me too. This is what we do, Abbie.”

  “I know,” she said sadly, realizing any dreams she’d had about their future together were flat–out stupid. She couldn’t walk into a tournament with Rhett and his poker babes. The thought was ridiculous and embarrassing.

  His hand cupped her shoulder, and she felt the charge. “Don’t let this stand between us. I can’t stop playing poker for you. It’s who I am. I love it. Just like I love you.”

  The entreaty in his eyes couldn’t be missed, and she felt a ball of hurt lodge under her heart. “I need to go.”

  When she turned away to pick up the bouquet, he grabbed her arm. “I’m not giving up, you know. I’ll find a way to have you and keep playing. There has to be a solution.”

  Raven and Vixen were entertaining the other men, weaving around the table, their husky laughter hanging in the air like smoke.