Abrupt Changes: A Second Chance Romance (O-Town Book 3)

by Karen Renee

  I’d done my homework. Trey Garrity was born-and-bred upper East-side New York. He’d been fired from a position with another agency before meeting Raegan. While the articles about the change in position mentioned the agency decided to part ways with him, a few phone calls got me the real info. He’d been accused of sexual harassment. His family’s wealth was growing scarce, even though he had a trust fund. His trust fund took a hit when he had to pay Raegan for cheating.

  Don’t get confused. I did that homework because, when Penny reached out to me, I had to be sure when Raegan came home, I’d be prepared for her –and whoever she brought with her.

  Dumbass that I was, I had expected her to be back up north today. Normally I was far more logical, so I should’ve known she wouldn’t have left right after Wynnie’s services.

  When had I lost my common sense? Whenever Raegan was around, that was when.

  Years ago, my common sense fled around her because I was thinking with my dick. Now I had no idea why it took a hike around her.

  It had been nice spending an evening with her at Cassie’s, but it fucked with my head. In my line of work, having my head fucked up wasn’t hazardous –it could be fatal.

  A Hyundai Elantra pulled up in front of my house, the thudding bass audible even with the torrential rain.

  “Goddammit,” I hissed.

  I put my drink on the banister, reached inside the front door, and grabbed a golf umbrella. The wind had died down, so that was a relief. I trudged to the driver’s side door and opened the door.

  “You’re gonna go deaf, as loud as you listen to your classic rock.”

  She was leaned over the console, but she waved a hand at me in dismissal. “Save it, Clint. My hearing is perfectly fine. In fact, my hearing is why I’m here.”

  I stood close to the car so she could get out without getting wet. “Come on, Mamá. Never know when the wind’s gonna pick up again.”

  She glowered up at me but put her tiny umbrella aside. She straightened from the car, her handbag on the crook of her elbow. I threw her door closed, and she beeped the locks.

  On the porch, I set the umbrella off to the side to drip dry. I turned to see Mamá scowling at my drink.

  “So, it’s true. She’s back?”

  There was no sense lying to Mamá. All of her children were transparent to her.

  “She is, but—”

  “But nothing. I hear Penny Connelly hopes you two will hit it off again.”

  “There’s nothing to hit off again, Mamá. You shouldn’t have driven over here in this weather. Do you want to go in—”

  She pointed a finger at me. “No. You know I just got off work, so I had to drive in the rain regardless. Plus, I was not going to have this conversation with you on the phone. You’re a grown man, Clint, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still protective. Do not let that woman do you wrong again.”

  “Laura or Erica listen when you’re like this?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get logical on me, dear. Miracles happen, and one day the miracle will be one of my children listening to me. You can be my favorite son if you listen about this.”

  I chuckled. “Ma, I’m your only son, and you love us all. None of us are your favorite.”

  She arched a brow conceding the point.

  A thought hit me and I canted my head at her. “How’d you find out Penny hopes we’ll hit it off again?”

  A devious smile curled her lips. “I run a hair salon, Clint. Beauty might be my business, but I trade in gossip by the hour.”

  I sighed because I damn sure knew that.

  “You don’t cut Penny’s hair, though, and she doesn’t get out that often.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I know her stylist. And her stylist has the loosest lips.”

  I looked out at the street. The rain had tapered off.

  “So, what? You just here to lecture and run?”

  “Of course. Rumor has it Erica is back with that no-good Carlos. So many lectures, so little time. I love you.”

  I bent so she could kiss my cheeks. “Love you too, Mamá. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  She waved me away. “Don’t bother. I won’t melt.”

  “You raised me better than that. Let’s go.”

  I stood on the sidewalk watching her car until she turned the corner, pleased to see she’d got her right turn signal fixed.

  Sitting on the porch again, I smiled. It was good Mamá had dropped by, because regardless of my age, that was a lecture I needed to hear. Even though I heard every word she said, and I agreed with her; I wasn’t sure I could stay away from Raegan.

  THE NEXT MORNING, BROCK chuckled while sighing and I didn’t know why.

  “Nothing about what I said was funny, Sullivan.”

  We were surveilling Brandon Slagle a middle-aged man who worked at a dry cleaner. Brock sat in the passenger seat of my SUV sipping coffee. I had just told him about Mamá’s impromptu lecture.

  He tipped his plastic-lidded cup at me. “You’re right, except it kinda is.”

  I glared at him for a moment before I looked back to the storefront. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  He laughed outright. “No.”

  “Then, elaborate.”

  “I shouldn’t tell you this. Or, you’re gonna say I should’ve told you sooner, but whatever. Your mother’s concerned you’re going to get back with her, while she was concerned that you and her sister had something going on.”

  My head twitched because I wanted to whip my head to him, but I quelled the urge since I couldn’t afford to bring us any attention.

  “The fuck? You cannot be serious. And you’re right. You should have told me sooner, so why didn’t you?”

  From the corner of my eye I saw him shrug. “Don’t know. She seemed... not exactly vulnerable, but delicate about the subject matter. I thought it best to keep it between me and her. It’s not like I’m gonna see her again or anything.”

  I blew out a breath. On the one hand, he was probably right, but on the other hand, if I needed someone to be with Penny so I could—

  Fuck. What was I doing?

  I shouldn’t even think that way. But there would be times when she would need to leave Penny to take care of things related to Bronwyn’s death. Who was she going to call on then? Sure, the neighbor was there yesterday, but I knew Rae wouldn’t impose like that. A mother with two toddlers did not need to look after a seventy-year-old neighbor to boot.

  Still. My mind dwelled on dating and starting something with Rae again. That had to stop.

  “This joint has a steady line of customers, Clint. How does this woman think he has time to cheat? Hell, why isn’t she helping to run the family business?”

  “Did you read the file? He works there but isn’t the owner. My first thought was female coworker, but only men were in there.”

  “Could be a woman in the back balancing books or whatever.”

  I watched him finish his java. “You might want to take it easy on the fluids, man. And, you might be right, but the office door was open, and nobody was in there.”

  Our man came out of the dry cleaner and walked two doors down. I thought he would take a seat on a nearby bench, but he leaned against the wall and dug a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket.

  I heard papers rustling. In my peripheral vision I saw Brock had the folder open.

  “Says he’s a non-smoker. I’ve never been married, but I’m guessing a wife would definitely know about that sort of thing.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Keep your eye on the subject, Sullivan.”

  Slagle stood between a Domino’s Pizza and a vacant shop. I glanced at the clock on the console. It was quarter to ten. An older model Scion pulled up in front of him. He blew out a plume of smoke, then stubbed the cigarette out with his shoe, a huge smile on his face.

  “Get the camera ready.”

  “Already on it, Ramsey.”

  A pert blonde got out of the car and skipped over to him. I heard
the clicking sound of the camera. She unlocked the door to the pizza shop, and he followed her inside.

  “Shit,” I muttered, thinking we were going to lose sight of them.

  They didn’t move far into the shop. She set her purse on a chair just inside the door, and then they had a lengthy make-out session.

  Brock said from behind the camera, “So, our work here is done, right? Easy-peasy.”

  I sighed. “Nope. Hate to break it to you, man, but Otero-Silva doesn’t have the reputation they have from just providing make-out shots. Paul prefers when we can get something more concrete.”

  “If he’s married, he shouldn’t be shoving his tongue down some other woman’s throat.”

  “You’re right, but shit can be spun. She came on to him, he was just there to pick up a pie for the rest of the crew. Cheaters are slippery and slimy as hell, and it’s our job to make this shit stick.”

  Chapter 5

  What Letter?

  Raegan

  IN MY QUEST TO REDUCE Mom’s blood pressure, I had cut back on the amount of take-out we ordered. However, I wasn’t used to doing so much cooking. Living in New York, I thrived on restaurant food. The first couple weeks of cooking for Mom was great, but it was funny how quickly the bloom came off the rose.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t like cooking, it was that I had tired of my own cooking.

  I blew out a sigh and focused on chopping the potatoes for roasting. The oven was already on, with the pork tenderloin inside, and I needed to hustle to get everything on the table at the same time.

  As I seasoned the baking sheet full of potatoes, a key scraped in the lock of the side door. I turned and watched Clint enter. I bit back my first snarky rejoinder, which would’ve been ‘Honey, you’re home!’

  He was wearing a pair of jeans, a pale yellow button-down long-sleeve shirt with the arms rolled up, and a pair of black boots. The top buttons of the shirt were undone and, based on the amount of skin I could see, he wasn’t wearing an undershirt.

  When he locked the door behind himself, I smiled. “You know, if you’re going to show up here unannounced, the least you could do is bring dinner.”

  He gave the potatoes a pointed look. “Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

  I ground more pepper onto the potatoes. “It is, but it doesn’t mean I don’t crave some take-out.”

  “You Irish girls definitely have a way with the potatoes.”

  I glared at him. “See you’re still prone to chauvinistic stereotypes.”

  He sidled up to me, so he could speak in a low voice. “Your mother thinks we might ‘hit it off again.’ How about you disabuse her of that idea?”

  I laughed. “As if. She can’t possibly think—”

  “Told her stylist, who—”

  “Told your mother. Fabulous. How is Juanita?”

  “Busy.”

  I chuckled, and accidentally blurted, “Busybody, more like.”

  Clint laughed and I’d forgotten how good I felt every time I heard him do it. Especially when I made him laugh.

  “Yeah, so let’s nip that in the bud.”

  Setting the pepper mill back on the counter, I grabbed the dried parsley. “Be nothing to nip if you’d stop dropping by.”

  “I care about your mother. I’m not gonna bail on her now when she’s grieving a daughter.”

  I smushed parsley flakes in my palm before sprinkling them onto the potatoes. “Funny, you bailed for two weeks just fine.”

  He blew out a sigh. “Wanted to give you time.”

  To leave, I thought, but didn’t say.

  Mother’s walker clacked on the kitchen floor. “Oh good, you’re making the potatoes. Go easy on the thyme, dear.”

  I grinned. “It was one time, Mom. Besides, I won’t have to go easy if you don’t distract me while I’m shaking the thyme onto the spuds.”

  “You! I’m down to one can of nuts. What gives, Ramsey?”

  Grabbing the thyme, I looked over my shoulder at her. “Your blood pressure, is what gives, thanks to you cutting more of those salt-laden legumes out of your diet.”

  “You take away my favorite snack, Raegan Anne Connelly, I’ll stage a hunger strike.”

  I put down the thyme, and started out, “Over my—” but the words ‘dead body,’ died on my tongue.

  “Ladies,” Clint put in carefully.

  I hustled over to hug her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I really—”

  “I know, my Rae-of-sunshine. I know.” She patted my arm and I pulled away. She glared at me. “Those potatoes won’t roast themselves. I’m hungry.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The pan of potatoes clattered in the oven when Mom surprised me. “You’re staying for dinner, Clint. No arguing.”

  I turned to argue with her, but she speared me with her eyes. “That pork roast is five pounds, so there’s plenty.”

  My eyes slid to Clint. He was shaking his head.

  “I’M WALKING THIS MAN to the door, Raegan, and that’s final,” Mom declared.

  “I wasn’t arguing with you, Mom.”

  We were half-way down the hall when someone bounded up to the front door and rang the bell.

  “Shit.” I heard Clint hiss.

  He charged to the door and opened it like he lived here. “Laura, what the fuck are you doin’ here?”

  “Oughta ask you the same thing, little brother, but I’m here to offer Mrs. Connelly my condolences.”

  Mom and I had pulled even with Clint.

  “Thank you, Laura. That’s very nice of you,” Mom said.

  Laura’s eyes slid to me and she looked me up and down, pure venom coming at me. “I should keep this to myself, but the wrong daughter died.”

  My jaw dropped open, but I heard someone else gasp followed by a resounding slap. To my complete surprise, Mom slapped Laura across the face –with her left hand, because the stroke had diminished her capabilities with her right.

  “Mom!” I cried.

  “That was uncalled for,” Mom snarled at Laura.

  “Jesus,” Clint muttered. He grabbed Laura by the bicep. “Let me get her out of here, Penny.”

  Laura wrenched her arm free. “That’s all right. I’ll just go. But, I really am sorry for your loss. Bronwyn and I were close once, and the world is a lesser place without her.”

  I thought Clint would follow Laura out, but he closed the door behind her and turned back to Mom.

  “I am ashamed of my sister and sorry she behaved that way, Penny. She knows better than that.”

  Mom’s chin raised in a defiant way. “I wouldn’t be so sure, Clint Ramsey. After the letter your mother sent to Rae, I’m not sure she does know better.”

  Clint’s head turned a fraction and I sighed. Then he stared at me.

  “What letter?”

  I pressed my lips together and thought fast. “It was a long time ago, Clint. And it was right after things—”

  “What letter, Rae?” His tone was the firmest I’d ever heard from him, and far more impatient.

  “She sent me a letter after you left New York. The last time.”

  He circled his hand impatiently. “Got that. Give me something I don’t have.”

  I hesitated. He tore his hand through his hair, and I wished I could touch it because he’d never worn it so long before.

  “Rae—”

  “Said I was dead to her.”

  Mom shot me a withering look. “Said more than that, Rae. Had you sobbing, for crying out loud.”

  Clint put a hand on his hip. “What’d it say?”

  “It’s water under the—”

  He reached to his back pocket. “Fine. I’ll call her. She’ll remember. The woman’s mind is a fuckin’ bear trap, and I have no doubt—”

  “Accused me of leading you on and wasting some of the best years of your life. Said I was a waste.”

  His brows furrowed. “That doesn’t sound like—”

  My chin dipped. “How protective is your mother? Sh
e took our break-up pretty hard, Clint. My guess is she hid from you just how hard it hit her.”

  He pointed a finger at me. “You shoulda told me about that.”

  My head tilted. “’Cause you’d have taken my call a week or so after that weekend?”

  He sighed.

  “Yeah.”

  Mom turned herself around. “Well. I need to get off my feet. I’ll let you walk Clint out, Raegan.”

  I watched her shuffle down the hallway. When I looked to Clint, I saw him watching her too.

  He looked at me. “When’d you leave your ex-husband? Actually separate from him?”

  My eyes widened at such an abrupt change in topics. “Uh... I don’t know. Two years ago, in autumn.”

  His lips quirked to the side. “Your mother’s devious.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll be having words with Mamá. That shit was uncalled for and she owes you an apology.”

  I grabbed his bicep, and he looked down at my hand on him which made me pull it back. “Clint. She doesn’t owe me squat. Okay? It was years ago, and she was hurt.”

  He leaned toward me. “Don’t matter, mi reina. She taught all of us to control our tempers, she damn well should’ve done the same.”

  I froze to the spot at him calling me an endearment I hadn’t heard since we split. It was a lash to my heart.

  He stood in the open door and looked back at me. “Lock this.”

  NINE YEARS AGO...

  We walked into my tiny apartment, and Clint blew into his hands like we were still outside.

  I unwrapped my scarf. “It’s not that bad, Clint. There isn’t even snow on the ground.”

  He dropped his hands as a visible chill shook his whole body. “Thank God for small favors, Rae. You can’t tell me you’re used to this shit after only living here a year.”

  A sheepish smile curled my lips. “I think I am, honey. If you visited for more than just a few days at a time, you’d love it here.”

  He shrugged out of his peacoat, tossed it on the back of a ladderback chair, and invaded my space. “Warm me up, baby. Maybe then I won’t feel like my dick is trying to merge with my lower intestine to keep warm.”