Harlequin Superromance May 2018 Box Set

by Amber Leigh Williams

  Gavin breathed hard into the lull. He shook his head, the answer obstructing him.

  The frustration cleared slowly. Little by little, Kyle’s gaze cleared. “Tiffany?”

  Gavin swallowed. “The only thing I can remember choosing for myself freely was being a SEAL. I didn’t answer to her then, or her influence. I answered to the higher-ups. The head shed. And I was good at it. It’s the first thing I felt good at. Maybe because it was the first thing I did for myself, aside from being your friend.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that she got to you here?” Kyle asked. “Why didn’t you tell me it was her keeping you at a distance?”

  “Because that wasn’t all of it. She told me I didn’t belong. I believed her.”

  “What’s changed?” Kyle asked.

  “I know better now,” Gavin said. “Mavis and Dad, even Briar have all shown me what I should’ve known better all along. This is home. This is where I want to be. So that’s where I’m at.”

  “That’s where you plan on staying?” Kyle asked.

  “I want to stay,” Gavin told him. “But your father’s right. I can’t love her and have this battle with you. You’re a part of her, and damn it, you’re family. You’re a part of my family. I can’t ignore that anymore. I don’t even want to.”

  Kyle didn’t seem to know what to say. James had fallen silent, trying to fade into the background. Gavin breathed through his teeth. He was starting to hurt. His knuckles. The back of his ribs where he’d hit the ground. All this was nothing compared to the hollows that years of misunderstandings had carved out on the inside of him.

  Kyle shifted from one foot to the other, going briefly up to his toes then back down. Gavin imagined his balls would be sore for a while yet. “You still owe Harmony an apology. And Bea. I’d like you to say everything you just said to the two of them.”

  Gavin nodded quickly. “Every word. She’s long overdue an explanation.”

  “You really want to stay?”

  Both Kyle and James seemed to want the answer to that one. Gavin looked off past the airfield to the outline of trees in the distance. The farm wasn’t that far. They could walk it, over the wildflower fields, the secret hills and glades, past the secluded pond to the rambling house that had been as much a beacon to him as Hanna’s. To refuse it all again and again had been torment.

  He wouldn’t hold himself back anymore.

  “I want to stay,” he said finally. It rang clear and he felt liberated to say it.

  James nodded. “That’ll about do it.” He looked to Kyle. “Son?”

  Kyle continued to stare at Gavin, emotions bleeding to the surface, everything else…history. “Let’s go home,” he said. A smile touched his hard jaw.

  Gavin agreed, then cracked, “I hear there’s shrimp.”

  * * *

  THE LADIES’ LUNCHEON in the dining room of Hanna’s Inn was packed with onlookers and skeptics alike. It was where Zelda and Mavis had met the Tea & Biscuits Society for their monthly business meeting. The Paranormas didn’t do many speaking engagements, but when they did, Zelda brought her Alfa Romeo and plenty of pizzazz.

  She was an excellent storyteller. Mavis was perfectly fine holding up the analytical side of the equation. Even she had to admit, it was fun spectating when Zelda was at the lectern. Today she had chosen to recount her overnighter at the Myrtles Plantation, one of the most haunted residences in the country.

  “That’s when the Baccarat crystals started shaking above my head,” Zelda recalled, holding her arms up, “and my flashlight battery drained. As I looked up at the window in front of me, I saw a reflection. It was the face of a young girl. There was a scent, the stench of burning. Like what you smell when a battery goes bad. It disappeared as Mavis found me. And there on the pane was the perfect imprint of a child’s hand.”

  One cynical laugh split the quiet din of the room. A few of the ladies jumped in their seats, then looked around in resentment to the woman sitting closest to the kitchen door. She was well-dressed and coiffed with a heavily powdered face. “You expect us to believe that?”

  “Of course,” Zelda said without a hitch.

  “It’s malarkey,” the lady said. A few of the society ladies laughed in a nervous quiver, as if happy she had spoken if only to break the grip of Zelda’s ghost story.

  Mavis spoke up. “The Myrtles Plantation has been inspected by National Geographic. Their photographer snapped the infamous photograph of Chloe, the slave girl. There’s both film and digital tools that have captured photographic anomalies. People who’ve chosen to spend the night there have heard cars arriving that aren’t there and footsteps and voices, as if ghosts are arriving to a party. Not only does the plantation’s history support Chloe’s story, it tells of lively dinners that took place during what is classified as the Stirling era.”

  “Well, I certainly won’t be paying it a visit,” another lady in a large red hat said. She threw off a shudder.

  “Because it’s a scam,” the cynic told her. “A ploy.”

  “If you think so,” Mavis said with a shrug, ready to let it go.

  Zelda had other plans. “How long have you lived in the South?”

  The woman shrugged. “All my life.”

  “You’ve never seen, heard or felt anything you questioned? You never heard a lucid friend or relative tell a story like mine?”

  “Honey,” the lady drawled, “I don’t think anyone’s heard a story like yours.” She looked to a quiet woman sitting in the corner. “I swear, Ivy. I blame you for putting us through this charade. Have we heard all the sensible speakers in the near South? Are we to the point where you have to call on entertainers?”

  “I do love to entertain,” Zelda intruded smoothly. “Though that’s not what Mavis and I do.”

  “We take our work seriously,” Mavis added.

  The lady snorted but subsided into silence.

  Mavis could all but hear Zelda’s I win vibes. She glanced at the clock above the mantel. “We have time for one more question.”

  For a minute, no one spoke. Then the woman, Ivy, who had hired them for the hour, raised her hand. “What do you think it all means? Do you believe it speaks to the matter of our death or what happens after?”

  Mavis found Zelda ceding the floor to her. “We both have our own ideas and understanding of what happens when we die, just as I’m sure each of you do,” Mavis explained. “But no matter how long we do this, it doesn’t change our belief that we’re not meant to know everything.”

  “But you call yourself investigators,” the cynic pointed out. “Isn’t that the point—to know everything?”

  “Some people make it their life’s work to understand what happens after life,” Mavis explained. “Our work is listening, challenging or dismissing paranormal activity. When we do come across something we can’t debunk, we try to bring our client some understanding of what it might mean and who may be present.”

  “Mavis recently uncovered the identity of another of our Louisiana ghosts,” Zelda boasted. “She was able to connect the present owners of a house with a distant relative, the descendant of a Civil War–era kitchen girl named America. They’re conducting DNA tests to confirm that the owner and the kitchen girl are distant relations. It may help clear up an important part of the descendant’s heritage and bring America’s spirit a little justice.”

  “Fascinating,” Ivy said. She led the society’s applause. Briar breezed into the dining room to open the drapes she had closed for effect. Then she and a maid began clearing the dessert plates as the ladies rose to mingle or file out.

  “Thank you so much,” Ivy said as she approached Mavis and Zelda at the head of the room. “I believe this is the most interesting meeting we’ve had in years.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Zelda said. “Let us know and we’ll come back. I have more stories and Mavis
has more statistics.”

  “You make a convincing team,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry about Edie. She’s a hard case.”

  “Edie.” Zelda’s lips folded in disappointment. “I was hoping she was more of a Hildegard. Or a Hatshepsut.”

  “I don’t give a hoot what she thinks. Our next ladies’ retreat will involve a drive to St. Francisville and the Myrtles Plantation. I have a feeling attendance will be at an all-time high. I was wondering, too, if you had any titles you could recommend for our book club.”

  Before Zelda could oblige, a decidedly unladylike voice broke into the room from the hall beyond.

  “I don’t care what you think about the presentation. Save the negativity for your departure.”

  Edie responded, “Well, I never! This is a ladies’ luncheon of the Tea & Biscuit Society. What’s a man like you doing here, anyway?”

  “I’m glad you mention it. Mavis!”

  Mavis realized her jaw had loosened on its hinges and was currently hanging wide. Zelda smiled. “It seems you have a visitor.”

  “Mercy!” Ivy declared, clapping a hand to her breast as Gavin filled the dining room doorway.

  He looked like a man on a mission, one not to be trifled with. When he caught sight of her, he called out. “Mavis, over here!”

  Mavis closed her mouth. She cleared her throat and lifted a finger to Zelda and Ivy. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “I’m tempted not to,” Zelda said, mischievous. “Don’t you just love male hysterics?”

  “Oh, divinely,” Ivy agreed, bobbing a nod.

  Gavin filled the room. He bumped into a chair, righted it, then edged closer to Mavis. His urgency was at such a high, she placed her hand to the center of his chest. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m great.” He glanced sideways at Zelda and Ivy. “I waited outside with Prometheus. Didn’t want to interrupt your speech.”

  “Well, why not?” Zelda chimed in. “It doesn’t get much more impressive than you, handsome.”

  He forced a laugh. “Miss Zelda.” He bowed his head to Ivy. “Ma’am. I’d love to chat.” His gaze seized on Mavis. “But I have something to say.”

  “I want to stay,” Ivy said. “Do you think he’ll let us stay?”

  Zelda patted Ivy on the arm. “Honey, take a seat. I’ll ring Briar. Maybe she can bring us another round of sponge cake.”

  As the ladies removed themselves from the immediate vicinity, Mavis scanned Gavin further, trying to gain some clue as to the reason for his insistence. “Are you sure you’re all right? Your heart’s beating like a drum.”

  He shrugged it off.

  Mavis reevaluated. “Does this have anything to do with where you went this morning with Dad and Kyle?”

  “Some,” he said with a nod.

  When he didn’t go into detail, she let her hand fall. “You don’t want to tell me.”

  “Your brother and I straightened things out between us,” Gavin told her. “We’ll leave it at that.”

  “You did?” she asked, stunned.

  He skimmed the hair from her face with his first finger, parting it wider down one side, then the other. “It was necessary. Not that I wouldn’t have preferred us going on to the river and staying in bed for a while. From now on, the only thing that will be taking me from your bed will be nuclear.”

  A bark rolled through the long narrow window close by. They looked around to see Prometheus’s nose pressed against the glass. His tail wagged, eager to be included.

  “And your dog,” Gavin added.

  Mavis rolled her eyes at the canine. “I think he’s more yours than anybody’s.”

  “I love you,” he said, before she’d barely finished speaking. He said it, rushing, on a ragged exhale, as if it’d been trapped inside him.

  Mavis’s pulse misfired. She nearly fumbled for the mantel. He held her up with his eyes, so intent. The intensity was sincere. Now she wasn’t breathing.

  Something shattered nearby. They both startled. Mavis looked around to see that Briar had dropped two plates. She crouched on the floor, holding one hand with the other. “Go on,” she said, smiling tautly. “Go on, please. Pretend I’m not here.”

  “Your hand’s cut,” Zelda said, rising to help her.

  “It was the plate,” Briar said, shaking her head. “Silly of me. I didn’t want to interrupt, but it slipped and…”

  Gavin moved quickly. “Let me see.”

  “It’s nothing,” Briar said. “Gavin, please. Say what you have to say to Mavis.”

  He took her hand anyway, the injured one she cradled. The blood was running down her wrist. He cursed. “Is Dad here?”

  Briar nodded shortly. “Yes, but—”

  “Can somebody get him in here?” Gavin asked, snatching a white linen napkin off the table. “You’re going to need stitches. And even if you have the supplies, I don’t trust my eyes to sew it.”

  “I trust them,” Briar said quietly.

  Gavin’s gaze arrested on her soft face. “Next time I drop a bombshell, I’ll make sure you’re not carrying breakables.”

  Briar laughed a tinkling laugh as he rewrapped the pristine linen around her hand.

  He shook his head, holding the napkin tight to her wound. “I’m the one who breaks things.” A strike of pain crossed her countenance and he swore. “Sorry. You need the pressure.”

  Her eyes were shining. “Your father did it here. Remember? He brought flowers and words. But the best part was that he brought you. It felt like the beginning of forever.”

  Gavin nodded, head low, mouth twisted into a sentimental grin. “You made me cinnamon rolls.” After a moment, he looked back at Mavis. “I’m glad I got to say it here of all places. It feels right.”

  Mavis saw Gavin and his stepmother crouched together on the elegant, blood-dribbled rug. She broke. “I love you, too,” she said, just as rushed and ardent as his admission had been.

  His attention strayed to her again. Briar beamed. Mavis was aware once more of Zelda and Ivy. The attention scrambled her. She focused on Gavin. How could she not? His relief was palpable. His joy was a living thing. It electrified her. “I love you,” she said again, sure.

  His mouth warped into a wide smile. “All right,” he said with another nod. “All right. Give me a minute.” He helped Briar to her feet. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes,” Briar said.

  “We’ll get her where she needs to go,” Zelda said, replacing Gavin’s hand with hers over the napkin. “Ivy, go to the garden. There you’ll find a man with a shovel or a rake. You’ll know him. He looks like that one.” She measured Gavin’s breadth with a sweep of her arm.

  “We’ll meet you in the parking lot,” Ivy agreed, stepping into action.

  “You’ll be all right,” Gavin said, relinquishing Briar into Zelda’s care. “Just keep pressure on that wound.”

  “Thank you, Gavin,” Briar said. She looked to Mavis. “Take all the time you need. Lock the door if you have to. We’ll shoo everyone out.”

  Gavin watched from the doorway until they made it to the entry. Mavis took a few seconds to catch her breath. It had been an odd few minutes. Her lungs settled back into a normal pace.

  She spotted the blood that had transferred to his hand. Quickly, she picked up another napkin from the table. She went to him, taking him by the wrist.

  He turned to her as she wiped the blood away in delicate sweeps. She kept stroking after the red had vanished. He had to take the napkin away from her. Even after he had, her heart lashed her breastbone and she struggled to look at him.

  He raised his clean hands to her face, framing it. He lifted it so he could see her. His eyes scanned, searched. “It’s okay. I told Kyle I’d wait on proposing. It seems he’s not the only one who needs time to think it over.”

  She swallowed. “It’s not that.
I’ve just been afraid—not that everyone else wouldn’t accept us in the long term. I wouldn’t have cared if any of them refused. I was scared that you wouldn’t want that—that after everything, she still poisoned you against living your life in one place. With me.

  “I didn’t believe you’d come back,” she went on, purging the truth. “I didn’t trust you to like I should’ve. When you showed up at the tavern, I didn’t believe it when I should have. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he dismissed. “I should’ve been up-front with you the whole time. The whole time I was away, all I could think about was getting back to you.”

  His eyes were clear, clearer than she had ever seen them, and they’d fused themselves to her. She found a smile and let it hang on her mouth so he could see how glad it made her.

  He smiled, too. “While I was away, I stopped in at an old teammate’s house. I’d asked him to hold on to a few things for me for a while because I didn’t think I’d need them.”

  When he gestured to the item he’d left on the edge of a flower stand just beyond the door, she craned her neck. “What’s that?”

  He picked up the box, handed it to her. “Open it.”

  She did. So stunned was she by the contents that she nearly dropped the box altogether. “These are your medals.”

  He nodded. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but was very solemn. “There hasn’t been much about me that’s permanent. There hasn’t been much I’ve carried from place to place. That’s what comes of being a drifter, I guess. But I have these and now I want you to have them.”

  She shook her head, trying to hide the sting behind her eyes by lowering her gaze.

  His lips touched the crown of her head, lingered. “You brought me back to life.”

  “No,” she argued. “You did that. Without your strength and your fortitude… I couldn’t have pulled you out of that burning building if I tried.”

  “You would’ve gone up in flames, too,” he murmured. He stroked her hair, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Ah, baby. You won’t have to pull me out of the fire anymore. I’m going to make sure you never have to. I came home for me. I stayed for Dad. Then you wouldn’t leave me alone in the bougainvillea. Before long, it was you I was staying for.”