Harlequin Superromance August 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: What Happens Between FriendsStaying at Joe'sHer Road Home

by Beth Andrews

  Sadie snapped her fingers and Elvis sidled up next to her. They walked through a large stockroom into a kitchenette.

  “Tea?” Irene asked.

  “Sure.” Sadie sat at the small table while her mom put a kettle of water on, retrieved two cups and put a tea bag in each one.

  Sitting across from Sadie, Irene folded her perfectly manicured hands on the table. “How have you been?”

  “Good,” Sadie said, matching her mother’s polite tone. They were nothing if not polite to one another. Oh, they loved each other, but Sadie thought her mother was too concerned with appearances and what other people thought than in supporting her eldest daughter’s decisions. Irene worried that Sadie was wasting her life and would end up alone.

  A distinct possibility.

  “How about you?” Sadie asked.

  “Honey, I’m fine. Now, let’s get back to you. What’s wrong? And please, don’t try to tell me ‘nothing’ again. I know you too well.”

  Sadie wasn’t so sure about that.

  Irritated, still reeling from her conversation with James, she shifted in her chair like a wayward two-year-old. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  Irene reached across the table to clasp Sadie’s hand. Her eyes, the same light blue as Sadie’s, were shrewd and saw way too much. “Because you’re home.”

  For some crazy reason, Sadie found herself wanting to tell her mom everything. Admit to everything, all the decisions she’d made that had led her to this point, all the mistakes. She knew her mom would help her, but she wasn’t in the mood for the whole disappointed, where-have-I-gone-wrong lecture that came along with that help.

  The kettle whistled and Irene went to make their tea. Chewing the inside of her lower lip, Sadie rubbed Elvis’s head, which was in her lap. But she hadn’t confided in her mom in years. Oh, they didn’t fight—Irene was too composed to resort to arguments. But she did set pretty high standards for her daughters, and if you didn’t meet them, didn’t fall into line with what she thought you should do, who she thought you should be, she let you know it.

  But she was always there to help Sadie get back on her feet.

  Sadie wished she could appreciate it more instead of just feeling like a huge failure. To come crawling back to her mommy was humiliating.

  Somehow, some way, this was all James’s fault.

  Irene set the teacup in front of Sadie and placed a plate of fancy cookies in the center of the table. Sadie chose a sugar-dusted molasses cookie and bit into it. She groaned. “Delicious. Homemade?”

  Irene made a humming sound as if Sadie should know better than to even ask if Irene Ellison would give anyone—even her prodigal daughter—store-bought cookies.

  Sadie took another cookie, nibbled on the edge, then palmed it and slid it onto her lap. Kept her expression smooth as she lifted her hand so Elvis could eat it.

  “Please don’t feed your dog at the table,” Irene said, not even glancing up from where she studied the plate of cookies before making her own choice—shortbread.

  “You should really think of taking that whole ESP thing on the road.”

  With a secret smile, Irene lifted her cup for a sip. Sadie added two teaspoons of sugar to her tea and stirred it. Stirred and stirred and stirred while Irene calmly, patiently drank her own tea.

  Waiting her out, Sadie knew. No one did that whole sit-and-wait-and-the-other-person-will-soon-crack tactic like Irene. She would have made a great cop.

  “I need a place to stay,” Sadie admitted.

  “I see. Did something happen between you and James?”

  Sadie stared at her tea. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you usually stay with him.”

  “Well, this time I’m not. I’d like to stay with you.”

  “That’s a change.”

  Yes, it was. For as long as she could remember, Sadie had wanted to get out from under her mother and stepfather’s roof. To live her own life free of their rules.

  To live life like her father had.

  Irene glanced at Elvis. “And does the dog that’s staying with you temporarily need a place to stay as well?”

  “He does. But only until I find his owners or someone to adopt him.”

  “Is he house-trained?”

  “Yes.”

  “And up-to-date on his shots?”

  “Definitely.”

  Probably. Maybe. She glanced at Elvis, but he didn’t pull out an immunization record, so she’d just have to go with her gut. And hope she could slip this one little fib past the human lie detector.

  She held her breath while her mom mulled it over. If she said no, Sadie didn’t know what she’d do. She’d never been homeless, not really. But it was a distinct possibility now. She could ask Charlotte to let her bunk on the couch, but her sister would have to run it by her roommate first.

  And honestly, it was lowering to ask your baby sister to get you out of a jam.

  Especially when that baby sister was more accomplished, more responsible and way more mature than Sadie ever hoped to be.

  But she couldn’t leave Shady Grove. Without money, she had nowhere else to go. She also couldn’t afford a hotel room, and while she had quite a few friends in town still, most of them were married with families, jobs and their own busy lives.

  Her throat clogged. This was, without a doubt, the absolute worst morning of her life. And that was saying something. She’d left James’s house in a daze, stunned that he’d thrown away a lifetime of friendship.

  Hurt that he’d dismissed her that way because she couldn’t give him what he wanted. Couldn’t be who he wanted her to be.

  “Mom,” Sadie said, her voice thick with emotion. She cleared her throat. “Can I come home? Please?”

  “Honey,” Irene said, getting up and walking around the table to crouch next to Sadie. She wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Of course you can. You’re always welcome, you know that.”

  Sadie sniffed, fought the urge to throw herself into her mother’s arms and bawl like a baby. “You don’t think Will will mind?”

  “Don’t be silly. You know your father loves nothing more than having his girls home.”

  Willard Ellison wasn’t her father, though. Yes, he loved her and had always treated her like his own daughter. But she’d never been able to think of him as her father. Not if she wanted to keep the memory of her own dad clear and strong in her mind.

  Loving Will too much had felt like a betrayal to Victor.

  Irene gave her one last squeeze and straightened. “But—”

  Sadie groaned. “Why is there always a but with mothers?”

  “All the better to annoy our children,” Irene told her. She rinsed her cup, set it in the sink. “Since you’re bringing that dog, there need to be a few rules.”

  Of course. There were always rules at her mother’s house. You couldn’t outgrow it.

  “You,” Irene continued, “and only you, will be responsible for his care. I will not feed him, not once. Nor will I walk him or let him out to take care of his—” she wrinkled her nose “—business.”

  “Agreed.” Sadie thought about adding a sharp salute, but had enough sense to resist.

  Irene turned, faced her, her hands linked at her waist. “Now, I take it you have employment lined up while you’re here?”

  She usually picked up money tending bar at a local spot, but that wouldn’t be enough to cover the cost for her to go to California. “I’m going to talk to Gordy this afternoon, see if I can take a couple of shifts at O’Riley’s. But I’m also looking for something during the day.”

  “You could work here.”

  On a surprised laugh, Sadie dropped the cookie she’d been slipping to Elvis. It fell to the floor, but he didn’t eat i
t, just looked at her.

  It took her a moment to realize her mother was serious. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? You’re great with customers. And you’ve always had an eye for color.”

  “It’s just that this is your thing.”

  “My thing?”

  Feeling as if she’d somehow hurt her mother’s feelings, Sadie rose. “Your hobby.” One bought and paid for by her husband, Dr. Ellison, a local ophthalmologist. “Besides, you know I’ve never been one to follow fads or trends.”

  And Lord knew her mother’s store catered to those trends. And to the women who could afford to spend a couple hundred dollars on a pair of jeans just because they had someone else’s name on the tag. It wasn’t like they were stitched together with gold, people.

  “It was just a suggestion,” Irene said, but her voice sounded weird. Strained. “I guess I’d better get back to my little hobby now.”

  Uh-oh. Definitely hurt her feelings.

  “Mom, I didn’t mean—”

  “Shall we expect you for dinner?” Irene asked.

  “Sure,” Sadie said slowly. “Is it all right if I drop my stuff off at the house?”

  “Of course. Goodbye, dear.”

  “’Bye.”

  But her mother had already walked away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “JUST TO LET you know,” Maddie said Tuesday afternoon as she helped James lay the floor in one of the bedrooms at Bradford House, “the workers are talking mutiny.”

  Using a mallet, he hit the plunger of the flooring nailer, nailing a board to the floor. Grunted.

  She set her hands on her hips above her tool belt. “Did you grunt at me? Really? Just when I think having three brothers couldn’t get more annoying, one of you proves me wrong.”

  He straightened. “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that you’ve been moody, grumpy and a general pain in the ass for the past two days. You yelled at Art and he’s like...eighty years old.”

  “He’s forty-seven.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Well, he looks older. A good reason right there not to smoke.”

  James sighed. “Maddie...”

  “Oh, right. Anyway, you’re pissing off people left and right. Which isn’t like you at all. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You don’t want to talk about it? Fine. But you’d better do something. Get therapy or have someone help you pull your head out of your ass. But stop snapping at your coworkers before they decide working alongside someone as witty and awesome as me isn’t worth putting up with you.”

  He didn’t want or need advice, especially from his younger sister. He’d had a rough few days. He was entitled, wasn’t he? Christ, he’d finally slept with the woman he’d been in love with since he’d been ten freaking years old only to cut her out of his life completely.

  He deserved to be grumpy for a few days. Maybe even a week.

  “Are you done?” he asked.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He picked up the next piece of flooring and set it in place. Grabbed the nailer. “Then we can get back to work.”

  “You’re not still upset about Bree going to breakfast with Neil today are you? Because she’s really looking forward to hanging out with you this weekend.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, too.” Even if it meant getting used to his new position in his niece’s life.

  Even if it meant acknowledging that now that Bree had her father in her life more often, she didn’t need James. Not like she used to.

  Which proved he needed to focus on his own life. On moving forward.

  It’d proved how right he was to finally let go of his crazy, stupid dreams regarding Sadie.

  “Does this have anything to do with Sadie?” Maddie asked, watching him shrewdly.

  He missed the plunger, hit his knee. He dropped both, straightened and hopped over to the wall for support and carefully straightened his leg. “Son of a bitch.”

  He glanced at Maddie, but instead of sympathy, his sister stood there looking as if he’d gotten what he deserved. “I take it that’s a yes?”

  Rubbing his knee, he glared at her.

  Maddie, of course, wasn’t intimidated in the least. “Because after work yesterday, I stopped by WISC looking for a dress to wear to some fundraiser Neil is taking me to when Bree and I fly out to Seattle in a few weeks, and Irene said Sadie was staying with her.”

  “Not interested.” He crossed to the corner, grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler Maddie had brought. Drank deeply. He hadn’t let himself wonder where Sadie had ended up. But if he had let his guard down enough to let her into his head, he would have thought she’d end up with Charlotte. Or one of her other friends. She’d always felt so stifled at her mom’s place.

  “Well, I was interested, seeing as how Sadie usually stays at your place. What’s the deal?”

  “Drop it, Maddie.”

  “Did you two kids have a fight?”

  He finished the water, crushed the bottle. “Damn it, I said drop it.”

  Her eyes widened, and she crossed to him. “Oh, James. You did it, didn’t you? You told her.”

  Foreboding touched the back of his neck, cold and clammy. “Told her what?”

  Maddie rolled her eyes. “That you’re in love with her.”

  “Aw, Christ.”

  “You did,” she breathed. “What did she say?”

  “What do you think she said? And how the hell did you know anyway?”

  “I’m your sister, but more importantly, I’m a woman. And I know you. I see how you look at her when you don’t think she’ll notice.” She removed her ball cap and hit it against the side of her thigh. “I figured once you finally stopped messing around and were honest with her, you two would...”

  “Would what?” James asked, hating that his sister had seen what he’d tried so desperately to keep hidden. If Maddie had seen his feelings for Sadie, who else knew? It was demoralizing to realize he was an open book, and yet Sadie had been shocked when he’d admitted how he felt about her.

  It was humiliating.

  Maddie’s expression softened. She felt sorry for him. Okay, it was worse than humiliating. It was pathetic.

  “I thought you two would work out,” Maddie said, her voice gentle. “That she’d stay in town, you’d get married and have a couple of incredibly adorable kids.”

  He lifted another piece of flooring. Realized he hadn’t finished nailing in the previous piece so set it down. “Yeah? Well, Sadie isn’t interested in any of that.” Wasn’t interested in him, not in the way he wanted her to be. The way he needed her to be in order to remain in her life. “It seems I’m not her type.”

  No, she preferred assholes who wore leather jackets and perpetual sneers. Men who were misunderstood, brooding and antiestablishment. Hell, James was the opposite, and he wasn’t going to apologize for it. He didn’t want to change who he was, not for anyone, not even Sadie.

  Maddie hugged him, and he sighed. Patted her back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know how it feels, believe me.”

  She did, too. She’d loved Neil ever since she was a kid, had gotten pregnant when she’d been a teenager only to have Neil leave her and Bree.

  But Neil had come back. James doubted Sadie would. Wasn’t sure he wanted her to. Not when he was so pissed at her. Not when she’d hurt him so badly.

  “I know you’re probably not ready to hear this now,” Maddie continued—she was like a damn dog with a bone, chewing it to death. “Maybe you don’t even want to hear it, but this might actually be a good thing.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.”

&nbs
p; Maddie ignored him. She excelled at ignoring anything and everything she didn’t agree with. “The perfect woman for you is out there. And now you’re free to find her. To let yourself fall for someone you can build a life with, someone you can have a future with.”

  She was killing him.

  Death actually seemed preferable to finishing this conversation. “Could we please stop talking about it altogether before what’s left of my manhood curls up in a corner and dies?”

  “Men. So sensitive.”

  He’d gotten four more nails in when his coworker Heath stepped into the room. “There’s a woman here to see you,” he told James. He wiggled his eyebrows. “She’s a pretty thing, too. And she brought you something.”

  James’s first thought, the one that had everything inside of him stilling, was that it was Sadie. But Heath had worked for them for fifteen years and had met Sadie several times. If it was her, he would have just said so or simply sent her upstairs to James.

  Not Sadie, come to beg him to take her back, to give her another chance. To forgive her.

  He couldn’t figure out if he was disappointed or relieved.

  With a sigh, he leaned the flooring nailer against the wall and went down the back staircase to the gutted kitchen, through the dining room and into the large reception hall. As he passed the fireplace—one of five on the first floor—he heard conversation coming from the living room, then the sound of feminine laughter.

  “Char,” he said, mildly surprised to find her chatting with Art. To find her there at all.

  She smiled, had her dimple winking. “Hi,” she said.

  Art, on scaffolding eight feet above the ground, nailed crown molding in place. Heath joined him a moment later.

  James took her elbow and led her into the reception hall then slid the pocket doors shut, muting the sound. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been dying to see the inside of this place, and at your party I was talking to your mother and she said it would be all right if I stopped by sometime to look around.”