Spencer frowned, not sure how to deal with the situation other than to brazen it out—but that wasn’t something that was in his nature.
“Daff, how could you?” Daisy asked at the same time as Mason glared at Spencer.
“Seriously, bro?”
“What’s going on?” Tilda asked nervously while Chris sat back with a grin on his face, watching the drama unfold. Lia leaned over to whisper urgently in Tilda’s ear, clearly filling her in on the situation, if Tilda’s widening eyes and shocked gasps were anything to go by.
“Daffodil, a word, please,” Daisy said pointedly and then got up to stalk in the direction of the kitchen. Daff hesitated and then sighed in resignation.
“Wish me luck,” she said to the table at large and followed Daisy.
Spencer watched her retreat before turning to meet his brother’s furious regard.
Mason just nodded in the direction of the front door.
“Really? Outside? It’s fucking freezing, man.”
“The house is small.”
“Your fault, you could have built a bigger one, planned for a family.”
“Spence!” Mason hissed warningly, clearly not interested in his delay tactics, and Spencer put aside his napkin and headed toward the front door with Mason in tow.
“This is so much more exciting than we were expecting, non?” he heard Chris say as he left. “Well . . . no use letting this beautiful food go to waste, ladies. Let’s eat.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Before you say anything, it’s over,” Spencer explained once they were out on the porch.
“No shit?” Mason seemed remarkably unperturbed, compared to how furious he’d looked in the house. Spencer guessed that most of his brother’s “outrage” had been affected for Daisy. “You okay with that?”
“Well, it wasn’t anything, really. We didn’t . . .”
“No details, if you please. I just need to know two things.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“It wasn’t what it should have been. What it could have been. She wasn’t ready. I don’t know if she’ll ever be ready for that kind of relationship, not with me. So we’ve decided to be friends.”
“That ties into the second thing . . . I need to know that this business between you guys won’t become a problem, Spence. You’re my brother, I love you, and I’d hate for you to get hurt, but you and Daff need to make sure your shit doesn’t spill over at family events. We have a whole family to think about now, Spence. It’s not just you and me against the world anymore. We have sisters and parents to consider as well.”
Spencer stretched his lips into what he hoped was a semblance of a smile and tried to hide the pang of hurt he felt at his brother’s words. What the younger man didn’t seem to grasp was that he—Mason—now had a whole family to consider. Not Spencer. Spencer’s family still consisted of only Mason. And while to Spencer it was still him and his little brother against the world, Mason had gone and acquired other loved ones. And he was happy for his brother, it was everything he wanted for Mason, but Spencer felt lonelier than he’d ever felt in his life.
“Daff and I are fine. Has there been any tension between us tonight?”
Mason considered his words before shaking his head. “You two were more relaxed in each other’s company than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Well, aside from the sex stuff—”
“God.” Mason pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Aside from the sex stuff,” Spencer continued, as if Mason’s disgusted outburst hadn’t occurred, “there was a lot of talking, and we’ve resolved some issues. She’s actually quite . . . special.”
That made Mason pause, and he squinted at Spencer in the dim light spilling from the front windows.
“Spence . . . don’t fall for her,” Mason warned him, and Spencer forced another smile.
“Don’t worry, Mason, I won’t fuck up the family dynamics.”
“I just don’t want you to get your heart broken, man,” his brother said uncomfortably, and Spencer shifted, the touchy-feely stuff also not sitting too well for him, even while his brother’s concern warmed him. Especially after feeling sidelined by Mason’s new family just moments before.
“We’re friends. That’s all.”
“We’re just friends,” Daff said as soon as she got to the kitchen, where Daisy stood waiting.
“You said you just wanted him for his—” Daisy clapped a hand dramatically over her mouth as Daff’s exact words came back to her. “Oh my God! I’ll never be able to look at him again! Not without hearing those words over and over again in my brain.”
“What words?” Daff asked, baffled by her sister’s weird reaction.
“About his . . . you know?” Understanding dawned, and Daff couldn’t hold back a laugh at Daisy’s truly appalled expression.
“I could lie and say he has a small dick,” she teased, and Daisy clapped her hands over her ears.
“Don’t talk about his penis ever again! Ew, ew, ew! Why did you have to sleep with him? Why couldn’t you leave him alone? He’s about to be my brother-in-law.”
“You told me to get along with him, and you know that’s the only way I get along with guys.” The look on Daisy’s face brought her up short—her sister looked genuinely furious.
“Stop it! This isn’t a joke, Daff. Not everything’s a joke and not everything’s always about you and your wants and your needs.” Daisy swiped at a couple of errant tears, and Daff was immediately contrite. She reverted to wisecracking when she was stressed, nervous, or on the back foot, and it definitely wasn’t the right approach this time.
“Deedee,” she said in a soft, pleading voice. Her sister deserved honesty. “I’m sorry. I’m so . . . confused where Spencer’s concerned. But I promise you, this won’t mess up your big day or our family gatherings, and I don’t want it to mess up tonight any further, either. Spencer and I aren’t . . . intimate anymore. We never were. Not really. We did some stuff. But not the main stuff. Anyway, none of that’s important. What’s important is that I like Spencer, I want to try to get along with him. He’s a nice guy and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure that out.”
“But you were fighting at dinner,” Daisy reminded her, dabbing beneath her eyes with a napkin.
“That? That wasn’t fighting, it was playing.”
“It was?”
“You’re so used to seeing us—me, really—fight, so that’s all you saw. Look closer next time.”
Daisy peered closely at Daff, which wasn’t quite what she had meant.
“You look different,” Daisy marveled. “Happier.”
“Well, I quit my job, I have an awesome new friend, and my sister’s getting married to a great guy. What’s not to be happy about?”
“And it’s that easy? Being friends after nearly being lovers?”
“We’re trying to make it work.”
Daisy graced her with a tremulous smile.
“It’s not just about the wedding, Daff. I don’t want either of you to get hurt. I hope you know that.”
“I know that.” Daff gave her sister a quick, tight hug. “Now how about we go eat that goulash? I’m starving and—don’t tell Spencer—I skipped lunch.”
The rest of the evening was actually quite pleasant. While Daisy and Mason watched Daff and Spencer closely, they continued to enjoy each other’s company. In fact, the scrutiny made them feel unified. Daff enjoyed that, she had never been great at team sports, but that’s what she and Spencer felt like tonight—a team.
Spencer kept checking his watch and she knew he was concerned about the girl, but after the evening had already been disrupted, he stoically stuck it out, not wanting to ruin it any further by leaving early. So they formed three teams of two and played a raucous game of 30 Seconds. The teams were Tilda and Lia, Daff and Spencer, and Mason and Daisy. Chris, claiming that his poor English made him a terrible game partner, sat out to be the timekeeper. It was a cr
azy-fast board game that had one partner trying to explain a list of five objects or people without saying any of the words on said card. There were lots of raised voices, rule disputes, and disgust at partners for not guessing correctly. It was hilarious, and Daisy and Mason won by the narrowest of margins—mostly because they knew each other’s verbal shortcuts and body language so well already.
After the game ended, Daff could see that Spencer was keen to get going, so she sidled up to him and dropped a hand on his arm and tugged him to one side.
“I’m going with you,” she said under her breath, keeping their conversation private.
“No.” His voice brooked no argument.
“I don’t think you should go alone.”
“I’m not. Mason is coming.”
“I’m still going with you, and if you don’t take me, I’ll just follow you in my car anyway.”
“Daff,” he began, his eyes and voice exasperated. “I don’t want you there. It’s no place for you.”
“That girl is going to be terrified to have two huge men sneaking up on her in the middle of the night,” she pointed out. “I want to ensure you don’t scare the poor thing half to death.”
She made sense and she knew he knew it. She could see it in the way he hesitated.
“Fine, but you’re going to have to stay way back.”
“That completely defeats the purpose,” she argued. “I should be with you when you go into her room. Why should I hang back? Unless . . . are you expecting trouble? Are you placing yourself in danger, Spencer?”
“No, of course not!” And yet he evaded her eyes.
“Spencer!” The word came out as a warning, and he glowered at her.
“We can’t be sure she’s alone, okay? So just give us a chance to check out the situation and then I’ll call you in.”
“If you get yourself hurt, I’m going to be pissed at you! And I’ll unfriend you before I even friend you.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Like on Facebook? It’s funny because we haven’t friended—” He continued to look at her blankly, and she gaped at him. “Spencer, you are on Facebook, right?”
“Would I be weird if I’m not?”
“Oh God. Let’s just get going . . .” He helped her into her coat—of course—and said a few hurried goodbyes to the rest of the group.
“I’ll drive,” Mason said once they were outside and led them to his Jeep. They all piled in, and Daff wrinkled her nose at the smell of wet dog. Mason often took Cooper for a run on the beach, and the interior of his Jeep had acquired the permanent odor of wet pooch.
The drive was conducted in grim silence, and a few minutes later Mason drew the car to a stop on the dirt road. It was far enough from the house for the headlights to not have been spotted.
Both men exited, and Spencer sent Daff a warning look.
“Don’t you dare move from here. I’ll send you a text if it’s clear.”
“Fair warning, if you don’t contact me within five minutes, I’m calling the police and then I’m coming to find you.”
“Don’t you dare leave this car if you don’t hear from us. And keep the doors locked. Use the horn if you see anyone or anything strange.”
“Hmm.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked, irritated, and she smiled sweetly, happy to turn the tables on him for once.
“Figure it out.”
His glower deepened and she met it full on, making sure her glare matched his. It was a good one, and she hoped he appreciated it, despite the dark.
“Be careful,” Daff urged when he turned away. “And keep my sister’s fiancé safe while you’re at it.”
He threw her an inscrutable look over his shoulder before he walked away. Mason paused at her open window.
“Mason—” He threw her a quick grin, as if knowing what she wanted to say, even if Daff herself didn’t have a clue.
“Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for him. I have a black belt, you know?”
“In what?” she asked dumbly, and his grin widened.
“Everything.”
Daff watched the two men walk away. They left the safety of the Jeep’s headlights in seconds, and soon all she could see of them were the dim lights of their phones before those disappeared completely, too.
Her stomach began to turn as she imagined all kinds of disturbing scenarios. What if there was a gang of men waiting? What if they were armed? What if they hurt Spencer? Or Mason? Daisy would be devastated.
She fiddled with her phone, willing Spencer’s message to come through. In order to take her mind off the situation, she tried to think about the girl and what they were going to do about her.
Trying to figure out potential solutions, she decided to contact someone who always knew exactly the right thing to do.
The house was dark and quiet. Mason did a quick scan of the perimeter and then stealthily went from window to window before making his way back to Spencer.
“Looks clear. Just the girl. I can’t be entirely sure because of the cardboard in that window, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s in the room with her. I don’t know how she hasn’t frozen to death by now.”
“She’s lucky; it hasn’t been too cold this winter. Do you mind fetching Daff? I don’t want her to walk up here alone. I’ll wait.”
“You sure you want to do this?” Mason asked quietly.
“It’s the right thing, Mason. I feel really strongly about this.”
“I’ll get Daff.”
“Thanks.”
Mason left and Spencer sent Daff a quick text to let her know that his brother was coming for her. After sending it he shoved his hands into his pockets and glared at the ramshackle building that used to be his home. In the dark it didn’t look too bad—almost welcoming when you couldn’t see the broken glass and piles of scrap lying about. This place that had been both safe haven and hell from one moment to the next. He shook his head and tried to keep the memories at bay.
It wasn’t long before he heard soft footfalls on the gravel path leading up to the house, and he turned and watched the dim lights come closer and closer.
Daff came up to stand right beside him and quite shockingly slipped her small hand into his and squeezed comfortingly.
“My parents have agreed to take her for the night,” she said by way of greeting, and he felt his brow lower.
“I don’t want to inconvenience them.”
“Don’t be silly—they want to help, and you’re family.”
Was he?
“You mean Mason is family?” he clarified.
“Don’t be a dumb-ass, Spencer,” she dismissed. “They’re doing this for you, not Mason.”
“But . . .”
“So where is she?” Daff interrupted him, and Spencer—still confounded by her words—pointed toward the house.
“Let’s go, then.”
“Uh, be careful on this path,” he warned her, gathering his senses.
“Yep. Got it.”
When they were outside the room, Daff signaled for the men to stay back and stepped confidently over the threshold, making enough noise to alert the girl that she was coming. Charlie was probably always on alert, sleeping in a place like this, and her flashlight came on immediately.
“Who’s there? I have pepper spray,” she warned them, her voice high and thin with fear. Pepper spray, for God’s sake. Like that would keep anybody who meant to do her harm away.
“It’s okay,” Daff said soothingly, and Spencer saw her lift her hands in a placating manner. “My name is Daffodil McGregor. I’m not here to do you any harm. But you can’t sleep here, Charlie. It’s dangerous.”
“How do you know my name?” the girl asked suspiciously. “I didn’t tell you my name.”
“My friend Spencer is here, too. He wants to help you.”
“He should mind his own business.” Charlie raised her voice, clearly meaning for Spencer to hear her words, too.
“He cares about your well-being.”
“I’m not a charity case. I have a right to be here.”
“This is private property,” Daff said gently.
“I have a right to be here!”
“No, you don’t, Charlie,” Spencer said, stepping into the small ring of light provided by the girl’s and Daff’s flashlights. “We want to take you somewhere safe. And warm. You can have a bath and something to eat and not worry about anybody hurting you.”
She was sitting up on the thin mattress, her eyes huge and terrified. She looked small and helpless, and Spencer’s protective instincts immediately came to the fore.
“I don’t want to go to a shelter.”
“It’s not a shelter,” Daff told her, moving forward slowly so as not to spook her even more. “I promise you. It’s my parents’ place, they’re looking forward to meeting you.”
“I don’t need your charity.”
“It doesn’t have to be charity,” Daff said. “You can pay them back eventually.”
Charlie’s big eyes shifted to Spencer, and he could see fury mixed in with her terror.
“I only came here to tell you Malcolm is dead,” she spat out. “I was going to leave after that.”
Spencer felt the blood drain from his face, and he sensed Mason moving forward to stand beside him.
“What did she just say?”
“How do you know that name?” Spencer demanded, glancing around the room wildly, wondering if they’d left any family documents behind. How else would this girl know their father’s name?
“He had liver cancer. He died three months ago.” She folded her arms belligerently and lifted her chin to glare at them.
“Fuck,” Mason whispered from beside Spencer. He took a step forward, peering closely at the girl. “Fuck me.”
“How do you know Malcolm?” Spencer asked again, and Mason grabbed hold of his elbow painfully.
“Look at her,” he whispered. “The eyes, the cheekbones, that fucking glare.”
Spencer looked and staggered, his mouth dropping open.
The Best Man Page 21
