by Brea Viragh
He turned back to reply, but then fought a sudden desire to run his hands through those chocolate-colored curls. Grab her close and rub his nose along the soft roundness of her cheeks. He considered answering her question with a line of bullshit but had doubts she would back off.
“It’s just the way things have always been,” he answered noncommittally. Still tapping the mail against his leg. “Since we were boys. I do what I need to do.”
She scoffed, her disbelief evident. “You’ve tried to surpass him.”
“Tried, and failed.”
“What does it matter?”
“I guess it doesn’t, in the grand scheme of things.”
“And now? With me here?” she asked.
Sawyer caught hold of a weed in the garden and yanked it sharply. “With you here, it changes nothing.”
She watched him toss the weed aside. “You’re going to continue to try and impress Maverick again tonight. With the fancy china you had me race out to buy from the store. And for what?” Lorelei followed him into the house when he strode past her through the front door. She was close enough to touch.
He shrugged. “If I want the connections his business can give me, then yes, I need to impress him. Which makes this evening key. The other day was nothing but a warm-up. Tell me you’re going to be all right tonight.”
It was a tough nut to swallow, but Sawyer needed the reassurance, he thought as he tossed the mail in the direction of a pile of boxes which served as a catchall console of sorts. He watched the letters fall to the floor and only then noticed his towers of cardboard were gone. Ugh, the woman was causing havoc! Cleaning his house like she owned the place.
It wouldn’t do to have Lorelei fuck up. Not when they’d moved on to the second leg of the game. Maverick would be expecting something. Anything. The smallest grain of drama would be enough to move him ahead and Sawyer back a pace. And Maverick would certainly be on the hunt. It was his way, and Sawyer had long since moved past begrudging him for it. Hadn’t he?
“If you’re trying to insinuate that you think I won’t do my part, then think again,” she said. Then she pushed past him without waiting for a response. Probably hoping Sawyer would follow.
He did. Trailing her past the staircase and recently fluffed and polished living room.
He was on edge. Not into people-pleasing but tossed into a situation where he had no choice. Sawyer couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother that hadn’t resulted in an argument. Over politics, sports, the weather in Peru… No matter the topic of conversation, they fought.
That’s how the wife bit came about in the first place. One night of poker, too many shots of bourbon, and Sawyer down to his last two chips. He’d made up a wife so he didn’t sound like such a loser. He was approaching thirty-five and never married. Never even came close.
He didn’t have the temperament for a relationship, and the few times he’d tried…well, they were nothing to write home about. Each girlfriend had left because they said he didn’t have what it took to invest. Sawyer kept pieces of himself from them. He didn’t give his all.
It was better to be alone. It was easier. He’d agreed with each and every ex when they pointed out his flaws. Then helped them out the door.
But with a few too many shots of booze in his system and a losing streak he couldn’t seem to break, he’d had enough. On a whim, a lie was born. A beautiful lie consisting of fabulous cooking skills, a sweet but potentially deadly disposition, and double Ds. Lorelei fit at least one of the categories pretty well. The others he would have to wait and see.
“I just want to make sure you aren’t going to mess up the dinner,” Sawyer said at last.
The look on her face said if he didn’t mind his manners, a beating with a rolling pin wasn’t far off. “I cook the best turkey this side of the Mississippi River, and I won’t have you insult it. Not before you have a wing in your mouth and my foot in your ass.”
He turned away. Better she didn’t see him smile. “There’s no need to resort to violence.”
Her voice was low when she spoke again. “I understand you’re nervous.” She reached out a hand to place against his shoulder. Compassion softened the planes of her face and turned her stark beauty into something approachable.
“The last time my brother was in this house, my mother was hooked up to a chemo IV and I was just starting out with my business. He hasn’t been back in the cabin in almost six years. Now he’s coming here for dinner. He’ll probably have his white gloves out to scrutinize the baseboards and see how dusty they’ve gotten.”
“You’ll be fine. I’m sure dinner will be—”
“It will be something. Yeah. Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked when he reluctantly toured the planes of her body, head to toe.
Lorelei glanced down at her cream-colored capris and silk shirt in a rich shade of plum. “Yes. I changed so I didn’t get it dirty while I was cooking.”
Sawyer nodded in approval. “It’s fine.”
“Yeah, it better be, because we don’t have time for me to go home. I already spoke to the babysitter,” she put in, attempting to walk past him into the kitchen and rubbing her hands on her thighs. “I need to call before Allison goes to bed, but otherwise I’m fine to stay as long as you need.”
He started, hands curling at his sides. She was too close to him. Too damn close. Again! How could she stand so close and not expect him to touch her? Two steps in retreat did the trick. “You’re planning on staying the night?”
“No, of course not. But if Maverick and his wife leave later than we expect, won’t it look strange if I’m itching to go?” She leaned back against the stove, fidgeting with the pot holder.
“You can’t cut out early. It would ruin everything.”
“I know that, Sawyer,” she said straightforwardly.
“I’m counting on you.”
“I know! God, if I’d had even the slightest awareness that you were going to be so irritating about this, I wouldn’t have agreed. You left my daughter out of this little masquerade of yours and I had to make arrangements. Deal with it. And that doesn’t mean I can bum her off with my parents or the babysitter and fitz away the night—”
“Fitz?”
“—just because of this stupid scheme of yours,” she blustered, hands on her hips.
“So bring her along.”
“I— What?”
It was said on a whim. And he regretted it the moment it birthed from the bowels of his mouth. Unfortunately, there was no way to take the offer back. “Bring your daughter along. What could it hurt? I said I have a wife, not that my wife was manufactured in a factory. You have a past. Let’s celebrate it.”
That sounded good. Right? It was enough to have Lorelei dropping her hands from her hips and lifting an eyebrow in his direction. At least she wasn’t pissed anymore.
“And complicate the matter? Try to come up with a convincing backstory?” she asked. Then pushed him aside to stir the pot of brown gravy on the stove. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I don’t see another choice, Lorelei. Either bring her and have her act the part or stop complaining about it.”
She growled, literally growled, clasping the spoon tight enough to break it. “Stop complaining? You’re a real pill.”
“We’re going to have a great evening,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. “I know it.”
“At least you decided I should cook something I’ll actually eat. Do you know how hard it would be to muster through an evening where I can’t stand anything on the menu? In addition to pretending I like you?”
“If we’re going to make this marriage work, then you’re going to need to extend your palate. Refusing to eat seafood is a travesty.”
Lorelei had opened her mouth to respond when they both caught the sound of tire rubber crunching over gravel. She shot Sawyer a quick, indecipherable look before swirling around and focusing her attention on the stove. “They’re here.”
&nb
sp; He sighed, rubbing the hair on his chin and knowing it was time to lace up his metaphorical tap shoes. His brother would expect a show, and by God, the man was going to get one. This wasn’t Sawyer’s first dance with the big entrepreneurs and power brokers who thought they ran the South. He’d spent enough time with his brother to feel comfortable around the type. He’d heard no enough times to not feel his nerves constrict.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the type he’d be dealing with. It was Maverick.
What he wouldn’t give to be in his underwear watching some rerun on television.
“Get the turkey out of the oven,” he called to Lorelei. “I see the car.”
Indeed, the hood of the black rental car peeked around the corner seconds later. Trust Maverick to pick out the shiniest one in the lot, expense be damned. This one was a Mercedes-Benz with windows tinted dark enough to have the local cops squealing.
Sawyer watched the tableau that unfolded like a bad cliché. The power-mad former investment banker and his strawberry-blond trophy wife, relocated to the West Coast with their fat wallets and empty heads. For all that Maverick hated clichés, he had now become one. Sawyer wondered if his brother knew the image he presented. The fakeness of plastic dolls living in plastic houses paid for with plastic money.
The second both car doors slammed shut, Sawyer set his face with a grin that probably looked as forced as it felt. “Welcome back,” he called out. “I’m surprised you remembered how to find the place.”
Maverick sent him a look accompanied by a single raised brow. Then came the clearing of the throat. “Oh, it’s easy to remember. Just look for the cows and take a left.”
“Is this really where you live, Sawyer?” Maverick’s wife stared at the tree line, her perfect face emoting what might have been alarm or fascination. He wasn’t really sure which. Not much of it moved when the rest of her did.
“Daisy, it’s great to see you again.” It took effort to get his feet unglued from the porch and walk toward them. With the smile pinned in place, he leaned down to place a kiss on her baby-soft cheek. “I hope you’re doing well.”
Daisy twisted her lips to the side and never made contact. Air kisses were the preferred greeting for the wealthy, Sawyer had come to note. Heaven forbid a single inch of powdered skin be marred. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t want to meet at the hotel. It took us forever to find the house and now that we’re here…”
“Yes, I know it’s not what you’re used to,” he said when her voice trailed off. “Consider this an adventure. Seeing how the other half lives. Lorelei has a special dinner planned and everything. I promise you’ll enjoy it, even if it isn’t low-cal, no-fat, paleo, vegan, or gluten-free.”
“I’ve heard quite a bit about your wife,” Daisy responded, twisting around to get a good once-over at the yard. From the look in her eyes, it wasn’t to her liking. She sniffed delicately. “I’m anxious to meet her.”
Sawyer swept an arm out in front and fought the urge to tell them to get in the car and leave. He wasn’t the type who felt the need to impress. Except today, he reminded himself. Today he needed to be on point. “She’s waiting in the house.”
Daisy moved toward the front door without further ado. Maverick, however, hung back. His hands went to his pockets and he peered up at the porch. At the roof Sawyer had had to replace last year after a hellacious winter. The pots of plants he’d added yesterday—literally, yesterday—because Lorelei told him it would make a better, homier presentation.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Maverick commented offhandedly. “It’s…rustic.”
Sawyer wondered if Maverick even remembered the last time they’d been there together. Three months after their mother came off of chemo, the doctors changed their prognosis from worse to bad to better. The moment it had been deemed safe, the oldest Parksdale boy was gone again. Leaving the youngest to carry on.
“Yes, well, you can’t live in a pigsty when there’s a lady present. You know how they are. If something isn’t right, then it needs to be changed.”
“Absolutely. Daisy has redone our entire house from top to bottom since the wedding. Three times. Every so often she sees something in a magazine, or catches wind of a new designer, and decides the beige in the bedroom that was in last year is suddenly drab.” Maverick kept his hands in his pockets, twisting to observe the roof with a discerning eye. Like he could tell the difference between normal and expensive shingles. “We have an account at all the major furniture stores.”
“You should have seen Lorelei when she first moved in. I thought I was going to have to rent a bulldozer. She gutted the entire second floor and somehow, God only knows how, made it presentable.” The lies flowed smoothly off his tongue even while Sawyer’s brain screamed for him to stop. Stop. Stop!
“Well then, I can’t wait to see what kind of miracles she’s performed. She seems like a lady who has a good eye for color.”
“You see the flowers? All her handiwork. She turned the place around. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Indeed. Let’s go inside and see how she’s faring, then, shall we?”
“Yes, absolutely,” Sawyer agreed. “She’s excited to see you again.”
Maverick sent one brow soaring up to his hairline. “Really? I would have thought… Never mind.”
Sawyer opened his mouth to comment then smartly snapped it shut. Realizing he had nothing to say on the subject.
Maverick led the way into the foyer, his hawk-like gaze taking in the few pieces Sawyer had managed to salvage from their parents’ era. The makeshift chairs and boxes he’d kept meaning to put away were gone.
Lorelei had helped him when she could, sifting through layers of his crap in an attempt to find order. Or the floor, whichever came first. She’d done a bang-up job of it too, Sawyer realized. Maybe he should hire her on a more permanent basis. Would the little schoolteacher bristle if he asked her to be his full-time housekeeper? She was good at keeping people in line. If anyone could make him straighten up and fly right, it was Lorelei.
He kept the laugh to himself. She wouldn’t take the offer well. She’d rolled up her sleeves and dug into the housework because it was part of their deal and nothing more. He’d enjoyed watching her work. Seeing the play of light on her muscles when she hefted the boxes from his workshop. He had also treated himself to a generous helping of staring at her rear end, tightly encased in a pair of jeans she must have painted onto her skin. What a day.
Maverick was saying something, Sawyer realized with a jolt. And somehow they’d made it to the kitchen.
“Sorry, what?” Sawyer stopped short of the stove, wondering where his breath had gone when Lorelei turned to him. Smiling.
“There you are,” she said. “I thought you two were going to stay out chitchatting all afternoon, despite the rain.”
It was raining? Sure enough, a peek out the window showed him the drops of water attacking the nearby flowerbeds.
“A fine way to get out of helping me set the table,” Lorelei continued. As if to spite him for the earlier comment, she leaned close and placed her lips on his cheek.
Was he blushing? Sawyer hoped he wasn’t blushing. There was heat under his skin where she touched him.
Maverick straightened his shoulders, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth without lifting them. “I was saying how nice it is to have a home-cooked meal. Although I can see why you weren’t paying attention, little brother.” He closed the distance in two strides and bent to place a kiss on Lorelei’s hand. “Thank you for making us feel welcome in your home.”
“The pleasure is mine. Although technically this used to be your home too, so just ignore me. Daisy is in the bathroom freshening up. We already made the round of introductions while you two were lollygagging.” Lorelei pointed over her shoulder to the dining room. “Go get comfortable. Kick off your shoes. Loosen the tie. The whole shebang. I’ll bring out a bottle of cider.”
“Cider?”
Maverick asked. “Did you spring for the good stuff?”
“You know it.” Sawyer fought to return the grin and found it difficult. His features refused to bend in the right direction. Especially when his brother’s gaze lingered on Lorelei a bit too long. “You go on. See if you can shrug off some stiffness before the day ends. Maybe you’ll even enjoy yourself.”
“I always enjoy myself, rest assured,” Maverick said.
With the other man out of the room, Sawyer turned to his bride. His fake bride, he reminded himself.
“I think things are going well so far,” Lorelei told him in a hushed whisper. “Daisy seems like a nice person.”
Sawyer caught a whiff of her shampoo and locked his knees in response. “She’s a simple-minded drama queen and everyone knows it.”
“Well, she seemed nice to me. She said my shirt was pretty.”
“I wonder if she meant it.” He crowded closer. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Hmm? What do you mean?”
“Letting Maverick kiss your hand.”
“It’s called being polite, Sawyer.” She turned, grabbing two oven mitts from the counter and bending to remove the turkey from the oven. When she rose, her gaze was all-knowing. “You should try it sometime. I know it will be hard, but if you give it a whirl, you might find you like it.”
He was forced to follow her out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Maverick and Daisy had made themselves at home. Daisy was perusing the silverware and checking stamps for authenticity. Maverick didn’t even have the good grace to stop her. He sat with his elbows on the table looking like a king in a castle.
“Lorelei makes the best turkey around,” Sawyer told them all when their gazes snapped to the platter in her hands.
“And you won’t even help her carry the damn thing,” Maverick remarked when the platter came to rest on the tabletop. “Please tell me you’ll do the carving instead of making her hack away at it.”
When Sawyer spoke again, he struggled for calm. This was the opening jab. Maverick had set the game in motion. Now it was his turn. “Of course I’ll carve the turkey. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. I have no manicure to ruin.”
