Never Say Never (McLaughlin Brothers Book 3)

by Jennifer Ashley

  I’m touched he thinks so, and I wonder if it’s true. “Except for all the arguing,” I say wryly.

  “Even with all the arguing.” Cedric gives me an appraising glance. “Maybe because of it. She needs to get out of her shell more.”

  We both turn to watch Brooke walk out of the showroom, key in hand. She’s cool and composed in her beige sheath dress, with a length of blue beads around her neck and matching earrings to give the outfit a shot of color. Her high-heeled sandals are blue as well.

  She does tend to retreat behind her businesslike demeanor, but that shell is mighty nice to look at.

  “Do you want another test drive?” Brooke asks me in a hard voice.

  Another line she’s feeding me that I’m not going to touch. Not with big brother Cedric next to me. Cedric and I are friends, and he wants Brooke and me back together, but if I upset his baby sister, I will be the loser.

  “Oh hey, tell you what,” Cedric interrupts before I can answer. “My folks are having a big supper on Saturday night. A cookout and pool party. Why don’t you come, Austin? They’d love to see you.”

  Brooke’s face squeezes like someone kicked her. Cedric doesn’t seem to notice, all smiles.

  I contrast him to the man I’d just met—Simon. Simon is quiet and slender, seemingly shy, but I sensed in his understated way that he’d been anxious to impress both me and Brooke.

  Cedric simply wants everyone to be happy.

  I grin at him and then Brooke. “Sounds great,” I say with enthusiasm. “Tell them I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Five

  Brooke

  I invent all kinds of excuses to avoid my family’s party at the end of the week, but nothing works. Mom and Dad want me there, according to Cedric’s texts.

  It’s Dad’s one text—Looking forward to seeing you, Punkin, that clinches my decision. I’ve been too busy to visit for a while, and usually Dad never says a word. I know he likes the whole family together, and he is fond of Austin.

  I sigh and try to figure out what to wear. I don’t know why this matters for a family cookout, but I choose and discard one outfit after the other.

  I wonder if Austin will show up. He and Cedric, who’d been good friends before Austin and I broke up, had decided it was a great idea. Neither of them asked for my opinion. But why should they? Why should Austin’s weekend activities have anything to do with me?

  Austin hadn’t taken another test drive in the Ghibli after all. He’d looked over the car and asked our mechanic to show him the engine. While the two of them, with Cedric as a rapt audience, had talked about specs, I’d retreated to the coolness of the showroom.

  Austin had returned the key to Mike, only waving at me when he left. He’d kept the wine, which was fine with me.

  Why had I felt so bereft when he’d walked away? It wasn’t like I still had feelings for him, right?

  We had argued a lot when we were together, going at it heatedly. It was better that we’d broken up. I told myself that often.

  Austin was impetuous, whimsical, didn’t take things seriously. I’d been struggling to make my way in the world, to prove I could be more than tits-and-ass in a job Austin had encouraged me to try.

  I’d been touchy about it, I know. Every day was a struggle—every day I was more or less told I didn’t belong. I thought that if I worked hard enough, I’d show my worth, and people would cease judging me by my outside and accept me for my inside—at least the people I worked with and for. I’d accomplished that, more or less, but it had been a fight.

  Austin had been very supportive, but he’d gone over the top, threatening to have a serious talking to with anyone who treated me without respect. I’d tried to point out I had to stand on my own, without my boyfriend glowering behind me. Austin didn’t quite grasp that, which had led to some big blowouts.

  And yet, whenever we’d made things up, it had been wonderful. Even while we’d argued, something in me had burned with excitement. We boiled over when we fought, and scorched the sheets when we came back together.

  The constant ups and downs in our relationship, though, had wearied me, especially when I had to stand strong every day at my job. I couldn’t face fights with Austin after work when I’d been so stressed during my shifts, and he refused to take anything except protecting me seriously. It was frustrating.

  The final straw came was the day he’d arrived to pick me up from work, and I’d been visibly upset. Two of the sales guys had jumped all over my case that day, saying I’d stolen clients from them. I hadn’t—clients I’d originally talked to had returned and asked for me, though the understanding had been that I’d turn them over to the sales guys who were senior to me when they were ready to purchase. But the clients stated they’d only deal with me, and Raymond had backed me up. The sales guys had talked about never trusting me and never working with me again—they’d said worse things about me when they thought I couldn’t hear them.

  When I’d emerged from the showroom that night, Austin had demanded to know why I was unhappy. I’d foolishly told him. Austin parked his car, stormed inside, and had it out with the two sales guys—thankfully no customers had been there.

  Austin had yelled at them and commanded them to show me respect or answer to him. The two sales guys, after a lively argument with Austin, had quit on the spot, and had even threatened to sue Raymond. Raymond hadn’t been happy and had come close to firing me. I’d been so angry and humiliated that Austin and I had gone home to have the mother of all fights.

  I’d told him he had no business being my guard dog, and that I had to stand on my own or I’d never make it. Austin had told me I was ungrateful and too proud to accept help. Things had escalated from there.

  I could have lost my job for his posturing, and I told him so. The sales guys could try to sue him for assault, though Austin hadn’t touched them. But they might go after him for threatening them. The other sales staff would be furious with me for causing trouble.

  I told him he didn’t understand that I had to live my own life, no matter how hard it was, and he needed to back off. Austin, shouting in return, said he didn’t like me dictating how to run our relationship.

  We’d screamed at each other until we were hoarse, only this time, there was no hot sex afterward as we cooled down.

  Austin told me that when I was ready to talk reasonably to call him. I told him that when he calmed down and understood what an asshole he was being, to call me.

  He’d stormed out, and never came back.

  I’d waited for my phone to ring. It hadn’t. No calls, no texts. I’d start to pick up my phone to call him, and then get mad all over again. If he wanted this relationship to work, he’d reach out. Right?

  Our silence had stretched a week, then a month, then a year. I kept expecting Austin to get in touch. When he didn’t, I feared to call him, not wanting his drawling voice to tell me to go away, we were done.

  We hung in limbo for a while, then I’d heard he’d moved on with his life, partying, hanging out with other women. I don’t know if he slept with these women, and I don’t want to know.

  So I moved on too. I dated a few guys, but none of them compared to Austin, and I gave up.

  For some reason, I still checked my phone every day to see if there was any word from Austin. For a year and a half, there never was.

  Now I’m about to own the dealership I struggled to survive in, Austin and I have hung out at a wine bar, and he’s coming to my family’s cookout.

  The sloppy shorts and T-shirt I planned to wear fly into the corner. A nicer buttoned shirt, crisp cargo shorts, and a pair of gold sandals come out instead. Plus gold earrings, rings on my fingers, and a bracelet. I won’t be able to swim, because my hair will tangle like shit if I do. I comb it and braid it back, as though I’m anticipating a laidback day with family.

  Laidback, sure. I went to a salon last night for a trim and a mani-pedi for me—I don’t care how Austin thinks I look.

  I’m not nervo
us at all as I pull into my parents’ house in north Scottsdale. At all.

  My folks live not far over the Phoenix-Scottsdale border, in a large mid-century house. They have a huge yard with a wide swimming pool, tall ironwood trees, and a flower and herb garden my mother nurses throughout the year.

  I scan the yard and back patio for Austin, but he’s nowhere in sight. I’m relieved … and disappointed. Relieved alone should be the correct reaction, but I’m never sensible when it comes to Austin.

  “You look so pretty, honey.” My mother, several inches shorter than I am, pulls me into one of her squishy hugs. She releases me to observe me critically. “But also tired. You been getting enough sleep?”

  “Yes.” No. I’ve been dreaming of Austin, or else lying awake reliving our kiss, plus thinking about the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, the scent of his skin … Hence, continued bags under my eyes.

  “Oh, there’s Cedric.” Mom hoists her hand to greet my brother.

  I spin around, sure Austin will be with him, and deflate when I see Cedric alone. I love my brother, so I should be ecstatic to see him. Not drooping in despondency.

  “Hey Mom.” Cedric bends nearly double to embrace her. He takes after my dad, who is also a giant. “Sis.” Cedric crushes me in one of his large hugs. “How’s my Babbling Brooke?”

  He’s called me that since I’d learned to talk and would go on about nothing, making up my own words.

  “Fine,” I say when he lets me go. “What about you?”

  “Oh, you know.” Cedric shrugs. “Working, eating, sleeping. You only saw me Monday, so not much has changed. Heard from Austin?”

  I jump. “No. Why should I? He’s friends with you.”

  “Okay, okay, calm down.” Cedric takes a step back. “Just asking.”

  “Austin called me,” Mom breaks in. “Making sure it was okay if he crashed our little party. The sweetheart. It’ll be nice to see him.”

  “If he comes,” I mutter.

  “He will,” Cedric says with confidence.

  Mom, who shares my brown eyes and black hair, hers now with a touch of gray, studies me shrewdly. “Do you want him to, or not?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me.” I feign indifference, but my stomach twists. “Like I said, he’s Cedric’s friend. I’m not getting in the way of that.”

  “Good for you, honey.” Mom pats my arm, and the pat becomes a fond rub. “We can all be friends.”

  I can’t manage a reply. Mom takes pity on me and moves the conversation to other things.

  Mom has invited some old friends and neighborhood ones, who arrive bearing food. I haven’t seen many of them for a while, so I’m constantly hugging or answering questions about how I’ve been.

  While I’m performing this flurry of greeting, I see Austin stroll through the open gate next to the driveway and into the backyard.

  He’s in shorts and a polo top, which show off his muscular arms and legs. Track shoes complete his outfit, like he’ll go running when he’s done here. He has a pack slung over one shoulder—maybe he’s brought his swimming gear. That means he’ll be in a small bathing suit, nothing else, as he dives gracefully into the water …

  I completely forget what I’m about to say to one of my mom’s friends, and the woman gives me a puzzled look. Her expression clears when she sees me staring at Austin, adding to my embarrassment. Everyone knows about us.

  Austin isn’t trying to find me. He greets Cedric, the two of them clasping hands and thumping backs. Then Austin makes for my parents, who are holding court near the pool. Evening has fallen, and misters cool the air.

  I start for them even as Austin greets my mom, she pulling him down to her for a hug.

  “Austin,” Mom says. “We’ve missed you.”

  “Good to see you again, son,” my dad agrees in his booming voice.

  “You too,” Austin says. “I should have called more often, but …”

  “We understand.” Mom really does understand, which is a little disconcerting. She knows all about the breakup. “Oh, what’s this?”

  Austin has unslung the shoulder bag and removes a bottle of wine. “For you,” he says, presenting it to my mom with a flourish.

  I’m near enough to see that it’s the bottle from Simon I told him to keep. Austin obviously hasn’t opened it, or drunk it, or shared it with another woman. He hands it to my mom with a smile, and she gazes at the bottle in delight.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Mom gushes. “No, really. This is a lovely gift.”

  Mom knows a thing or two about wine. She’s the one who taught me.

  “Glad you like it. Do me a favor.” Austin slides his arm around Mom’s waist. “Don’t save it for a special occasion. Drink it now and enjoy it.”

  “You are so right. Thank you, Austin.” She kisses his cheek. “Isn’t this a nice gift, Brooke?”

  Mom carefully holds up the pinot noir. Austin catches my eye and dares me to say anything.

  “It is,” Brooke said. “A good wine. Very thoughtful.”

  Austin’s eyes flicker, but he lets it go. “It is good to see you again, Viola. Now.” He rubs his hands together. “Where’s your awesome food? I’m starving.”

  Mom laughs. “Brooke, take Austin in and show him where he can fill his plate.”

  “Sure thing.” I woodenly thrust my hand through the crook of Austin’s arm and pull him toward the house.

  “It’s not cheesy giving your mom that wine,” Austin says as we step into the coolness of the house. “You had no interest in it, and I hated to see it go to waste. She and your dad will appreciate it like it’s meant to be.”

  “It was your bottle. You could do with it what you want.” I try to keep my tone cool, but he’s not fooled.

  “Your brother invited me, remember?” Austin says. “I did not come here to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Who says you’re making me uncomfortable?” I bathe Austin in a smile and lead him through the kitchen to the large dining room. Two entrances feed into this room, one from the kitchen and one from the living room. Food covers the table, with a stack of plates on the end, buffet style. We’re to eat wherever we can find a place.

  “Your entire body tells me I am.” Austin takes up a plate, but he’s looking at me, not the food. Fortunately no one else is in the dining room at the moment.

  “Someone is full of himself. Why did you decide to come tonight? You could have met with Cedric and my parents another time. You know everyone out there is busy assuming we’re back together.”

  Austin shrugs. “Well, you know me. I always accept a challenge. Never say never.”

  My heart skips a beat. That had been our catch phrase throughout our relationship, what we’d say when daring ourselves to take things farther, deeper.

  “A challenge, was it?” I say, pretending his words don’t affect me. “Sure you didn’t come to prove something?”

  “Huh.” Austin’s mouth is hard, his playfulness fleeing. “You talk about egos, but the biggest one in this room is yours.”

  That stings. “What are you attacking me for? I didn’t invite you—Cedric did. I don’t give a shit if you gave my parents Simon’s wine. They’ll appreciate it.”

  “More than you did.”

  I had been reaching for a plate, but I snatch my hand back. “Seriously? How have I pissed you off now? By trying to talk you into buying a car?”

  Austin plops a blob of potato salad—my mom’s with new potatoes, olive oil, and roasted garlic—onto his plate. “This has nothing to do with the damned car. It’s about you, and how you push me away when you don’t like how things are going.”

  “I’m not pushing you away. I haven’t even talked to you for nearly two years. Not that you bothered trying to get in touch.”

  “No?” Austin drops a piece of roasted chicken next to the potato salad. “I remember telling you that any time you were ready, you could call me. You never did, did you?”

  “I remember saying the same
thing to you. Hmm, no calls. Anyway, you didn’t wait very long before you were out with other people.”

  “A year.” His fork hovers above the chicken. “I waited a year, Brooke. What was I supposed to do? Pine away at home? And excuse me, you went out with other guys. Our friends made sure to tell me about every single one.”

  “Only after they told me you were hanging out at clubs, with women all over you.”

  “Well, I didn’t notice you becoming a nun.”

  My hands ball, my pounding pulse giving me a headache. “I do not have to take this.” Saying it out loud gives me courage. I turn on my sandaled heel and stalk toward the door to the living room.

  I hear Austin slam down his plate. In two seconds, he’s in front of me, blocking my way out. He doesn’t touch me—Austin only ever touches me in passion or friendliness.

  “Running away? It’s what you do, isn’t it? Why don’t you have the balls to stick it out?”

  I tilt my head to meet his gaze. “Last time I checked, women don’t have balls. If you’re talking about guts, I have plenty of those. My gut is now telling me to walk away from you and don’t let you intimidate me.”

  “Intimidate?” Austin’s eyes widen. I’ve always loved his eyes. “Me? I’m the least intimidating person on the planet.”

  “That’s what you think.” It was true Austin never bullied, never browbeat, at least not with me. He smiled, coerced, coaxed, and melted me.

  I try to move around him, but he sidesteps. “You know what? If you want to run, okay, run. I’ll come with you.”

  I plant my hands on my hips. “How does that help me?”

  “It doesn’t. But we need to have this out. I’m not going back outside to smile and laugh and pretend I’m ecstatic when there’s all this shit simmering between us.”

  “And now we’re back to you being full of yourself.”

  “Simmering.” Austin runs his hand up and down the air that separates us. “We never truly finished our last fight, and it’s burning us. If you have the guts you claim you do, come with me now, and let’s finish this.”