Her hair hung down her back in reddish-gold waves that curled at the ends, and damn if I didn’t want to see her naked, nothing hiding her body but her glorious locks.
She was beautiful and intelligent and funny, the complete package, and unable to think of anyone I would rather be escorting to dinner, I counted myself lucky to be spending my birthday with her.
“Will you be at the gym tomorrow?” she asked, gazing at me as she tilted her head in my direction.
“Yeah, I’ll be there mid-morning. You coming to work out?”
“I am.”
I pulled open the passenger-side door for her and helped her in. “I was thinking we might work out a little tonight at my apartment. It is my birthday, you know.”
She pressed her glossed lips together, stifling a smile. “And what did you have in mind? A birthday spanking?”
“Now that you mention it, I think I would like your hands on my ass.”
“Hmm. I think I’d like my handprints on your ass,” she responded.
I chuckled. “You like to play rough, huh? So you’re a sadist?”
She cut her eyes at me. “How old are you again?”
“Twenty-five.”
“That’s a lot of handprints.”
“And I’m going to enjoy every one of them,” I assured her before closing the door and walking to my side of the truck.
When Flanagan returned to Creekview, my entire set of plans that had seemed like a damn good idea at the time had turned into a crushing weight on my shoulders. Now that Jessica had been gracious enough to understand my predicament, I finally felt free. I could finally pursue Flanagan without the suffocating knowledge that I would be hurting someone else. Jessica knew that my level of help may be less than we’d initially anticipated, and she seemed to accept it.
As we drove to my parents’, the radio softly spewed country music from the speakers. Flanagan started singing along, and amusement lifted my spirits as I listened to her musical voice fill the cab. She was always a bit of a free spirit, but I thought that she seemed more comfortable with me today than normal. Or maybe her orgasm had just put her in a really good mood.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a country girl,” I said as the song ended.
“I love all kinds of music,” she confessed as she looked out her window at a couple walking hand-in-hand down Main Street. She turned her gaze on me. “I can’t imagine you listening to anything but country. As a matter of fact, I think every time I’ve been in the truck with you, it’s been on a country station.”
I rubbed my jaw. “I do usually listen to country, but I like other stuff, too.”
She raised her eyebrows at me. “Beethoven?”
I barked out a laugh. “Beethoven’s for elevators.”
An indignant look flashed across her face. “He is not.”
“Oh, he definitely is.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I take it you’ve never been to the symphony.”
“Um…no. And I have no plans to go anytime soon.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she said, adjusting the vent so it wouldn’t blow on her.
I reached down and cut the air off. “Oh, yes, I do. That’s exactly why I’m missing it. Or not missing it. Whichever way you want to look at it.”
“You can listen to a symphony and go through a whole range of emotions.”
“I can do that in a five minute conversation with Pax.”
Her laughter circulated in the confined space of the cab. “I suppose that’s true enough.” She paused a moment. “Maybe I’ll take you to the symphony sometime,” she said, reverting back to our original conversation.
I breathed in her light floral scent, amusement playing on my lips at the thought of me sitting in a balcony in black tie apparel. “Flanagan, I don’t think I could sit through a symphony even for you.”
“So let me get this straight,” she began, “you can sit in a tree stand for hours on end, waiting for the perfect buck to walk by, but you can’t sit through a couple of hours of symphony music.”
“Exactly.” I grinned at her. “You know me so well. I tell you what…I won’t ask you to sit in a tree stand if you don’t ask me to go to the symphony. Deal?”
She must have imagined herself decked out in camouflage, spending the better part of a day perched in a tree because it didn’t take her long to respond. “Deal.”
I reached over and cupped her hand, admiring her smooth skin as I absently played with her slender fingers. I was a little nervous about her meeting my parents. My mother was so unpredictable. Sometimes, I thought ice flowed in her veins, at least where I was concerned, and I hoped her attitude toward me didn’t overflow onto Flanagan.
If nothing else, I knew Pax would be nice to her, all the while trying to woo her over to his side, and she and Evan had been friends for years, so there was nothing to worry about there.
“You got awfully quiet,” she whispered as if she were afraid to break into my thoughts.
“I’m just thinking about how much I’m looking forward to having you by my side tonight.”
“Aww,” she cooed. “You’re so sweet. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.”
“Not in a tree stand?”
She laughed as she entwined her fingers with mine. “Definitely not in a tree stand.”
As we pulled into my parents’ driveway, a tiny knot of tension settled in my chest.
Everyone else had already arrived.
I killed the ignition and turned toward Flanagan. “You ready for this?”
She blew out a breath. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
I met her on her side of the truck and took her hand in mine as we walked along the sidewalk to the front door. My father was meticulous when it came to yard work, and the landscaping was well-manicured, his boxwoods carved into perfect spheres.
“Your parents’ house is very pretty,” she said, her face tilting as she took in the two-story archway and the chandelier that hung from the porch.
“Thank you.”
We made our way inside, and my father was the first person we saw as we entered the living room.
“Cade,” he said as he approached us. “Happy birthday, son.” He patted me on the shoulder and then turned his attention toward Flanagan.
“Dad, this is Seren Flanagan.” My eyes shifted to Flanagan’s face. “Flanagan, this is my dad, Dave.”
“Hi, Seren.” My dad shook her hand. “I’m glad you could come tonight.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mayfield.”
“Call me Dave.”
Flanagan flashed him a brilliant smile, and I could tell she was already winning him over. “Dave.”
Dad turned his attention back to me. “Your mother has dinner on the table, and everyone’s congregating in the kitchen, so come on.”
We followed him into the kitchen where we found my brothers carrying the last few dishes to the dining room table. Pax and Evan greeted Flanagan, and I introduced her to my mother.
“Mom, this is Seren.” I turned my attention to Flanagan. “This is my mother, Cheryl.”
My mom made a half-hearted effort at a smile and held her hand out. “Mrs. Mayfield,” she said, making it painfully clear that she didn’t want Flanagan to refer to her as Cheryl. “Nice to meet you, Seren.”
Flanagan gave my mother the same dazzling smile she had bestowed upon my father, but my mother paid little attention. As she began clearing dirty dishes from the counter, she nodded toward the dining room. “Y’all go ahead and sit down. Dinner’s ready.”
Flanagan cut her eyes at me, and I knew she was wondering why she had gotten a lukewarm reception from my mother. I ignored the questioning look in her eyes and motioned her toward the dining room.
Once she and I sat down, the rest of the family followed suit, and we chatted while we waited on my mother to join us.
“So I bet you guys had quite the trip to Ireland,” Evan said, a knowing grin playing on his lips.
I
narrowed my eyes at him, fighting the urge to kick him under the table.
“It was a nice trip,” Flanagan said. If she knew he was referring to the fact that the three of us had been there together under some rather unusual circumstances, she gracefully ignored him. She cut her eyes at me. “I think visiting the Cliffs of Moher was my favorite thing.” She then turned back to Evan, who was sitting across from her. “I also had a lot of fun just passing time in a bar in Belfast.” She patted my leg under the table. “Just people-watching the locals and listening to their mesmerizing accents.”
Pax laughed. “I had to ask one guy three times how much I owed for lunch. It was eight pounds, but I just couldn’t catch his accent. “Et,” Pax said, imitating the Irishman. “He finally used his finger to draw the number eight out on the counter. It’s strange how so many different countries speak English yet the language can sound so different.”
“Hell,” I said, “that’s true within the U.S. I’ve watched reality shows where I swear if they didn’t use captions at the bottom of the screen, most people would never know what was being said.”
“Like a thick Boston accent,” Flanagan offered.
Evan nodded. “Or someone from the bayou in Louisiana.”
“This is moving back away from the U.S.,” Dad said, “but how about Scotland? They definitely have a unique accent.”
“They do,” Flanagan agreed. “When I hear them on TV, most of the time I have no idea what they’re saying, but I could listen to them talk all day long.”
“Weel, noo,” I said to Flanagan, “if I kent it was a Scottish accent ye liked, I would hae been ‘spikin it aw along.”
Her face lit up and her jaw dropped. “Oh, my gosh, Cade. Is there any accent that you can’t do?”
I shook my head. “Nae, there’s no many accents ‘at I cannae do.”
My mother walked into the dining room and sat down. She had removed the apron that had protected her blouse and slacks from the messes of the kitchen. Despite the fact that she was sitting right beside Flanagan, she never bothered to look in her direction or make her feel welcome. I wished I had sat there and placed Flanagan by my father, but it was an old habit. My brothers and I automatically sat in the same seats that we had used as boys.
As aloof as my mother normally was, she was being even more so now, and I had to wonder what the hell was wrong with her that she would treat a guest with such indifference.
The banter continued as we filled our plates and began to eat. My father joined in on occasion, and my mother delivered a tight-lipped smile a time or two but didn’t add to the conversation.
“Everything is delicious, Mrs. Mayfield,” Flanagan said.
“Thank you.” My mother’s obligatory reply came out in a soft murmur as she delivered a cursory glance at my guest before she concentrated on using her fork to heap her food into separate piles.
“Yes, Cheryl,” my dad chimed in, “Excellent, as always.”
My mother shot him a cold glare.
Things were beginning to make more sense. Apparently, she was pissed at my dad. But couldn’t she have saved it until after we left?
“How’s the job search going?” Pax asked Flanagan.
“I have a couple of prospects, but nothing’s written in stone quite yet.”
“What kind of job are you looking for?” my father asked.
“My degree’s in accounting, so anything associated with that.”
“Good career choice,” he said. “Everybody needs an accountant.”
“Are you going to be a CPA?” I asked her.
Flanagan shook her head. “I don’t have any plans to do that right now. I’m just glad to be out of college. I want to work for a while,” she said, hesitating as she lifted her shoulders. “We’ll see what happens down the road.”
Evan joined in the conversation. “I don’t think I could sit behind a desk crunching numbers all day.”
“I’m with you,” I said, agreeing with my younger brother. “I’d much rather crunch abs.” At the gym, Pax was the one who handled most of the accounting, although an accountant did handle the more difficult stuff.
Flanagan smiled at me as she poked my bicep. “Is working out and hunting all you think about?”
A mischievous grin shot across my face as my eyes raked down her body, my gaze lingering appreciatively at her chest. “No, that’s not all I think about.” A pretty blush crept onto her cheeks, but she held her eyes on me, refusing to look away coyly.
“You might want to tread carefully,” Evan commented. “If you embarrass Seren, she might decide to get even with you again, and you know what happened the last time. Things could get a little breezy when you least expect it.”
My eyes flew to Evan’s face before they immediately bounced to Pax. “Big mouth.”
Pax grinned, obviously unrepentant, not that I would expect anything else from him.
“Gives a whole new perspective to the term freeballing,” Evan continued, chuckling.
“Evan.” My mother’s voice held a note of warning, and Evan shot me one more grin before he turned his attention back to his food.
The remaining dinner conversation was more subdued, and after we cleared away the dishes, my dad carried a birthday cake to the table. It was my favorite—German chocolate. As my mother divvied it up, my father handed me a gift.
After everyone was seated, I opened it.
“Yes,” I whispered. It was the new baitcast reel I had been wanting for quite some time.
“You like it?” my dad asked.
“Hell, yeah. Now I need to go fishing, so I can test it out.”
“Sweet,” Evan said. “Let me see it.”
I handed it to him, and he tested it before handing it back to me. “Bet you could catch some bass with that.”
“I intend to find out soon.” I examined it closely, mimicking the movement that I would make when casting and reeling. “See, Flanagan, I think about fishing, too.”
She hesitated, her forkful of cake poised in the air. “That’s basically hunting. You’re just hunting for fish, instead of deer or birds.”
I turned to my brothers. “You should have seen Flanagan when she caught her first fish. She was so surprised, I thought she was going to fall in the lake.”
“I’m not that clumsy,” she protested.
“I’m going to make a fisherman out of you yet.”
She shot me a look of disdain. “I caught a fish a whole lot bigger than yours. In fact, you still owe me dinner.”
I laughed at her reference. “I haven’t forgotten,” I promised her.
“Hell,” Evan said, “you were out-fished by a girl?”
“Something like that,” I agreed, allowing Flanagan to win this battle without outing her horrific fishing skills.
The doorbell rang, and my mother left the room.
I ate my birthday cake as my brothers continued to rib me about allowing Flanagan to out-fish me.
“We have company.” My mother’s voice interrupted our banter, and we all turned to look at her.
My heart immediately dropped in my chest. “Jessica!” My palms felt clammy, and I swiped them along my jean-clad thighs.
“Hi, Cade.”
Her baby, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, cooed softly in her arms.
“I thought you might want to introduce your son to your parents before we get married, but I see you’re busy right now.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Pax demanded to know. “Is that who you had a baby with?” He pointed at the only girl he’d ever loved.
Jessica’s eyes were drawn to Pax, and she froze, a look of horror on her face. Everyone in the room gaped at Jessica, and she gaped at my brother, the entire scenario resembling a tank full of goldfish, all struggling to breathe.
Jessica recovered first.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mayfield,” she said softly, her eyes lowered. “Coming here was a mistake.” Jessica turned and fled from the room, leaving my entire family and F
lanagan slack-jawed as we stared after her.
In my confusion, I was torn between going after Jessica and staying with Flanagan.
“I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” my mother snapped, glaring at me and then at my father.
What the hell was she talking about?
Even worse than my mother’s condemning stare was the look of shock and hurt on Flanagan’s face.
“Excuse me a moment,” I said, needing to know why Jessica picked this exact moment to burst into my parents’ house and make such an announcement.
I rushed out to the porch, but I only caught a glimpse of her back as she hopped in the driver’s seat and drove off.
Part of me wanted to jump into my truck and chase her down, but Flanagan was still in the dining room, surrounded by people who were just as confused and angry as she was. I knew Pax would be livid.
Shit. What had I gotten myself into?
I watched Jessica drive away, unsure what to do, and a huge lump of dread lodged in the center of my chest at the thought of going back inside and facing everyone’s questions.
The look on Flanagan’s face haunted me.
I rubbed the back of my neck and prepared for the worst as I turned back toward the house, ready to face the firing squad.
Seren
An awkward silence had settled over the dining room.
“In brighter news,” Evan said, “I got a gig as a fitness model.”
No one responded, and as angry as I was with Cade, I really wished he’d wrap up whatever was going on with Jessica and get me the hell out of this blazing inferno.
I heard his footsteps approach, and his mother immediately stood and faced him. “How dare you do that to Seren!”
“Damn, Mom, you think I planned that? You think I would bring Flanagan here if I had known that Jessica was going to make an appearance?”
“Don’t call me ‘Mom,’” Cade’s mother bit out, her voice low and angry.
“What the hell does that mean?” Cade asked, his attention fully directed at his mother.
Deceived Page 17
