by Susan Sey
“That makes no sense,” she murmured, squinting down the street.
“None,” he agreed cheerfully. “Want to rise from the grave now?”
“No time like the present, I guess.”
He waved grandly toward the doors behind them. “Wooden Spoon or the Devil’s Taproom first?”
“I doubt there’s anybody in either place who’d be particularly glad to see either of us.” She tipped her head. “Let’s hit the fire station. I’m sure the hotshots let your uncle know we’re fine but I’m not sure he’d communicate that one to O’Malley or Jax.”
“Yeah, Ben knows his way around a grudge.” Eli offered her a courtly elbow. “Shall we?”
She took it with a muddy hand. “We shall.”
The door to the Wooden Spoon flew open before they could take three steps, and Georgie strolled onto the sidewalk. She propped a hand on one skinny hip and gave them both a languid once-over. “Lord have mercy, Willa. Dirt just finds you, doesn’t it?” She sighed. “Well I’ll give you this. At least you’re dependable.”
Willa blinked at her, then — improbably — a smile curved her lips. “You, too, Barbie.”
“Shut up,” she said without heat. She stepped forward, gingerly took a pinch of Willa’s sleeve and tugged her toward the Wooden Spoon. “Get inside, both of you.” She smirked. “Addy’s going to hug you both to death and she’s wearing this unspeakably awful t-shirt. I want to see her ruin it.”
Willa laughed and allowed herself to be led toward the diner. “Of course you do.”
“Wait.” Georgie paused just outside the door. “Your brother’s next door. Maybe you should see him first.”
Willa shook her head. “Nah. Addy actually likes me.”
“Peter likes you, too. He’s your brother.”
Willa huffed out a disbelieving chuckle. “That’s exactly why he doesn’t like me.” She grabbed the door and pulled it open. “You first, your majesty.”
Georgie frowned but went inside.
“Hey.” Eli put his hand on Willa’s arm. “Why don’t I go next door and let Peter know you’re still breathing?”
“Go ahead.” She fisted his t-shirt and pulled him down for a smacking kiss. “Meet me here?”
“Sure thing.”
The door closed behind her and a roar went up from the diner that made his heart swell. Willa’s wounds were nothing that would heal in a day but neither were they hopeless. The community would open to her as she opened to it, slowly, carefully, steadily. Eli smiled to himself and stepped into the Devil’s Taproom.
He made his way to the bar where Peter’s head waitress was pulling pints and doling out that sandpaper charm of hers. She caught sight of him and her eyes went wide.
“Holy hell,” she said. The pint she was holding under a tap overflowed. She hastily turned it off and set down the dripping glass. “I heard you died!”
“You heard wrong.”
She paused, glanced behind him and paled. “Willa?”
“Still breathing, too. She’s next door, getting hugged to death by Addison while Georgie rejoices over the loss of Addy’s ugly shirt. Or something like that.”
The woman barked out a sharp, relieved laugh. “Oh, thank Christ. Peter’s in the office. Go let him know.”
“Will do.” He followed the bar to the end, and took a left into a dim, narrow hallway. Just past the bathroom doors, he found a door marked private. He lifted a hand to knock then paused, as Peter was clearly on the phone.
“Listen, I’m afraid I can’t help you, Ms… I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again? Ms. Gates, right. Julia. Well, as I said, Ms. Gates, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. If my sister had had Diego Davis’s love child at fourteen, I think I’d have noticed. If my former fiancée had done the same, I’d probably have noticed that, too. Devil’s Kettle, for better or worse, is a very small town. Middle schoolers don’t just give birth here unnoticed. If Matisse Davis is adopted, that’s news to me.”
He paused. “I have no idea why you’d have heard otherwise, unless you’ve been talking to Gerte Torsen, who’s had a bug up her butt about Bianca Davis since time immemorial.”
Another pause. “Well, I doubt your anonymous source can speak to the issue more definitively than I can, seeing as I lived with Willa during the year in question.”
Another pause. “I’m sure you’ll do as you see fit, but be advised that I do have a lawyer on retainer and I like seeing her earn her daily bread. So research all you want but be careful what you print, Ms. Gates.”
There was a clunk, as if he’d tossed his phone onto a messy desk.
“Yeah,” Peter muttered, “fuck you, too, lady.”
Julia Gates hung up her phone, tapped her pencil to her teeth and considered her options. She hadn’t survived the shark-infested waters of art reporting by underestimating pretty boys like Peter Zinc, after all. She’d done enough research before dialing him up to know the lawyer talk wasn’t for show. The gentleman did, indeed, have a lawyer on retainer, which was no surprise, considering the scope of his business ambitions. That he frequently used his lawyer was less surprising yet. All her research pointed to Peter Zinc being the solitary sort. The very few people he invited into his life served a very pointed purpose.
His ex-fiancée, for example — the pampered Georgie Davis — had been meant to prop up his failing finances, and look good doing it. His lawyer — an attack dog in designer heels, or so Google would have it — functioned as hired muscle but was also flawlessly beautiful. When Peter had a choice, Julia mused, he chose pretty. Function first, but looks ran a close second.
Which was probably why he’d never bothered himself much with his only sister. Willa Zinc was small, dark, and utterly unremarkable. If she’d ever spoken two whole words on the public record, Julia couldn’t find them and her research skills were relentless, especially where Diego Davis was concerned. But Julia was interested in Willa for two very important reasons.
First, her eyes were truly remarkable — large, silvery, strikingly unusual. And she shared them with Matisse Davis.
Second, Peter, after having largely ignored his only sibling for the bulk of their adult lives, was suddenly playing the protective older brother. Julia could only guess at what had motivated such a dramatic about-face, but coming as it did so close to this startling tip she’d received? A tip claiming that Diego had had a son? That the child had been raised as Diego’s brother? That Willa Zinc might be his mother?
Julia smiled. It was all just too fascinating to ignore.
Plus she had a score to settle with Diego’s prissy little widow and his evil mother who was evidently — and falsely, Julia was ninety-nine percent sure — claiming to be Matisse Davis’s biological mother. Wouldn’t it be just lovely to invite them both to the press conference where she revealed the boy’s true mother? All she had to do was find the woman.
She picked up her phone and began dialing.
Eli was glad to see Peter toeing the party line Bianca had laid down with the blood-hungry reporters. From everything he’d gathered, Peter didn’t have a history of exerting himself when it came to Willa’s wellbeing so this was a welcome change of pace. Eli knocked and nudged the door open. He found Peter sitting behind the desk, feet up, fingers linked over his stomach, staring bleakly at the ceiling. Eli leaned against the doorframe and said, “Hey.”
Peter leapt to his feet like somebody had cattle-prodded him and stared. All the color dropped out of the guy’s face. “You.” His hands went to fists at his sides and he took a jerky step forward.
“Whoa,” Eli said, and held out a palm. He had no illusions about his prowess as a street fighter. He’d cold-cocked the guy last night but Peter wouldn’t go down so easy this time. Eli had no intention of going down at all. “Easy. Willa’s fine. She’s next door, letting Addy squeeze her neck.”
“Wait, she’s alive?” The guy tipped his head like he’d never heard the word.
“Fine,” Eli
assured him. “Coughing like Nan Davis but otherwise, healthy as a horse.”
The color drained yet further from the guy’s face and he swayed.
“Jesus!” Eli leapt forward and reached for him, but Peter had already slid to his knees in front of the trashcan. He gripped it with two big hands and froze there. The fluorescent light gleamed off the sickly sheen covering his shiny scalp. “Are you all right?”
“Give me a minute,” he muttered, his knuckles knobby and white. After a long moment, he sat back on his heels and swiped his sleeve over his face. “Fuck me. Thought I might puke for a minute there.”
Eli dropped to his haunches to study the bigger man. “You actually love her, don’t you?”
“Shut up.”
“No, you do. You love your sister.” He frowned, thinking it over. “Why doesn’t she know that?”
Peter laughed. “I didn’t even know it until I thought she was dead. Why should she?”
“You should tell her.”
“Hell, no.” Peter shoved back to his feet and stalked to the back of the office, stared at a shitload of framed diplomas. “The last thing Willa needs is another Zinc in her life. Besides, what’s the point? I’m leaving anyway.”
“You are?” Eli pushed warily to his own feet.
“Yeah. As soon as I find a buyer for this shithole.”
“You’re selling your half of the bar?”
“Trying to.” He smiled bitterly. “Believe me, I’m trying to.”
“Does Willa know?”
“Of course. I offered her first dibs. She told me to stuff it up my ass.”
Eli smiled. “Of course she did. People aren’t exactly her gig, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He eyed Peter closely. “You seem to be pretty good at it, though. At the whole thing — the bar, the people, the business. Why give it up?”
“Because I hate it. I hate every fucking second I spend smiling for assholes who can’t count and think if they buddy up maybe I’ll give them something for free.”
Eli shrugged. “That’s the job, man.”
“Yeah, I know. But I hate it and Willa sucks at it, so what are we supposed to do? Brett was awesome, of course, but we all know what this place did to him, so that’s never happening.” He rolled his shoulders irritably, like the bar was a tangible weight he carried. “It goes against the grain to unload a healthy, profitable business but Jesus Christ, I’m jumping out of my skin here. After the arson thing and the Georgie thing, and now this—”
Eli wondered what this was. Suspected it had something to do with his new-found attachment to family, but didn’t think now was the time to push for clarification.
“—I’ve just got to get the hell out of here. I’m suffocating.” He shoved both hands into his pockets and spun to face Eli. A considering light gleamed in his eye. “Hey, you want to buy a bar?”
“What?” Eli stared.
“Half a bar, anyway. It’s a family business, you know. You’re already in the family — or will be, if I’m reading this right.”
“You are,” Eli allowed, the idea already taking hold. He’d grown up in a restaurant. He knew the business. He was looking for roots.
“Why not make it official? Make me an offer. We could work something out.”
Eli rubbed his chin, considered that. He’d all but ignored nearly three years’ worth of paychecks while hiking his head straight. He probably had a solid down payment already sitting in the bank.
“I’d give you the family price,” Peter said. “Come on, man, I’m desperate here. After this all I have to unload is a sheep farm and I’m out.”
Eli paused. “You own a sheep farm?”
“It’s a long story.” Peter sighed. “So how about it? Are you interested?”
In going halfsies with Willa on everything from a bed to a bar to the rest of his life?
“Maybe,” Eli said and grinned. Willa was going to kill him, and he couldn’t wait. “Yeah, maybe I am.”
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Willa’s story, please consider spreading the love by leaving a positive rating or review! And I do hope you’ll tune in next time for Georgie’s story!
Keep an eye on my website for news and release dates!
Can’t wait for your next fix? Check out other books by Susan Sey!
The Money Books
Money, Honey
Money Shot
Stand Alone Novels
Kiss the Girl
The Blake Brothers Books
Taste for Trouble
Talent for Trouble
Touch of Trouble, a Blake Brothers Novella
Time for Trouble
The Devil’s Kettle Books
Picture Me and You
Boxed Sets
Trouble: A Blake Brothers Boxed Set
Includes three full-length novels plus a novella!
Copyright © 2016 Susan Seyfarth
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1-938580-15-x
ISBN-13: 978-1-938580-15-4
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Once upon a time Susan Sey was a software trainer with nice clothes and free time, but now she has kids. She lives with them and her incredibly patient husband in St. Paul, MN, where she produces smart, sexy contemporary romances on an annual basis. She loves ice cream, her family and happy endings, though not necessarily in that order. She does not enjoy laundry, failure or mowing the lawn, but rises to the occasion as necessary.
You can find her on the web, on Facebook or on Twitter.
Table of Contents
Discover Me and You
Author's Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
About the Author
