“Go inside.” Vince needed to sort through his emotions, including ones toward Harley. He’d meant for her to be a distraction for his family, not a distraction for him. “Go on. I can tell you want to poke around.”
Harley gave him a sideways glance. “If you’re sure...”
“Really. I can handle it alone out here.”
“You’re lying.” But Harley left him nonetheless.
Vince lingered near the front walk. From his position, he could see through what had once been the living room and kitchen to newly installed French doors on the back side of the house.
Mom would’ve hated those doors.
There’d be no window to crack to extend her cigarette outside.
And Vince? He didn’t like change. Who knew if Joe’s redesign would make the house any better?
“Uncle Vince.” Sam put her hands and feet on either side of the front door frame and climbed up. She wore blue jeans and a neon-orange tank top. “Come see my room.” She deftly dropped to her feet and then began to climb again. “Please. Dad says it used to be your room.” This time when she dropped, she ran out to Vince and took his hand.
Vince followed her. His steps were hesitant. His gaze fixed forward. His ears muffled everything but his niece’s voice.
“It was nasty in here when we started.” Sam dug in her soles to keep Vince moving forward. “I told Dad we should just tear it all down.”
Vince wished they would have. There was so much guilt here. What he’d done to his family... And there was sadness, looking at his beautiful niece, feeling his heart swell with love for her, and realizing he’d never have a child of his own.
Sam looked behind her so he could see her smile. “But you know how Brit is about recycling. She never throws anything away.”
Suddenly he was stepping over the threshold. There was no furniture, no kitchen cabinets or sink, no walls with nicotine-stained framed pictures of roses. His mother used to love roses, which made no sense. Nothing about their life had been rosy.
I can’t do it anymore. Mom had taken a big drag off an unfiltered cigarette and then tapped the ashes into the grass. He’s getting worse.
“Over here.” Sam led Vince past a stack of flooring material and doors to the hallway.
Manageable. The memories were manageable if he stared at Sam’s short, bouncy hair. Vince followed Sam to the room he used to share with Gabe.
“I’m going to paint one wall purple and one wall green.” Sam released his hand and turned around, a hopeful expression on her face.
Vince smiled at her innocent ability to dream. He’d let go of his dreams when he’d realized his high school grades weren’t good enough for college.
Gabe appeared in the doorway. “Remember when you used to fly off the top bunk, little brother?”
“I remember you pushing me,” Vince joked. Their banter had a familiar feel to it.
Separated by a year, they’d been competitive kids, but it was the good kind of competition. He and Gabe had raced to the top of Parish Hill on motorcycles and then sat staring down on Harmony Valley, marveling at how small it looked. They’d swum across the Harmony Valley River. The loser had had to swim back to get the sodas and then they’d lain on the grassy bank on the other side, talking aimlessly.
In his years away, Vince had forgotten how close they’d been. When they’d shared this room, he’d known how many girls Gabe had dated and the one that broke his heart. He’d known the things Gabe considered before choosing the military. He’d known that Gabe was looking for a more stable “family” and that he’d found it with his fellow Marines.
Joe called for Gabe from somewhere in the house. Gabe disappeared.
Sam smiled and spun some more. “Did you wear a cape when you flew off the top bunk?”
“I did.” Vince had forgotten about that, too. “My cape was a blue pillowcase my mom pinned around my neck.”
His mother had always been creative when it came to playing. One year, she’d made a fort in the garage from a refrigerator box.
“Dad made me a pink cape like that.” Sam rushed forward and grabbed Vince’s hands, using them as ballast as she twirled around, just like when she was six. “Capes must be a family tradition. Like fixing cars. I love fixing cars.”
He had, too. “You don’t have to fix cars. You can learn how to fix space shuttles or airplanes.” She could go to college and become an engineer and learn how to build things people had yet to dream of.
That had been Vince’s dream.
“Nope. They don’t make space shuttles in Harmony Valley.” Sam released him and stood near the window. “I’m going to put my bed right here so I can see the stars at night.” She snuck him a sly grin. “And that way, Dad won’t see the light of my laptop if I’m on it.”
Vince ruffled her hair. “Your dad may not catch you, but Brit will.” She was one sharp cookie.
“Hey.” Sam smoothed her bangs back in place. “I’m not a kid anymore.”
Vince snorted. Sam was still a kid. She danced around and climbed the walls.
“If you’re going for classic...” Harley’s voice drifted to Vince. “You can’t go wrong with white subway tile.”
Vince stepped into the hallway. Joe, Brit, Gabe and Harley were scrunched in the nearby bathroom, which had nothing but plumbing, a tub and concrete floors.
“I know a guy,” Gabe was saying. “I can get you tile. Cheap.”
“If you get tile this week, I can set it for you.” Harley blinked, as if she couldn’t believe she’d offered.
“Wait. Just...wait.” Vince joined them. “Harley’s on vacation.” Not to mention, she needed paying jobs.
“I’ve already offered.” Harley’s gaze sharpened, warning of boundaries being crossed.
Her sidewalk hug and drive-by kiss had created a humongous hole in the borders defining their ex-relationship.
“We don’t accept barter.” Joe frowned.
He was a stickler about that and had been ever since he’d worked as a mechanic for their uncle in Beverly Hills. Uncle Turo had bartered into trouble with the law by accepting stolen goods in trade. Joe had been oblivious to their uncle’s shady dealings, but had almost been guilty by association.
Harley shrugged, no longer meeting Vince’s gaze. “Consider it my wedding gift.”
Wedding gift? Vince felt a moment of panic. He had yet to buy one.
Brit squeaked, trying to contain her excitement.
Vince shook his head. “Harley...” She needed money. She didn’t need to grout over Vince’s past.
“It’s okay, Vince. It’s subway tile.” Harley ran a hand over the new drywall above the tub. “That stuff goes up within hours.”
“With or without a tile saw?” Vince finally found an argument to sway her.
Her brow furrowed.
“I’m sure I can find you one of those.” Gabe again, annoying in his confidence.
“Great.” Harley brightened, as if her stomach was no longer upset.
Brit gave Joe a pleading look. “Surely we can accept wedding gifts like this.”
Joe heaved a sigh that predicted capitulation. “How many bathrooms have you tiled, Harley?”
“More than I can count.”
“I thought you were an architect.” Nothing got by Gabe.
“It’s getting hot in here.” Vince tried to catch Harley’s eye.
She ignored him. “My parents own a tile store.” There was a hint of color in Harley’s cheeks as she navigated the fine line between truth and fabrication. “I grew up on job sites.”
Which explained why she was so comfortable on them now.
“Could you teach me how to do it?” Brit was in hopeful mode, gushing. “That way, I could do the shower in the master bathroom.”
“If it’s not too much trouble to teach her,
” Joe said with an apologetic glance at Vince. “Because it is your vacation.”
Vince blew out a breath. “Finally, someone else remembers.”
“Vince doesn’t have a say in how I spend my time off.” Harley’s voice was firm and her blue eyes dared him to protest.
Brit squealed and hugged Harley. “I’m that much closer to having a finished house!”
“That’s it, then.” Gabe prodded Vince’s ribs. “Are you ready to get to work?”
Joe tugged on a pair of protective leather gloves. “We’re putting in doors wherever we have new floors.”
Vince hesitated. How could he explain that doing anything to make this house livable felt wrong?
“Are you shirking work?” Gabe studied Vince. “You never were one to stick to anything. Like school.”
Yes, Vince loved his brother. Yes, he might just have to punch him.
A flash of golden hair signaled Harley was moving toward Vince. Here came another drive-by kiss.
This one’s for you, Gabe.
Vince smiled like he knew his brother was going to regret prodding him.
Or not.
“Vince and I will put the doors on for the two smaller bedrooms.” Without a meeting of lips, Harley spun Vince around and guided him toward the doors stored in the living room. “And we’ll finish before Joe and Gabe have the master bedroom and bathroom doors on.”
“Only a girlfriend could manage a bit of tricky negotiation like that.” Joe smirked at Gabe.
Harley removed her hands from Vince’s shoulders. She’d gotten what she’d wanted, he realized. By taking on the tile project, she could keep her distance from him without making it seem as if they weren’t a couple.
“Yep, Vince is her man,” Brit said enthusiastically from behind them, sounding as if she was totally convinced they were dating.
“I certainly am.” Vince turned and caught Harley’s hand, dragging her next to him because, like it or not, they were in this together. “Maybe next time I’ll prove it with a kiss.”
Harley’s gaze shuttered, but not before Vince saw a flicker of longing.
One that matched his own.
One they both knew they shouldn’t give in to.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“IF YOU BREAK one more ribbon, you’re going to have six children!”
Peals of feminine laughter filled Martin’s Bakery Sunday afternoon. The room was crowded with women of all ages for Brit’s bridal shower. Since Harley had been there this morning, pink and white streamers had been hung on the walls and a banner proclaiming “Joe and Brittany Forever” was fixed in the window.
“You’ll be next.” Mildred stared up at Harley in that unfocused way of hers. Something behind Harley caught the old woman’s attention. “Unless it’s Reggie.” She lowered her voice. “That is Brit’s sister Reggie serving cake behind you, isn’t it?”
Harley glanced over her shoulder. “Yes.”
The bride had invited Harley to the shower after a morning spent working on the happy couple’s house. Reggie, Brit’s twin, had seen Harley’s discomfort when she’d arrived and had asked her to help with the event. Harley was grateful, because helping made her feel less of an outsider.
Several silly games later and the presents were being opened.
Harley refilled Mildred’s punch glass while Brit pulled apart the wrapping on her next shower gift with the utmost care. The bride-to-be didn’t look as if she’d spent the morning at a job site. Her hair was straight and combed, her makeup flawless, and her dress a lilac flowered print that brought out the pink in her cheeks.
Harley envied Brit’s energy. She still had a jet lag hangover.
Joe’s teenage daughter, Sam, sat next to Brit, wearing a blue sundress and a sunny smile. She was making a bouquet from the bows and ribbons from Brit’s shower gifts.
“Where did you meet Vince?” Mildred asked, keeping Harley from moving to refill the punch glasses at the next table. “Was it at a racetrack?”
“No.” Harley set the heavy glass pitcher on the table. “It was—”
“Oh, I bet it was through an online dating service.” A diminutive woman with white hair barely longer than Gabe’s military cut edged into the conversation from her seat next to Mildred. “You can get anything on the internet nowadays.”
“My money’s on a matchmaker.” A thin woman with elegant features and a tight white bun at the nape of her neck grinned. “So many young people don’t have time to date.”
Three pairs of eyes stared at Harley, waiting for her to answer.
“I’m afraid it’s not as exciting or buzzworthy or romantic as any of your guesses,” Harley said, feeling flustered.
“Never mind the inquisition.” Jessica appeared at Harley’s side, smelling of sugar. She carried cupcakes with white frosting and flower rosettes, which the baker distributed from a tray. “Don’t you remember what I told you this morning? Not much happens here, so any news is big news.”
“I’m not news,” Harley insisted, suddenly concerned that they’d wheedle the balcony failure from her just as easily as Gabe had discovered the location of Vince’s mother. “I also have no news. In fact, I’m not interesting in any way. Did you hear the mother of the bride got stuck in traffic and couldn’t make the shower?”
The elderly women leaned closer, gossip predators smelling blood.
“I’d tell them where you met Vince,” Jessica advised. She finished doling out cupcakes and repositioned her tray, pausing to stare at each white-haired woman in turn. “Sometimes you ladies come on too strong.”
“Who? Us?” The petite woman with the pixie cut sat back.
“I think I’m offended.” The slender woman with the ballerina bun sat back.
“I think Jessica knows us too well.” Mildred sat back and grinned.
Harley picked up the pitcher and poured punch into the next empty glass. “It’s all very boring. We met at work. He’s a carpenter and—”
“She’s an architect,” Reggie interrupted, although Harley didn’t remember telling her. “Ladies, I’m collecting your bingo cards. Make sure your names are on them.”
“An architect.” The woman with the bun handed over her card, sounding impressed.
“Dating a carpenter.” The diminutive woman gave Reggie her card and Mildred’s. “Common interests lead to lifelong partnerships.”
“A match made in heaven,” said Mildred. “She dreams it. He builds it.”
Harley moved on with the punch. “If only it was that easy.”
* * *
“DID YOU GET a wedding gift for the happy couple?” Gabe stood at the corner of the town square.
The afternoon sun was warm but not Houston brutal. The sky was a cloudless blue, like Harley’s eyes.
The brothers had just finished watching a baseball game at El Rosal while Brit had her bridal shower. Joe was inside, having stopped to talk to the sheriff.
“I haven’t bought anything yet.” Vince had been too worried about showing up at the wedding. “Any ideas?”
Gabe rubbed his hands together. “I’ve got a sweet lead on a motorcycle. It needs a little work, but—”
“Seriously?” Vince poked Gabe’s solid bicep. “Joe’s first wife died in a motorcycle crash.”
Gabe swatted Vince’s hand away. “Hey, Sam works on cars. You think she won’t appreciate a motorcycle for a little rebellion?”
“Ah, the truth comes out.” Vince shook his head. “You’re trying to make sure our niece carries on the Messina family tradition and terrorizes the town on two wheels.”
Gabe shrugged. “Admit it. The idea appeals to you, too.”
“It doesn’t.” Well, Vince wouldn’t mind taking to the saddle once more, just for old time’s sake.
“It does.” Gabe read his thoughts and grinned.
> “It might,” Vince allowed. “But to be clear, it holds no appeal for me as a gift, either for Joe or for Sam. If you’re looking for a big-ticket item, they could use a riding mower. There must be three acres of grass to mow on that property.”
“We’ll talk motorcycle getaways later.” Gabe nodded toward El Rosal, where Joe was exiting the restaurant. “I know a guy who can hook us up with a deal on a mower, I think.”
“Someone in town or—”
“Of course, someone in town.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “I know people everywhere.”
And as if to prove it, a truck drove slowly past. The driver honked and waved. “Hey, Gabe!”
“How...?” This was nothing like the reception Vince had received. Or Joe, for that matter. “You’ve been here...what? A week?” And already Gabe knew someone who could hook them up with a deal on a riding mower?
“People like me, brother.” He gave Vince a love tap to the shoulder.
“Sorry for the wait.” Joe joined them and they headed toward the river, where there was a shortcut back to the garage. “What were we talking about?”
“Inside El Rosal?” Gabe chuckled. “Who can remember? But what we need to discuss is your bachelor party. Do you want to go into the city? Do you want to do something wild? Do you want me to find a strip club?”
“This is my second wedding.” Joe waved his hands in the negative. “I want to keep it low-key or do nothing at all.”
They passed by small Craftsman homes, many of which had well-kept yards or fresh coats of paint. The town was experiencing a rebirth.
Vince snapped off a leaf from a shade tree as they walked beneath it. “Gabe wouldn’t know low-key if it jumped out at him from that tree.”
“If low key jumped out at me, at the very least, I’d introduce myself.” Gabe strolled backward in front of them. “Seriously, we need to do something to mark this occasion.”
“Well...” Joe hesitated.
“There is something you want to do,” Gabe crowed.
Marrying the Wedding Crasher Page 9
