by Marie Harte
“Hey, Smith.” Kenzie hugged him, and he couldn’t help smiling down at her. Man, was she pretty, especially glowing with happiness. In a way, she reminded him of Erin.
Once again, the thought of Erin made him want to smile.
She took a step back, and he gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I see you’re still pretending to be Evan’s girlfriend. That pity date really spiraled out of your control, huh?”
She laughed, and Evan rolled his eyes.
Smith smirked. “When you get tired of him, you know my number.”
“Yes, you’re on my speed dial.”
Evan chuckled. “For when we need someone to watch Daniel. He’s still in awe and fear of you. It’s the fear we need to keep him in line.”
“I like Daniel.” He paused to note Reid and Cash staring at him in surprise. “What?” he barked.
“Just didn’t realize you could do more than growl and snarl at everyone,” Cash offered.
Smith shot him the finger, and Reid grinned. “See, now that’s the Smith we know.”
“And love,” Jordan added with a wink his way.
That shut Cash up fast.
The evening progressed as they ate a delicious meal. Wisely, they’d put Smith next to Evan at the end of the table. He mostly kept his mouth shut, eating his second helping with pleasure. He could see what Cash saw in Jordan. Besides kicking ass and looking fine, the woman could cook.
Evan elbowed him in the side. “You awake?” he asked in a low voice. The others were laughing about something Reid had said.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You haven’t said much.”
Smith shrugged. “Not much to say.”
As if he’d asked for the attention, a laughing Reid turned from Naomi to regard him with a hint of caution. “So, Smith. What do you think of the company and where we’re headed?”
Uncomfortable with being in the spotlight but not allowing it to show, Smith thought about his answer. “Aside from Cash being an ass and you catering to his immature behavior, I’d say the company is doing all right. People seem to like us, and Evan has filled in as best he could.”
“Thanks so much,” Evan said drily.
“Could you be more specific?” Reid asked. “Not about Cash being an ass, but about the daily workings of the company. I like to know how things are going from another perspective.”
“From an outsider’s perspective, you mean.” Finally. It was almost a relief to have them come out and speak the truth. All this togetherness crap had been wearing.
Cash frowned. “If that’s what he’d meant to say, he’d have said it.”
Reid put a hand on Cash’s shoulder. “I meant from someone newer to the company. Evan’s been good about letting me know how he thinks we can improve. But his ideas always revolve around our bottom line. You’re more of an operational kind of guy.”
“So’s Cash. So’s Jordan, though she’s probably brainwashed to say whatever Cash thinks.”
Reid spoke before Jordan or Cash could argue. “I’ve already talked to them. Now I’m asking you what you think. Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth.”
Smith bristled at any notion he might be scared. “Fine. The crew does a good job of getting organized. Sometimes we get confusing info on the clients though. Finley and Dan occasionally get details wrong. And I don’t like that. You should let the moving crew call the client to confirm the details before we go on a job.”
“Noted. What else?”
Smith wanted to have something else to complain about. But honestly, Reid had a good company staffed with excellent veterans. Despite most of them being from services other than the Marine Corps, Smith found himself respecting if not liking them. Even Funny Rob, an Air Force dweeb who wasn’t all that funny.
“Well,” Smith added, “Cash could probably work a little harder. I know he’s nursing that healing arm, but he seems to pair himself with the harder workers so he can slack some.”
“Asshole,” Cash snarled. “That’s totally not true.”
“Well, it’s a little true.” Jordan shrugged. “Hey, you always end up with either Lafayette, Hector, me, or Heidi.”
“See?” Smith sat back and let the fur fly.
“But that’s because you guys annoy me the least of the team.” Cash glanced at Smith and sneered. “I work with him, I spend most of my day trying not to put his head through a wall.”
Smith snorted. “As if you could. Though with Little Army, you might have half a shot.”
Jordan tried to hide her smile. They all called her Little Army because she was small but tough. The chick had a set of guns on her too, as she liked to point out when trying to out-flex Cash. Yeah, Smith had to admit there were worse people to work alongside than the gang at Vets on the Go! They’d all served their country, knew the sacrifices that came with military service, and still worked hard, pulling their weight.
If he didn’t necessarily get along with all of them, well, that was more his fault than theirs. And he knew it. But damn if he would admit it to anyone other than himself.
“Your people get the job done,” he said to Reid, ignoring Cash. “What more do you want to know?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Smith saw Cash frown. Whatever. He didn’t like the guy, never would, and didn’t see the point of continuing trying to get close.
Maybe this was a good time to leave. “You know, it’s time for me to—”
“Cake,” Naomi cut in. “Who’s ready for dessert?”
Before he could blink, the table was cleared and the cake set in the middle, served up on smaller plates. Jordan and Cash left and reappeared with coffee and cups.
Smith did his duty and took a plate of dessert. He ignored Naomi watching him as he took a small forkful. As expected, the cake wasn’t to his taste. But to keep the peace, he pretended to like it.
She beamed at him. “I knew if you gave it a chance, you’d like it.”
He pushed it around on his plate, hoping the mushed part made it look as if he’d eaten more than that one bite. Thankfully, that seemed to make Reid happy as well, and talk returned to people they knew and funny stories from Naomi’s latest public relations client. He continued to push around the chocolate mess on his plate, wondering when he could leave without hearing a ration of shit about it.
“Uh oh. It’s time.” Naomi stood and pulled Kenzie and Jordan with her. “Let’s go, girls.” They grabbed coats and purses and left before Smith knew what the hell was going on.
When he saw the others watching him, he stood. “Time for me to go too.”
Evan sighed. “Smith, stop avoiding the elephant in the room.”
“Cash? I’ve talked to him tonight.”
“Such a dick.” Cash shook his head.
Reid spoke up. “I know this can’t be easy. But we’d like to talk to you about Angela. About…our mother.”
There it was. The truth finally out in the open. What Smith had been wanting to talk about since he’d first learned his mother wasn’t his mother, and that he had brothers she’d loved better than him.
Yet now, the words wouldn’t come. Like a big pussy, he felt hot and cold, nervous yet furious because he didn’t know how to comport his feelings.
“You first,” he managed and leaned up against the wall so he had room to breathe.
The others remained seated around the dining table, probably in the same room Angela had once fed her boys and her nephew, Evan. Comfortable family time where everyone shared stories and laughter, then got sent off to bed with kisses and hugs.
Oh, Evan had tried telling him that his brothers hadn’t had an easy time of it growing up, but it couldn’t all have been bad. He’d dare any of them to compare their childhoods to his.
Reid looked at Cash, who nodded, and Reid said, “Our father—my father—Charles Griffith, died six years ago. He passed while we were still in the Marine Corps. To be frank, he wasn’t the nicest man.”
“He was a fucking bastard, and I�
�m glad he’s gone,” Cash said, his voice flat.
Evan cringed. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but he wasn’t a pleasant person. He hated Cash.”
Normally Smith would pipe in with a sarcastic comment like, “We all hate Cash.” But the raw emotion floating in the room kept him quiet.
“Angela seemed to have had no one,” Reid said. “No relatives other than her sister-in-law. But she never really got along with Aunt Jane. So, she spent her life pretty much alone.”
“Well, as alone as she could ever be.” Cash snorted. “The woman lived with her head in the fucking clouds, buried in soap operas and books. She lived in a fantasy world where her kids didn’t matter, but two fictional strangers falling in love was everything. Total bullshit.”
Smith wanted him to say it. “You’re telling me she was a bad mother.” Not exactly what Meg had told him.
“Mother?” Cash scoffed. “The woman gave birth to us, but that was about it.”
“That’s not true, Cash.” Reid shook his head and met Smith’s gaze. “She tried, but something in her snapped. We were young, and one day she just wasn’t there anymore. I mean, physically she was. But mentally she was gone. Angela lived in a world of make-believe up until the day she died.
“We didn’t know about her having any friends, but some woman named Margaret took care of her final resting place. And apparently Margaret visited her at the assisted living home Mom was in. She was a mystery to us, but maybe not to you.”
They waited.
Smith didn’t want to talk about himself and his life. Not yet. “So why did Angela leave the house to Cash and not you?” he asked Reid.
Reid glanced away, and Smith saw Cash dart a concerned look at his younger brother, who answered, “I don’t know. We think maybe it was because she missed Cash’s dad so much, and Cash apparently looks just like him. Allen something.”
Cash snored. “She used to call me her ‘All-in.’ But I think she meant to say Allen. She never saw me at all.”
Smith saw the wounds Cash couldn’t hide, and it confused the hell out of him. Angela had kept them while she’d thrown him away. But even an absent mom had to be better than a bitter, hateful woman who spouted venom with every breath.
He cleared his throat. “The woman who called herself my mother was her sister. Margaret Ramsey raised me as her own.” And she hated me more than anything in this life.
“That would match what she said in the journal we found, where she mentioned Meg a few times.” Reid shared a glance with Cash.
Evan asked, “Did Margaret ever mention Reid or Cash?”
“Meg didn’t tell me she wasn’t my mother until I left the Corps eight months ago.” And he still didn’t know how to feel about the revelation. Relief or sorrow that he couldn’t even claim the one tie he had to family? “She’d mentioned my perfect cousins all my life, but that’s it. I only knew you guys were amazing and could do no wrong.” But she did say that my real mother hadn’t wanted me. She apparently had an ideal family and didn’t need me to ruin things.
“Perfect? That’s a load of crap,” Cash said. “Angela’s perfect family only existed in her mind. None of us mattered. Hell, I moved out at sixteen. I don’t think she ever noticed.”
Reid nodded. “I still wonder if she had some mental illness that was never diagnosed. Her journal is a little off.”
Smith wanted to read it but knew better than to ask.
Cash stood and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You should read it. To see what we’re talking about.”
Reid left and returned with it in hand. “Here.” He handed it to Smith.
Smith didn’t want to touch it, but he took the book. “I’ll get it back to you.”
“Take your time. We’ve read the thing.” Reid grimaced. “It’s… You’ll see.” He paused. “In it she mentioned having a son. Riley.”
Smith blinked. “Riley’s my middle name.”
Cash studied him. “Did you come to us for a job to check out us? ‘Cause no way in hell I’m believing a coincidence brought you to us.”
“Since I’d just left the Corps, I was at loose ends. Seemed a good time to meet you.”
Reid nodded.
Evan watched him a little too intently. “So, what was Meg—your aunt, I guess—like?”
Smith had mistakenly shared a few details with Evan not so long ago, but he’d be damned if he’d share his pathetic life with Reid and Cash. Not now, maybe not ever. At least they’d had each other. He’d had no one. Rage that he’d lived a lie never quite left him, and it reared its head again. “Look, all this catching up was just swell.” They couldn’t miss that sarcasm. “But I have work in the morning. I’ll see you guys later.”
He left, not looking back, and heard Reid tell Cash to let him go.
Yeah. They had each other and Evan for support.
Smith didn’t have anyone. And he told himself he liked it that way. Because what was the point in wishing for something that would never change?
Chapter Three
Eight days after first moving into her new efficiency apartment, Erin continued to wonder about her new part-time employer. She had no idea how a person who looked so sweet could be so cantankerous, ornery, and downright bitchy. And Erin hated the B-word.
“I said I don’t like onions,” Matilda Cartwright, her seventy-nine-year-old employer and landlord, griped for the fifth time that afternoon.
“Yes, I know, Tilly. That’s why I didn’t put onions in the casserole.” As she’d mentioned the previous four times.
Erin had understood Smith’s warnings from the get-go. Her twenty-minute interview with Tilly had warned her the woman would be a challenge. She stood an inch or two shorter than Erin. And if Tilly weighed a hundred pounds, it would be a miracle. Yet she ate as if she was the size of Smith.
Thoughts of Erin’s “savior” had stayed with her throughout the week. Smith Ramsey left a lingering impression. Granted, he’d been bigger than any man she’d ever dated. Harder, stronger. Meaner too. And distant. Since last Wednesday, she’d seen him only in passing even though he lived right next to her.
Fortunately, the walls in the old building were thick; she only ever heard him if he slammed out his front door.
“Girl, I’m talking to you.” The older woman pointed a cane in Erin’s direction.
“Go sit down while I get your plate, Tilly. I swear, you’ll love it.”
The woman gave a loud harrumph before scuttling to her table, which was big enough to fit four in the small dining area of her two-bedroom apartment.
Honestly, dealing with Tilly was like dealing with her grandmother all over again. Erin had loved Grandma Freddy, though the woman had alienated most of her family with her crabbiness and old-fashioned ways. But it was Grandma Freddy who’d taught her to bake, to sew, and to prepare to be a good wife to some lucky man someday. Just as her grandma wanted girls to act like ladies, she’d also taught her grandsons and nephews to act like gentlemen.
She would have been appalled at how terribly Cody had treated her granddaughter.
Much like Tilly had been when she’d heard the full story. Except Tilly hadn’t offered sympathy, only a “dogs will be dogs” before hiring her on the spot. For two cooked meals a day plus a bit of cleaning once a week, Tilly had knocked off three hundred dollars from Erin’s already cheap rent. Tilly had also agreed to a month-to-month term, as Erin didn’t know how long it might take her to get back to Kansas.
If she even wanted to go.
It had only been a week, but she’d started to enjoy her time on the west coast. She felt independent, so pleased not to have to tuck tail and return home that she even forgave Smith for ignoring her attempts to be friendly.
Still burned from Cody, she wasn’t looking for a new man in her life. But it wouldn’t kill Smith to stop and chat for a few minutes once in a while. Besides Tilly, he was the only person Erin knew. Yet he treated her as if she had the plague, darting away anytime they happened t
o leave their apartments at the same time.
Erin sighed and grabbed the chicken pot pie she’d fixed for lunch. A good thing Erin could cook, because Tilly had finicky tastes and only liked homecooked meals. “McDonalds and Subway bedamned,” she liked to say. Which always caused Erin to grin because who the heck said “bedamned” anymore?
She cut two slices of the pot pie, one for Tilly and one for her. Tilly had insisted on them sharing lunch for the past week, and Erin had no problem enjoying at least one meal a day she didn’t have to pay for. Plus, Tilly kept the loneliness at bay.
Using Tilly’s fine china, she prepared for lunch. Everything looked lovely. A lace tablecloth covered the old oak table. Delicate plates and crystal glasses filled with ice cold water were accompanied by cloth napkins and actual silver silverware. She lit the candelabra centerpiece and sat down to share a meal.
Tilly studied the table, sniffed her approval, then started to eat. Taking her cue, Erin dug into her pot pie. It was delicious, though it could have used a touch of onion.
“Passable,” Tilly said after she’d cleaned her plate.
“There’s a lot more left. May I get you another helping?”
“I suppose.”
Erin bit back a grin at the older woman’s patronizing air, recognizing the look of humor in her sharp blue eyes. It was as if Tilly played the part in a play, the grand lady to Erin’s peasant worker. Yet instead of being insulted, Erin played along, charmed, because as Smith had said, Tilly had a good heart.
Erin had watched her landlady interact with the tenants a few times. Saw the warmth when she dealt with the children, or the compassion she hid behind her bluster when she allowed one hard-working family to slide a few days on their rent. The woman loved to talk about “her people” because she felt responsible for them.
In a city this size, it would be easy to get swallowed up in the vast population, everyone too busy to notice anyone else. But with Tilly in charge, no one got lost. And Erin needed that right now. A lot.
“So, did that nutter call again?” Tilly asked when Erin returned with her second helping.
“He did.” Cody the Jerk had called twice more since her disastrous arrival last week. Not to apologize, but to talk. “I haven’t answered.”