by Beth Andrews
And to stop thinking about Daphne Lynch.
“Mom, I can’t ask Sylvie—”
“Of course you can. Make it clear you’ll be back on Christmas day and that you’ll pay for separate rooms so she doesn’t think it’s some sort of booty call—”
“My mother just said booty call,” Greg murmured, sounding dazed. “She used it incorrectly, but still... I’m going to need massive amounts of therapy now.”
Rosalyn ignored him. “I’m sure Sylvie will say yes.”
It wasn’t what his mother said so much as how she looked when she said it that had Oakes groaning. “Please tell me you didn’t mention this already to Sylvie.”
“Well, we did run into each other the other day at lunch and the subject of the wedding may have come up in casual conversation,” Rosalyn said, too innocently to be believable, “but nothing specific. I just gathered, from her responses, that were you to invite her to be your guest at your brother’s wedding, she would be more than happy to accept.”
He liked Sylvie. He really did. But he wasn’t ready to spend the entire weekend with her, halfway across the country at Christmas, no less. “I can’t invite her,” he repeated. He pressed his lips together, debating how much information to share. His conscience told him to spill it all, that she’d find out eventually. And his head warned him that if she heard it from someone else, there’d be hell to pay. “I’m already taking a guest.”
“I hadn’t realized you were seeing someone besides Sylvie,” she said, not sounding too thrilled with the idea. “Who is this mysterious woman?”
He sighed. “I’m taking Daphne.”
As he feared, she looked shocked. And hurt. Damn it. This was what he was trying to avoid. “I see,” she said weakly.
“I don’t think you do.” He kept his tone gentle. Took her hands in his, discovered her fingers were like ice. “I’m taking her as a favor, that’s all.”
She pulled her hands free. Linked them together at her waist. “But you’re still...seeing her.”
“We’re friends.” And though he knew that hurt his mother, him being with the daughter of the woman who’d had an affair with her first husband, he wasn’t about to let Daphne’s friendship go. He couldn’t. “What happened between Susan and Dad wasn’t Daphne’s—or Zach’s—fault.”
He’d kept his tone gentle but she still flinched. Straightened her shoulders. “I need to check on dinner.”
He moved to stop her from leaving the room but his stepfather rose, shaking his head as he caught Oakes’s eye. “I’ll help.” He squeezed Oakes’s shoulder as he passed him then said softly, “She’ll be all right.”
Oakes hoped so. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her. And while he understood why she clung to her anger over her father’s betrayal, that didn’t mean he agreed with it.
It was time—past time—they all moved on.
He was more than ready to look ahead. To focus on the future instead of the past. The past was where his parents’ mistakes lived on, haunted him. Their choices influenced his decisions. It was where anger and resentment resided, like a living, breathing beast, needing to be fed constantly.
He was damn tired of being a slave to it.
And in the spirit of moving on, as soon as he got back from Kane’s wedding, he’d refocus. Step up his game where Sylvie was concerned. He knew what he wanted. A wife and kids. A career he found both stimulating and satisfying. A home filled with love and laughter, like the life he’d had here. One with no fights and accusations. No crying and heartbreak. Just honesty and trust.
And peace.
He really wanted peace.
His ideal life was out there. His for the taking. He was a Bartasavich, after all. Nothing was beyond his reach. All he had to do was go and get it. And he wouldn’t let anyone get in his way.
Even if he had to be as selfish and single-minded as his old man.
CHAPTER SIX
LATER THAT EVENING, Oakes opened his door. Raised his eyebrows. “Am I experiencing déjà vu?”
Daphne grinned, her hair smooth and shiny, her eyes bright, a casserole dish in one hand, a plastic container in the other. “Nope. This isn’t a repeat visit. It’s a return visit. And this time,” she said, lifting the items in her hands, “instead of begging for favors, I come bearing gifts.”
The scent of something spicy caught his attention. “Then by all means, come in.”
Having learned his lesson last night, he kept plenty of space between them as she stepped inside. He shut the door and wondered about the sense of anticipation filling him. The tension arising within him at the sight of her.
The happiness and excitement.
He grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed. Hard. He was acting like a teenager seeing his crush in the hallway. Exhaling heavily, he turned to her. Grinned. “Not drunk then?”
“Sober as a priest. Well, not Uncle Carlos, obviously, as he loves his whiskey, but sober as a priest who doesn’t drink. Or really, anyone who doesn’t drink. I even drove myself so you don’t have to play cabbie and take me home. See? This is totally different from last night.”
He was glad. Just as he was glad she had on jeans—even if the dark denim molded to her curves. But she was wearing a Texas A&M sweatshirt and her face was clean of makeup, which made her seem younger than her age, a good reminder that it hadn’t been all that long ago when she’d been a coed.
“Here,” he said, realizing she was standing there holding the containers, a sexy, knowing smile on her face—please, sweet Jesus, don’t let her know what he was thinking. “Let me take those.”
“Mom sent some leftovers,” Daphne explained as he took the dishes. “Dinner and dessert.”
“Your mom sent me dinner?”
“Well, technically, she didn’t give them to me so much as I boxed up a few things myself.” And that made a whole lot more sense. “But I’m such a kindhearted, generous soul, I thought I’d share. Although, I’m guessing your mom already made sure you’re well stocked up on Sunday dinner leftovers.”
“You’re right,” he said, opening the fridge. He stepped aside so she could see the neatly labeled containers his mom had sent home with him after dinner. By the time they’d all sat down to eat, Rosalyn had been herself again. No guilt trips—though she could throw a mean one when provoked. No drawn-out silences. No snide comments.
His mother was a forgiving soul. No holding grudges for Rosalyn. She preferred to suffer in silence. Or, more often than not, pretend that any unpleasantness never happened in the first place.
It was how she’d been able to put up with a lying, cheating husband for over ten years.
“I’m pretty sure my mother doesn’t think I can feed myself, either,” he told Daphne.
She laughed and the sound, deep and husky, hit him in the solar plexus. “I wish my mom would think I wasn’t capable. Instead of sending me home with food, she hands me recipes and tells me I need to cook more and eat out less. Abuelita thinks I’m going to get fat—it runs on my grandfather’s side of the family, she likes to tell me—if I don’t start cooking healthy, homemade meals.”
He couldn’t stop his gaze from going to her body, taking in the shape of her hips and thighs, the curve of her waist. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure you don’t have to worry about that.”
She wasn’t stick-thin like most of the women he dated, but she was far from fat. She was curvy and voluptuous, like a pinup girl. A fantasy. One he shouldn’t indulge in.
“You’re sweet. And speaking of you being sweet,” she said, pulling something from her pocket, “here’s the money I owe you.”
He stepped back. Held up his hands. “I don’t want your money, Daphne.”
“Well, you don’t need it, that’s for sure,” she said with a teasing grin, only one of a few pe
ople he knew well enough to joke about his coming from not one, but two very wealthy families. “But I always repay my debts. Just one of those stubborn traits I picked up from Zach.”
Something about the way she said their brother’s name, about the way she looked at Oakes as if waiting for his reaction, put him on edge. “It wasn’t a favor,” he said. “I wanted to help you out last night.”
And he figured she could use all the cash she could get. He knew Zach had offered to pay her grad school tuition, but she’d refused, claiming he’d helped her more than enough by funding her private high school education and undergraduate degree. Which meant she was putting herself through school now. Oakes doubted she made much at her internship and her second job as a fill-in receptionist at a dental office.
She made a humming sound, the kind women made when they were trying to get you to believe they were thinking something through, but really, had already made up their mind—mainly that whatever you’d said was dead wrong. “Well, now you can help me by taking this money and letting me pay you back.”
She was stubborn and once she dug in her heels, there was no sense arguing.
Besides, he hated losing at anything, especially an argument, and if it could be avoided by giving in, then he figured that wasn’t a loss, but smart strategy.
He took the money, careful not to let their fingers touch just in case any of that insanity from last night or this morning was still lingering, and he felt a tingle or got hit by a shot of awareness. “Thanks. But you didn’t have to come over here tonight to deliver this. We’re going to see each other in two weeks.”
Daphne leaned against the counter, making herself right at home in his kitchen once again. “Actually, our trip to the wilds of Pennsylvania is why I dropped by.”
The silky tone of her voice warned him something was up. Something that did not bode well for him.
Nothing if not cautious, Oakes meant to take a moment, to choose his next words carefully. Instead, all he could do was stutter.
“You dropped by because of the trip?”
“You’re repeating things I say. Are you okay? Am I speaking too fast for you?”
He shook his head. “I’m just...confused.”
She confused him. Then again, his own feelings confused the hell out of him these days. It wasn’t a sensation he felt often. He always knew what to do, what to say, how to handle any situation. It was what he was best at—reacting, adapting, making the most of any situation. Making the best of it.
But with Daphne he felt at a loss. Out of his element. And that not only annoyed the hell out of him, but also pissed him off good.
“No need for confusion,” she told him. “I just thought we should discuss a few things.”
He winced. Her tone, if possible, got sweeter.
Scary how a woman could lace her words with sugar as she ripped out a man’s throat.
“Such as?” he asked warily.
“Such as you running to tell Zach that I’d asked you to take me to Kane’s wedding.”
Shit. That’s what he was afraid of.
He grinned. When in doubt, pull out the charm. It had worked for him most of his life—only his mother was immune and even that happened on rare occasions. “I hadn’t realized Zach couldn’t be trusted with the details of a private conversation. But then, he’d always been something of a tattletale.”
Must be a younger-brother thing. Gregory had spent the first twelve years of his life tattling on Dusty and even Oakes, while he still lived at home.
“And I didn’t tell him you asked me to take you,” Oakes continued. “I told him I invited you.”
“Right. Always the gentleman, trying to protect others. But he wasn’t tattling. I think he was concerned about why you would take me. I explained the whole thing, how I talked you in to it, that I took advantage of your kindness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to say no.”
And that made him sound like the weak-willed wimp his older brothers—and probably Zach—thought him to be. “Just because I’m not as arrogant as C.J., don’t have long hair and tattoos and ride a motorcycle like Kane and didn’t serve in the marines like Zach,” he said, irritation making his words clipped, “doesn’t mean I can’t say no when I mean no.”
He was getting tired of people thinking that because he was a nice guy, a good guy, that he didn’t have a freaking backbone.
“Duly noted,” she said then inhaled deeply. “But be that as it may, I’m still going to do you a favor since you did one for me last night. I’m giving you the option of opting out of our agreement.”
His eyes narrowed. What was this? “When I give my word, I keep it.”
She knew that. She knew him. Why would she think he’d renege on their agreement?
“Oh?” she asked way too innocently for it to actually be an innocent question. “Because I figure the reason you told Zach was so you could get out of taking me.”
“I told him because I didn’t want things to be weird between him and me. As you know, we’re not exactly close and I didn’t want this to cause problems. I didn’t want him to think I was taking advantage of you.”
“Like I said,” she murmured, “sweet. But, you see, here’s the thing—Zach trusts me. He trusts my judgment. Most of the time, anyway. He knows I’m an adult. A fully grown, intelligent, independent woman who makes her own choices and her own way in life. I don’t need him to make decisions for me or to tell me what I can do, where I can go or who I can go with. I don’t need anyone to do that.” Now she looked at Oakes in disappointment, as if he’d somehow let her down. He hated it. “I thought you knew that about me by now.” She stepped toward him and it took all his willpower not to step back. As if she was stalking him and he was in grave danger. “I don’t need another big brother, Oakes,” she said quietly. “I don’t want another one.”
He was nervous, which was crazy. He wasn’t in any danger. This was Daphne. He’d known her since she was ten. Had watched her grow up. Had watched over her. And during those years he had felt a certain responsibility toward her. Had thought of her like a little sister.
Until she’d graduated from high school and their relationship changed. Somehow, despite her attending college and him starting a career, they became friends. Unlikely friends, but true ones, nonetheless. And he refused to do anything to risk losing that friendship.
He needed to remember all that when faced with her curvy body, when looking into her blue eyes, when hearing her light laugh. He couldn’t help but be attracted to her. He was alive and breathing, a red-blooded male who found her bright and witty and so damn beautiful it made him ache.
But he wouldn’t act on his attraction.
There was no faster way to ruin a perfectly good platonic relationship between a man and woman than having sex.
“Of course I know you’re intelligent and capable,” he told her, but he drew the line at denying he wasn’t trying to act like another brother to her. He wasn’t big on lying. “My visit with Zach had nothing to do with you.”
She cocked a hip. Tipped her head to the side, showing the long line of her neck as her hair slid over her shoulder. “No?”
“No. Like I said, I went there because I wasn’t sure how Zach would react about the two of us going to the wedding together. I thought I was being considerate to my brother. That’s all.”
“I see,” she said and, like with his mother earlier, he wasn’t sure if she really did or not. “Well, now that that’s cleared up, I think the only question that remains is...do you want to take me to the wedding? No recriminations, no tears or tantrums or hurt feelings if you don’t.”
This was his way out, one she was handing to him on a silver platter. But he couldn’t take it. As he’d told her, when he gave his word, he kept it.
No matter what.
Sometimes being ho
norable and trustworthy was a pain in the ass.
“I would love to have you as my date to my brother’s wedding,” he said, knowing it was true.
And why wouldn’t it be? She was great company. Bright and funny and fun. Plus, she needed him. He wouldn’t let her down. He’d just have to ignore any inappropriate thoughts he had about her, would grit his teeth and endure the sweaty, sexy dreams that always seemed to follow any time they spent together. He’d treat her like he would any other friend. One he didn’t touch. Or fantasize about. Or want to kiss.
No problem.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because the last thing I want is to force you to do something you’d rather not do.”
“I’m positive.”
“Okay. Well, that’s good because I’m really looking forward to it.” She smiled, looking relieved, and he knew he’d made the right decision. “I’ve never been to Pennsylvania. I hear it’s very...green.”
“It is,” he told her, especially the small town of Shady Grove, where Kane lived, outside of Pittsburgh. “I’m not sure how much green we’ll see in the winter, though. When I was there for Kane and Charlotte’s Valentine’s Day engagement party, everything was covered in snow.”
“Really? I’ve never seen snow. I mean, only the dusting we’ve had on occasion. I bet it’s pretty. And perfect for a Christmas wedding.”
“It’s pretty enough. If you like wet shoes, slippery roads and freezing temps.” He’d almost put his rental car in a ditch driving to the airport after the engagement party.
“I’ll be sure to bring boots and a warm coat. Plus, you don’t have to worry about my safety on the roads. I’m an excellent driver,” she said in her best Rain Man imitation before winking at him and turning toward the door.
He had the strangest, strongest urge to reach for her, to take her elbow lightly and ask her if she wanted a drink. Or if she had time to watch a movie or just sit and talk for a while.
