Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7)

by Catherine Bybee

  “Noah. He could swoop in and claim Hayden as his. Once he realizes this isn’t going the way he wants it.”

  “I hadn’t considered that.”

  “The man suddenly starts appearing wherever we are? He has to be on to something.”

  “He’s pushing my buttons. Trying to look like the upstanding guy and me the unreasonable ass. Not much has changed since we were kids.”

  “Didn’t your parents ever clue in to the truth?”

  “We were lumped into the same person most of the time. By the time Noah showed his real drive, my father was clued out, my mother was gone . . . and I was determined to live life differently. I’d always been one of two.”

  “A lot of people would want that.”

  “Not when one of the two is a complete emotional opposite. You’d think identical twins would have the same personality. We don’t. I had the drive to become self-made, he had the drive to let someone else do everything for him. Worse, he thinks I owe him simply because of our DNA. I never have understood that mindset.”

  “When do you think you’ll be prepared to petition the court for custody?”

  “I’m looking for a couple more nails and then we can move. Two weeks . . . maybe.”

  “Before Christmas?”

  “Christmas?” His eyes were wide.

  “Yeah, you know . . . that big holiday at the end of December?”

  “I know what Christmas is . . . I just haven’t thought about it.”

  Neither had she . . . not until earlier in the day when she noticed lights going up around the city. “What do you normally do for the holidays?”

  He shrugged. “Company Christmas party . . . a few I can’t get out of events.”

  “I mean on Christmas. Without family . . .”

  When he didn’t have a quick reply, she felt instant remorse for asking the question. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  Hunter shook his head. “Christmas is a holiday for close friends and family . . . both of which you know I don’t have. I don’t accept invitations from my associates. I keep my employees at a distance.”

  “What about your father? Is he so awful?”

  Hunter rolled off the bed, took their plates with him. “He’s a hermit. A shell of a man he once was. Ten minutes in the room with the man is about all I can take.” He placed their plates on a cardboard box that hadn’t yet been unpacked and proceeded to stoke the fire.

  “Your father was once a successful businessman, right?”

  “He was. He didn’t get rich, but he managed. My mother thought he was better off than he was. Insisted on fancy schools . . . which is where I met Blake.”

  “And Gwen.”

  “Blake didn’t let any of us around his sister. He was known to break the noses of her dates. Noah took an interest, and that’s about the time I ducked out of their lives. Last thing I wanted was Blake mistaking him for me.”

  “How is it I didn’t know this?”

  “Noah backed off quickly. Our mother left and took most of my father’s money with her. I saw an instant decline in my father’s will to move forward. Noah took our dad’s depression and worked it to get whatever he wanted.”

  “And you held up the pieces.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I made my own way. I’d been accepted into the colleges I wanted. I moved, learned after three semesters that I didn’t need a degree to run a successful business.”

  “Wait . . . I saw a degree in your portfolio.”

  “Honorary. They hand them out like candy if you write a big enough check.”

  “That’s crazy. So you dropped out of college and set the world on fire . . . burning bridges along the way.”

  “Making money, not friends, was my goal.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  He moved back to the bed and sat. “Christmas was my sacrifice.”

  She fought the frown on her face. The ache in her chest for those missed holidays tightened. “I guess we’ll simply have to make this year all the better.”

  Hunter reached out and played with a lock of her hair. “If you want to spend it with your family—”

  She caught his hand. “I don’t know where we will spend Christmas . . . but I don’t see any reason why we can’t be together.”

  “Unless I screw up between now and then.”

  “Then don’t screw up.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  “Try.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hunter sat across from Frank Adams and his squad of lawyers. Travis and Hunter’s team sat beside him. The meeting was a formality. In truth, the contracts could be signed with each of them in their respective states. But they agreed face-to-face was better. Hunter hedged on the final agreement, giving Frank a larger cut and enough say in the oil sections to prevent a hostile takeover . . . which had been part of the long-term plan. So long as Frank didn’t bankrupt Hunter’s efforts, they could comingle.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if marriage had made him soft. He wouldn’t have agreed to a larger cut a year ago.

  “Are we ready to do this?” Frank asked.

  “My t’s are crossed if yours are.” Hunter reached out a hand and Travis placed a pen into it.

  His lawyer opened each page, told Hunter where to initial and sign before turning the document over to Frank. The signing took thirty minutes to complete before both of them stood and shook hands over the table.

  “I hope you have time for a liquid lunch,” Frank proposed.

  Hunter agreed with a nod. “One martini. I told Gabi I’d be home for dinner.”

  “Has you trained already, does she?”

  “You’ve met my wife, Frank. It’s not a hardship.”

  Frank patted him on the back as they left the lawyers and associates in the conference room.

  “I’m surprised,” Frank said over his martini. “Minnie insisted you’d give a little more, and I was convinced you were stuck on the original offer.”

  “I was stuck on the original offer,” Hunter admitted. “I even considered pulling the deal.”

  “What stopped you?”

  He’d asked himself that question a lot. The answer was simple. “Marriage.” And family . . . Hayden, a figure who had yet to make his way into his life. “I want to work smarter, Frank. This merger, if managed properly, is going to make us very wealthy men.”

  “You’re already wealthy.”

  Hunter offered half a smile. “Can you ever have enough?”

  Frank sucked back his drink, waved to the bartender for another. “I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I get there.”

  “We don’t have to make a decision now, but I’d like to open offices here. A location dedicated solely to this project.”

  “You’re considering relocating?” Frank asked.

  “No. I’ll oversee my operation from LA. I’d place a point man, one I trust, on this end. There’s going to be a lot of activity in the beginning . . . probably for the next five to ten years. Flying back and forth—”

  “You don’t have to explain. I have a wife. Just wait until you and Gabi have a child. Complicates everything.”

  “I’m sure it does.”

  “I like the idea, Hunter. Let me know what I can do here.”

  “I will.”

  The entire living room was filled with the fresh scent of pine. Two guys hoisted the tree into the middle of the room and awaited Gabi’s instruction. She only had half a day to complete her task. Christmas was still two and a half weeks away, but Mrs. Claus was busy with a house full of elves.

  A crew was unloading her selections for dining room, living room, two guest bedrooms, the remainder of the master suite, and the beginnings of a nursery. People scrambled in every direction. On top of the furniture, Gabi insisted that Christmas arrive early. She’d hired a professional decorator, one Samantha had used in the past. There had to be a dozen college-aged kids working like the crew at the White House.

  “Mrs. Blackwe
ll?”

  Felicia ran the crew of decorators, and called for her attention. “Is this where you want the tree?”

  The twenty-foot Douglas fir was still miles from scraping the ceiling. “Mind the fireplace. I don’t want to burn the place down before we have a chance to host our first party.”

  Felicia directed those holding the tree to move the tree closer to the window.

  Gabi turned to the sound of her name. “Yes, Andrew?”

  “You need to sign off on the bedroom delivery.”

  She followed him into the hall, while one of the many workers wiggled around her, lamp in hand. The first guest room was set, sans the final touches. Bags of delivered bedding sat in a heap in the corner. The bed was set, tables . . . the flat screen was fixed to the wall, and an attendant from the electronic department making sure it was operable.

  Gabi ran her hand over the iron bed with a smile. “It’s perfect.” She signed the papers shoved in front of her and the delivery crew moved to the next room.

  “I’m almost done here, Mrs. Blackwell. Where is the next one going?”

  Gabi pointed toward the retreating crew. “Just follow them.”

  The twentysomething kid winked and continued to wire the television.

  Cooper caught her as she entered the dining room. Three smaller pine trees were in the corner, all in varied sizes. Two college kids were placing lights and giggling. “Neil is on the phone. He wants to speak with you.”

  Gabi rolled her eyes but took her security guard’s phone from his hand. “Yes, Neil?”

  “My last count was twenty-six breaches in security running around the house.”

  “I have a crew of five more arriving any minute to climb on ladders and set up the outside lights, too.”

  “Gabi. This isn’t a joke.”

  “It’s one day, Neil. One day with so many people running around there is no possible way I’m going to be harmed. Cooper is right here, Solomon is outside watching everyone as they come and go.”

  “Twenty-six to two.”

  The lights on the smaller trees were plugged in. “Oh, those are lovely. Thanks, girls.”

  “Gabi?”

  “Mostly college kids, Neil. Happy for the temporary work. I’m fine.”

  “Mrs. Blackwell?”

  Gabi swiveled toward her name. “I gotta go.” She handed the phone back to Cooper and went back to the job at hand. “Andrew, can you be sure and bring out a tub of bottled water? Maybe we should have the deli send over some sandwiches.”

  Andrew turned away, phone in hand.

  Now that the tree was in the right position, the living room furniture was being bumped through the mess of people and set in place. “More to the right.”

  The men shuffling the furniture didn’t argue, merely moved it and sat back, waiting for her direction.

  “Mrs. Blackwell?” The heavy accent of one of the deliverymen called her name.

  “Yes?” She looked up at him.

  “We have garland in the truck. For the doorway, maybe?”

  Gabi glanced at Felicia, who offered an enthusiastic nod. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Lunch will be here in forty minutes.”

  “You’re a doll, Andrew,” Gabi told him.

  The older man crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s going to love this.”

  Another set of lights was going up over the fireplace. “Everyone deserves Christmas.”

  Two hours later Andrew flagged her down as she made beds. “His flight just left Dallas.”

  “We have four hours.”

  “I’d shoot for three. Get everyone out of here and a little time to clean up.”

  Gabi left the room, clapping her hands. “We only have three hours, folks. Let’s get this done.”

  She stepped outside to check the progress on the lights and let the rest of the crew know about the deadline.

  The tree deliverymen were finishing the placement of the garland. Not the best job, but it looked like Felicia was close by to nip and tuck bows and lights into the spray.

  “It’s nice, yes?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t have time to debate, simply moved on. “Solomon will make sure you’re taken care of.”

  “The security guard, señora?”

  She caught Solomon talking with one of the men working on the outside lights. “Him.” She pointed.

  “Right, security.”

  “Thanks again,” she said before moving to the next eruption.

  In two and a half hours, Felicia and her crew were cleaning each room as they exited it. The house took on an elegant holiday appearance with silver and white blanketing the formal dining room. Silver, white, and splashes of burgundy emptied into the living room. Garlands mixed with lights laced the banister of the stairway. The tree glittered with glass bulbs, crystal ornaments, and two sets of lights . . . one clear, the other red. Garlands and bows and a five-foot Saint Nick welcomed those at the front door.

  Gabi signed off the lighting crew, delighted with their work. “I can’t wait for the sun to retire for the night.”

  “My people will call you in a few days to schedule the day to take it all down after the first.”

  “Perfect.”

  Solomon followed the lighting crew out to pick Hunter up from the airport.

  Andrew met the caterer at the gate and brought in the special dinner Gabi had ordered for their private celebration.

  Felicia and the remainder of her crew exited the house at exactly three hours from the time Gabi said they needed to finish.

  Gabi kissed the woman’s cheek. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “It was crazy in there for a while. But I think it turned out pretty spectacular.”

  “It jumps off the pages of a magazine.”

  “Enjoy your holiday, Mrs. Blackwell.”

  One by one, the trucks and vans left the property. The outside lights were starting to glow as the sun started to fade.

  The three left standing took in the outside of the house. The shrubs twinkled, the eaves took on larger bulbs, mainly clear, but a splash of red adorned the columns, reminding Gabi of a candy cane. There was just enough color to add fun to the elegant feel of the decorations.

  “Pizza and beer in the guest house,” Andrew called to Cooper.

  “I’ll take you up on the pizza once Hunter arrives.”

  “Thank you, guys. I know that was nuts. But just look at this.”

  Cooper winked. “Looks good, Mrs. B.”

  Diaz despised the States. Too many eyes, too many ears. Not enough guns.

  Raul walked into the sparsely furnished home one block over from the Blackwells’.

  “Well?”

  Raul pointed both index fingers in the air and walked over to the computer. “We’re all set.”

  The cocky attitude, Diaz could do without . . . problem was, Raul was good at what he did when he wasn’t strung out. Seemed he’d been off the shit for a couple of weeks . . . or at least cutting down.

  The computer fired up and audio feeds buzzed through the speakers.

  Normally, Diaz wouldn’t have traveled all the way to California to retrieve his money. Hit men were good for something. When he’d learned how deep Mrs. Picano’s pockets had become, however, he made an adjustment in his plans.

  “One video feed smack in the middle of the living room, audio everywhere else.”

  The computer was a grid of boxes. Raul’s fingers flew over the computer, pointing, clicking, typing in a command. The video feed came to life in living color.

  A tall, slender woman waltzed into the frame and walked right past. “Is that her?”

  “Yep, Mrs. Blackwell.”

  Diaz lifted an eyebrow. He had to give credit to a dead man. Alonzo lucked out with that one before he managed to get dead.

  Raul pulled up an audio feed deeper in the house. The sound of running water met their ears.

  “The house is completely wired. Massive security system. She has two b
odyguards and the butler lives in the guest house.”

  Diaz didn’t think it would be easy.

  “Did you clean up your loose ends?”

  Raul pointed his damn index fingers at him again and winked. “Now we just have to wait.”

  Great . . . Diaz wasn’t a patient man.

  Hunter had his head buried in an e-mail on his open laptop when Solomon slowed the car at the gate. He looked up briefly, returned to the mail, then snapped his eyes back out the window.

  The hair on his arms stood up, and an unexpected chill took the form of a tsunami over his skin. “Whoa.”

  Solomon watched him through the rearview mirror.

  He absently closed the computer and moved it off his lap as Solomon brought the car to a stop.

  In a daze, Hunter slid from the backseat and gawked.

  He hardly recognized the house, lights exploded everywhere with tasteful design and elegance. “Gabi,” he whispered.

  The giddy excitement normally reserved for children grew as he approached the front door.

  He stepped into the foyer, smiled at the Santa that greeted him. A high table that hadn’t been there when he left warmed the space. The crackle of a fire and the scent of pine met the visual feast as he rounded the corner to the great room. Christmas had arrived.

  He ran his hand over the back of the sofa Gabi had chosen. The closer he moved toward the tree, the better it smelled. There were even wrapped gifts under it. How had she done so much in so little time? Twisting his head around the feat of creating a home where it was only walls and empty space hours before was impossible.

  “Do you like it?” Gabi’s musical voice interrupted his thoughts.

  Dressed in a soft white silk jumpsuit, Gabi watched him from across the room.

  “You did all this?”

  She tilted her head. “Me and a small army. I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Goal obtained.” He turned to the tree again. “It’s real.”

  “Of course.”

  He caught the dark orbs of her eyes and crooked his finger in her direction. “Come here.”

  When she was close enough to touch, he placed a hand on the side of her face. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “It’s just a tree.”