by Tessa Frank
“I’m sure you’re not a day over forty-five.” Plus about thirty years, but I’m going for charm.
Gloria grins. “Something tells me we’re gonna get along fine. Come on over here and have a cup of tea.”
I flinch.
“What? You not a tea drinker?” Gloria’s smirking at me as she asks.
“It’s not my favorite drink.”
Gloria winks. “I’ll put a splash of something in it to liven it up.”
Oh, Gloria and I are going to be friends for sure.
Two hours later, I know all about how little respect Gloria has for George. I also know where Hadley is — not her office, which I could have figured out — but the site she’s overseeing setup on.
“Hello Hadley.” I smile when she looks up, pencil clamped between her lips. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner sometime.”
If I was hoping for her to jump into my arms with a happy shout, then I would be sorely disappointed. Good thing I know Hadley. I will have to earn this date, not simply ask for it. The look on her face tells me I’m in for an uphill battle. I hope it’s worth it.
My gut says Hadley’s always been worth it. I wasn’t mature enough to realize it at eighteen, though. And her parents’ attitude toward me was the opposite of helpful. Maybe now that we’ve both got some life experience, we can try again and get it right.
10
Hadley
Tessa’s Gossip Column
Rumor is Hadley Mitchell’s fiancé filled charges for the other night. All I know, dear reader, is Hadley was taken in last night. Will her time in the slammer change her?
I tilt my head to the side and examine the man standing across from me. All the words slamming through my head are not ones I need to say.
“I stopped by your house and met Gloria.”
I step back once, looking him up and down. “Did you change before coming here?”
Brian’s face does this funny freeze thing. “Change?” He glances down at himself. “Is something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
I blink. Twice. Suddenly I get it. My eyes widen, and my hand clamps over my mouth.
Brian frowns. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” His eyes rake over the job site, taking it all in. “I don’t think I need to be wearing a tux to ask you out.”
“You don’t.” I reach for the flowers, using the excuse of smelling them to compose myself. Brian stares. I sigh, knowing the truth will be best. “George never liked Gloria.”
Brian snorts. “I’ll bet.”
“Did you change—“
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Brian snaps back, outrage flicking to life in his eyes.
“Gloria’s been known to spray people she doesn’t like with the garden hose.”
For a moment, shock registers on Brian’s face. It quickly smooths into a smirk.
“What does that mean?” I asked, pointing a finger at his smile.
Brian leans a hip against the worktable, crossing his arms. “I got a tea with a splash of a little something extra.”
I darn near drop the flowers at that bit of news. “No!”
“Oh, yes.” Brian’s eyes sparkle. “I’m in the accepted crowd with Gloria.”
“I guess you are.” I can count on one hand the number of times Gloria’s offered me tea, and I know she likes me. “Well, I suppose if Gloria gives her approval, I can go to dinner with you.”
Brian’s lips pinch slightly.
“What?”
He rolls a shoulder. “I guess I want you to decide for yourself.”
I reach out, laying my hand on his forearm. “I decided a long time ago.”
I refuse to flinch from him or the thoughts and emotions that I know are coursing through both of us. “I’m passed the point of caring what others think.” I step closer to him. “If you hadn’t looked like I hit you the other day—“
“I wasn’t prepared for you to ask me out,” Brian exclaims.
I shrug. “Still. Your reaction said you didn’t want to try again.”
Brian tugs me against him. “Oh, I want to try again.”
My free hand drifts up to his neck. “Then let’s try again.”
“Fine.”
I wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
“This is not what I expected.”
Brian grins. “Which part? Me agreeing with you?”
Ok, we’d disagreed about stuff in high school. “You standing there, holding me, saying you want to try again, and then not kissing me.”
His eyes go wide, then darken as they focus on me. “I didn’t realize kissing was part of the plan at this stage.”
“Kissing is always part of the plan.”
“Good to know.”
Then he kisses my socks off. Or would if I was wearing socks.
11
Brian
Dating Hadley turns out to be fun, like being a carefree teenager again but with funds to actually do stuff.
Like goofy golf.
“I can’t believe you like this sort of thing.” Hadley lines up to take a shot, her skill evident as the ball rolls into the hole with a single put. I rub my eyes. “You’re so weird.”
Hadley grins at me, hand on hip. “You’re just jealous.”
“Yeah, that’s it all right.” I whack the little ball, watching as it careens against the sides of the run, rolling far past the hole then bouncing backwards. Hadley’s eyes dance as they meet mine. I can only shake my head.
“That’s awful, Uncle Brian,” Jack calls from the next green. Yeah, the kid is a natural. Just like Hadley.
Hadley swings the club at her side. “I could teach you.”
I pull her close using the club. “I don’t want goofy golf lessons.”
“Ooh, what kind of lessons do you want?” Hadley slides a hand up to my neck.
I set our clubs aside. “I’m sure I can think of something.”
Hadley’s smile spreads. “Don’t take too long.”
“Gross.” Jack’s back. “Why do you keep doing that? I thought we were playing.”
Poor kid. His hormones haven’t kicked in yet. Thank goodness. I ruffle his hair. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll try harder.”
Jack grabs ahold of Hadley’s hand, dragging her to the next green. “You’ve finished this one. Check out the windmill.”
I push out a puff of air, grateful we’re at the windmill. That means we’re nearly done, and this torture can end. I take another swing as Hadley answers her phone. The ball goes into the hole.
“Sweet!” My fist pump ignored, I head over to them. “Got it in two strokes,” I tell Jack, watching Hadley scowl as she listens on her phone.
Jack barely looks up. “Good for you, Uncle Brian. You’re still going to lose.”
Humph. Kid’s got that right.
“I’m not interested.”
I focus on Hadley, raising a brow when she shakes her head.
“No, Mom. I will not bring him to a family dinner.”
Him. She’s talking about me. For the time we’ve been dating, I’ve completely avoided her family. Much as I’d like, such a feat can’t last forever.
I walk over and whisper, “I can go to dinner, if you want.”
Hadley rolls her eyes and tells her mother that she needs to go. She clicks off the call with a sigh. “It’s not you.”
“It’s me?” I ask, quirking the left corner of my mouth up as I finish the biggest line in the history of relationship breakups.
Hadley offers a snort, then says, “It’s not you either. It’s them.”
I raise my brows.
“If I don’t want to have dinner with my parents, I can’t expect you to.”
“Why don’t you want to eat with your parents? Do they cook bad food?” Jack taps his ball, sending it right past the windmill’s spinning arms. “I really hate it when Mom makes asparagus.” The ball drops into the hole. “Sweet.” Jack grins at Hadley. “You’re never gonna beat m
e now.”
“We’ll see about that, young man.” Hadley saunters over to set up her shot.
Jack stands at the edge of the putting green. “Even if you make a hole in one, you still can’t beat me.”
“Jack,” I warn.
“It’s true, Uncle Brian.” Jack looks back at Hadley. “She can’t beat me.”
Hadley hits her ball, sinking a hole in one. “But I can tie with you for the win.”
Jack scowls for a brief minute, then brightens. He grabs Hadley’s hand, pulling her away from me. “You know what this means?”
“What?”
“We get to come again because we both won discount vouchers for next time.” Jack jumps off the course with all the enthusiasm of a gymnast flipping off a beam.
Hadley’s comment of “We certainly did” is lost as Jack leads her a few paces away. I take a deep breath before cutting at the stupid little ball. Much as I love my nephew, a few dates without him along would be nice.
I glance up to see Hadley watching me. Dinner with her family is going to happen, even if neither of us wants it. A serious man meets the parents — even if he’s technically done it before.
12
Hadley
I glare at the back of Becca’s head as Henry carries her off. I know jealousy is the wrong thing for me to feel about my best friend’s good luck, but I’m feeling it. Becca is literally being carried off into her happily ever after while I’m stuck dodging my parents and their constant requests to make things work with George. Why can’t they accept that it’s over with George?
My phone vibrates with another text from my mother. I spare it a cursory glance before typing out, Give it a rest. I’m at work. The work part is only slightly a lie. I am on my way to today’s wedding venue. Given how annoying my mother is, I think even the angels might agree with my actions.
Sitting in my car, I lean my head back against the seat. These demands need to stop. I ring up my brother. “Cam, I need you to get mom and dad off my back.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
He sounds groggy. I don’t care. “Good morning. Seriously, I need help.”
I hear him yawn. “Not sure what you want me to do about it.”
“You could tell them to leave me alone.”
Camden snorts. “I’ve already done that. They’re freaking out that you’re dating the cop.”
My turn to snort. “Of course they are.”
“Is he treating you well?” That’s why Camden is the brother I call when I need help. He’s willing to look past the past and figure out what really matters.
“Yes. He always treated me well.”
Silence. “I’m serious, Cam. Brian always treated me well. He’s never treated me badly.”
“That’s not what Dad said back when you were in high school,” Camden says.
I roll my eyes, ignoring everything outside the car. “Dad’s never liked Brian.”
“He thinks he’ll take advantage of you.”
“That’s rich,” I say, pessimism filling my voice. “Let’s be honest, Dad doesn’t like Brian because he’s from the wrong side of town.”
Camden takes a moment more to defend Dad, but we both know I’m right.
“Come on, Cam. I like him. Help me out with Mom and Dad. Get them to back off.”
“You like him? Or you like him?” Camden asks, emphasizing what he really means.
I sigh. “It’s like we never stopped dating.”
I’m certain Camden is dragging his hand over his face. That’s what he does when he’s frustrated.
“Fine. I’ll help.” I give a little cheer. “But you will have to bring him to a family dinner. Mom and Dad deserve to see that he’s not the punk they remember from when you were in high school.”
“Brian was never a punk,” I retort, loyally. Punk was not Brian’s thing. He was a bit of a rebel, sure. With parents like his, he had to learn to stand on his own long before I did.
“Whatever. You know what I mean.”
“Fine. I’ll bring him to dinner.” I don’t tell Camden that Brian’s hinted that it’s time for a family dinner. If I thought I could absolutely avoid it, I would.
“Where are you?” Camden asks. “It sounds like an auction.”
“Becca’s. She’s auctioning off her dad’s place today.”
“How’s that going?”
I look in the direction Becca drove off in Henry’s truck and smile. “From what I can see, really well.” I get off the phone with Camden and admit to myself, silently — I still don’t want to say it aloud — that I want a chance at happily ever after with Brian. Here’s hoping he’ll come to dinner and it won’t be the world’s worst experience ever.
13
Brian
“Uncle Brian?”
Ugh. Jack’s yell ping-pongs through my head. It’s too early. Last night’s shift was a bear. Saturday nights always are. I blink and remain prone with eyes closed for this. “Yeah, buddy.”
“Are you going to marry Hadley?”
Every muscle in my body clenches as if I’m bracing for impact when Jack’s question is followed by Brooklyn’s overly calm, “What did you say?”
Jack, his 9-year-old voice innocent but tinged with a note of pacification, repeats himself, adding, “Because that’s what dating leads to, right?”
“Are you dating Hadley Mitchell again?” Brooklyn sounds rational. If I hadn’t known her for her entire life, I might fall for it.
Sighing, I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of my bed. “I need to get my own place.”
Jack takes me sitting up as an invitation, bounding into the room and on to my bed. “Why? I like living with you.”
“Don’t jump on Uncle Brian’s bed, Jack.” Brooklyn enters my room, leaning back against the wall. “This is your house, Brian.”
While that’s true, it’s not the whole truth and we both know it. I bought the place five years ago, picking the least expensive house I could in the best school district. Then I moved Brooklyn and Jack in, using the school district as leverage. I fixed the place up quite a bit over the years. It would sell for more now. But Brooklyn couldn’t afford it on her own. It’d be back to apartment living for both of them. I didn’t want that. “Forget I said that.”
Brooklyn rolls her head, stretching out the tense muscles of her neck and back. “It’s a reality we will need to face eventually though.” Her eyes laser in on mine. “Especially if you want to get serious with anyone.”
I appreciate her keeping things light. “I know. But I’ve got options for right now.”
“Meaning she’s got a place of her own.”
“You could keep the smug look to yourself,” I point out.
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Mom’s dating too.” My head snaps in Jack’s direction. “I met him last night.”
“Pot,” I accuse at Brooklyn’s blushing face.
“Kettle.” Brooklyn exits my room, calling, “It’s nothing serious.”
“Yet,” I yell after her.
Jack bounces twice beside me. The last one leading to him sitting on the edge of my bed. “I think Mom likes him though.”
“Did you like him?”
“He looks at Mom like you look at Hadley.”
I can’t breathe. “What’s that mean?”
“He’s in love with her.” Jack’s up, heading out the door. He stops in the doorway. “I bet they kiss too.” He sticks out his tongue, eyes rolling backwards. “Adults are super gross like that.”
“Yeah, kissing is super gross,” I deadpan for his benefit.
“Then you should stop kissing Hadley because she’s not gonna know you don’t like it if you keep acting like you do.”
I’m left laughing at the sheer truth in that statement. Thank goodness kids are exactly the way they are. The world needs their brand of innocent humor to keep itself sane.
14
Hadley
Tessa’s Gossip Column
&nbs
p; Anyone else seeing a lot of Brian Miller with Hadley Mitchell these days? According to Hadley’s mother, Hadley isn’t involved with “anyone new.”
Interesting play on words there, Mrs. Mitchell.
Wednesday afternoon, Mom breezes into my office with all the warmth of an arctic front. “You will attend family dinner this week, young lady, or I will disinherit you.”
“Hello, Mother.” I roll my eyes then look up from my laptop and the budget for the Clarkson wedding. I’ve spent the last hour attempting to mesh the insane level of wants with the budget without success. Emilia Clarkson will have to bend on a few things. My first suggestion is the mermaid themed custom ice sculptures for every dinner table. That’s crossing the line into gaudy, no matter how you slice it.
“Did you hear me? I expect you at dinner or I will disinherit you.”
“I heard you.” I lean back in my chair, watching as Mom looks around my office for a better chair than either of the two stationed for guests. I fight the urge to smirk as she finally decides on the blue one.
Blue has always been her preferred background color. I distinctly remember Mom claiming it balanced her features. I painted the interior of my house in every color but blue solely to irritate her.
She still visits. What’s that they say about best-laid plans?
“You should bring your fiancé—“
“I don’t have a fiancé,” I cut her off.
Mom sighs dramatically. When I don’t react, which is a major feat, she settles for glaring at me. “You’re twenty-eight.”
“I know how old I am.”
“George is a wonderfully appropriate husband.”
“He’s a cheating jerk.”
“But his credentials are—“
“Why are you doing this?” I demand. Mom blinks. “I’m your daughter. Your only daughter. In this day and age, why are you trying to treat me like a commodity? Don’t you care about how awful a marriage with George would be for me?”
