by Beth Andrews
Not that he needed to chase her, but it would be nice if he put in a little effort.
Their almost date might not have been perfect, but it had gone well. Smoothly. Char appreciated smooth. No, he hadn’t tried to kiss her good-night, but he had hugged her.
After she’d initiated said hug.
He just needed a push, she told herself as she slouched down in her seat when she spied his truck pulling into the coffee shop’s parking lot. A gentle nudge in the right direction.
She was an excellent nudger.
He walked past her car, tall and handsome even in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair disheveled. She waited until he’d gone inside, then sat up and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror, applied a fresh coat of lip gloss and finger-fluffed her hair before getting out. As soon as she stepped into the coffee shop, she glanced around, spotted him in line at the order counter. She slipped to the side behind a display of ceramic coffee cups, pretended to check them out while sneaking glances at him.
This wasn’t weird or creepy, she assured herself as she held up a mug to hide her face. It was cute. After they got engaged she’d tell him how she’d planned this. Later, they’d tell their kids and then their grandkids how she’d had to chase after him because he was too honorable, too decent to take advantage of her, what with her being so much younger and his good friend’s little sister.
But in the end, he’d say to those adorable kids, he couldn’t resist her.
He paid for his coffee, picked up one of those carriers that held four large cups. The cashier handed him his change, then a bulky, white paper bag filled, Charlotte guessed, with some of the treats the shop was known for: muffins or doughnuts or Danishes. He didn’t return the clerk’s smile, just took his items and stuffed a few bills in the barista’s tip jar as he headed toward the door.
Pretending to study the types of bagged coffee, Char stepped directly in front of him.
“Oh,” she said, looking up with feigned surprise, “I’m sor— James!” She laughed brightly and, she hoped, with sparkling eyes. “Hi. How are you?”
“Charlotte.” He stepped back, looking grim and...unhappy. “I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t acting fine. He was acting brusque and semirude, which was so unlike him.
She’d simply have to cheer him up.
“I’m glad I ran into you,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to call you, but I’ve been so busy—” So busy she hadn’t been sitting around waiting for him to get in contact with her. Mostly because she’d taken extra shifts to keep her mind off of him and the lack of progress they were making in their relationship. “I wanted to let you know it’s official. I got the house.”
“That’s great.” He nodded at a couple when they waved. “Congratulations.”
And he headed toward the door.
Her mouth dropped. She snapped it shut, plastered a smile on her face and hurried after him.
“Thanks,” she said, hoping she sounded breathless and not irritated. “I was hoping you’d be able to look at it again, maybe give me an estimate for adding a mudroom?”
Mudroom, bedrooms for their future children. Whatever.
“An estimate?”
What was up with the strangled voice? The dark expression? “Yes. I’d love to possibly even schedule the work for before winter. That is, if you’re not too busy.”
He glanced at the door a few feet away. If she didn’t know him better, she’d say that look was almost...longing. As if he didn’t want to be standing there. Didn’t want to be talking with her. “We’re booked solid for the next eight months.”
Her eyes wanted to squint. Her mouth wanted to tighten. Wide-eyed, she kept right on smiling. “Then I guess I’d better get on the schedule as soon as possible. If we’re talking next summer, I might as well redo the master bathroom, too. You saw how outdated it is. It’d be great if you could stop by sometime after work. Say...Thursday?”
Her night off.
She held her breath, kept grinning, an innocent, friendly grin meant to put him at ease. But really, waiting for the man to show some interest was getting on her last nerve.
“Thursday?” He frowned. “I’m not sure if that’ll work for me. Maybe Eddie or Dad can drop by.”
Eddie? His dad?
It hit her. Why he was acting so strangely, why he couldn’t wait to get away from her and his horrible mood—that honestly, she didn’t care for in the least.
Sadie must have warned him off.
Charlotte was going to kill her.
“You’re busy,” she said, her voice coming out tight and embarrassed to match the blush staining her cheeks. “And here I am, taking advantage of our friendship, asking you to give up one of your evenings to help me out after everything you’ve already done, looking at the house for me, taking me to dinner. I’m sorry. It was incredibly selfish of me to ask you, to put you on the spot like this.”
“That’s not it. And I’m not on the spot.”
“You’re sweet, but I’ve obviously made you uncomfortable. Made you feel as if you can’t say no. I...God, I’m so embarrassed.” She laid both of her hands on her cheeks, just about burned her palms. “I’m just going to go.”
She made it out onto the sidewalk and halfway to her car before he caught up with her.
“Charlotte,” he called, exasperated. “Wait.”
She stopped, kept her back to him, her arms crossed.
“I can come over,” he said, his tone reluctant, his expression closed. “Work up an estimate for you.”
She lifted her chin. “It’s really not nec—”
“Thursday, right? I’ll stop by around seven-thirty.”
He walked away, leaving her gawking at his back.
Char shook her head. What just happened? She must have stepped into an alternate universe where up was down, black was white and James Montesano was an ass.
He’d had a bad morning, that was all. She headed into the coffee shop. Everyone had them, was entitled to them once in a while.
She hoped he didn’t plan on making a habit of it, though.
She ordered a caramel macchiato, adding whipped cream and a chocolate-chunk biscotti to her order on a whim. It may not have been pretty, but she had scored another victory today.
And the hard-earned ones deserved celebrating the most.
* * *
I CAN’T STOP THINKING about you.
James’s fingers tensed, dented the takeout cup of coffee he held. He shifted on his chair, straightened his legs as Maddie explained to their dad and Eddie the ideas they’d come up with for renovating Bradford House’s attic. But his family’s voices faded, became murmurs of sound. Only one voice was clear in his head. Crystal clear.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
What the hell did Sadie think would happen when she said that? That he’d forgive her? What for? Their friendship was over. Or maybe she was throwing him a bone, like that kiss last night.
Isn’t this what you wanted? she’d asked, offering herself to him like some goddamn sacrifice.
He had wanted her. How could he not when she’d had on that skirt, that clinging top?
He’d wanted, but he’d resisted. Had proved he could. And he’d go right on resisting.
“James?”
James jerked his head up, frowned at his father. “What?”
Frank’s eyes narrowed, reminding James of the few times he’d been disciplined as a teen for being mouthy. “I asked how far behind we’ll be with the attic renovation.”
He shrugged irritably. “A month. At the least.”
“So we shuffle a few things,” Maddie said with a wave of her hand. “Jobs can be pushed back. Schedules can be reworked.”
James glared. Slouched in his seat. “You only say
that because you’re not the one reworking them.”
Yeah, he sounded grumpy. Hell, he was grumpy. He’d had a crappy morning. First Sadie and her declaration, and then Charlotte. All he’d wanted was to put some distance between him and Sadie’s sister.
Instead he’d treated her badly. It’d been like kicking a cute little kitten. And in his guilt, he’d agreed to spend another evening with her, albeit in a professional capacity.
But as much as his morning had sucked, it was nothing compared to last night. After getting Sadie cleaned up and tucked into bed—into his bed—he’d lain wide-awake on the couch, wanting nothing more than to slip into his room, to sleep with her. To just...hold her.
He really was a complete patsy over her.
“I could rework the schedule,” Maddie insisted. “But there’s no way I could come even close to your anal tendencies. Stick with your strengths, I always say. And I think we’d all rather do the reno while we’re there instead of coming back. I know Neil would prefer to have it done before it opens to guests.”
“We’ll make it work,” Frank said, snapping shut his briefcase. “Eddie, let me know what the distributor says about those damaged doors. Maddie, do up the estimate for the added work at Bradford House. James,” he continued as he headed toward the door, his voice going frigid, “84 Lumber is dropping off a delivery today at eleven. Please wait here for them.”
“Jeez,” Maddie said after Frank left. “What did you do to Dad?”
James looked around, realized she was talking to him. Thought about denying it, but that was pretty useless as the tension between them was obvious.
“He’s pissed because I told him he needed to consider making me—making all three of us—full partners.”
His brother and sister both gaped at him, but Maddie recovered first. “You what?”
“Relax. I told him he needed to consider it. I didn’t forcibly conscript you into service.”
“What’d he say?” Eddie asked, taking the seat behind the desk.
“What do you think he said? He said no. That when he retired, if the three of us wanted to take over Montesano Construction together, that was fine by him, but until then, he’s not giving up the reins.”
“Bitter much?” Maddie sat on the edge of the desk, her leg swinging. “Dad’s worried if we’re all equal, it’ll break up the family.”
“How did you know that?”
“He told me when we were finishing the basement at the Todds’ a few years ago. Mr. Todd brought both his sons in as partners in the grocery store. A year later, things were so bad he had to buy back their shares. The brothers haven’t spoken since. It really tore the parents up. Tore their whole family apart.”
“I remember that,” Eddie said. “The younger one...what was his name? Brandon?”
“Brayden,” James corrected, having been a few years behind him in school.
“Right. He was a real hothead.”
“Didn’t he ‘borrow’—” Maddie added air quotes to the word “—money from the store’s account to pay his gambling debts?” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Talk about a cautionary tale about mixing business and family.”
“An extreme case,” James said dismissively. “You ask me, Dad just doesn’t want to give up control.”
“Would you?” Eddie asked.
“Would I bring my children in? You bet your ass.”
“Eddie has a point,” Maddie said. More often than not, those two thought alike. Maddie was just more vocal about those thoughts. “Think about it. Dad’s been his own boss close to thirty-five years. He’s made all the decisions—good or bad. Mistakes or successes, they’ve all been on him. Now you expect him to give that up and do things by committee? It’d be a big change for anyone. A scary one.”
That was just it. James didn’t want to be afraid of change. Not anymore.
“What if the four of us were partners,” she continued, her heel thumping lightly against the desk. “What if two of us want to purchase a new company truck and the other two don’t. How do we decide—what’s the tie breaker? Or if one of us wants to fire an employee, but the other three want to keep him on. There’d be hurt feelings. Ticked-off feelings. It could be a recipe for disaster.”
“Could be,” James agreed, turning his empty cup in his hand. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. There are plenty of family businesses out there that make it work. Why couldn’t we be one of them?”
“Well, what if one of us doesn’t want to be a partner?”
He froze. Narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t want to be a part of Montesano Construction?”
“I don’t know. That’s the thing. What if Neil stays in Seattle or gets traded to a team in Florida or the Predators in Nashville? What if Bree and I want to move to be closer to him?”
“Things that serious between you two?”
“I wouldn’t have gotten involved with him again, wouldn’t have done that to Bree if things weren’t serious. It’s not like we’re engaged yet, but we have discussed getting married. And if...when...we make that commitment, call me crazy, but I want to live in the same state as my husband. Preferably the same city.”
James hadn’t considered that. Had assumed that Maddie would always work for Montesano Construction, that she and Bree would always live in that tiny house across from their parents. That they’d always be here. Would always be close, part of his daily life.
Nothing stayed the same, he reminded himself. Not even the things you wanted to.
“I don’t think it’s something you’ll have to worry about,” James told her. “Dad’s set against bringing us in as partners. Because he is, I’ve been thinking over my options.”
Maddie’s leg stilled. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
He stood, tossed the cup into the garbage can. “I’m considering going out on my own.”
“Please tell me you’re talking about taking a year off to go into the wilderness, living off the land and using nothing but your wits and handmade tools to survive.”
“I’m considering starting my own contracting company.”
“Go into business by yourself? Against Dad? Be his competitor?”
“There’s more than enough work in a town this size for another contracting company. Besides, I don’t think there’d be much competition,” he said drily. “I’m not talking about running a company this size. Mine would be a small operation, me and maybe one or two other carpenters.” He looked at her meaningfully.
“Oh, no. No way.” She jumped to her feet, whipped her long, dark ponytail over her shoulder. “I would never do that to Dad. I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it. That you’d leave Dad because you’re...what? Not getting your own way?” She stormed up to him, her hands on her hips. “I’ve said it before but it bears repeating—you really need to get your head out of your ass.”
And with a sneer, she brushed past him and stomped out.
James pressed his fingers against his temple in an attempt to ward off a brewing headache. “Anything you want to add?” he asked Eddie.
Eddie raised a shoulder. “Hard to follow that.” He shut his laptop. “But I am wondering what brought all of this on.”
“Haven’t you ever thought about it?”
“Becoming partners in the business? Sure. I figured we’d do like you said—take over when Dad retires.”
“I don’t want to wait any longer. I want a say in my own future instead of sitting around taking whatever comes my way. I want to make the decision. I want a choice.”
“Funny thing about choices,” Eddie said quietly, his eyes watchful. He tucked the laptop under his arm. “We always have them. Even when we think we don’t.”
* * *
SADIE DIDN’T WANT the night to end.
Because when it did,
when the sun came up proclaiming the dawn of a new day, she had to go back to work.
She had to face James.
Maybe she could call in sick.
Thank God today had been Labor Day, giving her an extra day to hide. To recover from the colossally stupid mistake she’d made Friday night. The bigger one she’d made Saturday morning.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Yes, that was the perfect way to get them back to being friends. Way to muck everything up even more.
She padded into her mother’s neat, contemporary kitchen with its stainless-steel appliances, light woodwork and glass-front cabinets. Elvis followed, settling down on the rug in front of the door. Without turning the light on, Sadie got herself a glass of water and chugged it down.
The worst part was that it was true. She couldn’t stop thinking about James and in a much friendlier way than just...well...friends.
Way friendlier.
Groaning, she let her forehead bump against the side of the refrigerator. Let it rest there.
No more tequila, she vowed. It killed too many brain cells. Made smart women do incredibly idiotic things.
The lights came on and she turned, startled.
“Sadie,” her mom said, surprised. “It’s almost midnight. What are you still doing up?”
Contemplating her messed-up life. Wondering how soon she could escape it, escape Shady Grove. Wishing it was sooner rather than later.
“I was hungry,” she said, opening the refrigerator and staring at the well-stocked contents, as if the answer to all her problems was tucked between the leftover potato salad and freshly squeezed lemonade.
Sadie pulled out the leftover risotto with pesto sauce and shrimp, just one of the many dishes she’d helped her mother prepare yesterday for the small picnic they’d hosted that afternoon. She dumped some into a bowl and grabbed a clean spoon from the drawer.
Sat at the table and dug in.
Irene looked scandalized. “Don’t you want to heat it up first?”
“Why?”
Her mother sighed. “Never mind.”
Sadie grinned a little, feeling better for some reason. “Sometimes I eat dinner leftovers for breakfast,” she said as Elvis abandoned the rug to sit under the table, always hopeful for a dropped crumb or two. “And I don’t even heat them up first.”