by Debbie Mason
Chloe knew exactly who she was referring to. Nell McBride was the town’s self-appointed matriarch and matchmaker. Ted and Fred were her best friends, and she hadn’t been pleased when they’d taken a shine to Estelle. “I’m afraid so. She’s my stepfather’s aunt.”
And that reminded Chloe who else would be here…Easton McBride. She stopped halfway up the stone walk and dug in her purse for her pills. Estelle did the same, then held up a silver flask. “I thought we might need this.”
“I’m not sure we should be taking our medication with Scotch, Estelle.”
“I watered it down,” the older woman said and popped her pills in her mouth. She took a swig before handing Chloe the flask.
She supposed it couldn’t hurt. She’d need a little liquid courage to face Easton. He despised her and didn’t care who knew it, including her. And yes, he may have had good reason to feel that way fifteen years ago. But my goodness, it was such a long time to hold a grudge. She wrinkled her nose as she lifted the flask to her mouth.
The front door opened. It was Easton. And like every single time she saw his outrageously handsome face, her heart pitter-pattered in her chest and the theme song from The Princess Bride started playing in her head. It was silly. And she wished she could turn off the soundtrack in her mind. But it had been playing there since she was fifteen and Easton saved her from the schoolyard bullies. He’d been her hero from that moment on. Her white knight. She’d thought he was her one until he became her sister’s. He’d loved Cat. They’d probably be…Chloe’s eyes widened…married now if it weren’t for her.
“Little early to be drinking, isn’t it, Scarlett?”
Chapter Two
Chloe barely registered what Easton said because a lightbulb went off in her head. Her sister’s old flame was the answer to her prayers. She opened her mouth to lay out a win-Cat-back plan to Easton and inhaled an excited breath. She choked on the Scotch.
“Jesus,” Easton muttered with an irritated look in his sapphire blue eyes as she coughed and sputtered. He came down the front steps and patted her back.
She teetered on her heels, raising her hand to get him to stop with the forceful slaps. “I’m okay,” she wheezed.
The man didn’t know his own strength. He was built like the star quarterback he’d once been in high school—thick neck, wide shoulders and broad chest, narrow hips and the tightest behind this side of the great divide. Actually, since he stood in front of her, she hadn’t gotten a look at his behind. But she didn’t imagine it had changed since she’d last seen him naked. His seven-year stint in the military had only served to further strengthen and harden the man.
Her four-inch heels put her eye level with his chin, the cleft she used to delight in kissing barely visible beneath the dark scruff. She lifted her gaze to his beautifully shaped mouth; the hint of a bow in his upper lip, the bottom sensually full. His perfect lips flattened. She briefly closed her eyes and released a disheartened sigh.
Easton McBride would never be the answer to her prayers.
He made an aggravated sound in his throat and dropped his hand, taking a step back.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Estelle asked, touching Chloe’s shoulder in concern while slanting a wary glance at Easton.
“I’ll be fine, thank you. I just need a moment to catch my breath.” And to prepare to see her family and the happily engaged couple. It would have been so much easier if she could convince Easton that Cat was his one. He could save them both a whole lot of heartache by simply going along with the plan that had popped into Chloe’s head the moment she saw him.
He crossed his arms over the U.S. Army logo stitched onto his sleeveless black T-shirt. “What’s with the accent?”
She drew her gaze from his biceps. “What are you talking about? I don’t have an accent.”
“Don’t know why I bothered to ask,” he said as if talking to himself, then gave them a mocking bow. “Your highnesses.”
She didn’t understand why he had to be so rude. The man held a grudge longer than anyone she knew. Still, she couldn’t help but watch as he headed across the grass toward the line of cars. His black sweat shorts showed off his tight behind. She’d been right, he did have the best butt, and his legs were…
A shocked cry escaped before she could contain it. His right calf was strong and muscular while his left was ravaged with ugly, vivid red scars from repeated surgeries. She’d heard that an IED had blown up the convoy he’d been traveling in in Afghanistan, but other than a noticeable limp, she hadn’t known the extent of his injuries. He was lucky to have kept his leg.
Easton glanced over his shoulder, and those mocking blue eyes held hers. He’d heard her horrified gasp. He wouldn’t want sympathy from anyone, least of all her. She turned away, forcing a smile for Estelle. “I suppose it’s now or never.”
Chloe flinched at the sound of a door slamming. He was angry at her. She didn’t blame him; she should have done a better job concealing her reaction. She wondered if she should go to him and try to explain. She glanced over her shoulder. He’d retrieved a football from his truck. He wasn’t leaving after all. Still shaken by that brief glimpse of how badly he’d been injured, how close he’d come to losing his life, she thought it best to hold off on the apology and returned her attention to Estelle. She helped the older woman up the steps. “An hour should be long enough to pay our respects to the happy couple, don’t you think, Estelle?”
Her manager rubbed her cheek against Fluffy’s head. “If it’s any longer than that, let’s hope the punch is spiked.”
Chloe seconded the sentiment and rang her stepfather’s doorbell. Technically, she supposed the stone bungalow was her mother’s home, too, since she lived here, but Chloe felt uncomfortable walking in without an invitation.
A drawn-out sigh warned her that Easton was close by. Sure enough, he reached around her and opened the door. She hesitated, once again wondering if she should apologize. But given how he felt about her, he’d probably throw her apology in her face. So instead she murmured, “Thank you,” and went to step inside. But strong, warm fingers wrapped around her arm, and he drew her out of the way. “Go on in, Dame Alexander. I need a word with Chloe. Everyone’s out back.” He gave Estelle directions, then closed the door.
Chloe pivoted. “Easton, that’s so rude. Estelle doesn’t know—”
He stared down at her. “Why are you here?”
She frowned. “Where else would I be? It’s my sister’s engagement party. I was invited.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Chloe. I know you too well. If you’ve come to make a scene, I suggest you head back to LA right now.”
“Why are you being so mean to me?” She searched his face, his cold, closed-off expression. This wasn’t about her reaction to his injury. This was about their past. “You’ll never forgive me, will you? I’ve apologized over and over again, but you just tune me out. Fifteen years is a long time to hold a grudge, even for you.” She hoped he’d forgotten about the little incident at their parents’ rehearsal party last fall.
His brow furrowed, then he released a short bark of laughter. “You’re unbelievable. This is about Cat. It’s her day, Chloe. And if you do one thing to upset her, I’m tossing you out on your ass.”
She blinked up at him, ignoring the dull ache expanding in her chest. “You really do love her.”
“Of course I do. We all do. And no one wants to see her hurt again. So if you think you can come here—”
At the reminder of how much everyone adored her sister and despised her, Chloe’s bottom lip quivered. She bit down on it. She shouldn’t have come. The logo on his T-shirt blurred, and she turned to face the door. “Despite what you think of me”—the emotion she struggled to contain came out in her voice, and she cleared her throat before continuing—“What you all seem to think of me. I love my sister. I won’t stay long. I don’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.”
She heard him swear under his breath, then he placed a hand on
her shoulder. “Look, maybe I over—”
Her mother opened the front door. She glanced from Easton to Chloe with a tentative smile on her pretty face. “Is everything okay out here?”
“Everything’s wonderful. It’s so good to see you, Mommsy. I’ve missed you so much,” Chloe said past the lump in her throat. Her smile wobbled. Combined with Easton’s hurtful remarks, seeing her mother and knowing how close she’d come to losing her love last Christmas broke what little control she had left over her emotions. A tear rolled down her cheek, and Chloe gave a small, helpless cry, throwing herself in her mother’s arms.
* * *
Dammit to hell, he’d done it now. He made Chloe cry. It hadn’t been his intention. Granted, since he knew the woman was an emotional drama queen, he should have thought before he spoke. All he wanted to do was ensure that they didn’t have a repeat of last December’s drama. He didn’t want Chloe to ruin her sister’s big day. Cat had lived in her sister’s shadow long enough. She deserved to be the center of attention today. But he’d wanted to take the words back as soon as he saw Chloe’s bottom lip quiver and the shimmer of tears in her green eyes.
Maybe if she hadn’t shown up in a stretch limo looking like a cover model in a dress that hugged her curves and probably cost more than half the folks in town made in a year, he wouldn’t have laid into her. Only problem with that argument was, he hadn’t said anything then. Chloe flaunting her money, along with her newly acquired British accent, wasn’t why he’d gone off on her. He was pretty much immune to Chloe O’Connor the beauty queen.
What he wasn’t immune to was the sickened expression that came over her face when she got a look at his leg. Did it bother him that the sight of his scars made her look like she wanted to hurl? Nah, he couldn’t care less. Chloe lived in a world where people went under the knife for the slightest flaw, imagined or otherwise. Injecting poison into their lips and foreheads to the point they resembled pod people. Chloe hadn’t succumbed to the pressure yet, but it was only a matter of time. No one worshipped at the altar of perfection more than Chloe O’Connor.
But thanks to her shocked cry, he’d lost his concentration while walking across the uneven grass to retrieve the football from his pickup. After turning away from her, he’d tripped. The last thing he wanted to do was fall on his face in front of her, and he’d strained the weak muscles in his injured leg to remain standing. The excruciating pain nearly brought him to his knees, and that pissed him off. He was tired of the pain, tired of seeing the worry on his family’s and friends’ faces.
Chloe had been on the receiving end of his temper and frustration. Typically, he alleviated the anger with the reminder he was damn lucky to be alive. He should have thought about that before taking it out on her. Even though his warning was warranted, he could have toned it down some.
He grimaced when Chloe threw herself into her mother’s arms, his fingers tightening around the football. Liz looked at him as she stroked her daughter’s long, midnight-black hair. He wasn’t sure if it was a here-we-go or a what-did-you-do expression on his stepmother’s face. Whatever it was, he probably should apologize.
Just as he opened his mouth to do so, Liz said, “Darling, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Easing from her mother’s arms, Chloe sniffed loudly and repeatedly. “I-I’m not crying, Mommsy. I must be allergic to Fluffy.”
Huh. He was kind of surprised she didn’t throw him under the bus. And that made him feel guiltier for the way he’d treated her. Because while she might be a spoiled pain in the ass, he knew she could also be sweet, compassionate, and kind. There was a time, years earlier, that he’d been on the receiving end of her sweetness. Right before she’d played him and ruined his relationship with her sister.
“You’ve never had allergies before…” Liz trailed off as she searched her daughter’s face. “Do you have any other symptoms? Tightness in your chest, swelling of your lips and tongue?”
Oh, Jesus, no, she did not just put out the specter of anaphylactic shock to Chloe. Then again, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she did. Liz had been angsting over Chloe’s health since they brought her home from the hospital with a hole in her heart. If she could have put her little girl in a protective bubble, she probably would have. Something he could relate to. His father was as much a worrier as Liz. But there was one big difference; Easton and his brothers weren’t hypochondriacs. Chloe was. And now her mother had most likely ensured there would be a scene like the one he’d hoped to avoid. Unless…
He moved away from the door, shutting it behind him. “She’s fine, Liz.” He put his arm around Chloe and gave her a squeeze. “Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I am having a hard time swallowing.” She rubbed her throat as though pushing a football down her long, graceful neck, then smacked her coral lips together a couple of times. “My lips feel tingly. Is my tongue swollen?” At least that’s what he thought she said. It was kind of hard to make out since she stuck her tongue out at the same time she asked.
“Chloe, you’re not allergic to the cat. You—” Easton was working his way to an apology, but she cut him off.
“Are you sure? It feels really thick.”
“Put your tongue back in your mouth. You were crying because I hurt your feelings, not because you’ve developed a sudden allergy to Fluffy.”
She stiffened, then removed his arm from her shoulders. “You didn’t hurt my feelings, and you certainly did not make me cry.”
His father, wearing chinos, a powder-blue golf shirt, and a frown, approached. “What’s going on?”
The last thing Easton wanted was to give Chloe an audience. And if they stood here long enough, they’d draw a crowd. He had to move this along. “Look, I’m sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
His father drew her to his side, narrowing his eyes at Easton. “You made her cry?” Paul had become as protective of Liz’s daughters as he was of his own sons.
Before Easton could defend himself, Chloe gave his father a fond smile and patted his chest. “It’s all right, Paul. I’m used to Easton. I don’t pay attention to what he says to me anymore. It goes in one ear and out the other.” She demonstrated this with a manicured, peach-polished finger, then her narrow shoulders raised on a sigh. “If I’m upset about anything”—she touched her damp cheek—“and obviously I am, it’s because of the traumatic experience I suffered a couple of days ago. I thought I’d shaken it off, but really, that would be expecting too much of myself. Of anyone, really. It’s not every day you’re murdered. Smothered to death by a pillow-wielding sociopath.”
The three of them stared at her, and she waved her hand. “I’m perfectly fine. Mommsy and Paul, no fussing over me. I absolutely forbid it. This is Cat’s big day. All the attention must be on her, do you understand me?”
Oh, she’s good, Easton thought, even though he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. Apparently he wasn’t the only one.
“Well, yes…” Liz wrinkled her nose. “Actually, no I don’t. What are you talking about, darling? Who was murdered?”
“Me, of course. I…Is it warm in here?” She fanned herself, looking a little panicked when the three of them assured her it wasn’t. “I probably shouldn’t be talking about dying. That’s enough to make anyone’s heart race, isn’t it?” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and pointed to her purse with the other one. “Can…can you get my pills, Mommsy? Please.”
Great, she was going into full drama-queen mode. Or as Cat referred to it, “her Scarlett O’Hara act.” And Liz and Paul were buying into her performance.
“Of course. Just relax and take deep breaths,” her mother said as she dug around in Chloe’s purse.
Enough was enough. They’d just make it worse by encouraging her. “Chloe, look at me,” Easton said. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Those pills aren’t—”
His father’s eyes widened, and he gave his head a slight warning shake. “Son, I don
’t think this is the time—”
Easton cut his father off. It was past time she knew what everyone else did. “Chloe, they’re sugar pills.”
She frowned. “Why would you say something like that? They’re nitrogen tablets for my heart condition.” She looked up at his father. “Tell him, Paul.”
His father rubbed the back of neck. Something he did when he was nervous.
And when his father opened his mouth, no doubt to play into her delusions, Easton gestured to the bottle clutched in her hand. “If you don’t believe me, take them to a pharmacist. Cat thought they’d help with your…attacks. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Nothing a little therapy wouldn’t cure.
“Hey, why are you all hanging out in the house?” Cat asked, as she walked through the living room with a smile.
Chloe whirled on her sister, shaking the plastic bottle at Cat. “You changed my prescription to sugar pills! What were you trying to do, kill me?”
Chapter Three
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Chloe regretted them. And not because she didn’t have a right to be furious at her sister’s deception, but because of the look of disappointment that came over her mother’s face. It was depressingly similar to the expression Liz wore back in December. Chloe may have overreacted then, but she wasn’t now.
“Sorry, Cat. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.” Easton apologized to her sister as if Chloe wasn’t standing three feet away from him.
Really? Cat was playing Russian roulette with Chloe’s life, and he felt the need to apologize to her sister? It was so easy for all of them to chalk up her attacks to being an overly emotional drama queen. They didn’t have to live with the constant fear that their damaged heart would stop beating.
“Don’t worry about it, Easton. She was going to find out sooner or later,” her sister said, then turned to Chloe. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. But Easton’s right, Chloe, there isn’t anything wrong with you.”
