Josh smirked at that. “Bronco Hyatt isn’t the type to relent.”
“Neither are you. I think that’s what I admire about you most, Josh.” Her words sent a tingle through him. “You set your mind on what you want, and no matter what the naysayers throw at you, you stand your ground. You’re finishing your degree—in the major you chose: foreign policy. You pretty much told everyone else where they could put their complaints about your choice, even when your dad cut you off. You stood firm.” She pressed her mouth to his and let it linger in a kiss of passion—finally. Josh returned it until she pulled away and with half-lidded eyes said, “What a man.”
“No overpaying for Toblerone.” He murmured this in her ear. He kissed her again, just as they were calling her flight. She hadn’t even been through security yet. He’d detained her as long as possible now.
“I have to go.”
“I know.” He took her hand and looked into her anxious face. “Should I wait for you?”
“You mean to watch the plane take off? That’d be nice. Sometimes there are mechanical problems, and passengers get sent home.”
“No, no.” It wasn’t coming out right. He wasn’t prepared to say all this, even though the weight of the issue had pressed on him ever since she signed papers to go work at the embassy two months ago. “Should I wait for you?” Something in him refused to be plainer in speech. She had to understand his meaning. His face, he was sure, was pleading with her.
Brielle was the most incredible woman he’d ever met. Sharp as nails, gorgeous—serious and driven and real. She made him want to be more, do more. Most of all, she’d stuck by him through thick and thin.
She was looking up at him with her softest face. “It’s only a year. And by then you’ll be a year closer to your degree. We’re young. There’s no huge rush. We have forever, and I want you—the best version of you, when we’re both ready to be who we are for each other. I’m going to grow a lot, and so will you, and we’re just getting ourselves all settled and set. I want you to be satisfied with me. Things will be calmed, and everything will smooth out.” She gave a wan smile. “It feels like a long time, though. I know.” She patted his hand that was clutching hers as if she were dropping from a cliff and only he could keep her aloft.
“I swear, I’ll make progress while you’re gone.” This wasn’t the vow he’d wanted to be making to her, exactly, but he wanted something for them both to hang onto while they were apart. “I’ve been accepted to the program. They’re holding my spot.”
She gave him a reassuring look. “And it’s the best program in the country, hands down. I know I wasn’t accepted there.” Now she was flattering him, but he couldn’t fault her. Her fading away from him gave her a filtered perfection, and she could do no wrong. “It’s a major step in the right direction for us.”
If Bronco hadn’t been such a blazing jerk, they wouldn’t be in this situation right now, and Josh might even be done with school and boarding the plane with Brielle to Germany instead of getting left behind, missing the adventure that he and Brielle had outlined for their lives together. In some ways, he couldn’t believe she’d stuck by him through all that family drama, through the fight and the estrangement and the threats from his dad that ended in Josh finally being disowned. Josh had dated a hundred girls at least, and none of them would have touched the chaos of his family with a ten-foot pole. Brielle’s commitment to him through it all proved many things—that she did love him, was willing to sacrifice for him, and that she was unlike any other girl he’d ever dated, in that she didn’t care whether he was the son of Bronco Hyatt or not, and didn’t give a rip whether he was going to inherit a cent from his dad.
This was the woman for him. Now he just needed to turn himself into the man for her.
“I’ll call you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t. I’ll be sequestered. It’s not going to be a place where I can have a lot of outside communication.”
What? She hadn’t told him that. Sure, he knew that she’d been hired to work at the embassy, but it wasn’t like she was going into the CIA, or anything. Undercover, deep silence, whatever.
Or was it?
“Don’t look so alarmed. I’ll find a way to keep in touch. Actually, snail mail is probably the most secure way these days. Watch for letters from me.” She glanced over her shoulder at the line at security. She really did have to go.
“Can I write to you?” Or was her address there some kind of secret? Why hadn’t they discussed this before? She should have told him. He might not have taken it well, of course.
“I really don’t know yet. Wait to hear from me.”
He nodded. She kissed him one last time. It was a good kiss, the kind that went all the way to his toes. It reassured him more than all her words or lack of them. She did love him, and what she’d implied was right: she wanted the best, mature version of him, the one ready to be her match when their time came.
Determination poured through him like wet cement that insta-dried, solidifying his resolve. I’m going to be that man for her, no matter what it takes.
She bustled through security. He stood watching until she went through the X-ray, put her shoes back on, and disappeared around the corner to the international flights concourses, on her way to her direct flight to Munich. Or München, as she called it. German. He’d never learn it.
Or maybe he would. Because he was going to finish his degree in foreign policy faster than any student at Clarendon College had ever matriculated. He’d double up on credits, skip sleep, go nights and summers. Because the sooner he finished, the sooner he’d have his job, and Brielle would finally give him the yes he craved.
∞∞∞
“So, that’s what I’m going to do.” Josh plunked down his glass, sitting back and folding his arms over his chest. Noise from the garlic-infused Italian restaurant made it so he’d had to yell his grand scheme to his brother over the din. It sounded a little less grand when yelled.
Chip frowned and nodded, chewing the last bite of his pizza. “Well, it’s a great idea …”
“But? I hear a but.” Josh pulled his own frown. He came to the one brother who was still talking to him—the only one who dared to defy old Bronco’s edict of shunning the black sheep of the family—for positive reinforcement. “I’m covering all the bases.”
“Financial, too? Clarendon isn’t exactly—well, you remember from when you were there before, it was no cheaper-chicken school. Maybe start back at the community college and get some generals out of the way since Bronco won’t back you. You could get back into the study mode. It’s been a few years since you were in school.”
Josh heard the implied What if you flunk out? but sent it packing. “How do you think I got into the Department of Foreign Policy at Clarendon? There were exams for even applying.” And they weren’t for the academic slouch.
Chip took a deep breath and wadded up a napkin. “Well, there’s no question you’re up to it intellectually. Of all us brothers, you’re the one who won at chess.”
“And Scrabble. And Monopoly. And Risk.”
“And shut up.” Chip jarred the table, making the ice in Josh’s glass rattle. “I was probably the most shocked of all of us when Dad went on his wild tear about your becoming a journeyman plumber. Ha! After forcing Rocky to go to medical school? And Wyatt through the bar exam?”
It killed Josh even now to think about his dad’s volatile decision, insisting Josh quit school after his sophomore year when he decided to change majors from bio-tech engineering. Getting so upset when he met Brielle and changed his major to foreign policy that he demanded Josh change back to his old major or quit school and go off to become a plumber or suffer the wrath. What a despot.
“And you into veterinary school.” Josh wasn’t the only one who’d suffered their dad’s tyrannical whims.
“All of us, way out of our elements.”
“But you’re happy.” Josh shrugged. “So that’s what matters.”
“Yea
h.” Chip drained his glass and refilled it. “I’ve got a great wife, anyway, and that’s where the real happiness lies.” Chip did have a great wife. Heather made his world go round, and everyone knew it, just like Brielle made Josh’s spin. “So, if going back to school and studying foreign policy is what it takes to get this girl, then go for it. Make it happen. If you’re sure of her, and this is what you’ve got to do, then I’m here for you. I’ll back you up.”
Josh relaxed. “Thanks, bro.” For the first time in months, maybe years, it was nice to have someone in his family say they were on his side. “How’s Heather holding up under the pressure?”
“Like a champ. She doesn’t even see the photographers anymore. It’s like they’re part of the landscape.”
Being a Hyatt, marrying into the family, had its pros and its cons—that was for sure. Josh would be asking a lot of Brielle when they finally made things official. Whether they were the estranged members of the dynasty or the favorite son and daughter-in-law duo, they’d get their share of the harsh glare of the spotlight.
“Brielle will handle it well. Like a boss.”
Chip toasted to that, and then it was time to go back to that ’80s dive in Starry Point, which, when he thought about it, was another upside to his new digs: no Hyatt-hunting paparazzi would ever think to look for him there, even if they got wind he’d enrolled at Clarendon College.
If, that is, his financial aid ever came through and he could actually officially enroll.
Chip’s face clouded. “Hate to point out the elephant in the room, but how are you going to pay for this scheme?”
That was the kicker. “I’m in the process of working it out. Eventually the government grant should come through. I’ve appealed. I should hear from them any day now. They’re going to see reason, I’m sure.” First they denied based on Bronco Hyatt’s earnings. So Josh appealed, saying he was not living with Bronco and was financially independent of him. They said it didn’t matter and denied him again. Next, he’d gone into his dad’s financials and verified that Bronco didn’t claim Josh on his taxes as a dependent. Josh rolled his eyes. At least the man had the integrity to drop that ruse. If he wasn’t going to pay a cent for Josh’s maintenance or education, or even invite him for dinner once a year, he shouldn’t get a tax break based on him. Armed with that argument he’d appealed.
The grant people should see that. It was common sense.
Now if the letter would just come. He’d check the mailbox again as soon as he got home.
Chapter Three
Morgan’s anxiety didn’t let her relax, even on the sand of Cannon Bay with its regular, soothing waves and view of the eternal Haystack Rock.
“I think I’m getting a sunburn.” She couldn’t just sit here, frying her skin while all these worries nudged at her. She needed to do something about them.
“This is Oregon. It’s cloudy. No sunburns.” Tory leaned back on the sand and closed her eyes. They always repeated this fallacy to each other—usually right before they hit lobster red.
Summer was almost over now, and they’d decided to come for one last warm day to Starry Point’s closest beach, Cannon Bay. Morgan needed the waves to calm her stress, and it had been totally working—until she made the mistake of looking at her phone to check on the books she’d need for her classes in a moment of false hope that she’d somehow get this problem solved.
Stupid book prices! Why did the college allow the professors to get away with that? Selling their own authored books for prices like that. If she were in charge…
She’d never be in charge. They didn’t put college drop-outs in charge of universities. It just wasn’t done. And with every passing day, that status seemed more and more likely to be her destiny.
Dang it. Yeah, the waves were now stirring her up. “I’m done here. Let’s go home.” She dragged her sister up.
“What? But I still have twenty minutes on this side. I’m going to have a sunburn on the backs of my legs and not on the fronts. I’ll be like some kind of warped candy cane.” Tory followed along, dangling her sandals in her hand, still complaining. “The rejected kind they sell for five cents at the factory seconds store.” They crossed the rocky part of the beach, pausing to put on shoes, then the headed over the driftwood area.
Morgan took one last glance at the beach over her shoulder. “Summer’s over. You can play like it’s camouflage for the Christmas decorations they’re already putting out for sale at ThrifteeMart.”
“Exactly. So, hey. What are you in such a rush about?”
“I think the mail is here now. I want to see if the college sent me anything.” Financial aid decision reversal, scholarship decision reversal, tuition waiver for being awesome—any of those would do.
“Oh, the mail.” Tory hung on the vowel. “Or do you mean the m-a-l-e?”
It took Morgan a second to follow the insinuation. “Oh. Well, if you’re hinting at Joshua Hyatt, I haven’t thought about him.” Much. Maybe only six or seven times. The smile he’d given her when she talked about her truck—just the memory of it sent a jolt of high voltage through her.
“Sure you haven’t.” Tory plopped down in the truck. “I know you noticed his very good smile.”
“I did not.” How did Tory know? Morgan pumped the gas pedal twice before turning the key. “Okay, fine. Maybe his smile did cross my mind. You’re right. It’s a very good smile.”
“Truth.” Then Tory took a phone call from someone in the Hamlet cast, and Morgan was alone with her thoughts and the exhaust fumes of the truck until they got home. She did not let her mind stray to Josh’s smile, or his teeth, or his other attractions, at least not for more than half of the drive. She limited herself.
And dang it. Why did Tory have to even bring up Josh? It was so pointless. After the Conversation Coma she’d slipped into, he was never going to give her a second thought, let alone the seventh, or seventeenth, she was giving him. She’d just look like a spot of white-out to him, like she did to every other guy she might see as interesting.
Usually her comfort in these situations was that she probably wouldn’t see the guy again. But in this case, he lived a few doors down. It was almost inevitable she’d run into him sooner or later, and her brain would go blank, and he’d think of her as just that—a blank.
They hit a pothole, and the nonexistent shocks on the truck magnified it. Tory dropped her phone for a second, and then she picked it up, still talking, not even missing a beat. Tory could talk to anyone. She just said whatever she was thinking.
How would that be? Morgan might never know.
Well, except there was that one time. It was her sophomore year, and she’d just gotten a test back in her Business Practices 465 class, and there was a whole section graded unfairly, and she was furious. On the way out of class that good-looking senior guy had said, “How’d you do on the test?” and Morgan had just launched into a tirade. For once in her life, she didn’t think about what she was saying in front of a guy, she just went on a roll. “Glad I asked,” he’d said, kind of laughing. “You want to talk about it more over dinner?”
Morgan went to dinner with him. And while there, she’d clammed up again. Disaster. He never called for another date.
That pretty much described most of her social experiences in college. She knew she was pretty. Guys hit on her often enough. Her quietness just seemed to shut them down after a few minutes.
Josh Hyatt was no exception.
They pulled into Estrella Court, and Tory stayed put in the truck, still talking to Hamlet, but she made an aside to Morgan. “Go get your m-a-l-e.”
Morgan rolled her eyes and hoisted her beach bag out of the truck bed. Sand silted off the tote. In her rush, she’d driven home in her swimsuit, not bothering to throw on a wrap. With the beach less than a mile from her place, what was the point?
At the mailbox, she found nothing but a pizza coupon and their utilities bill—which made her choke. “What in the—”
“Got yo
ur highest offer ever from the modeling agency?” Up walked Josh Hyatt, swagger and charm emanating from him like the sun’s rays. “Because if not, they should be pounding on your door.”
Despite the charm, that was the lamest pickup line ever. Somehow it disarmed her. She could answer, for once.
“Ha, ha.” She waved the electric bill in his face. “Just the diametric opposite of that. Someone wants to charge me for my hairdryer usage, not pay me for it.”
Josh was looking her up and down. “Their mistake.”
Suddenly, Morgan became conscious that she wore very little clothing, and this James Bond in Jeans was taking stock of her figure, sunburn and all. At least he wouldn’t see the blush blazing on her face for the sunburn.
She had to go on the offense or she’d clam up again. “You must like your mailbox.” She shoved her pizza coupon in her tote. “Mine never does anything but make me irritated.”
Josh blinked, as though it took effort to stop looking at her, and started filtering through his key ring. “I’m waiting for some paperwork. You know, school stuff.”
“Don’t remind me. I’m about ready to take a bulldozer to the financial aid office.”
“You, too?” He stopped messing with his keys.
“They’re my chief persecutors.” She sighed. She was exaggerating about the bulldozer, but not much.
“Right?” He looked at her like they’d just forged some kind of bond. The light in his face drew her full attention. “I mean, who do they think they are, playing God with our futures?” He took a step toward her, energy filling his frame. She could feel the indignation of injustice coming off him. He must feel as strongly about this as she did.
“A lot of it seems so arbitrary and, frankly, dissing the economically downtrodden.”
“Exactly!” He took another step toward her. “It’s almost like you have to figure out a way to cheat the system to get what ought to be fair.”
Legally in Love Boxed Set 1 Page 2
