by Ava Miles
He gazed at her for so long she started to see two of him.
“Hang on. I know what this is about.”
She climbed onto the barstool again and felt strong arms supporting her.
“Everybody! Hey, everybody.”
The bar went quiet. There were so many faces, two of each in some cases.
“I know this is a small town and people talk, so let’s cut to the chase. I’ve slept with Big Boy here. That’s J.T. Merriam to those of you who don’t know him. And I plan to do it a lot more. You have a problem with that, that’s your problem.”
Strong hands pulled her off the barstool. “I can’t believe you just did that,” Big Boy said. “We are so out of here.”
“And you say you’re cos-mo-politan,” she said as he led her through the crowd to the front door. “Stuffed shirt more like it.”
“Way to go, Caroline!” someone called out.
“Good for you, honey,” another woman said. “He’s prime meat.”
“I’m standing right here,” J.T. mumbled, opening the door. His cheeks had turned an adorable red.
“He’s sensitive,” she told them, pointing to her nose. “I didn’t know. Oh, you have your car. Man, I can’t wait to sleep with you in your bed. We slept in mine so it’s only fair. How is Trevor getting home? Gosh, I really like him.”
“Trev and I thought I might be staying longer so we both drove,” he said, leading her to it. “Okay, we’ll head to my place. That way I can take care of you.”
“Ah…sensitive and sweet. No wonder I love you.”
He helped her into the passenger side, and she cuddled into the soft leather. After he clicked on his own seatbelt and helped her with hers, he gave her a look and started the engine.
“You’re a constant surprise.”
She was? Awesome. “It smells so good in here,” she said, the floating feeling surrounding her like a warm blanket. “Like leather and musk and you. Thanks for coming to my I got fired celebration, Big Boy.”
“Celebration, my ass,” he muttered. “It’s my fault this happened.”
“Not entirely,” she said. “But having that bitch of an ex-wife certainly isn’t helping anything. Is she ever going to go away?” Her eyelids were getting heavy, so she leaned back into the seat more, trying to get comfortable. “God I hope so. Because I would hate to have her around all the time, trying to ruin our happiness.”
He laid his hand on her leg and rubbed it. “Me too. Close your eyes, Carlita. I’ll drive you home.”
Home. “I like that word. Never had one with a guy before.”
“Me either.”
She laughed at his joke. “I hope not, Big Boy, but with that name…”
“Oh, good Lord… Take a nap, Caroline.”
“Okay,” she muttered, too tired to tell him that wasn’t her name tonight.
She closed her eyes and saw a picture of her and Big Boy walking together in the sunshine, holding the hands of a little girl between them.
Yeah, home.
Chapter 13
The sun was shining brightly through the bay window in the kitchen nook, and all J.T. wanted to do was mope.
Caroline was still sleeping, but he couldn’t shake the thought that she’d gotten wasted and acted out of character last night, and it was all his fault. Given the small-town gossip circuit, he would wager everyone knew about them. Normally that wouldn’t bother him, but he’d hoped to share the news in a more dignified way. Big Boy hadn’t been it. It would serve him right if she woke up angry and full of regret.
Surely there was something he could do to cheer Caroline up. Heck, cheering wasn’t enough. He needed to do something grand. Trev had teased him but good about the balloons and clown, saying no movie hero worth his salt would have gotten the girl with that. What would? He wracked his brain. Poetry? God, he sucked at making things rhyme. Then he found himself thinking again of his grandparents’ letters. Man, those two could write. Their letters were practically poetry, if you asked him.
Wait!
He could ask his mom to send the original letters. They were as cherished to the family as Grandpa Emmits’ painting. He reached for his phone on the kitchen table and texted his mom since it would stave off other questions.
His mother’s reply was freaky. She’d always had a sixth sense, likely from her Irish roots. Caroline Hale must be some girl for you to ask for them. I’ll overnight them. Next time you bring her to Napa, your father and I won’t be giving you space, FYI. In fact, come soon. I miss you, kiddo.
Crap. He missed her too. As soon as things settle here. Love you.
Her reply was immediate. Don’t let Cynthia mess things up anymore. Remember who you are. Love you.
He squeezed his eyes shut. So she knew the latest. Heck, hadn’t he known Trev kept everyone informed on some level? Shit! His life before Cynthia had been so much less complicated.
“Damn, these cinnamon rolls are good,” J.T. heard Trevor say as he came in from the garage carrying a pastry box. “Evan’s Margie has a good thing going with that bakery. It was already packed. Has Carlita made an appearance yet? Man, she and Jill were hilarious last night. I’d pay weekly for a show like that.”
He thought about asking his brother how the rest of the family had reacted to the news that Cynthia was still coming for him, but he didn’t have it in him. “You’re not making me feel any better.”
His brother slapped him on the backside of his head.
“Hey!” he said, rubbing the sting.
“Stop moping! You look like you put your dog to sleep. What happened to Caroline was a shock, I’ll grant you that, but I need you in fighting shape. Sin City has come with her A-game. What ya got, Big Boy? From where I’m standing, she’s already put you down.”
“Call me Big Boy again and I’ll put you down.” He scowled. “Give me one of those cinnamon rolls.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Why do you think I got all pretty and went to the bakery? I had to get my bro some special carbs.”
“Ha. Ha. You know, Trev, sometimes you’re a pain in the ass.”
His brother laughed and then popped another bite of cinnamon roll in his mouth. “Only sometimes. Besides you know I’m right. Big Boy.”
“You’re a dead man,” he said, rising from his chair.
Trevor darted back like he was about to run. J.T. had every intention to chase him, only a discreet cough stopped him. He turned and saw Caroline standing in the doorway of the living room, yesterday’s clothes good and wrinkled, her cheeks a fetching pink.
“Morning, sunshine,” Trev said.
J.T. shot him a look. All he wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms, but he was hesitant. Surely she had to be having second thoughts about him. Them. Any normal person would after what she’d been through.
“I couldn’t be more embarrassed,” she said, pressing a hand to her temple.
“Oh, please don’t be,” Trevor said, crossing the kitchen and pouring her a cup of coffee. “J.T. and I once woke up in Rome with a whole gaggle of women in togas and didn’t know how we’d ended up with them.”
J.T. made a cutting motion to his neck—seriously, Trev?—and finally let himself walk over to her. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Not a good sign.
“Ignore him,” he said. “My mom swears she left him at the edge of the forest, hoping the wolves would take him like Mowgli, but even they were too smart for that.”
Trevor shook his head as he sauntered over and handed Caroline the cup of coffee he’d poured. “That’s a good one, man. All right, I’ll leave you two alone for a while. Caroline, if you want me to make you a hair of the dog, give me a shout. I have a never-fail recipe that has gotten me through a lot of vodka matches with our Russian colleagues.”
J.T. led Caroline over to a chair at the kitchen table. He closed the shades so the sunlight wasn’t beaming down on her like a spotlight, then sat opposite her. “Sun and hangovers don’t mix.”
“I can’t believ
e I did shots,” she said, gripping the handle of her coffee mug. “It seemed like such a good idea at the time.”
“Usually does.”
“I feel like I’m on a boat during a storm on the Atlantic or something. Everything inside is wobbly.”
“At least there are no icebergs in sight,” he said, wanting to reach for her hand. “Bad joke. Sorry. What can I do to help? Although Trev’s right. He does make a better hair of the dog than me.”
“Does it involve a raw egg?” she asked, sipping her coffee tentatively.
“At least one,” he said, not wanting to tell her the rest of the ingredients. She already looked sick at the thought.
“Then no thank you,” she said politely. “Where did you sleep? Because I think I woke up in your bed. It smelled of you.”
It warmed him to hear she knew his scent. He’d known hers since Rome, that alluring mix of citrus and flowers. “I bunked in the third bedroom. Trev offered the other side of his bed for old time’s sake, but I still have nightmares from family vacations when he’d grind his teeth most of the night.”
“The more I get to know him, the more I like him,” she said. “He’s a good brother. Do I remember him taking Jill home?”
“Yeah. Jill cranked his rap music all the way up in the car and sang her heart out the whole way. He would have paid for the performance, it was so funny.”
“That’s Jill,” she said, shaking her head and then wincing. “She’s what we call an instigator. Now I can check off dancing on the bar from my bucket list. Oh, God, what will my mother think? I’m never going to live this down. At least Moira was an accomplice. That’s got to count for something. But it would have been better if Matt had participated. He has the longest memory of all my siblings.”
So did his oldest brother, Connor, who managed the entire Merriam conglomerate now that their dad had retired. He’d thought J.T. negligent in his duty to protect the company, and they hadn’t spoken much since he left his job. God, he’d hoped to mend fences once his divorce was done. Cynthia was upsetting his plans on that front too.
Now he had the Hale brothers to contend with. J.T. took a drink of coffee, remembering the way her brothers had looked at him, like they were trying to decide if he was good for her. The jury was still out if you asked him.
“I think the highlight was you announcing to the whole bar that we’d slept together and you planned to get me naked again.”
She grimaced. “Yes, and me calling you Big Boy. God, I’m so sorry about that, J.T. It struck me as funny for some reason.”
He tried to keep from laughing. “At least it was a flattering nickname. Personally, I can’t wait to hear what Uncle Arthur says when I see him. Knowing him and his ability to find sources everywhere, I’m sure he’s already heard about it.”
“And yet, I awoke in my clothes,” she said, gesturing to herself. “Thank you for that. I found it…sweet.”
She’d called him that last night. He’d thought about undressing her to her underwear so she’d be more comfortable, but it had seemed…presumptuous, especially when she was in such a vulnerable position. Sure, they’d been intimate, but only for one night. He felt like he was walking on eggshells.
“No guy should take advantage of a woman who’s indulged a little too much. My dad raised us right.” But his dad was still probably wondering what he’d done wrong with J.T. on other fronts, he thought cynically.
She gulped down her coffee, and he rose to pour her another cup. Her pallor could use some improving, and maybe the caffeine would help her head. He’d convinced her to swallow an aspirin last night, and hopefully that would help too. Of course, he’d had to send Trevor to go to the drugstore to buy some, because seriously, other than Dr. Andy Hale, who had aspirin in their medicine cabinet anymore? It wasn’t like he had a heart condition.
Caroline stared into her cup. “Did I embarrass you last night? I mean, my behavior was—”
“Completely innocent and understandable,” he said, setting the coffee carafe on the table between them. “Think nothing of it.”
He’d already had two cups this morning, waiting to hear more news about Cynthia’s plans, but there was no more information. Trev had urged patience, but he found he didn’t have much left. Part of him wanted to march into The Grand Mountain Hotel and demand to see her. Have it out. Not just for him but for Caroline too. But that would be the worst thing he could do. It would only give her more ammunition.
Then he realized he was thinking about his ex and not the beautiful woman in front of him. Like Trev—and now his mother—kept telling him, he needed to stop focusing on the past, even though Cynthia kept trying to beat him in the face with it.
“Are you feeling as awkward as I am?” he asked, deciding to call it out there.
Her lips tipped into a slight smile. “Yes, because I really need a toothbrush, and I didn’t want to use yours.”
He was silent for a moment, and then he reached his hand out to her. “You can always use my toothbrush, Caroline.”
She looked up. Finally. Her eyes were bloodshot, but at least she was looking at him. She didn’t hesitate to take his hand, thank God. “Why does that make me want to cry?”
“Trev would say it’s probably because a monkey wouldn’t use my toothbrush, but—”
She smiled. Sure, it took a moment, but it was like the sun appearing. “Ah, there it is.”
“What?”
“A smile,” he said. “I feel like shit too, but for different reasons.”
She turned her coffee cup in a half circle before saying, “I know. I could see it on your face when I stopped at the doorway. Is there a hair of the dog to cure guilt?”
He laughed despite himself. “Trev probably has one with bitters in it. Nothing says guilt like bitters. Shit, I’m babbling. Are we okay? I honestly—”
“Gold Digger” started to play, interrupting him. His whole body tensed, and Caroline’s hand jerked in his. Their eyes met, and the look in hers—like a wounded animal—made him want to hit something. Dammit!
“You should take that,” she said slowly. “Maybe she’ll tell you her coordinates so you can send in some really scary clowns.”
“Why hadn’t I thought of that?” he asked, making himself laugh at her attempt at humor.
He grabbed his phone from the table. Trev suddenly appeared on the stairs, his supersonic hearing clueing him in. His mouth was grim, but he didn’t say a word. Yeah, he knew J.T. had no choice but to pick up her call.
Part of him wanted to leave the kitchen—he didn’t know how the call would go, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset Caroline—but he didn’t want her to think he had anything to hide either, so he walked over to the doorway, still in view.
“Cynthia,” he said. “I hear you’re in Dare Valley. How nice, but honestly, I can’t say that you’re going to like it here. Too…ah…what’s your word for it? Provincial.”
Her laughter sounded like the tinkle of breaking glass. “Oh, but I’m loving my stay here so far. And I’m learning so much about small-town life. You know, Julian, I had a feeling you might be interested in Caroline Hale when I met her the other day at Leggett. She’s your type, isn’t she? Elegant. Nice. Likes art. I suppose she’s…beautiful in a way, although she’s nothing like me, of course.”
Word travels fast, he thought. Well, it wasn’t like they’d set out to hide it. He was proud to be with Caroline, and he wouldn’t pretend otherwise.
“No, no one is like you. Cynthia, you need to stop this. I mean it.”
“When I have you so on edge and protective? Oh, darling, no. The fun has only begun. I have to say, Caroline’s boss became such an easy ally. All I need to do was drop a few hints.”
Hints were her insidious way, he knew. She had a gift for charming people into doing and saying whatever she wanted. “You’re going to pay for that.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Ah…I have your protective side
kicking up again, don’t I? Don’t make it too easy for me. Please, you know how I like a challenge.”
Yes, she had in bed. She’d only acted interested in sex as a game, a power struggle for control. He hadn’t recognized that in the beginning, but it hadn’t ever worked for him. She hadn’t liked that.
“I know you met with the university president, Cynthia. He’s going to be unhappy when he realizes you’ve led him on a merry chase and wasted his time and his resources checking provenance that is well vetted.”
“You think I don’t have a game plan for all of this? Oh, my love, you’re playing checkers and I’m eight moves ahead of you in chess. I heard Ms. Hale announced she’s sleeping with you to a whole bar last night after doing shots. Goodness, shots! I thought she had more breeding than that, but then again…she was born here, wasn’t she? J.T., even with her art background, you must know you’re slumming.”
You cold-hearted bitch. He thought again about leaving the kitchen, but one look at Caroline rooted him to the spot. “That’s enough of that. I’ll ask you again. Why are you calling?”
“To tell you that you made me very angry,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “I wondered who you would find after me. I knew it would upset me, but somehow I didn’t realize how much. To think I loved you. I can’t believe I married you. Gave myself to you—”
“On that we agree,” he said, lowering his voice. “We’ve both hurt each other, but this needs to end.”
“No,” she said, her voice hard. “You haven’t suffered enough.”
He heard Trevor’s loud boots slapping on the stairs. His brother was coming down to offer his support.
“And you’re just continuing to stir up your own hurt,” he said to Cynthia. “How is that a smart thing?”
Trev stood in front of him, arms crossed. He looked about ready to grab the phone and lob it across the room.
“My parents started sending me to a psychiatrist when I was ten, Julian,” she said. “Panic attacks at boarding school were frowned upon. Trust me. Therapy doesn’t give us the sense of wholeness we’re all searching for. Revenge does. Oh, I should write a self-help book.”
