“He didn’t love Matt that way.”
“Maybe he did and he was just too afraid to admit it. You know how guilty he was about breaking his promise to Mom and having a kid with someone else.”
Tommy’s expression softened. “Dad is a wonderful grandpa, I’ll give him that much. He’s over the moon about Zoe. I practically had to kick him and Mom out of here today. They’d both move into Zoe’s nursery if they could.”
“But you and Sophie will be doing that instead.” They’d created a newly designed master suite adjoined to the nursery. They’d added luxurious accommodations for their nanny, too. “Life is good, eh?”
“For me, this is the best it’s ever been. I can’t wait to watch my daughter grow up, to teach her to be a cowgirl and play music.”
Brandon teased him, saying, “I think you’ll be wearing frilly hats and having tea parties with her.”
Tommy grinned. “If that’s what she wants me to do, then I will. You can join us, bro. We can be frilly-hat dudes together.”
“Sure. Why not?” Brandon wanted to be a fun-loving uncle. He wanted his niece to be able to count on him. “We should make Dad wear one, too.”
His brother laughed. “His will have to be black.”
“I’ll bet he’d wear pink for Zoe.”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, he probably would.” A second later, he sighed and said, “Did Dad tell you he wants to start dating again?”
“Yes, he told me. I encouraged him to give it a try.”
“I guess it’ll be okay, as long as he never hurts anyone again.”
“I don’t think he will.” Brandon trusted their father to be a better man. “He’s been trying so hard to change.”
Tommy squinted in the sunlight. “Speaking of dating, I like your new lady. She seems sweet.”
“She is.” Totally sweet. Totally sexy. “I’m getting hooked on her.”
“So I gathered. You wouldn’t have brought her here otherwise. I know I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but after Sophie and I got together, I was hoping that you’d find someone, too. Sophie warned me not to play matchmaker or try to set you up with anyone. She said that if it was meant to happen, you’d meet the right woman on your own.” His brother squinted again. “Do you think that you and Mary might have a future?”
“I don’t know. It’s a bit complicated.” Or a lot complicated, he thought, with how much he’d come to care about her. “She’s been cautious since I met her, and after she read Dad’s biography, it got worse. She’s leery of him.”
“Can’t say as I blame her. Even he admitted in the book that he treated people like crap.”
“He also said how sorry he was. With Mary, it seems as if there could be something more going on, something related to her family. Both of her parents are dead, and she refuses to talk about them. I’m starting to wonder if maybe her father was a womanizer. If he could’ve been like our dad, and that type of guy leaves her cold. He might’ve even been abusive to her mother.”
“That could account for why she’s so sensitive about her parents. And why it’s difficult for her to discuss them.”
“Yeah, but I can’t be sure.” Brandon was at a loss to know what Mary’s issues were. “I invited her to Matt’s wedding, but she’s uncomfortable about going.”
“She might come around by then.”
“She has a younger sister, and I’m going to meet her this weekend. But Mary already warned me that her sister is jealous of our relationship.”
“Sounds like you have your work cut out for you.”
“I definitely do.” Yet even as difficult as it was, his fascination with Mary grew stronger each day.
When he and Tommy returned to the nursery, Mary was holding the baby, rocking the infant as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Zoe kicked her little feet and cooed.
Brandon moved closer, his attraction to Mary spiking even higher. He couldn’t force her to talk about her parents, but he wasn’t giving up on her, either. He was going to be there, for as long as she wanted him.
* * *
On Saturday evening Mary and Alice fixed chicken and dumplings, something Mary had always thought of as comfort food. They also prepared green beans with bacon, sweet peas, mashed potatoes and fried okra. Mary baked corn bread, too. For dessert, she had double-chocolate brownies and strawberry-lemon bars ready to go. She’d made a frozen mint chip pie, as well. All she had to do was take it out of the freezer when it was time to serve it.
Brandon arrived bearing gifts. The wine he’d brought wasn’t the problem. But the other things? Holy cow. Apparently it didn’t matter that she’d told him not to bring Alice anything. He’d done it anyway. But he’d brought Mary something special, too.
He gave her the fairy painting he’d wanted to buy her from before. Alice’s gift was artwork, too: a beautifully framed acrylic that depicted fashion throughout the ages. She seemed impressed by it, even if she was treating Brandon with a cool and critical eye.
“Was it expensive?” Alice asked him, about her painting.
Mary wanted to kick her sister for being so rude. She’d been taught better than that. But Alice obviously didn’t care about being well mannered in this situation. Thank goodness Mary had already warned Brandon what to expect.
Either way, he handled Alice just fine. He politely replied, “I’m an art collector, so I always give people the most valuable work I can find. I enjoy buying select pieces for family and friends.”
“I’m not your friend,” she said. “And we’re certainly not family.”
“Your sister is my friend, and you two are family. That’s reason enough for me.”
Alice shifted her booted feet. She was dressed in her fanciest cowpunk attire. “I’m going to look it up online later and see how much it cost.”
He laughed a little. “Go right ahead. I won’t be offended.”
Alice glared at him. “You don’t seem like the type who offends easily.”
“Neither do you.” He gestured to her outfit. “You have an interesting sense of style. My dad wears black all the time, too.”
Alice stiffened before she said, “I don’t like his music.”
“I wasn’t implying that you did. But you have the sort of attitude depicted in his songs. Even though he’s drawn to gentle-spirited women, he writes about the sassy ones.”
Alice narrowed her gaze. “My sister has a gentle spirit. Our mother did, too.”
Mary nearly gasped. Was she going to tell Brandon who they were? She’d sworn that she wouldn’t. Yet she’d just mentioned their mother.
“I’d love to see a picture of your mom,” he said. “I didn’t see any photographs last time I was here.”
Mary held her breath, praying that her sister didn’t betray her and dig out an old snapshot. She felt faint just thinking about it. Did Brandon know what their mom looked like? Would he recognize her?
“We keep her pictures private,” Alice replied. “She’s gone now. But she was a good person.”
He spoke softly. “I’m sorry you and Mary lost her. I haven’t lost anyone I’m close to. I don’t know what that feels like. But I can see how painful it is for you.”
Alice stepped back, putting distance between her and Brandon. Clearly, she didn’t want his sympathy. Mary did, though. She wanted to cuddle in his arms and take refuge in his strength. But she wouldn’t dare do that in front of Alice.
“We better sit down and eat before everything gets cold,” Mary said.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Brandon said. “Both of you.” He gazed at Alice. “Mary told me it was your idea.”
“I just wanted to know who my sister is sleeping with,” she responded, in her usual snide tone.
He replied, “I’m not going to hurt her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Someone always
gets hurt,” Alice retorted, before she darted into the kitchen to put the food on the table.
Brandon turned to look at Mary, and she mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.” But she wasn’t just apologizing for her sister’s behavior. She was sorry for her part in everything, too.
The meal went fairly well, considering the tension Alice had caused. Brandon certainly seemed to enjoy the food. He complimented them on their cooking, eating his fair share. He had two helpings of the chicken and dumplings and slathered loads of honey butter on his corn bread.
Afterward, he tried to help with the dishes, but Mary declined his offer, telling him to relax instead. Brandon wandered onto the patio while the women cleaned up. Mary figured he needed a break from Alice. The patio was just a tiny slab of concrete with a café table, but at least it would give him a place to breathe.
Since Brandon was outdoors and out of earshot, Mary waited for Alice to complain about him. And she did, of course, right on cue. “He’s so rich and spoiled,” she said. “Bringing us expensive gifts and talking about his celebrity dad. It was all I could do not to tell him that you’ve been playing him, like his dad played our mom.”
Mary rinsed the empty potato bowl. “I was scared that you might say something.”
“Well, I didn’t. But now I’m thinking that you should try to marry this guy and take him for all he’s worth.”
“What?” Mary lifted her head.
“He’s totally falling for you. Any fool can see it. And if you lured him into marrying you, you could get all sorts of expensive things from him. He would go to the ends of the earth to kiss my butt, too, just because I’m your sister.”
“I can’t believe you’re suggesting that.” Just the thought of it was making her hands shake.
“So what’s the big deal? If you married him, you’d be getting the guy you want.”
“I never said I wanted to be his wife.”
“But now that I planted the seed, I’ll bet you’re going to start obsessing about it. Besides, if you married him and let him support us, we’d still be getting justice for Mama. He owes us that much, him and his bastard of a dad. If Kirby had bought Mama’s songs like he was supposed to, you wouldn’t be working your tail off, and I wouldn’t be stuck having to take student loans.”
“I would never try to con Brandon into marrying me.” To her, that would be the ultimate betrayal, the worst thing she could possibly do. “I need to end it when I can.”
“When you can? Seriously, what’s stopping you?”
“I’m just not ready.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Why? Because he’s such a great lay? I think it’s because you’re falling in love with him.”
“I am not.” Mary protested. By now, she was shaking so badly she nearly dropped the plate she was loading into the dishwasher. She couldn’t let herself love Brandon. She absolutely, positively couldn’t.
After the kitchen was clean, it was time to serve dessert. Mary brought the treats outside to where Brandon was waiting.
He turned and smiled at her, and she nearly melted on the spot. For a woman refusing to fall in love, she was headed for trouble—in the worst kind of way.
* * *
Later that evening, Mary went to Brandon’s loft with him to spend the night. As they lay in bed, facing each other with moonlight streaming in through the windows, she wondered what it would be like to be his bride.
A shiver traveled down her spine. She had no business imagining herself as his wife. But even as she fought her feelings, she knew that she loved him. God help her, but Alice was right—and it was pointless to pretend otherwise.
He was being quiet, not saying a word. But he was staring at her, as if he had something on his mind. She took a chance and asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“I was just pondering how much I like you.”
Her breath rushed out. “You already know how much I like you.” They’d discussed it before. But she couldn’t tell him that she loved him. She could barely say it to herself. Everything inside her was spinning a mile a minute. But no matter how she felt about him, it would never work. They could never stay together, not for real.
“Alice was pretty much what I expected,” he said.
“You were being really nice to her, even when she wasn’t very nice to you.”
He shrugged. “She has a lot of growing up to do, but she’s only nineteen. A lot of people are troubled at that age. She’s just a screwed-up kid, looking for attention.”
And Mary was a tortured adult who’d gotten herself into a horrible mess. “I should have been a better influence on her.”
He frowned. “You can’t take responsibility for her actions.”
That wasn’t true. If she hadn’t promised Alice that she would help her get back at Brandon and his dad, none of this would be happening. “In the beginning I tried to teach her right from wrong, but as time went on, I just gave up.”
“You’re not her parent. You’re her sister.” He angled his head. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”
He didn’t know the whole story. But she’d blinded him with her nice girl persona. “When we were young and she got upset about something, I didn’t stop her from letting it fester. Sometimes I let things fester, too.”
He smoothed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “That just makes you human.”
A bad human, she thought. Mary still had ill feelings toward Kirby. She still hated him for what he’d done and the domino effect it had on her and Alice.
“I wish you’d confide in me about the rest of your family,” Brandon said. “I can tell that something wasn’t right with your parents. Things might have been off with your grandma, too.”
“Our grandmother was a practical woman, conservative in her beliefs.” That much she could tell him. That much she was willing to say. “But she treated us kindly. She was the one who first taught me to bake.”
“Whose side of the family was she from?”
“She was our maternal grandmother. She didn’t live near us. She only visited now and then.” She’d died a few years before Mama. But she’d never known about Kirby. No one in the family had ever told her. Grandma wouldn’t have approved of Mama’s affair with him. Nor had she been aware of how truly depressed her daughter had been, either. Mama was good at faking it when she had to.
“Alice said something earlier about what a nice lady your mom was.” He touched Mary’s hair again. “But then she clammed up after she said it.”
Her chest went tight. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. “It’s difficult for us to express our feelings about our mother.”
“Did your father hurt her?”
Oh my God. He thought it was her dad who’d destroyed Mama. But in reality, it was his. She gazed into his eyes, the tightness in her chest working its way to her soul. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t talk about this.”
“Okay.” He blew out a soft sigh. “But if you ever feel the need to talk about it, you can come to me. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather keep it to myself.”
They both went silent. Far too silent, she thought. She felt as if the room was going to crash in on her, right along with her heart.
A few painful seconds later, she said, “I didn’t want you to buy me the fairy painting, but now I’m glad that you did.” When their affair was over, it would be something warm and soft and magical to remember him by.
“That picture is meant for you.”
“It definitely is.” But loving him wasn’t a cure for her deception. It wasn’t lessening the shame or the guilt. If anything, it magnified it.
He lowered the strap on her nightgown. She’d worn a baby doll nightie to bed. Something far too innocent for the person she’d become. Far too sweet. Mary closed her eyes. She felt like such a fraud.
“What do you have on under this cute little thing?” he asked.
She opened her eyes. “Matching panties.” She’d bought the ensemble to entice him. But now she wondered what she’d been trying to prove by resorting to girlish lingerie.
“Mmm.” He reached down and slipped his hand into her panties. “It suits you.”
No, it didn’t, she thought. But he was making her wet just the same. She rocked her hips, rubbing against his seductive touch. He was already naked; that was how he slept every night.
They kissed, and the foreplay continued. She went after him, stroking him between his legs, giving him pleasure, too.
Soon he was peeling off her panties and tossing them onto the side of the bed. He did away with her nightie, as well.
He removed a condom from the drawer next to him and said, “You can put this on me tonight. There’s no hurry. You can take your time. We can both enjoy it.”
As familiar as she’d become with his body, this was just another layer of excitement. She opened the packet, and he guided her through it. She loved touching him.
Once he was sheathed, he braced himself above her. She opened her legs, inviting him inside.
He thrust deep, and they made long, warm, luxurious love, with breathless whispers between them.
* * *
Mary awakened in the middle of the night. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t able to go back to sleep. So she finally crept out of bed and got dressed in the bathroom, careful not to disturb Brandon.
After leaving him a note, in case he woke up and noticed she was gone, she went to a twenty-four-hour market and bought the ingredients she needed to bake a special batch of cupcakes. Thanks to Brandon’s chef, his kitchen was stocked with the cookware, utensils and appliances she required.
Hours later, while she was putting the finishing touches on the cupcakes, Brandon entered the kitchen. He was wrapped in a robe and handsomely tousled from sleep. She wasn’t surprised to see him this early. It was Sunday, and he would be taking Cline to the park. For now, she assumed the dog was still crashed out in his own room.
Nashville Secrets Page 11
