“Then let’s go.”
Mazie insisted on driving. Her car was a current-year model that smelled of leather and a whiff of expensive perfume. Fiona settled into the passenger seat with a sigh of appreciation. Her own car was not a clunker, but as cute as it was, the little VW Bug was no match for high-end automotive luxury.
Mazie’s driving was the real shock. She tended to talk with her hands, and though she didn’t commit any traffic violations, her style was a little too kamikaze for Fiona’s comfort.
They pulled up with a screech in front of a gas station mini-mart. Mazie gripped the wheel, her gaze anxious. “Hurry, please. I don’t want to take any chances.”
Inside the small shop, Fiona found the appropriate aisle quickly. Choices were limited, but the store did have the brand Mazie had requested. Instead of a duo, Fiona grabbed up four, then rounded the corner and plopped them down on the counter in sets of two. “I’ll pay for these separately,” she said, feeling the heat roll from her chest to her throat to her face.
It was ridiculous to be embarrassed, but this was her first pee-on-a-stick experience. The young store clerk didn’t bat an eye. He rang up the two sales, dispensed change and Fiona’s credit card slip, and went back to his phone.
Fiona had made a point of bringing a large leather tote instead of the smaller wristlet she often carried. Both women had valid reasons for keeping this little shopping excursion under the radar.
Fiona sauntered back outside as if she bought quads of pregnancy tests every day of the week. She opened the car door, slid into her seat and handed Mazie the white paper bag. “All set,” she said breezily.
Mazie chewed her lip. “May I do this at your house?”
Weird. “Why?”
“I told you. I don’t want to get J.B.’s hopes up. He hovers. And then it kills him when I’m sad.”
“So how many times have you done this?”
“Not as many as you think. Twice maybe. Mostly it’s just that my period starts, and then we know we have to wait another month. After this, I’ll get out of your way, I swear.”
“You’re not in my way,” Fiona muttered. Though she had to admit the entire scenario was freaking her out. What if Hartley showed up while Mazie was around?
Back at the house, Fiona showed Mazie the tiny guest bath in the hallway. Once Mazie was tucked away, Fiona darted into her studio bathroom and locked the door. Good sense dictated waiting until her guest had departed, but she couldn’t.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the box and read the directions. This was a bad sitcom...right? The hero’s sister in one bathroom. His lover in another. Both women possibly pregnant.
Fiona did what had to be done and waited. The message on the stick was swift and unequivocal. Positive. Pregnant.
She stared at it blankly. One part of her brain acknowledged she was in shock. The other more emotional compartment wanted to scream it from the housetop. She was having Hartley’s baby!
Later tonight there would be time for the second test. To double-check. It wasn’t really necessary, was it? Her body had already communicated the truth in rare form.
A sound from the other part of the house drew her back to the present. Though she was shaky and weak, she concentrated fiercely. Wrap the evidence in tissues. Tuck it away. Stash the incriminating boxes in a back corner of the cabinet.
Then she washed her hands, splashed water on her face and went in search of Mazie.
Hartley’s sister was still in the bathroom when Fiona passed by. But moments later, she came out and joined Fiona in the living room. Instead of being seated, she stood in the middle of the rug, her expression shell-shocked. “I did them both,” she whispered. “They were positive.”
* * *
Hartley had tried to give Fiona her space, really he had. But all day, missing her had been like a throbbing toothache. He still couldn’t believe she had tossed him out of her bed.
He’d kept busy. The fixer-upper a few streets over from Fiona’s charming bungalow would be his in less than two weeks—a cash sale. His own place out at the golf course already had several offers on the table. Hartley was leaving the minutiae up to the real estate agent. As long as he didn’t lose money on the deal, he’d be satisfied.
The one detail he hadn’t worked out was where he would live in the meantime. Even optimistically, it would take a couple of months to make his new three-story brick home moderately habitable.
Several of the potential buyers for the golf course house wanted to take possession ASAP. Hartley could go to a hotel, of course. For that matter, J.B. and Mazie would take him in. Still, they were relative newlyweds, even now. Besides, Hartley didn’t want to make things awkward between Mazie and Jonathan.
Which left one obvious solution. Fiona.
He pulled up in front of her house and frowned. What was his sister doing here?
Indignation bubbled in his chest. Fiona wouldn’t share secrets that weren’t hers...would she? He thought he knew her that well, but then again, he hadn’t bargained on being booted out of the stubborn woman’s warm, comfy bed in the dead of night, so what did he know?
He banged on the door with his fist, unable to decide if he was suspicious or angry, or both. “Fiona! Let me in.” When he reached for the knob, it turned easily. He opened the door and found two women staring at him, looking guilty as hell.
Both of them resembled kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Mazie and Fiona blushed. His sister looked happy. Fiona’s expression was less easily defined. She wasn’t smiling at him, and she didn’t seem particularly glad to see him.
Mazie broke the silence. “Nothing’s going on, silly. I dropped by because I wanted to get to know your girlfriend.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Fiona said quickly. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
Hartley’s sister waved a hand. “Friend. Girlfriend. Who cares about labels these days?”
Fiona went on the offensive, her gaze cool. “The question is, Hartley, why are you here? It’s hard to have closure when you keep turning up like a bad penny. You walked right into my house.”
Mazie snickered, her hand over her mouth.
Hartley closed the door and leaned against it. “You were the one wanting closure, Fiona, not me. Do you really want to discuss this in front of my gossipy sister?”
“Hey,” Mazie cried. “That’s not nice.”
Fiona aligned herself with the fairer sex. “Mazie and I were sharing a moment. You’re intruding.”
Mazie flung herself at Hartley, wrapping her arms around his neck and threatening to strangle him. “No, he’s not. I’m so glad you’re home.”
Her tight hug and the kiss on his cheek caught something in his chest and made his eyes damp. “I love you, too, sis,” he said gruffly.
His eyes met Fiona’s over Mazie’s head. “What if I take the two of you to dinner? We can call J.B. and have him meet us at the restaurant. It’ll be fun.”
Inexplicably, his sister blushed again and looked at Fiona as if for help. “You’re sweet to offer, Hartley, but I’ll take a rain check. J.B. and I have plans tonight.”
Hartley shrugged. “Fair enough. I’d still like to show you something before you leave. We can all three pile into my car. Won’t take us long. Twenty minutes, tops.”
“So mysterious,” Fiona said.
He eluded his sister and curled an arm around Fiona’s waist. Her hair smelled like raspberries. He loved raspberries. “I need your artistic expertise.” He kissed her nose. She leaned into him. Progress...
Mazie glanced at her watch. “I’m in. But we need to hurry.”
As the women climbed into his car, Fiona in the front, Mazie in the back, Hartley realized he was nervous. These two people were important in his life. Their opinions mattered.
&nbs
p; When he pulled up in front of the huge dilapidated brick structure with the overgrown yard, he smiled inwardly. Attached to the small for-sale sign was another placard that said Sold. He’d done a lot in twenty-four hours. Moving ahead. Writing off the past.
Mazie leaned over the front seat. “What is this place, Hartley?”
Fiona stared through the windshield, her expression pensive.
He shrugged, gripping the steering wheel. “I bought it today. I’m going to fix it up and live here temporarily. Then sell it later for twice the price if I’m lucky.”
“What do you know about renovating an old house?” His sister’s concern was valid.
“Not much more than I’ve seen on TV,” he admitted. “But I can learn. I have no illusions about doing all the work myself.”
Fiona chewed her lip. “It looks like a wreck. Have you even been inside?”
She nailed him on that one. Perhaps she had already come to recognize his impulsive nature. “I saw lots of pictures,” he said. “And I bought it for a rock-bottom price. It’s a good investment.”
Mazie pinched his arm. “And it’s in Fiona’s neighborhood...right?”
Fee frowned. “But you have a house. On a golf course somewhere. You told me about it.”
“I listed it this morning. Had two offers before lunch and more this afternoon. I’ll likely make a handy profit.”
Mazie nodded. “He never really liked that house anyway. It served a purpose at the time.” She patted his shoulder. “I think it’s wonderful, Hartley. I have several friends in the construction business. I’m sure I can round up some experts here and there.”
He squeezed his sister’s fingers briefly, but his gaze held Fiona’s, daring her to look away. “I was hoping Fee would be willing to help me from an artistic perspective. So I can flip it successfully.”
Fiona stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as if she were out of breath. “Work is really busy for me right now.”
He brushed the back of his hand across her soft cheek, gazing at her with determination and sexual intent. “In the evenings, then. I’ll feed you, and I’ll pay you for your time.”
Mazie fell back in her seat, beaming. “Of course she’ll help you. Right, Fiona?”
* * *
Fiona felt pressured by the sibling duo. These two thought they could throw money at a problem and everything would break their way. They hadn’t a clue what it was like to be hungry or alone or to lack confidence.
Instead of answering directly, she put a hand on the door. “Can we peek in the windows?”
Hartley’s face lightened, his enthusiasm contagious. “Of course. Once the paperwork is further along, I’ll get the real estate agent to give us a tour.”
“Is it even safe?” she asked.
“I suppose we’ll find out.”
The three of them walked up the path, dodging plants that tried to grab their hair and avoiding broken glass where kids had tossed beer bottles while trespassing. Mazie wrinkled her nose. “How long has this place been empty?”
Fiona surveyed the three-story facade. “I pass by this way now and again. I seem to remember the owner dying a year or more ago. Maybe it’s taken this long for the heirs to decide to sell it.”
“I can’t imagine they would want to keep it.” Mazie frowned. “This place is kind of a dump, Hartley. I was imagining a diamond in the rough, not a total disaster.”
He tried the front door, but of course it was locked. “The house has good bones. I have faith in her.” He took Fiona’s wrist and drew her closer. “Peek in this window here. Tell me what you see.”
Even from the vantage point of a filthy pane of glass, Fiona was charmed. The house looked like a museum inside, a museum with chunks of ceiling missing and peeling wallpaper, but a museum nevertheless. The ornate cornices and hardwood floors hearkened back to an earlier time. If the double winding staircase at the back of the hallway was intact, Hartley might indeed have found a hidden gem.
“It’s got potential,” she said grudgingly. What she wanted to say was Why are you buying a house near me? It didn’t make sense. Hartley was a man without a country, a displaced person. He had come back to his old life, but the world had moved on without him. So he was inventing a spot for himself.
If the only reason he was here with her was because he had no place else to go, she wasn’t interested. She’d had a lifetime of not belonging. Now, her small house and her burgeoning career were all hers.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have room in her life for Hartley. The truth was, if and when she finally fell in love and got married, she wanted a relationship where her husband thought she hung the moon.
Hartley liked having sex with her. She was a handy distraction from his family woes. But she deserved more than that. If she really was pregnant, she wanted this baby. More than anything. Yet Hartley had said unequivocally that he wasn’t interested in being a father.
If she told him and he tried to do the right thing, she couldn’t bear it. He’d left her twice. Even if he tried to change his tune, how could she ever trust him or his motives?
Mazie squawked when she glanced at her watch. “Oh, heck. I’ve got to run. Take me back to my car, Hartley. I still have to go by the shop before I head home. J.B. will shoot me if I’m late.”
“Since when is your husband a clock puncher?”
“We’ve both been working too much lately. We made a pact to have dinner together every night.”
In the car on the way back, Fiona glanced over her shoulder. She and Mazie exchanged glances. Hartley’s sister had shining eyes and a palpable air of excitement. This meal with J.B. tonight would be momentous.
As soon as Hartley pulled up at the curb, Mazie was out of the car and on her way. Hartley stared after her. “She sure was in a good mood.”
Fiona nodded. “Of course she is. She has a husband who adores her. It’s a gorgeous day. And her long-lost brother is finally home.”
“I wasn’t lost,” Hartley muttered. “I simply chose to fly under the radar for a few months.”
“Your silence hurt them,” Fiona said. “If they stumble onto the other secrets you’re keeping, it will be even worse this time. Surely you see they need to know what you found out in Switzerland.”
Hartley glared at her. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you? So what about you, Fiona? Shouldn’t you be digging up all your family secrets, sordid or otherwise?”
She gasped, stunned by the attack. “Excuse me,” she said carefully. “I’m going in the house now.”
He reached for her arm. “Stop. Wait. Dammit, I’m sorry, Fee. I have a temper. You’re only trying to help. I get that.”
She trembled, close to tears. This was a bad time to fall apart. “Let’s get something straight, Hartley. If you’re telling the truth when you say you want to be with me, then I need to believe it. So far in our relationship, I’ve been either a convenient booty call or a buffer for your messed-up family dynamics. Since I’m not interested in either of those roles, I suggest you get your life in order before you come here again.”
Eight
Mazie opened the front door of the gorgeous row house that was now hers, as well as her husband’s, and slipped inside. She wanted to shower and change before running into J.B. Tonight was special.
Upstairs in her decadent walk-in closet, she perused her choices. After their wedding, J.B. had taken one of the smaller bedrooms and converted it for his bride. Now she had a tiny sitting area and plenty of space for her wardrobe.
He spoiled her.
She loved it.
Even now, it was hard to believe she was actually married to the handsome hunk who had been her teenage crush. J.B. had been a bit of a rascal in his youth. He’d broken Mazie’s heart badly on one particular, memorable occasion. After years of keeping a careful distance from each
other here in Charleston, they had reconnected when her little jewelry shop ended up right in the middle of one of J.B.’s big real estate projects.
One thing led to another, and now she was happily married to a reformed bad boy. She smirked as she grabbed a quick shower and changed into black pants and a royal blue silk top. She and J.B. worked hard. This commitment to having dinner together every night had not always been easy, but it was an intimate time they had both come to cherish.
She was ridiculously nervous. Mostly because she hadn’t decided whether or not to bring J.B. in on her secret yet. It was too early to get excited. She knew that. She needed an appointment with her ob-gyn before she got her hopes up. No point in telling him when she wasn’t absolutely sure.
Over-the-counter pregnancy tests weren’t completely reliable.
In the dining room, she found J.B. scrolling through email on his phone while he waited for her. Immediately, he put the phone aside and drew her in for a long, slow kiss. “How’s my best girl?” he drawled when she was flushed and breathless. The man was an Olympic-level kisser. World class.
“I’m great,” she said. Maybe really great.
J.B.’s fiftysomething housekeeper was a Southern-style cook who had learned to tilt her wonderful recipes toward healthier options without sacrificing taste. Mazie might have gained five pounds since the wedding, but it was worth every ounce.
The first course was Caesar salad with freshly made dressing and shaved Parmesan. “I came by the shop this afternoon between site visits,” J.B. said, “but you were gone.”
“I went to see Hartley’s girlfriend.”
One masculine eyebrow lifted. “Mazie. I warned you about matchmaking. Hartley’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions.”
She stabbed a piece of lettuce. “He hasn’t done so well this past year,” she muttered. “I can’t stand to see the way he and Jonathan are with each other. It’s wrong,” she said, her eyes unexpectedly filling with tears. “They’re brothers. Twins, for God’s sake. Best friends.”
Bombshell For The Black Sheep (Southern Secrets Book 3) Page 7
