The Martins—all siblings—had squabbled over their parents’ estate for the better part of two years. Eason had been the deceased couple’s attorney since he’d passed the bar, and out of respect for them, he’d dragged his feet. The entire thing, including Eason’s agitation, had provided Garrett, another partner, and me loads of entertainment.
He stood and grabbed his leather messenger bag, slinging it over his head and across his body. Graceful and elegant, Eason was as fluid as a dancer and built like a brick house. From the hard planes of his chest to his squared shoulders and iron jaw, testosterone jumped off him in unavoidable charisma and machismo. I’d only known one other man in my life who held the attention of a room without realizing it; thankfully, that was where their similarities ended. A chill ran up my spine when Austin crossed my mind. It didn’t happen often—primarily because I refused to let it, not because my brain didn’t still try to linger in those memories daily—but when it did, I fought hard to shake it off.
Eason stepped in front of me and quirked his head. His perfectly styled hair had seen better days. He’d apparently had his hands in it more times than he should have. “Everything okay, Miranda?”
I forced a smile in his direction and nodded quickly. He hadn’t bought it—not that I believed he would.
“It’s a good thing you aren’t under oath. You can’t lie for shit.” His chuckle echoed around us. It was hearty and warm like homemade chicken and dumplings, and it filled the soul the same way.
A shrug was all I could offer. “Last time I checked, you hadn’t sworn me in, so I’m not worried about being found in contempt.”
“Touché.”
Without further discussion, Eason offered his elbow, which I took. Other people continued to work in the office as we left for the evening. Each one we passed extended goodbyes, and I couldn’t stop the nostalgia. One tiny memory escaped from the box in my mind, and then dozens followed. Eventually, I’d capture them all and push them back into their tidy hiding place. There’d been another time in my life where I had held that coveted position in a man’s life, when everyone knew my name, and I was loved by them, as well. And like Austin, Eason rewarded every person who took the time to talk to him with his attention…and me on his arm. It was a large firm, we were both well-respected, and I loved it here almost as much as I’d loved Mason Belle.
When the elevator closed in front of us, Eason turned, and I dropped my hold on him. “You want to talk about it?” He clasped his hands in front of him.
“Nothing to talk about.” It would be a long ride down twenty-one floors and an even longer cab ride home.
He smirked and chuckled under his breath. “Don’t forget, I remember the girl who showed up in New York in cutoff jean shorts, a tight tank top, and cowboy boots. Don’t get me started on that ugly baseball hat. You thought you’d keep your secrets then, too.”
The lawyer in Eason never really slept. That side of him was always present, and this silence that now lingered between us as he waited for me to respond was part of his game. Witnesses always caved.
“I’ll wear you down, so you might as well tell me now and save us both the time,” he gloated.
I groaned, thinking back to how out of place I’d been in a city where anything goes. There had been no plan when I’d arrived at the bus station in Laredo. All I’d had was a suitcase and a wad of cash in my bank account that my memaw had left me when she’d died. My eyes had been puffy from crying—that I distinctly remember—when I’d stared at the board and chosen my destination. I’d needed something different, a place where no one knew my name or my past. New York City had seemed to be perfect, and it had been across the country.
“If you love me at all, you’ll never speak of that again,” I deadpanned.
The elevator shook with his roaring, thunderous laugh. It was as infectious as the man beside me. I caught my reflection in the mirrored walls and took note of how different I’d become. The small-town girl without a care in the world hadn’t made the trip across the country. And once I’d hooked up with Eason, who had just started at the firm we both worked at now, he’d helped me erase any remaining, outward sign of her as well.
“Aww.” He smothered my face in his dress shirt, smooshing my cheek and mouth into a contorted mess, and I hoped I got makeup all over the starched cotton. “You were adorably clueless.”
He’d caught me in a hug that I hadn’t reciprocated, and my arms remained trapped against my sides in the awkward embrace. “Uh-huh.” My muffled words were lost in his pecs, and I refused to inhale the scent of his intoxicating cologne. All my senses would be lost with one sniff, and I had a grudge to hold. “You just liked having a project.”
My body expanded like a bag of smashed marshmallows when he let me breathe. He rubbed life back into the arms he’d put to sleep by cutting off their blood flow. His fingers massaged my biceps and then my shoulders before he held them firmly and leaned me back. His stone-colored eyes were now a warm grey that I only saw when he was thoroughly amused. It figured it would be at my expense. “I wouldn’t have called you a project, per se. More like a work in progress. You’d started the transformation before you ever rang my bell.”
Thankfully, when he had answered all those years ago, he’d maintained his poker face. I didn’t have a clue how badly I stuck out.
“You were so cute with your braids and that rockin’ little body—”
“Did you just use the word rockin’?”
He wiggled my shoulders from side to side, trying to loosen me up. “You could tilt a blind man’s world with that ass. And don’t get me started on your legs.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes where he could see me, and instead, I closed my lids and blew a puff of air through my pursed lips. Eason appreciated the curves of the female form, although he wasn’t normally so blatant about it. The ding of the elevator’s arrival on the ground floor distracted us from the topic at hand. As soon as the doors parted, the downpour outside echoed in the deserted lobby.
I used to love the rain. I’d spent hours on the porch of our farmhouse in a rocking chair talking to Memaw before she had died, and then later, Daddy had taken her place. When lightning flashed across the horizon, I could have sworn I saw that girl and her grandmother sitting on a bench just across the street. I jumped when the thunder crashed, and the vision disappeared with the light. It was official; I’d lost my mind. Lack of sleep and too much caffeine had rendered me mental, and I’d begun to hallucinate.
The hand that settled on my lower back startled me. A gesture that usually calmed me now sent my heart into my throat. There, the erratic beat strummed an uncomfortable pulse until I finally swallowed past it.
“You’re awfully tense. What has you so on edge?”
We were back to that. I had to find a way to distract him. Continuing to act like a loon wouldn’t get it. Eason had an uncanny ability to sniff out lies like a coonhound did prey. Fabricating excuses would only intensify his hunt. A distraction was the only thing that would suffice. “I’m starving. Want to get something to eat before we go home?”
He glanced at the Rolex that adorned his wrist. It had been a gift from his parents when he had passed the bar. Eason McNabb came from a long line of money—old money, as we liked to refer to it in the South—not that anyone would know it from talking to him. “Yeah, it’s late. I don’t feel like cooking an elaborate meal once we get home.”
I couldn’t keep a straight face. “An elaborate meal, huh? Is that what you call beans and weenies now?” Eason had nearly burned down our apartment more than once when we’d first met. We’d phoned the fire department so many times, we became friends with the firefighters and often had drinks with them on the weekend.
Standing beside the exit with amusement glittering his irises, he pushed the handle on the glass, and I slipped by him. The awning that ran the length of the building kept me from getting soaked. Eason joined me, huddled under the little bit of protection we had from the wind and
rain. “Ramen noodles are a delicacy in many Asian countries.”
We watched the street for an oncoming cab. “Name one,” I said.
Eason saved himself from embarrassment by darting into the rain to hail a taxi. Like a gentleman, he held the car door open. By the time I reached the inside of the cab, I was drenched. Eason’s hair lay plastered to his head, and his shirt clung to his sculpted chest when he slid in, closing the door behind him.
“You look like a drowned rat,” I teased.
The side of his mouth tilted in a charming grin. “Is that a synonym for devastatingly handsome?” He shook his head to rid the locks of the water dripping onto his face, sending a spray in a circle around him.
Every guy did it. I’d seen it a thousand times growing up. It wasn’t a gesture unique to Austin, but memories had gotten ahold of my heart, and every minute detail of the present morphed into my past.
“Something like that.” I gave my attention to the cabbie, who had started the fare when he’d stopped the car. I could practically hear the ting of a cash register as each minute ratcheted up the price while Eason and I exchanged jabs. “Pho’s on Eighty-Third, please.” It was my favorite restaurant in the city.
The driver acknowledged me through the rearview mirror, although he never turned around. Eason held out a handkerchief—my daddy would have called it a hanky—and I took it. I wasn’t sure how it had stayed dry while he appeared soaked to the bone, but I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. After blotting my face—hopefully, without ruining my makeup—I scrubbed my hair with it like a towel. Once I’d dried it the best I could, I ran my fingers through my pageboy. It was the one great thing about shorter hair. The style still looked fantastic whether it air-dried or was blown out. It probably helped that my natural waves gave it body if I didn’t straighten it.
“Are we getting takeout or going in?”
I glanced at his current condition. He’d be miserable in an air-conditioned restaurant, regardless of how shamelessly the waitresses—and waiters—flirted with him. “Takeout.”
He proceeded to pull out his cell and placed an order for pick up. No sooner had he started to talk than my own phone rang in my purse. I searched my large bag for the obnoxious piece of technology, finding it on the third ring. I’d never had the need for a device in Mason Belle, and I loathed its presence in my life now. However, the firm required one, so I toted it around. The screen was lit up with my sister’s name, and I groaned loud enough to get Eason’s attention. What I didn’t do was answer it.
When he hung up, he tilted his chin with a slight jerk. “Who was that?”
There was no point in trying to hide my feelings. “Sarah.” That one word held more emotions than any other I had knowledge of in the English language, and none of them were good.
“She’ll keep trying. You might as well get it out of the way. Then you won’t have to hear from her again for another two weeks.” Eason had all the gory details of my Texas past, and while he didn’t agree with how I dealt with it in the present, he’d long ago quit arguing for me to mend the relationships.
I stared blankly at him. And blinked. “I’ll call her back tomorrow morning.”
“Oh yeah? Is that going to be during the car drop-off for school when you’re certain she won’t answer?”
I’d never been so happy to see the neon lights of our favorite pho noodle place. Saved by the car arriving at our destination and our pending takeout, I smiled sweetly and pointed toward the entrance. I refused to give him the satisfaction of being right. It would be well-timed at the precise moment she had her rugrats in the car—two nieces and a nephew I’d never met—and she’d refuse to talk on a cell phone with her kids in the car.
When Eason came back with our food, I still stared at the screen, lost in thought.
“Do you ever actually use that thing?” He then promptly turned to the driver to give him our address before allowing me to answer.
It was a dumb question. I tapped my finger on my chin and stared at the ceiling as though I had to seriously consider it. “I believe I dialed your number this morning to see if you wanted coffee. I sent you a text last night when you were at the gym. And Garrett taught me how to use FaceTime”—not that I had any need for it—“so, all in all, I’d say, yes.”
“Your refusal to conform to the use of modern technology baffles me.”
“I just told you I used it three times in the last twenty-four hours.”
He shifted in the seat beside me and set the Pho’s bag between his feet. “You know what I mean. Most women are as attached to their phones as they are Louis Vuitton, and they go so far as to color coordinate their cases with their pocketbooks.”
“Did you say pocketbooks? Are you a hundred years old?” I snickered, not that it deterred him.
Eason’s thick brows dipped until a V formed between them. I wondered if he’d spoken to a dermatologist about filler to correct that. Though, now wasn’t the time to ask. “You only use email for work, you have zero social media accounts, and you cringe anytime that thing rings. It’s a little odd.”
“You’re odd.” That was brilliant and quite the comeback. The questioning stare wasn’t going to disappear until we got home or I gave him more than two words. I sighed. “I don’t see the need. If I want someone to get in touch with me, I’ll give them my number, not pretend to be friends with people I haven’t seen in a decade and don’t care to talk to.”
“What’s the point? You wouldn’t answer it, anyway.”
The cab slowed in front of our brownstone—well, Eason’s brownstone. I just lived there. I paid the driver, and Eason grabbed the bag of food. The rain had slowed to a light mist, yet we both still hurried to the door.
He stuck the key into the lock, but before he disengaged the deadbolt, he faced me. “You really should call her back.”
* * *
Sarah and I had played our usual round of tag for days. She tried to reach me at times she believed I was available, and I called her when I was positive she wasn’t. When the phone rang on Saturday night, Eason and I were sitting on the couch watching a crappy movie. I had no reason not to answer, even though I planned to let it go to voicemail when I heard my sister’s ringtone.
Eason darted off the sofa. No matter how fast I was, he remained a step ahead, grabbing my cell at the last possible second.
“Hello?” He sounded winded, and I could only imagine what Sarah thought the two of us were doing. “Hey, Sarah. How are you?” The pleasantries could be left out. They weren’t friends. They’d never even met. Yet here the two of them were, yacking it up like old pals. “I’m good. Work’s keeping me busy.”
I couldn’t hear her side of the conversation, though I had no doubt she would regale him with her Southern charm. Sarah had a knack for wooing elderly people with her polite manners. I accidentally snorted at the notion of Eason being old. While he was six years older than me, thirty was hardly cause for canes and nursing homes. The sideways stare I got from him told me he was less than impressed.
His next sentence was all it took to get me to stop giggling. “Yeah, she’s right here. It was great talking to you. We need to get you to the Big Apple. Miranda and I can show you around.”
I prayed she’d turned him down.
I covered the mouthpiece with my hand when I took it from him. “What’s wrong with you?”
Eason popped me on the ass and walked off, chiding over his shoulder, “You should have answered.”
Jerk.
“Hey, Sarah.” My tone correctly depicted my discomfort with the conversation.
She sighed, not bothering to mask her disappointment. “Hey, Randi.” I had to give her credit. She put on a better show than I did. Her voice was as peppy as it always was during these obligatory calls. “How’s it going?”
It would be easier just to get things over with by talking, yet no matter how much I wanted to let go of the past, I couldn’t. Something blocked me from engaging with Sarah or Daddy
. It was painful to hear about what went on in Mason Belle that I wasn’t a part of. I hated that I had nieces and a nephew I’d never met. But the truth was, I’d sealed my fate that day at the lake. One foolish decision had irrevocably changed my life. And as much as I missed Texas, I could never go back to face the destruction I’d caused.
“I’m good.”
“Are you and Eason still working together?” It was polite conversation. I, however, found it intrusive.
I wandered back to the couch, plopped down in the seat I’d occupied only seconds before, and covered my legs with a blanket. “Yeah. I’ve been there for almost six years. I like it.”
“Have you thought about going to law school instead of just being a paralegal? You’d make a great lawyer.”
Other than years of education that I wasn’t confident I could even pass, that goal would also require gobs of money I didn’t make. “I don’t think law school is an option.”
“Why not?” I couldn’t fault her for being naïve. If I’d never left Texas, I would be as oblivious as my sister. She still resided in Mason Belle where she’d spent her entire life. If it took place outside the county lines, Sarah wasn’t aware of it. And she liked it that way.
I took a deep breath to keep from snapping at her. “It’s costly. Plus, I like what I do. Eason is good to me.”
“I guess being under the wing of one of the partners has its perks, huh?”
“He makes sure I’m taken care of. But I really do like my job.” There was no point in defending myself. Sarah didn’t know what a paralegal did, and I wasn’t going to explain it to her. “What about you?” Changing the subject was easier, and unlike Eason, she was easy to redirect.
“Oh, wow. Well, Kylie and Kara”—they were twins and the oldest—“started kindergarten.” Obviously, she didn’t remember telling me that the last three times we’d talked. “And I joined the PTA. Between that and Mason Belle’s Chamber Welcome Wagon, I can hardly catch my breath. Chasing after Rand is another full-time job.”
Gravel Road Page 3