Two of a Kind: A Callaghan Family & Friends Romance

by Abbie Zanders

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Patricia said, but he could see the wheels turning. “Please, do come in while Kayla takes a moment to make herself presentable.”

  He didn’t miss the way Kayla’s shoulders stiffened. He wasn’t typically one to play white knight, but he couldn’t allow that comment to go unanswered. Often the recipient of his father’s thinly veiled criticism, he knew how it felt.

  “She’s perfect as she is,” Spencer said, meaning it.

  Rather than be flattered by the compliment, however, Kayla seemed to shrink. Her mother, on the other hand, beamed like she had just won the lottery.

  He ignored the warning bells, even louder now, and held out his hand to Kayla. “Shall we?”

  She tried for a smile. “Sure.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Davidson.”

  “Please! Mrs. Davidson is my mother-in-law. Call me Patricia.”

  “Patricia,” he obliged with a slight inclination of his head.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, as well, Mr. Dumas. Enjoy your evening.”

  He put his hand on the small of Kayla’s back and guided her toward his car. She said nothing until they had driven at least a mile away.

  “Do you go looking for trouble, or does it just find you naturally?”

  He chuckled at that and patted her hand. “A little of both, I think. Keeps life interesting. That’s your mother, huh? I admit, I wasn’t prepared for a meet-the-parent moment.” He glanced over to see her staring out the window, hoping for a smile. He didn’t get one.

  “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

  “What have I done?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Spencer continued to drive away from Brandyville. A brightly lit sign appeared up ahead, and on a whim, he pulled into the lot. “Wait here,” he said.

  Minutes later, he was putting a bag in the back seat and they were off again.

  Kayla eyed him, the question evident in her eyes but unspoken.

  He grinned and winked. “Just trust me, okay?”

  Another sigh, but he thought he saw a glimmer of amusement when she nodded.

  Spencer drove to a somewhat secluded area, then parked.

  “Come on.” He grabbed the bag from the back seat and got out, walking into the darkness just beyond the car. It took a minute or two, but Kayla got out and followed. He patted the top of a picnic table. “Come on. I don’t bite.”

  She snorted again, but eased up beside him. “Yes, you do.”

  He laughed, images of their time together at Sate supporting her claim more than his.

  He pulled two cartons out of the paper bag and held them out to her. “Cherry vanilla or chocolate marshmallow?”

  The skies were clear and the moon full enough to see her eyes light up. She snatched the chocolate marshmallow, then rummaged around in the bag for the plastic spoons. “We’ll split half and half.”

  They sat in silence, just the two of them at the scenic overlook, enjoying ice cream and the twinkling lights of the valley below. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask, but at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin the moment. Being there with her, enjoying such a simple pleasure, he felt relaxed and content for the first time in weeks.

  She held the tub of chocolate marshmallow out to him and reached for the cherry vanilla. “Despite what you think,” she said softly, “I wouldn’t have said anything. Not to her, not to anyone.”

  He believed her. Any lingering doubts he’d had concerning her motives had vanished back at her house.

  “But now ... she’s not going to let this go, Spencer.”

  “It’s not as bad as all that, is it?”

  She snorted indelicately. “You know how your father tries to run your life?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, he’s got nothing on my mother. She took one look at you and saw her whole future.”

  “That’s not unusual,” he told her truthfully. “Most people see opportunity when they look at me. Except you,” he mused.

  Kayla didn’t say anything for a long time. “What is it you want from me, Spencer?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. What I do know is that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and that I acted like a complete ass and owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said. “I probably would have thought the same thing if I were in your shoes.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “Sate?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “No,” she said with sad smile. “No regrets. But it can’t be more, you know that, right?”

  He frowned. No, he didn’t know that. Most, if not all, the men he knew had mistresses. It was not only acceptable, it was expected. But that was in his world, not Kayla’s.

  “Because I’m engaged?”

  Her lips quirked. “That is kind of a deal-breaker.”

  “What if I wasn’t?”

  “You are.”

  “But, what if I wasn’t?”

  She shook her head and took the now-empty container from his hands and put it in the bag with hers. “It still wouldn’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  Another exhale. “I’m not what you need.”

  “What if you’re what I want?”

  “You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” She gave him a sad smile. “Just because I don’t regret our time together at Sate doesn’t mean my life is entirely without regrets. I have no desire to add to them. Let it go, Spencer.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. His first instinct was to disagree and convince her otherwise, yet he held back. He didn’t know anything about Kayla O’Connell’s life prior to their paths crossing a few weeks earlier.

  The drive back to Brandyville was a silent one. Neither of them missed the slight movement of the drapes when he pulled into the driveway.

  Kayla seemed as reluctant to leave as he was to let her go. How much of that was not wanting to leave him versus not wanting to face her mother? He couldn’t blame her. From the little bit Kayla had said and his own first impression, he didn’t envy the third-degree interrogation she would probably be subjected to.

  “What are you going to tell her?”

  “I’ll come up with something.” Her lips quirked. “She’s going to be crushed, you know. She probably already started a registry.”

  He chuckled softly. “Kayla ...”

  Kayla opened the door before he could continue. “Chelsea’s what you need, Spencer, not me. And I hope you’ll be happy together, I really do. Goodbye, Spencer.”

  And then she was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Kayla didn’t give in to the urge to look back at Spencer as she walked away. Nor did she give in to the even stronger urge to get back into his car and ask him to drive them as fast and far away as possible.

  It wasn’t just because she would rather face a firing squad at that moment than her mother. Something about Spencer Dumas just did it for her. Her body didn’t care that he was engaged. And sadly, neither did her heart. She could easily see herself falling for him, if she allowed it.

  Which she wouldn’t.

  Because he was engaged.

  “But, what if I wasn’t?”

  She refused to even consider those words. They were a one-way ticket to heartbreak and disappointment. Men like Spencer Dumas—rich, powerful men who wore thousand-dollar suits and drove hundred-thousand-dollar cars—didn’t willingly expose their necks to the sharp blade of bad publicity, no matter how good the sex was.

  Maybe it’s about something more than sex for him, some part of her whispered. It is for you. You’ve never moped around for weeks over anyone else.

  It was a nice thought, but Kayla was nothing if not a realist. Beyond providing fodder for some juicy gossip in a very small town, no one cared who she slept with. But Spencer? He had an image to maintain, a corporate empire to run, and stockholders to ple
ase. Even if he did walk away from his betrothed, he wouldn’t want someone like her. What could she give him, other than great sex? A past riddled with things she wasn’t proud of? A knowledge of where to find the best deals on airfare? A woman who would stick out like a sore thumb in his ritzy, glamorous, high-priced lifestyle?

  Surely, he knew this. And yet, she could feel his eyes on her, staring at her from beside his car. At least he hadn’t followed her to the door. For that, she was grateful.

  Kayla took a deep breath, steeled herself, and went inside.

  Unsurprisingly, Patricia was lying in wait. Equally unsurprising, Patricia wasted no time in speaking her mind.

  “You didn’t tell me you were seeing Spencer Dumas.”

  “I’m not,” Kayla said wearily.

  Her mother made a sound of protest. “Bullshit. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, you know.”

  The turnip truck? Every now and then, her mother’s blue-collar, wrong-side-of-the-tracks origins showed through the polished veneer she had worked so many years to perfect. In any event, Kayla had no wish to discuss Spencer or whatever this bizarre connection was between them. Indulging in self-pity and kicking her own ass for being stupid was something best done alone.

  “Let it go, Mom.” Hadn’t she just said those same words to Spencer only a short time ago? Maybe she should take her own advice.

  “Let it go? I saw the way he looked at you.”

  How exactly had he looked at her? Then she realized it didn’t matter. Her mother would see whatever she wanted to see, namely dollar signs.

  “He’s engaged.”

  “So?” Patricia laughed. “Do you honestly believe that means something? You of all people should know men like that don’t marry for something as trite as love. They marry to increase their wealth, power, and influence.”

  And there it was, the confirmation she hadn’t really wanted to hear.

  Kayla clamped her lips together and headed for the kitchen. Her mother wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, but some part of her—some tiny, stupid part—hoped that maybe sometimes love did play a part. That maybe sometimes love was just as important, if not more so, than the bottom line.

  “Don’t walk away from me. This is a golden opportunity, Kayla Rose. He can give you everything you ever wanted.”

  Kayla poured herself a glass of water from the tap, then used it to wash down a couple of over-the-counter migraine tablets.

  No, she silently countered. Not everything.

  Aloud, she said, “I’m not discussing this with you anymore. I’m going to bed. And if you even think about continuing this conversation in the morning, you can find yourself another place to stay until you and Charles work things out. Goodnight, Mom.”

  Kayla left her mother gaping in disbelief, shutting the door to her bedroom behind her. She slipped her phone in the dock and tapped a few keys, letting the stream of soft classic rock fill the room. Feeling both mentally and physically exhausted, Kayla stripped off her clothes, took a quick shower, and then slid between the cool, welcoming sheets. Naturally, her mind went right back to Spencer Dumas, just as it had every other night since her return.

  Why had he come back? Had it really been just to apologize? Or had he been hoping to convince her to be his dirty little secret on the side?

  Despite what she had told him about drawing a line, she had thought about it. Would it be so bad, being his lover? She would get to enjoy his mad skills behind closed doors. And beyond the bedroom, she would probably want for nothing. In-between trysts, she could continue to live her life the way she wanted, alone and without apology, out of the spotlight and without commitments.

  Then, why was she so willing to walk away?

  There was a time when something like that would have appealed to her, but that was before Spencer Dumas and his inexplicable ability to flip every one of her switches. Before her heart got involved—totally without her permission and against her better judgment.

  She blamed him. If he had just left things alone, she could have continued to believe it was nothing more than a vacation fling. Something briefly possible in a fantasyland like Sate, yet impossible and unsustainable in the real world.

  But no. He just had to cross those boundaries. He had to come to her house and lick ice cream off her spoon. Meet her goddamn mother. And, if that wasn’t enough, drive to some romantic scenic overlook and do something as incredibly sweet and commonplace as buying ice cream for them to share.

  He wasn’t supposed to be romantic, or sweet, or care enough to find her. He wasn’t supposed to plant seeds in her psyche that suggested she was something more than a quick hook-up.

  How was she supposed to keep her heart from getting involved when he did stuff like that?

  Her inner diva, tired of the pity party, had had enough. Stop kidding yourself, it said. He doesn’t care about you. His ego can’t handle that you told him no. You are what you have always been—someone to play with on the side, not to have standing beside him. Jake Callaghan knew it. So did Ian. You thought they cared, and look what happened. They showed you the door the moment someone they considered worthy came along.

  I am worthy, a much smaller, quieter voice said.

  Yes, you are, her inner diva agreed. Which is why you’re better off alone instead of looking to a man for your happiness. You can’t depend on anyone except yourself, you know that. Shake it off, shake him off, and move on.

  Her last thought before sleep overtook her: tomorrow has to be better. Doesn’t it?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Outwardly, Spencer looked just as calm, just as collected as he always did. His pace was easy as he strolled along the corridor to his father’s office, as if he was stopping in to ask about tee times or the upcoming charity gala.

  Inside, his heart was pounding and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He felt more alive than he had in years, tingling with the thrill of uncertainty that came only from a high-risk venture.

  It had been almost a week since he had watched Kayla get out of his car and walk away, feeling that odd twinge deep in his chest as she did so. It had been a week of introspection. While he had never particularly cared what anyone thought, he cared what she thought.

  And wasn’t that unexpected.

  The cynical part of him had had a lot to say on the subject. You’re confusing your heart with your dick. She’s just using you, it said, trying to see how much she can get. She senses she’s more to you than just a quick fuck, and she’s going to use that to her advantage. You’re walking a thin, dangerous line.

  Yet, here he was, ready to step off the edge.

  “Spencer, come in.”

  Spencer entered, taking in the dark paneling, expensive furnishings, and thick carpeting as if seeing them with new eyes. Nothing much had changed since his grandfather had sat in the same office, behind the same desk.

  The company itself had grown considerably since then, but at a steady, slow pace. While his grandfather and great-grandfather had been men willing to take the big risks to get the big payouts, his father preferred a sure thing and hedged his bets whenever possible.

  It was much harder to relinquish the silver spoon you were born with than to craft one of your own.

  Spencer had had the same silver spoon that his father had, but apparently, Spencer took after his grandfather more than his father, and in more ways than one. Sure, things were good for business, no doubt about it, but where was the challenge? Where was the sense of accomplishment and victory when you knew you had already won?

  Marrying Chelsea would be exactly like that, he had realized. A sure thing. No challenge, no effort required. They barely knew each other, yet she was willing to sign a few papers, take a few photos, and boom, it was done.

  Nothing much would change. They would put on a good show for the public, but that was all it would be—a show. Away from prying eyes, they would each continue to lead their own lives, except for the unspoken requirement that the
y produce an heir. Life and business would go on as usual. Predictable. Boring. Not good enough. Unacceptable.

  If and when he decided to take that step into legally binding himself to another, he wanted it to mean something more than an increase of assets. He wanted to earn the privilege of putting a ring on a woman’s finger. More importantly, he wanted to actually feel something for the woman herself.

  A few hours in Chelsea’s presence and there had been no spark beyond mild interest. Even her perfectly sculpted, pampered body—no doubt the best money could buy—had failed to stir his desire enough to warrant a test drive.

  Of course, his reluctance to grab Chelsea’s low hanging fruit might have been at least partially due to the fact that Kayla had wrung every last drop from him only hours earlier. In an attempt to disprove that theory, he had closed his eyes and pictured Chelsea in her naked glory several times since, and ... nothing. Nada. Then he tried again, picturing Kayla brandishing that spoon at him, looking adorable and sexy in her PJs, flashing those eyes, and bam! instant wood.

  What did that mean? Well, he hadn’t quite figured that out yet, but he did believe his recent obsession with Kayla O’Connell was about more than just sex, though that had, admittedly, been fantastic. While he did fantasize quite often about her, he also found himself wondering where she was, what she was doing. Wondering if she was thinking of him the way he was thinking of her.

  Regardless, it all boiled down to one thing: he wasn’t going to marry Chelsea.

  It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

  That was why he was here. To answer his father’s ultimatum with a great big hell no and provide a counteroffer. He was taking a gamble, sure, but he wasn’t totally without a safety net. He had made some discreet calls and had relocated some assets, just in case negotiations failed.

  Even more exciting, and riskier, than calling his father’s possible bluff was what he was planning to do afterward. For that, he would be walking the wire with nothing below to catch him. He didn’t know how that part was going to play out, hence the risk. What he did know was that his life was not going in a direction he was happy with, and the only bright spots in the last couple years had been Sate ... and Kayla O’Connell.