Without moving his head, Shane glanced at the couple next to him.
The couple.
There were sparks between them, all right. Holden wasn’t huffing and puffing like the big, bad wolf. And the good doctor? She was standing very still, fingering the bracelet around her wrist, not her purse strap.
“I promised you’d be back by midnight, Dr. Carlisle.” Shane decided it was time to go and let nature—Mother Nature or Holden’s nature—take its course. “I’ll be waiting in the lobby at the inn whenever you’re ready for that ride.”
Shane hurried out, shutting the door behind him. Only when he reached the bottom of the slope and had his feet firmly on the highway did he turn and look back.
Holden and Dr. Carlisle stood at the plate-glass window, smiling and laughing as if they were on a date and hitting it off.
Not exactly what I had in mind.
But it’ll do.
* * *
“LAUREL’S MOM ISN’T very nice,” Gabby told Mitch quietly over dinner.
They sat in the common room with Zeke, Shane, Sophie and the twins, while Laurel and her mother ate at the kitchen table in the apartment. The pair hadn’t requested privacy. No one had wanted to eat with Mrs. Monroe.
Genevieve was what Mitch had expected Harlan’s family to be. She wore flawless, thick makeup and expensive jewelry. Her clothes were as inappropriate for the mountains as Shane’s clothes were. She was entitled and scornful.
“And she’s loud,” Gabby said. “Laurel winces when she’s loud.”
“I’m loud, too,” Mitch admitted, remembering the times he’d lost his temper recently.
“It’s your bark, Dad.” Gabby shrugged, not taking her eyes off the pair in the kitchen. “You’ve always had it.”
“Even old dogs can learn new tricks.” His love for Laurel made him feel different on the inside. Or it had until he’d learned the truth about her pregnancy.
Or should I say the lies?
Parents and role models were supposed to make good choices. When Laurel had described taking the place of her twin, he hadn’t thought through the implications. He hadn’t taken the hint. She hadn’t told her baby daddy about her babies because he thought she was someone else. There was no defense for that.
Was there?
“I’m sorry I’ve been bad lately.” Gabby looked at Mitch sheepishly. “Laurel said you needed to hear my apology. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course.” Apologies were tough at any age, but tougher for preteens. His chest should have swelled with pride. Instead, he wrestled with Laurel encouraging his daughter to do the right thing when Laurel had been unable to do so herself.
When in the course of a one-night stand is it appropriate to correctly identify oneself?
Mitch was in defense attorney mode, trying to formulate an argument that would justify Laurel’s behavior. He stared at Gabby. How could he condone what Laurel had done?
“Dad, I’m warning you now. I’m going to experiment with makeup sometimes.” Gabby’s cheeks flushed. “And I might wear a dress once in a while come spring. Laurel said she’d help me pick some out. Don’t freak about it, okay?”
“I won’t.” He was too busy freaking out about Laurel’s complicated knots.
Laurel had changed before dinner. Her red locks were brushed and down, fanning across her shoulders. She wore a flowing blue skirt that reached her ankles and a creamy lace off-the-shoulder blouse.
She looks like a Monroe.
Mitch drew a deep breath, trying to listen to the small voice in his head that said Laurel was still Laurel. So she’d made a mistake?
She lied.
Laurel entered the common room, avoiding Mitch’s gaze.
That sharp pain in my chest? It’s my heart breaking.
Laurel’s mother joined them.
“How’d it go with the doctor?” Laurel asked Shane, who was sitting on the hearth.
“The jury’s still out.” Shane stared at the fire.
“I may have to disappear and take up an alias in Mexico,” Zeke murmured cryptically.
“What did you guys say to Dr. Carlisle?” Mitch demanded, welcoming a non-Laurel crisis.
“There’s that bark, Dad.” But Gabby was grinning.
“Oh, it wasn’t anything we said,” Zeke admitted. “More like something we did.”
Shane ran a hand through his hair and stared out the window in the general direction of the medical clinic. It being dark outside, there wasn’t much to see but the reflection of his worried expression.
“Laurel, we’re not finished talking.” Her mother crossed her arms over her chest.
“We’re done for today, Mom. I’m tired.”
Mitch’s breaking heart panged. Laurel looked as distraught as he felt.
Genevieve cast her finger over the assembled. “I’ll need everyone here to sign a confidentiality agreement.”
Everyone groaned.
“Aunt Gee, that’s not happening.” For once, Shane said something Mitch agreed with.
“I have to protect my daughter’s reputation.” Genevieve frowned.
“She means she has to protect my sister’s reputation,” Laurel clarified in a defeated voice.
“Objection,” Mitch protested reflexively. “Don’t let her rob you of your joy.”
“That’s right.” Sophie picked up one of her kids and plopped him into her lap. She grinned. “We mommies have to protect our happiness. I’m going to open an antiques shop in the trading post across the street.”
“Bully for you,” Genevieve said flatly.
“And I’m going to open a boutique in the mercantile next to it.” Laurel threw her shoulders back.
“No.” Genevieve stomped her high-heeled boot. “I forbid it.”
“You can’t.” Laurel’s tone offered no room for argument.
“What are you going to sell in your boutique?” Gabby asked Laurel. “Clothes? Like your pink dress?”
“No. Nothing that fancy.” Laurel smiled, some of her sparkle returning. “Quilts. Paintings. A scarf or two.”
Gabby leaned forward, excitement in her bruise-rimmed eyes. “You mean, if I knit scarves, I could sell them in the store?” At Laurel’s nod, she turned to Mitch. “I could save to buy my own phone.”
“Yep.” No harm in agreeing to that. At the pace Gabby knit, she’d be lucky to produce one scarf a year. “Yep,” he said again, because his brain blipped when Laurel’s gaze bounced to him and away.
“When you say antiques, sister dear...” Shane regarded Sophie with skepticism. “You’re not talking about a sea scroll or a fancy clock some English lord owned, are you?”
“This is not the Monroe art collection.” Instead of getting defensive, Sophie became more animated. “There’s an old pedal sewing machine in there and I think it works. I found a scale in the back. You put in a nickel and it gives you your weight and your fortune. Plus, there are boxes of collections. Hood ornaments, brooches, skeleton keys.”
The snort of disgust Laurel’s mother made was largely ignored.
Shane still looked dubious. “Are you sure this isn’t yard sale junk?”
Sophie reached over and slugged her twin in the arm, not hard, but a slug nonetheless. “I can sell each key for twenty-five bucks and—”
“You can price them for twenty-five bucks,” Shane clarified. “Whether you sell them for list or not depends upon what kind of person walks into your store.”
“Or shops my website.” Sophie pushed her red glasses up and lifted her nose in the air.
Shane shook his head. “All I’m saying is you’re located at a crossroads of a couple highways. People who come through town are headed elsewhere. Their cars and SUVs are going to be loaded. There won’t be room for antique sewing machines or nickel scales.”
Sophi
e sniffed. “Those are the people who’ll buy a skeleton key.”
“Oh, for the love of Mike.” Genevieve glared at Laurel. “You want to stay for this?”
“Yes.” Laurel’s nose joined Sophie’s in the air.
She can go anywhere she wants to. Harlan’s voice.
Mitch frowned. Not unless she found a good lawyer. Someone who understood she’d gone on the date for the right reasons and then... That was as far as Mitch could take the case.
What case broke you? Harlan’s voice again.
Mitch rubbed his temples, trying to force the old man out of his head. Because it had been a combination of cases and a bad marriage and an increasing intolerance for clients who lied.
This case. This case will break me.
And it wasn’t even being tried in court!
Sophie wasn’t giving up trying to sway her brother. “You’re such a hypocrite, Shane.”
Her boys stared at their mother with wide eyes. Sophie rarely lost her temper or raised her voice.
She shook her finger at Shane. “When you took over the Monroe Resort in Las Vegas, you complained bitterly about the blue-collar clientele. And then you set about bringing in high rollers, luxury shoppers and people wanting to get married in style. We’re going to do the same thing.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Genevieve muttered.
“Knit scarves and skeleton keys,” Shane mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can send updates to me in prison.”
Mitch’s frown deepened. Shane was going to need a good lawyer, too.
“My grandmother used to collect skeleton keys.” Zeke’s admission was inadmissible in Mitch’s book, because increasingly, he had a feeling Zeke had the hots for Sophie. “Lots of people do.”
Shane might have had the same impression as Mitch, because he scowled at the cowboy.
“If Grandpa Harlan was here,” Laurel said to Shane, “he’d hear the excitement in our voices.”
“That coldhearted pig?” Genevieve scoffed. “He’s the reason you’re all unemployed and wasting your time in run-down shacks. Well, I’ve got news for you, Laurel. You’re set to make millions off this design contract. All you have to do is sign on the dotted line.”
Mitch held his breath. It was one thing to acknowledge to himself that Laurel didn’t check the boxes he’d made when he thought about marrying again. It was another to hear her dreams of being a designer were in reach. No more quilts or scarves for her. It’d be back to silk and rhinestones.
“Mom, let it go,” Laurel said wearily.
“Millions?” Gabby gaped.
Mitch shushed her.
While Genevieve gave Laurel all the reasons she shouldn’t dismiss the offer, Mitch’s phone buzzed with a notification. He drew it from his back pocket and then interrupted Mrs. Monroe’s rant. “The passes are officially closed.”
Shane groaned and exchanged a glance with Zeke. “That’s not good.”
“Mexico, here I come,” Zeke murmured with a love-struck glance Sophie’s way.
“Closed?” Genevieve shrieked. “Tell me that doesn’t mean I’m stuck here. Where’s Holden? He has four-wheel drive.”
“Holden is on a date,” Shane said, regaining some of his perpetually good humor.
“A date?” Genevieve stomped her boot. “Impossible. He just got here.”
Shane shrugged. “You know how he is, Aunt Gee.”
Apparently, she did, because she quit whining. About that, at least.
* * *
“MOM, I’M NOT SIGNING.”
“Oh, come on.” Laurel’s mother had followed Laurel to her room. She fanned the pages of the thick document in front of Laurel and singsonged, “You’ll be a millionaire.”
“And what will this deal make you?” Laurel demanded, hoping standing up for herself would earn her some alone time. She and the babies needed to mourn the loss of Mitch. “And what will this deal make Ashley? Because when you told me about this contract you kept saying we.”
Cold blue eyes glittering, Mom replied, “I’m taking what I’m worth, since there would be no contract without me.”
“A figure, Mom.” Laurel was calm. There was no joy to be found here. “Let’s hear the number.”
“I deserve every penny.” Her mother shuddered. “In fact, I deserve more, considering the mess you’ve left me to straighten out with Wyatt.”
Laurel knew she’d have to come to her question another way. “Can we focus on the positive for a minute?” She took one of her mother’s hands and placed it on her baby bump. “You’re going to be a grandmother.”
Mom snatched her hand back, aghast. “Don’t remind me. Hot on the heels of the grandmother title comes menopause and death.”
“Mom,” Laurel chastised, trying not to let her rejection sting, trying not to let loose the flood of grief and disappointment that pressed at the back of her throat at the knowledge that Mitch didn’t love her enough to get past her deceit.
“Laurel, pregnant or not, you don’t pass up deals like this.” Mom’s shrewd gaze searched for a weakness. It didn’t take long for her to find one. “A month ago you were a salaried nobody.”
“I don’t care about fame.”
“Then this is the deal for you. You can stay here and open your little shop while you make red-carpet gowns.”
“Mother. The terms?”
“If you must know...” Mom’s gaze swept the worn brown carpet with a look of concern. “I’m taking twenty-five percent.” At Laurel’s gasp, she added, “And Ashley will license her name to your designs for an additional five.”
They want thirty percent of the value of my designs?
The babies drew back in horror.
How could Ashley do this to me?
“I may be a salaried nobody,” Laurel said in a stiff voice that didn’t sound like her own. “But even I know a bad deal when I hear it.” She turned away, fingering the fuzzy copper yarn ball on her bedside table, remembering how warm she’d felt in Mitch’s arms. But memories did her no good now. She had to think. She had to fill in the gaps Mom had so conveniently left out. Laurel faced her mother. “Did you tell Ashley about this?”
A little shrug. A little turning up of the nose. “A good manager doesn’t bother their client with small details.”
Ashley doesn’t know.
“This isn’t a small detail.”
“Laurel, your up-front money is a million dollars.” Mom glanced around the simple room. “That’ll go a long way here. Think this over carefully. Maybe you’ll miss the comforts of modern life. I can negotiate an apartment in LA or New York into the deal. This could be the first step toward your dream of owning a shop on Rodeo Drive.”
“A shop with Ashley’s name on it.” Laurel couldn’t let that small detail pass.
“You need Ashley’s name to get the deal.” Mom tsk-tsked. “You did this to yourself. If we tell the world you made the dress, people will question Ashley’s integrity and your name becomes irrelevant.”
“They’re going to question Ashley’s integrity anyway once the truth about my situation gets out.” Laurel sighed, filled with regret that her sister was collateral damage to her pregnancy, and unable to shake the suspicion that she’d lost any chance with Mitch over this. “By rights, Wyatt should pay child support. Why don’t you negotiate that?”
“We are not telling that man about this yet!” Mom jabbed a finger toward Laurel’s stomach, her expression fierce. “Much less ask him for money first thing! You’ll look like you’re scheming. Is that what you want?”
Laurel stumbled back, numb.
“This is a delicate matter. For once, Laurel... For once!” Mom tossed the contract on Laurel’s bed and stomped out the door. “Do what I say when I say it!”
* * *
“LAUREL,” MITCH CALLED SOFTLY, ta
pping her door lightly just after midnight.
She opened the door and tugged him inside. “What are you doing here? My mother will have a meltdown—another one—if she finds you here.”
“We need to talk.” He wanted to brush a lock of hair from her shoulder. He wanted to kiss the worry lines on her forehead. He kept his distance. “I’ve been thinking.”
Laurel stared at him in silence. Behind her, the door to the closet stood open, revealing her pink dress.
“It looks bad for you. This thing with Wyatt...the actor. When he finds out... When the world finds out he thought he was with Ashley, but you wound up pregnant...” In his head, this conversation had made him sound heroic. In reality...
“Say what you came here for.” Laurel crossed her arms, but she couldn’t hide the tears in her eyes.
Whatever they’d had... Whatever he’d hoped they had... It wasn’t in the room with them.
He tapped his chest. “I can coordinate your defense.” Technically, he couldn’t be her attorney. He wasn’t licensed to practice in either Idaho or California.
“You want to lead my legal team.” Her shoulders hunched. Her features threatened to crumple. “You’re offering to stand by me as my attorney.”
Mitch raised his hands. “I know that sounds bad.”
She took a step back, a grim reminder that he did indeed sound bad. “Let’s not do this. I get it. You didn’t like my wardrobe. You didn’t like my dress. And now you don’t like the mistake I made. I get it. I’m not the kind of person you want as a role model for Gabby.”
His mouth wouldn’t open to argue. But his heart... His heart was pounding like a trapped man in a sinking ship.
“I’ll make this easy on you. On both of us.” She stepped around him and opened the door. When he hesitated to leave, she added, “For Gabby. Leave for Gabby.”
He did.
He let her release him.
He let her shut the door.
She was making it easy on him and doing the right thing, but his heart still pounded and his chest ached.
And her mother watched him from the end of the hall.
Snowed in with the Single Dad Page 21
