With One More Look At You

by Mary J. Williams

  "Whoops. Sorry. I thought—I mean, I didn't realize—" Shit. Red-faced, Forbes tried to retreat before he swallowed his tongue along with the rest of the cookie.

  "Forbes! Wait." Newt said a few quiet words to the woman before chasing after his son.

  Almost to his room, Forbes groaned when he heard his name called out again. Finding a woman in his father's bedroom was new territory. More than embarrassing. Awkward. Unsettling. And though his mother had been gone for a long time, it felt wrong.

  "I was hoping to talk to you before you met my friend."

  "Then maybe you should have shut the door before you started groping each other.

  Forbes wasn't thrilled with the petulant tone of his voice. Then again, he wasn't all that thrilled with his father's behavior. He didn't consider his attitude a double standard. Sneaking a woman in and out of your room in the dark of night was one thing. Flaunting her in broad daylight was another.

  Giving a fast look over his shoulder—as if he thought the woman might have followed—Newt pushed Forbes the rest of the way down the hall toward his room. Shutting the door, he frowned.

  "I understand it was a surprise, but you will keep a civil tongue in your head when you speak about Joy."

  Speak about Joy? Forbes was at a loss. How could he say anything about the woman when until a few minutes ago, he didn't know she existed? Who was this woman? Where had she come from? And what did his father plan to do with her? Besides the obvious.

  Forbes didn't know how to ask. Didn't know if he wanted to.

  "Dad." Moving to the row of shelves above the dresser, Forbes pretended to be fascinated with the placement of his old Little League MVP award. "It isn't any of my business. I was surprised, that's all."

  "I met Joy in California. At the hotel where I was staying. In the bar."

  "Okay." Jesus. Was his father saying he picked a woman up in a bar and brought her home? "You were at a convention. Nothing wrong with having some fun. But most people don't take the fun with them when they leave."

  Newt looked almost as uncomfortable as Forbes felt. "Joy and I, we sort of hit it off."

  "So it would seem."

  "You can drop that tone right away, young man. Take a seat," Newt said, pointing to the bed.

  "Yes, sir."

  Forbes did as his father asked. The respect and love of a lifetime weren't going anywhere. He couldn't imagine anything—or anybody—that could change it. Not now. Not ever.

  Newt took the old chair that Forbes used when doing his homework, setting it a few feet away. He straddled the back. With a sigh, he looked Forbes in the eyes.

  "I don't need to tell you how it's been since your mother died. It took a long time for me to look up from the grief. When I did, do you know what I realized? I'm lonely."

  "But—"

  Newt held up a hand, staying Forbes' argument. "I know. There are women around here I could spend some time with."

  "Plenty." Forbes could name a half dozen off the top of his head. "Let people know you're looking, Dad. The women will be lining up. You'll have to beat them off with a stick. One word and—"

  "I get the idea, Forbes." Newt laughed. "Could be you're exaggerating just a tad. But my ego appreciates the thought."

  It wasn't an exaggeration. Newt Branson was a catch. And not just in the little part of the world in which they lived. Handsome. Young by most standards. He had land, money with the brains and brawn to hold onto both. Since his wife's death, many women had made it clear they were interested. Some were bold, others subtle. Either way, Newt didn't reciprocate. A date here or there. Never anything long term.

  "Why now? Why this woman?" Forbes frowned. "You barely know her, Dad."

  "I can't explain." The look on Newt's face—the frown—mirrored his son's. "Joy is gorgeous. The attraction—well, you don't need to know about that."

  "That's the problem. You have an itch that hasn't been scratched nearly often enough. It's easy to be dazzled by sex."

  "Is that so?" Newt's lips twitched. "I'll save us both the embarrassment of discussing how often either of us has been dazzled."

  "Thank you," Forbes said with feeling.

  Newt gave in and chuckled. When he spoke, the light in his eyes had a serious tone. "I appreciate what you're saying, son. But that isn't what this is. Joy makes me… happy? It's been so long; the feeling isn't easy to identify. I will admit that we don't have a lot of life experiences in common. And she is quite a bit younger than me."

  "How much younger?" It wasn't a big deal—not really. Still, Forbes felt compelled to ask.

  Newt shrugged. "Joy is twenty-five."

  Closer to Forbes in age than his father. He knew it shouldn't matter. But everything was coming at him all at once. The age difference was really the least of the issues at hand.

  "Tell me what's going on, Dad. Is Joy my new mommy?"

  "No." Newt jumped to his feet knocking the chair over in his haste. "She and her sister are here for a visit. A few days. After that, I don't know. We'll see."

  "Her sister?" Forbes had forgotten all about the girl he met outside the house. "Sophie? Tall? Smart mouth?"

  "I don't know about the smart mouth part. She barely said two words on the trip north. But her name is Sophie. You met?"

  "More like ran into her. Or she ran into me. Strange kid."

  "Shy. Reserved. There's a story, but that's for another time."

  Forbes wondered if they were talking about the same girl. Shy and reserved? Sophie? Hardly. Surly, with a major chip on her shoulder, was more like it. But like his father said, another time.

  "What happens in a few days?"

  Newt ran a hand through his thick, sandy-colored hair—another trait shared by father and son, though Forbes wore his longer, running toward unruly instead of neat.

  "I promised to put Joy and Sophie on a plane to wherever they want to go. Unless…"

  "You want Joy to stay."

  "And Sophie. They are a package deal, and I'm just fine with that." Newt looked at Forbes, obviously worried. "I don't know what's going to happen, son. Joy might decide she doesn't like ranch life. How do you feel about all of this?"

  It was a good question. One Forbes couldn't answer straight out. For a long time, he had hoped his father would find somebody special. A woman to share his life. Lover. Girlfriend. Wife. As long as it made Newt happy. But in his wildest imagination, he hadn't pictured this scenario.

  A stranger—two strangers—invading their lives? Forbes found it a lot to take in.

  "I'm not opposed to the idea. Exactly."

  "You need time." Newt nodded, seemingly relieved. "You'll see. Joy is a wonderful woman. Smart. Fun. You'll like her in no time."

  Forbes wasn't as certain as his father. If things didn't work out, it would be hard on Newt. He didn't want him to get hurt. For now, he would keep his doubts to himself. Hopefully, it would all work out.

  "About Sophie."

  "Yes?" Cautiously, Forbes waited, not sure what was coming. Not sure he wanted to know.

  "There isn't that much age difference."

  "How old is she?"

  "Fifteen."

  "Fifteen? Really?" Forbes would have guessed younger.

  "It might be difficult for her to make friends right away. You're good with people. Draw her out. I don't think she's had much experience with people her own age."

  "Why not?"

  "Her mother kept Sophie isolated. Homeschooled. She wasn't given a chance to interact with other kids. Socially stunted is how Joy put it."

  "Great," Forbes muttered. "Boo Radley incarnate?"

  "Don't you dare say something like that to Sophie, you hear?" Newt tried to look stern as if he didn't appreciate his son's sense of humor. But in spite of himself, he chuckled. "You don't have to make her your new best friend. All I'm asking is for you to draw her out. You're good at that."

  "Sure, Dad."

  "Are we good? Any mo
re pressing questions you need answering?"

  "Not at the moment." Forbes was sure something would come to him. Perhaps a million somethings.

  "Don't hesitate to ask, Forbes. This is new territory—for all of us."

  Exchanging a gruff but affectionate hug, father and son parted. Newt—Forbes assumed—went back to Joy to continue what they were doing before the sudden interruption.

  His father having sex. In this house. That was right at the top of the list of things Forbes had to get used to. Were Newt and Joy sharing a bedroom? His mother's bedroom? No matter how mature he considered himself to be, Forbes wasn't sure he was ready for that. It was too jarring. Too quick. He didn't know this woman. He wouldn't say it to his father's face, but he wasn't sure he wanted to.

  As for Joy's plus one? Sophie? The sister? Forbes decided it was way too soon to tell about her.

  His bedroom had a connecting bathroom. That was a plus, Forbes thought, turning the shower on full blast. He wouldn't be sharing with anybody. As an only child, he always had things pretty much his own way. As an eighteen-year-old heading into his last year of high school, he knew that—if push came to shove—Sophie would only be his problem for a few months. The length of a school year.

  That was in his head. In his heart, Forbes was leery at the idea of anybody invading his territory. Joy might turn out to be an annoyance, but she was an adult. His father's territory. Sophie was a different matter. Obviously, his father had forgotten what it was like in high school. To a man in his forties, a three-year age difference didn't seem like a lot. Between an eighteen-year-old man and a fifteen-year-old girl? It was a chasm. Potentially a rift as wide as the Grand Canyon. Especially if Sophie turned out to be as socially backward as Newt said.

  Forbes lathered his body, letting the spray of water rush over his face. What was the word his father used? Stunted. That was it. If Sophie's social development was stunted, that made the divide even bigger. It also meant he couldn't abandon her to the wolves.

  Shit. Forbes scrubbed his scalp with more pressure than necessary. He didn't want to be responsible for some kid he didn't know. He knew himself pretty well. If—and at the moment that was a big if—Sophie was still here when the school year started, Forbes knew he wouldn't let her flounder.

  Cursing himself, Forbes threw back the shower curtain, grabbing a towel from the rack. Sometimes having a strong moral compass well and truly sucked.

  Hearing the words in his head, Forbes laughed. It was a good thing none of his friends knew what he was thinking. Aaron especially would call him out as a pompous twit. Or words to that extent. More graphic in tone. And he would be right.

  Wiping the steam from the mirror, Forbes gazed at himself. He didn't see the strong jaw or handsome features. Not that he was unaware of how he looked. He knew that people found him attractive. However, he didn't find the face in front of him anything special. He saw it every day. At the moment, his bright blue eyes were focused on whether or not he needed to shave before meeting his father's guests.

  Forbes rubbed his chin, deciding to forgo the razor for another day or two. If he had his way, he would grow a beard rather than scrape off the accumulating stubble. Unfortunately, one of Coach Riggins's many rules included an aversion to facial hair on his players. If Coach had his way, they would all sport his perpetual crewcut. Thankfully, he didn't take his hardline quite that far.

  Forbes tugged on the ends of his damp hair. Longer than usual, he had let it go over the summer. Sometime in the next few days, he would get to the barber.

  Mindful of years of Maeve drilling it into his head about cleaning up after himself, Forbes automatically tossed his wet towel into the hamper before leaving the bathroom.

  It would be an interesting week, Forbes thought, pulling a pair of clean jeans from the dresser drawer. His final year of high school loomed. Football practice was something to look forward to. Who knew what would happen on the home front with not one, but two new females to contend with.

  For his father's sake, Forbes hoped it worked out. Newt deserved some happiness. But to be honest? With a sigh, he decided on the blue t-shirt over plain white. He wasn't looking forward to the unknown.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "THE NEXT FEW days are crucial, young lady." Joy crossed her arms, the toe of her high-heeled pumps tapping furiously on the hardwood floor. "This is my big chance. I will not have you ruin it by acting like a dimwitted teenager."

  "Is this my room?" Having heard it all before, Sophie wasn't listening to her mother. She ran her hand over the polished furniture, breathing in the fresh lemon scent. "All mine?"

  "Sophie!" Joy grabbed her arm, giving it a shake. "What has gotten into you?"

  Freedom! It sang through Sophie's blood. Bubbly. Like carbonation times a thousand. It was amazing what a tiny taste could do. Ideas had always swirled through her head, but they had always been outside of her reality.

  Imagining the smell of clean air and the feel of unrestricted sunlight on her face was one thing. It was another to run across a thick, green lawn without the sound of car horns in her ears. Or the smell of exhaust fumes clogging her lungs.

  Sophie knew that Joy would never understand. She lived with dollar signs in her eyes. Occasionally, Joy let lust sidetrack her. A well-toned ass could turn her head temporarily. But eventually, she remembered what was important. Money. The more the better.

  "Don't worry, Joy." Sophie had never called her mother anything else. Never Mommy. Mom. Or any variation of the word. "I won't screw this up for you."

  "That's what I'm talking about." Joy jabbed a sharp red nail into Sophie's chest. "Lose the attitude, little girl. Now!"

  Or what? Like so many times before in her life, Sophie swallowed her question. She left it unasked. But she couldn't help but wonder what the answer would be. What could her mother do? If Sophie chose, she could decimate Joy's fragile house of cards with the tiniest puff of breath. As always, it was built on lies. A few words and poof. The light in Newt's eyes would turn from kindness to contempt.

  Joy had no idea that the power in their relationship had shifted. Nor would she anytime soon. Sophie had spent too long lying low, doing what was necessary and just getting by to test her muscles right now. But it was exciting to realize she had them—just in case.

  In the meantime, Sophie knew how to get Joy's attention off her and back where they both preferred.

  "Newt can't take his eyes off you."

  Joy preened, pausing to admire herself in front of the antique mirror that hung over the dresser. Sophie could almost read her thoughts. Joy leaned closer, dabbed at her perfect lipstick. Then lifted a hand to her hair before dropping it to her side, deciding she had no reason to mess with perfection.

  "This is a big fish, and he is mine to reel in without breaking a sweat." Joy snapped her fingers. "It's almost too easy."

  "Why didn't you spend the night with him on the trip here?"

  Innocently—at this point in her jaded life, it had come as a surprise that Joy could still effortlessly pull off something so far from the truth—her mother had insisted on separate rooms. For Sophie's sake, she had whispered to Newt. Obviously disappointed, he had agreed. Two nights. It had to be the longest Joy had held a man at bay.

  "Newt appreciates my motherly concern."

  Motherly. That was a hot one. Sophie snorted. She hadn't meant to, it just came out. Joy was so caught up in admiring the way she was handling her big fish, she let it pass.

  "We'll make up for lost time soon enough." Joy sighed, her lips curving slowly upward. "Newt is a surprisingly good lover. Energetic. Inventive. It's not a hardship having that man on top of me."

  Sophie preferred the facts, but that was way too much information. Unfortunately, as far as Joy was concerned, there were no boundaries she wouldn't cross. It didn't matter that she was speaking to her fifteen-year-old daughter. She used the same candor when Sophie was ten. And seven. And five. It wasn't done out of spit
e or nastiness. It simply didn't occur to Joy that using frank, explicit language about her love life was inappropriate.

  Sophie went from not understanding to looking things up, to tuning Joy out. After all these years, she should have been desensitized to sex. Instead, she found it embarrassing. Crude. And the last thing she ever wanted to try.

  So many of the books Sophie read backed up her mother's words. They rhapsodized about it. On and on and on. Love equaled hot, can't keep my hands off you, lust-filled days and nights. The foolish protagonists were always ruled by their bodies—not their common sense.

  If that were true? Sophie had one answer. A big no thank you. Love. Sex. Passion. Call it what you wanted. Joy was a shining example of where they got you. And Newt—who she really liked—hadn't done anything to change Sophie's perception.

  "Have you met the housekeeper?" Joy said it with a sneer, carefully running her finger over the surface of the bedpost. She seemed disappointed when it came back clean.

  "No." There hadn't been anybody around when Sophie entered the house. Before she could explore, Joy had herded her upstairs.

  "I need to keep an eye on that one. Not that I can't handle her. Maeve." Joy added a scoff to her sneer. "What kind of name is that?"

  "I think it's pretty."

  Sophie looked around for her small suitcase. When she couldn't find it, she checked the closet. Hanging there were the few items she didn't have on her back. An extra t-shirt—plain, faded yellow. A cotton dress that she was supposed to grow into but still hung on her like a sack. An old jean jacket with a ripped sleeve that more than once had been rescued from Joy's attempt to toss in the trash. And a pair of shorts. Brand new, still sporting their tags.

  Sophie knew it was silly not to wear them, but they were one of the few things she had ever owned that hadn't belonged to somebody else first. In a rare moment of generosity, Joy had picked them up a few weeks ago at a Wal-Mart. For now, she was happy to simply look at them.