by Jill Sanders
She was due at her parents’ house promptly at five o’clock that evening. A groan escaped her as she thought about the awkward family dinner that would follow.
She spent almost two hours skimming over what Rea had given her. As a person in a leadership position herself, she was impressed at how the three brothers had strengthened their father’s business. The rumors were true; they had easily doubled the last year’s profits.
But as an activist, she wondered if they had cut corners to obtain the added profits.
She needed more information than what Rea had provided. She needed inspection logs, invoices for supplies, time sheets, reports on safety. She needed more. She needed answers directly from Trent.
It took almost five minutes for Trent to get his body back under control. He could still smell her soft perfume in his office as his uncle walked in.
“Heard you wanted to talk to me.” Aside from the passing family resemblance, Carl McGowan was nothing like his brother had been—especially in personality. Carl had gone through a handful of wives, DUIs, and jail sentences—and he had gone through money like it grew on trees. As far as Trent knew, he was currently living in a rundown trailer house at the edge of town.
From the looks of his clothes, he would have guessed that the man slept in a gutter.
“Sit.” He motioned to the leather chair. Instead, his uncle remained standing.
“If this is about my money, it’s about damn time.” Carl didn’t beat around the bush. He’d already scanned the room for any liquor, which Trent normally kept on the back table but had locked away before his uncle had arrived.
“No, this isn’t about money.” Trent motioned again to the chair, not willing to sit before the older man. Though he barely deserved that level of respect.
His uncle’s eyes continued to scan the room as they both sat.
“Nice place you have here,” Carl said. “This should have been my office.”
“What makes you say that?” Trent leaned back in his chair. Tyler had recently ordered new chairs and computers for the entire office. Trent was thankful.
“Your father and I built all this.” Carl waved his hands around.
“We know exactly what you contributed to this business, and we believe that you’ve been fully compensated.” Trent kept his cool.
“Your father . . .”
“My father is the one who cut you off. His will clearly states that—”
“Don’t bullshit me.” Carl stood up slowly. Trent followed suit. “I know what I’m due.”
“You’re due common courtesy. That is why you’re in my office today.” He motioned again to the chair. Carl hesitated, then sat down.
Trent joined him. “As you know, you made a deal with my father almost ten years ago. You gave away your half of the business for payments made to you over a decade. In that agreement, any income from new procedures and processes would not continue to you. And this would mark the completion of all obligation McGowan Enterprises and our family has toward you.” Trent watched his uncle’s face turn a deeper shade of purple than normal.
“Your father was a thief. He stole—”
“My father didn’t steal anything, and we have the proof.” His uncle shut his mouth, and Trent continued. “The agreed-upon ten years is up, and his procedures have been proven not only extremely productive, but lifesaving and cost-efficient. We’ve worked up a deal with our lawyers for a method of releasing my dad’s knowledge to the general public for free.”
“You can’t do this!” Carl stood up again, his voice echoing throughout the building. “That knowledge is mine. I could make millions selling that oil-drilling method! You’re nothing but thieves.” The man started coughing and choking. To Trent’s horror, he watched his uncle go from bright purple to sheet white in under thirty seconds.
As Carl went down, Trent dove to catch his head before he cracked his skull on the wood floor.
He yelled to Rea to call 911. By the time she rushed into his office, the phone held up to her ear, he was already performing CPR.
Three hours later, Trent left the hospital and drove his mother back to her house. His brothers had left minutes before they had.
“He’ll be okay,” she assured him. “The heart attack wasn’t your fault. Years of bad eating and drinking habits, combined with the late-night lifestyle . . .”
“Mom.” Trent stopped her. “I know. I don’t blame myself.”
“Good.” She nodded. “That’s good,” she said and looked out the window.
He could tell she was wiping a tear away and wondered why his uncle’s bad health was not affecting him the same way. Maybe she was thinking about his father?
His dad had died a little over a year ago from a heart attack while on a job. His father had been in perfect health, but now Trent and his brothers all wondered if the stress of holding down a business and a family had weighed heavier on him than they thought. Guilt over their former partying lifestyles now hung over all three of their heads on a daily basis.
It wasn’t as if his uncle’s heart attack was a big surprise. After all, his mother was right. His uncle had been a walking time bomb for as long as Trent could remember—one of the reasons they had all been certified in CPR in high school. That and the work they did demanded they knew the basics of first aid.
The doctors had told Trent that his uncle had been lucky he’d been there. Otherwise he’d have been lost. Trent parked the truck in the drive at his mother’s house but kept the motor running.
“Are you okay?” his mother asked, reaching out her hand and touching his arm.
“Yeah.” He shook his head clear. “There’s something I need to do.”
Her eyes met his and her smile grew. “Be gentle. Something tells me that girl needs gentle.”
He closed his eyes. “Jesus, Mom.”
“What?” She giggled. “Just because I don’t allow it under my roof unless it’s a sealed deal doesn’t mean I don’t know it goes on.” She poked him in the stomach. “I didn’t raise any fools.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Good night.”
“Night.” He watched until she shut off the front porch light, then pulled out of the drive and headed across town.
As he drove, he thought about his uncle, looking pale and fragile lying in the ICU with tubes sticking out of him. Regardless of what his mother said, or for that matter what his own brain told him, guilt seeped in.
He compared the situation to his father’s. If Trent had been there, performing CPR on his dad, would his father have lived? Hell, if the three brothers had stuck around and had actually helped out, his old man could have retired early and would right now be spending his golden years sitting on the back deck with their mother.
His mind played over and over the conversation he had with his uncle. Asking all the same questions. Could he have done anything differently? Anything?
But as he drove through the dark town, he had to admit there wasn’t anything different he could have done to help his uncle or his father. Except not leave town and not have the damn meeting with his uncle in the first place. What he needed was a time machine.
As he passed the many different strip clubs that flooded the small town of Haven, he wondered when he’d changed. The row of clubs had moved in close to ten years ago. They were designed to draw the oil workers in and help them spend all the money they made working long hours. What they did for the town was more than just earning tax money; they helped keep a lot of the men busy and out of fights.
There was a time when he and his brothers would have spent countless hours in any of them. Now, however, the thought of spending time with that weird, sexy activist appealed to him so much more.
Addy was right. He had changed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Addy was in hell. She knew it was hell because she was on fire. Not out of embarrassment either—it was anger that consumed her.
She’d arrived at her parents’ home, the five-thousand-square-foot ranch spread
out over an entire hillside, exactly on time. But according to her mother, they had been waiting and waiting for her to arrive.
Then, after Addy had apologized for being late, which she hadn’t been, her mother’s eyes raked her up and down. She gave a smirk that told Addy her mother wasn’t pleased with her hair, which was up in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, or the outfit and shoes she’d worn.
As she followed her mother farther into the immaculate house, through the massive living room, down the two steps into the great room, Addy wondered if she’d ever thought of the space as her father’s. She couldn’t hear a whisper of him in this place she knew like the back of her hand.
The man was just a visitor and acted as such. Her mother had never made anyone other than herself comfortable in the large house.
Sure, it was gorgeous and deserved to be on the cover of a magazine. But Addy thought of it as tainted. Any home this clean seemed spoiled to her these days.
Sure, she liked knowing where everything was, but there were small things she did in her own space that countered her upbringing. She didn’t organize the food in her cabinets. She actually used her towels and didn’t just put them out for show. The list went on. Even in her small space, she made sure to go against her mother’s training.
“We were beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about tonight.” Her mother perched on the edge of the sofa, then crossed her ankles like she was in front of the queen.
“No.” Addy plopped down on the sofa. She knew it drove her mother nuts, but since she’d already been accused of being tardy, she didn’t care. She hid a smile as her mother’s eyes narrowed at the move. “According to my iPhone, I’m right on time.” She held up her phone and showed her mother her phone screen, which showed exactly one minute past five.
“Well.” Her mother’s eyes darted everywhere except for her phone. “We’re disappointed that we had to come back to town because of these nasty rumors you’ve spread. I don’t know what makes you think . . .”
Addy stood up slowly, causing her mother to stop talking.
“I?” Addy repeated her mother’s words over and over in her mind until they finally registered. “I spread?” She swallowed and felt a sharp tug in her heart. “I didn’t spread any rumors.”
“No?” Her mother shook her head as her father looked on from the only armchair she let be “his.”
Addy had barely noticed the man. Actually she’d been avoiding looking in his direction. Just knowing what he’d done . . . She blocked that thought from her mind.
Her parents were older than most of her friends’ parents. It had been her excuse as to why they hadn’t been like everyone else’s parents. Her father was pushing his mid-sixties, her mother just two years behind him.
Darla was her age . . . Twenty-three. Her skin felt like it was crawling, and she rubbed her arms.
“No!” Addy knew the raised voice would get her another glare from her mother. “I was the one who stood there, in the middle of the grocery store, and listened to his harlot explain how she’s pregnant with my father’s baby. A woman my age, almost three times younger than him.” She turned to her father and pointed her finger at him. “Are you going to sit there like this woman’s puppet and deny that you have slept with Darla?”
Her father just shook his head and began clearing his throat. He’d always been thin, but in the past few years, he’d turned frail. His wiry frame was looking more fragile than ever before.
“Your father has done no such thing. That woman and you have clearly concocted this entire scheme to get money from us.” Her mother crossed her hands over her lap and straightened her shoulders. “Well, we brought you here tonight to inform you that your diabolical scheme won’t work. We’ve taken measures to protect us—and our assets—from you.”
“Measures?” Addy stood still, feeling her head spin at her parents’ stupidity. “What measures?”
“We’ve gone to our lawyer and blocked you from inheriting a thing from us.”
“Okay.” She felt like laughing. “Good, I suppose. More for Dad’s new child.”
Her mother plowed right through that statement as if Addy hadn’t even spoken. “No matter what rumors you spread, you’ll never see another dime from us.”
“I haven’t taken a dime of yours for almost two years. What makes you think I’d want anything now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Her mother’s head wagged slightly. “You’re living in that tiny trailer, moving around the world with those . . . drifters. Who knows what kind of drugs you’re on? Or worse, what kind of diseases you’ve gotten from your shenanigans. Not to mention the talk that is going around about you and those McGowan boys. I never did like those boys. They’ve spent most of their lives running wild in this town.” Her mother shifted slightly, a look on her face like she’d just passed by a dump. “It’s a shame that you don’t care about your reputation anymore.”
Addy burst out laughing. When she could finally talk, she took a deep breath.
“First, I’m not the one who should be tested.” She turned to her father. “Seriously, the rumor last year was Darla has a nasty case of herpes.” She watched her father’s eyes fill with worry as he crossed his legs. Then she looked at her mother. “I don’t now, and haven’t ever, used drugs of any kind.” She didn’t know why she was defending herself. “Second, believe it or not, I’m still a virgin.” She took a step closer, but her mother’s expression did not waver. “I wouldn’t take another penny from you if my life depended on it.”
Her parents trailed her as she stomped back to the front door. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Last, what I do or don’t do with any of the McGowans is none of your business.” Her eyes turned toward her father. “If I were you, I’d get as far away from that”—she nodded toward her mother, who stood with her arms crossed—“as fast as I could. She’s nothing more than a cancerous cell, spreading to take everybody else down with her.”
Addy opened the door. “I have no parents.”
She slammed the front door behind her and smiled when she heard glass break as one of her mother’s many perfectly placed pictures fell off the wall.
Addy drove back into town completely and totally pissed. Her entire body shook as the nasty encounter looped in her mind.
She considered dropping by the Wet Spot and laying some of her anger on Darla, but then thought better of it and pulled into the parking lot of the diner instead. She didn’t want to end up in a jail cell that night and prove her parents right.
The Dancing Moose was full for a Tuesday night. When she walked in, she ignored all the stares and the whispers about her father’s indiscretions and headed to the farthest, darkest booth.
She ordered a large chocolate shake, the biggest burger they had with cheese, and an entire serving of onion rings.
Comfort food, she thought as she dug into her shake. She didn’t need parents. Didn’t need anyone.
She closed her eyes and rested her head back as the cold shake slid down her throat and hit her stomach. When was that burger going to get here?
Her mind replayed the scene at her parents’ house several times. Then, for some reason, Addy remembered all the times her mother had mentioned the McGowan boys while she was growing up.
Her mother had never liked the boys—she’d constantly complained about them, how they were running around town, sleeping with everyone. Addy had been warned so many times to steer clear of the three of them that it had sunk in.
She closed her eyes and felt her heart plummet. Maybe her earlier indifference to Trent was really her mother’s doing?
Then again, her mother didn’t really get along well with anyone in town. Sure, she was nice to some folks, but she had always steered clear of others, such as Rea and Gail. Addy was grateful that her mother didn’t know that Brian, Rea’s son, was part of her group.
Almost an hour later, soothed, at least temporarily, by the greasy comfort, she drove back to her place.
She’d been in her trailer less than fifteen minutes before there was a knock on her door. Her mind still roiled from her ordeal.
When she opened the door, Trent stood outside, looking up at her. The anger she had for her mother bubbled to the surface again, and she realized that no matter what she’d believed about this man in the past, she wasn’t going to let it affect her now.
Before she got a chance to say anything, he joined her inside and pulled the door shut behind them as his mouth covered hers.
Okay, so it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. He knew his mother had been right, Addy deserved gentle. But he wasn’t feeling gentle right now. Instead, he was filled with an intense urge to prove to the world that he was alive.
And she was the means of proving it. He carried her, her legs wrapped around him, until the back of her knees hit the front of her massive bed.
“Trent,” she said between kisses.
“Let me stay.” It almost came out as a plea. “I really need you, need this.”
“I overheard someone talking about your uncle,” she said, breaking free of him.
The mention of his family made him pull away. “Damn.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s perfectly . . .” She stopped talking when he gave her a look. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear about your uncle. Is he okay?”
“Yeah. We stuck around as long as we could at the hospital until they kicked us out.”
She nodded.
“Where did you hear about it?” he asked, moving over and sitting down at her little table. He wasn’t in the mood to get a crick in his neck from stooping.
“At the diner. I went there for dinner.”
His gaze caught hers. “I thought you had plans?”
She took a deep breath. “I did, but instead of sitting down for a nice family dinner, my parents only wanted to inform me that they’ve cut me off.”
He stood up and went to her, taking her shoulders in his hands. “I’m sorry.”