by Ava Miles
He knew her sob story. At one time, he’d felt compassion for the little girl who’d battled anxiety and then anorexia after being shuffled off to boarding school at six. “I’m sure it will be a bestseller. I’m hanging up, Cynthia. When you call like this, I sometimes think it’s only to hear my voice.”
Trevor’s brows flew to his hairline. Yeah, it had been a risky thing to say, but she was the one talking about emotions. Silence hung over the line. He knew he’d struck a nerve, but he felt no sense of victory.
“I’ll be seeing you around town perhaps,” she said. “Say hello to Caroline for me.”
She hung up, and it was a good thing—he doubted he could have kept calm much longer. He felt a hand on his back, more like the brush of a butterfly than touch. Turning, he saw Caroline, her skin the color of skim milk.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine,” he interrupted, wanting to storm out of the room and hit something. “Are you sure you don’t want to sever all contact with me? Maybe you should think about it. Seriously.”
Trevor didn’t slap the back of his head this time, and for that, he was grateful. But his brother didn’t leave them alone either.
“Is a deserted island looking good again?” Trev asked him, something he’d asked him over and over during the divorce.
“Yes,” he admitted. “But it’s like we said. We’d be bored after two days.”
“And it would be depressingly devoid of beautiful women like Caroline here,” Trev said, pulling him in with an arm.
“Actually, a deserted island sounds great right now,” Caroline said, trying to inject some humor into her voice again. “I mean, I’m out of work currently. I have the time.”
He seriously thought about it for a moment. The family jet could be fueled and ready to leave Denver in a couple hours. They could get away from it all together. Walk on the beach holding hands. Swim naked amidst schools of tropical fish with turquoise and orange stripes. Make love under a white canopy until they were both spent.
But Cynthia would still find him.
She’d told him he would never escape her, and with her financial resources, he knew she was right.
Besides, the museum was still in jeopardy, and he needed to see this through. Caroline was counting on it—on him—and he didn’t want to let down his great-grandfather’s legacy either.
“No deserted islands for us today,” Trev said. “The closest you’re going to get is a fish tank. Strap your breastplate on, J.T., it’s time to do battle. We’re going to meet with the university’s public relations people and get this press release out by the end of the day—even if I have to knock a few heads together to do it.”
His brother clapped him on the back and strode back to the stairs.
Caroline stared at his retreating back with wide eyes. “He’s…formidable, isn’t he?”
“He likes to think he was a gladiator in the Colosseum.” He touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know I sound like a broken record, but I don’t know what else to say.”
She gestured to her front. “Don’t you see it?”
“What?” He honestly had no idea what she meant.
“My breastplate,” she said quietly.
His mind took a snapshot of her—though her clothes were wrinkled and she looked more bedraggled than usual, her eyes gleamed with conviction. In that moment, she reminded him of his grandma, who’d told her then war hero pen pal, Noah, she would never give up on him either. God, he couldn’t wait to give Caroline those letters to read.
“How could I have missed it?” he said softly. If she could be this brave, surely he could muster his own courage like his forefathers had done. “How’s mine?”
She touched his shirt, sending a bolt of heat through him. He laid his hand over hers.
“Not too bad,” she said. “Although not as big as your brother’s, I would imagine.”
“You were the one who called me Big Boy,” he said, feeling a smile touch his lips. “Do me a favor and don’t say that around Trev. He’d agree with you in a way that might make you blush.”
She smiled too, and he was grateful they could share a moment of levity despite Cynthia. Despite the battle ahead.
“Of course, you could hold me for a moment too,” she said softly. “That would be nice, I think.”
He would send her home afterward, but right now they both needed this. He wrapped his arms around her, marveling again at how they fit together. “It’s more than nice. Caroline…”
His throat closed, and he couldn’t speak. God, he was getting emotional.
“I know, J.T.”
Somehow, that was exactly what needed to be said.
Chapter 14
Her mother did cluck like a hen when J.T. dropped her off later that morning, but Caroline decided to bask in the attention. Natalie swung by on her lunch hour to give her a hug and a pep talk, only once calling her Carlita. Even Andy and Matt stopped by to check on her. And then there was Moira…
She simply texted. Hope you’re good, Carlita. Tequila is the devil.
Oh, it was nice to feel so supported even though she was twiddling her thumbs today. She hadn’t been jobless since the summer after college ended, and the rest of the afternoon loomed large in front of her. With nothing pressing to do, she decided to take a walk in the mountains to consider her next steps.
It struck her that she didn’t want to go back to Denver. Sure, she had an apartment there, and it wouldn’t make sense for a newly unemployed woman to take on a second lease, but everyone she loved lived here. While she liked staying with her mother, it didn’t seem like a long-term solution.
Her siblings had all offered her a place to stay, but they had their own lives, and she understood the need for privacy.
Later that afternoon, after she’d returned from her walk, someone rang the doorbell at her mom’s house. Her mom was off getting her hair cut, so Caroline went to answer it.
“Hey, Caroline,” her brother-in-law said to her. “I wanted to come by. Natalie filled me in on some stuff, and we have a proposition for you.”
“You’re going to pick me as your baby’s godmother?”
He laughed. “I appreciate the strategy, but no. We wanted to invite you to stay in our guesthouse. It’s mostly furnished finally, and I checked to make sure the paint smell was gone.”
“I didn’t know it was finished yet,” she said, shock rolling through her. Her own place…
“We’ve been pushing to get it finished since my Once Upon a Dare guys plan to visit after the baby is born. It’s best they don’t bunk with us, especially after last time, what with the boa constrictor and someone hanging my underwear in a tree.”
Caroline had heard the stories about his antics with his NFL-player friends. “I’m…speechless. I mean, I love Mom, but…”
“She has her own life,” Blake said. “Plus, she’s dating again.”
Caroline was really happy about that—her mother deserved the best—but Blake was right. Her mom might have gentleman callers. Her brain threatened to overheat at the mere thought. “Good point.”
“I know how important it is to feel like you have a place to get away to when things are in transition,” Blake said. “What do you say?”
“I say yes!” She threw her arms around him. “You always were my favorite brother-in-law.”
“When Moira marries Chase, you might have to change your tune so his feelings won’t get hurt. What else do you need? I mean, we all want to do something, but everyone feels so helpless.”
Leave it to Blake to call it out. Everyone said he excelled at the game because he played with pure emotion. “I’m asking myself that. Do you want to come in for a minute?”
He dug out a key and handed it to her. “Sure. Here you go. If you need anything, you’re always welcome next door. Touchdown will be happy to see you.”
Their dog was a sweetheart. “Thanks. What would you like to drink?”
“I hear tequila is probably ou
t,” he said, putting his arm around her. “You Hale women. I think Jill is the only one who can hold her liquor.”
“Natalie said she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today when she called, except for Jill’s ongoing campaign to get Chef T to poison J.T.’s ex.”
Blake’s arm tensed around her. “If she weren’t a woman, I’d have my guys pay her a visit with me.”
“I wish brute force would work,” she said sadly. “Blake, I’m scared. For J.T. and for me.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Of course you are. You haven’t dealt with anyone this…evil. Do you want your job back? There are things you could do legally. Matt would be able to tell you better, of course.”
He’d already mentioned it on his earlier visit.
“I don’t want to work for Kendra anymore,” she said. “I wasn’t right in some ways, and neither was she, but it’s over. My biggest concern is what’s next. I mean, Cynthia seems dead set on stopping the museum.”
“Yes, that’s what I heard from Natalie,” he said. “You’re just going to have to let J.T. and his brother handle things. They strike me as very capable people. Chase told me he and Evan are locked and loaded if needed, and it seems Uncle Arthur and his crew have also put themselves in the fight. You’ve gotta trust them to handle her.”
But that entailed putting her future in other people’s hands. “Now we’re getting to my problem. I feel helpless. J.T. feels so guilty about what happened to me, and there’s nothing I can do to reassure him. It’s…hurting our relationship some.” He hadn’t touched her like he had during their one night together, and his hesitation spoke volumes.
Of course, it hadn’t been more than forty-eight hours, but still, it felt like a lifetime.
“It’s only natural for a man to want to protect the woman he loves, especially when an attack is coming from his camp, so to speak.”
“So what should I do?” she asked. “Part of me wants to confront Cynthia, but it seems like that would only make things worse. When I met her, I…knew she wasn’t…well, reasonable. She called J.T. again this morning. He didn’t give me a rundown of what they talked about, but I know she mentioned me.”
Blake smiled wryly. “Well, you did announce to everyone at the bar last night that you were sleeping with J.T.”
She made a face. “Yes, in the light of day, that seems like a stupid move.” But J.T. hadn’t taken her to task about it, for which she was grateful.
“Might be good to get it out there in public,” Blake said with a shrug. “I’ve found that things like that tend to get out eventually anyway.”
Indeed. “I suppose I’m sad and scared, but I’m also…excited, I guess. Blake, J.T. is really wonderful. And the museum… I’ll be the curator for a top-notch museum if everything goes to plan.”
“I’m glad for you,” he said. “For all of it. And I like what I’ve seen so far of J.T. We all do.”
But her even-keel brother-in-law looked uncharacteristically worried. Join the club. “How about I leave Mom a note, and we trek on up to my new digs?”
“Where’s your suitcase?” he asked.
She pointed to the spare room, and he headed down the hall to fetch it. It felt slightly surreal that she was, temporarily at least, moving to Dare Valley. But it also felt right.
Perhaps it was her bridge to a better life.
Chapter 15
J.T. couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Emmits Merriam University President David Matthau had earned himself a new nickname if you asked J.T.: Dr. Slimeball. Sure, the man might have a PhD and a bunch of academic awards, but he should have been wearing gold chains and an open shirt and hocking Pintos at a used car dealership.
How had he and Trevor not seen the man’s greasy demeanor before? Perhaps because they hadn’t interacted with him much. There had been an introductory phone call, sure, followed by a brief lunch when he’d arrived in Dare Valley two weeks ago, but that was it.
“I’m sure you understand our family is eager to share the wonderful news of the museum with the world,” Trev was saying, his ankle on his knee.
His brother looked casual, but a funny thing about Trev was that he looked the most relaxed when he was gathering energy for an attack. Yeah, they both knew they were being stonewalled. The university’s head of public relations had struggled to smile when they’d appeared in the doorway of her office. She’d immediate called up to the president’s office, saying he was the person to speak with.
J.T.’s stomach had started to churn the moment he saw the look on her face.
Dr. Slimeball had made them wait twenty minutes, which was totally rude, and then they’d started this bullshit dance.
“Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?” J.T. finally said.
The man had the audacity to smile at them from behind his massive desk. He had on a three-thousand-dollar suit, something that seemed out of the norm for a man in his position. It didn’t bode well.
“My ex-wife is in town with an axe to grind against me, and she tells me you took a meeting with her,” he said.
“She’s so unhinged she’s still calling him, if you can believe it.” Trev unbuttoned his suit jacket. “You can imagine our surprise, hearing such folderol. The board recognized the importance of bringing the Merriam art collection back to the university our great-grandfather founded. When J.T. spoke with you, he felt you were on the same page—that you recognized how the Merriam Art Museum would add to the university’s already impressive offerings. I mean, who isn’t impressed with Evan Michaels’ Artemis Institute?”
J.T. had to admire the way Trevor worked. They used to joke Trev had three levels of negotiation. Playing nice kicked things off. No need to make things hard or contentious. If that didn’t work, Trevor would remind the person sitting across from them of their common interests or friends. God help the person if that tactic didn’t soften them. Then the gloves were off, and he’d hit them hard with what the consequences would be. So far, they were still at level two.
“Of course, Evan’s institute is a feather in our cap, but I’m still new at this position and the details of his offering are more…complete than yours. I’m only doing my due diligence.”
Bullshit. “I provided your art experts and the board with everything they requested, including the provenance, which is why they approved it.”
He let the silence grow, locking eyes with Dr. Slimeball. Yeah, I know what kind of an ass you are.
“I’ve made a lot of changes in my professional life to make this my number one priority,” J.T. pressed. “I moved here, expecting to make the public announcement and get started on the museum right away. Now you not only want to delay what you and this university have agreed upon, but you also are meeting with my ex-wife, whose only intent is to stir up trouble and malign my character.”
Dr. Slimeball kicked back in his chair, mimicking Trev. “If your character is what you’ve said it is, J.T., there’s nothing to malign.”
He ground his teeth. “That sounds like an unpleasant characterization of this situation. You’re better versed in the law than I am, Trev. Meeting with my ex-wife seems like a conflict of interest, doesn’t it?”
“It does indeed,” Trev said. “President Matthau, like I alluded to earlier, Ms. Newhouse has displayed obsessive tendencies toward my brother. She isn’t the kind of person a new university president wants to be aquatinted with, least of all influenced by.”
Way to go, Trev, J.T. thought.
“Ms. Newhouse’s concern is for the university and the art community,” Dr. Slimeball volleyed back. “She’s a respected member of said community, from a fine family, and is in the best position to inform us of your character. It’s said behind every great man is an even greater woman.”
God help him if that was the saying. “That’s drivel, Dr. Matthau. Sometimes people simply make a mistake when they marry someone. That was my situation. Case closed. I would appreciate it if you’d keep my private business out of ou
r dealings. If you must know, my ex-wife is bent on revenge because I had the gall to leave her. That’s it. She’s a bully.”
Trev leaned forward. “Our family name is on this university for a reason. We believe in what it was created to do and want to continue to support that.”
“Yet no one in your family has been affiliated with this university for some time,” Dr. Slimeball fired back. “Don’t threaten me or this university. Just because your name is Merriam doesn’t mean you can waltz in here and tell me how to do my job.”
Trevor’s mouth flattened. “Your job is to meet the commitments of the university board and be professional. You’re currently in breach of that. I don’t imagine the board will be very happy hearing about it.”
Dr. Slimeball’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve talked to some board members. They know I’m still realigning this university in compliance with my priorities.”
God, that sounded ominous. Who the hell did he think he was? A king?
“They also understand Ms. Newhouse’s concerns about the art you’re proposing to bring here,” he continued. “No one wants this university to be on the front page of The New York Times for housing stolen Nazi art in their museum.”
Ah, so they were finally to the crux of it. Good. “There was one instance of a painting like this some years ago, and the moment we discovered that fact, I had our lawyers find the family and return the piece. We have established the provenance of the rest of the collection, and it’s all completely above board.”
The man only smirked. “Of course you would say that.”
“Surely, Dr. Matthau,” Trev said, “you would recognize that a family who owns multiple billion-dollar companies would conduct the most thorough inspection. The collection is ready to be shown to the world. It’s time to put out the press release.”
And so they continued their dance. Circle around. Throw a few punches. Get back to the gist of it.
Thank God for Trev’s persistence.
