by Ava Miles
Jill jumped around so she was in front of him. “That’s because I had three hours of sleep last night. Breastfeeding sucks, Matt. Men are the lucky ones.”
“Not another word, Jillian Marie Hale,” Uncle Arthur said. “Or I’ll tell everyone you’re buying generic coffee in that shop you own and serving it up as the real stuff.”
Jill sucked in a breath. “You wouldn’t?”
“Try me,” his uncle responded.
And interestingly enough, Jill stood down, almost like Henry had in Jane’s presence at the park. He laughed.
“What?” she asked.
“You remind me of a Labrador puppy.”
Brian shook his head and snagged him around the neck. “Babe, I’ll go beat him up somewhere.” As they angled away, Brian whispered, “You’d better thank me for saving your ass. No woman likes to be referred to as a dog, even if that particular comparison is spot on.”
Andy met them at the door to the kitchen and handed Matt a beer. “How was small-town law today?”
He grinned. This was the game they played with each other. Both of them had worked back-breaking hours in Denver, him as a lawyer, his brother as a doctor. The slower pace of life in Dare Valley was definitely a perk of their move.
“Incredible,” he commented. No clarification needed. “And how about the hospital?”
“No one died.” And his deadpan expression made them all laugh.
Matt chugged on the beer and then bent to kiss Meredith’s cheek when she appeared by his side. “And where were you, my beauty?” he asked.
“I’m afraid to admit Jill made me hide in the bathroom. I couldn’t listen to another word about her experience with the twins.” She caressed the small mound under her green sweater.
“I’ll defend you,” Matt said easily, earning himself a half hug from his cousin.
“All in good fun, sis,” Jill said, popping across the room. “Plus now you have Champion Matt in your corner, so I’d better toe the line.”
“Yeah! Uncle Matt is the best champion ever,” Danny shouted as he dove over like an airplane.
“Why aren’t you playing with Mia and Violet?” Jill asked his nephew.
“Because they don’t move. All they do is stare and slobber. They’re not very fun.” The last part was said in a whisper.
“They’re still little,” Andy said, hoisting him up. “Why don’t you go wash up? I think we can eat now that your uncle’s here.”
“What’s for dinner?” he asked, looking pointedly at Brian.
“Since I spend all day making French food at Brasserie Dare, I went with Greek tonight. We’re having pastitsio. And Meredith made garlic bread and Caesar salad and some sides.”
Matt’s stomach growled. “Oh, man. If you weren’t a guy and already taken, I’d marry you just for your food.”
Brian snorted. Okay, so he’d definitely picked that habit up from the Hales. “What I wouldn’t say if the kid wasn’t here.”
The big raucous group clustered around the giant dining room table, which probably had three extra leaves in it to accommodate the number of people. Violet and Mia stayed on a blanket in the den, and since the floor plan was open, the adults could keep an eye on them from the dining room. Danny was right. They didn’t do more than blink and drool and toot in their pants, which made his nephew squeal with laughter.
Ah, to be a little boy again.
The dinner was ridiculous. Meredith had roasted garlic and spread it over Brian’s handmade baguettes with some butter and tossed them on the grill, making the best open-faced garlic bread he’d ever had. The pastitsio was a mix of hand-ground lamb sausage Brian had whipped up—who whipped up sausage?—and al dente ziti, also homemade, covered in béchamel sauce and parmesan, topped with allspice and cinnamon. A little weird, but oh so good. The sides of pan-seared zucchini with lemon and stuffed mushrooms had him groaning. He ignored the salad. And then Meredith brought out dessert, a ricotta cheesecake with currants and pine nuts, and he grabbed another beer. He could work out extra tomorrow. It was worth it.
“Glad you married into the family, Bri,” he announced and lifted his beer in acknowledgement.
His cousin-by-marriage nodded and plucked a fussy Mia off the floor.
“Can we eat here every night, Dad?” Danny asked, scraping his plate with his fork. “This is so much better than macaroni and cheese.”
His brother didn’t respond immediately, and Matt’s gut clenched. He knew Andy was thinking about how Kim, his wife, had been the cook in the family. They had all been devastated when she died of breast cancer. His brother had tried to continue his work at the University of Colorado hospital, but the job was too strenuous for a single father.
“Maybe we can eat at Brian’s restaurant more, Danny,” his brother finally said. “How about that?”
Danny just nodded. He’d been three when his mom died, and he didn’t remember her much except for the stories they told him. Matt stood up from the table—everyone was just talking now, having polished off the rest of the food—and grabbed the boy’s hand.
“Let’s go take the dogs outside,” he said. Danny’s eyes lit up and he raced over to grab his coat.
Andy got up and patted him on the back. “Thanks.”
He bumped him. “Please. Don’t thank me yet. Henry will probably try and jump on him, but I’d never let him knock Danny down.”
“I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to him,” his brother said.
Matt huffed out a breath. Goddammit. Sometimes life just sucked, and the fact that his brother was a widower at the prime age of thirty-six just wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair, as the world had seemed bent on revealing to him over the past couple of years.
“Go play with Danny,” his mother said suddenly, pushing back from the table and rubbing his back.
There were tears in her eyes, and he had to bite his cheek. Dammit, he hated when his mom cried. Losing Kim was an unhealed wound for all of them—one of many.
He and Danny went out and played and, fortunately, Henry behaved for once. Tanner and Brian joined them, and the four of them played catch with a football that had seen better days.
When it was time to go, and he made his rounds for goodbyes, he volunteered to take Uncle Arthur home. He had an idea to run by him, and this was just the time to do it.
When they were driving back to his house on the far side of town, his uncle glanced over at him. “So, you going to keep me in suspense or will you spit it out?”
Sharp old man. “Why would you say that?” he said, just to have a little fun with his uncle.
“You live the farthest away from me, and yet here you are, driving me home. You might have been a Boy Scout, but I know when someone’s up to something.”
Henry bounded back and forth between the windows in the back seat, as though he were fascinated with the scenery. His drool marks were all over the panes, making them look like frosted glass. He needed to get his car detailed practically every week now that Henry was around.
“Do you remember what I told you about my last client? The way the system failed her has been burning a hole in me, challenging me to do my part in the community. I’ve decided to run for mayor. I wanted to be the one to tell you.” Family news had a way of getting around.
Uncle Arthur harrumphed. “Well, darn it. I thought coming back here to open a law firm might not be enough for you, but politics? You know we Hales try and keep out of that.”
There was a strict rule about the Hales being politically neutral since Arthur ran The Western Independent, which featured a comprehensive local section. He had expected his uncle wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear his news. “Your direct line, yes, but not me. It will have no impact on the newspaper, I can promise you that.”
“And how would you be knowing that, all thirty-four years of you? The Hales report the news, and now you’re going to be the news. The mayor, should you be elected, for cripes’ sake! I’ll have to report on your decisions, young man. Oh,
this is going to be a mess.”
None of his comments were unexpected. “I think I’ll be good at it.”
Another “hmm” sounded in the SUV. “Well, you’re smart enough and good enough with people. Other than those assholes you used to work with.”
Yeah, the lawyers at his firm had mostly been assholes, all right. And he’d been one of them until he saw the light of day. “Thanks. I’m hoping it might lead to higher offices.”
Another harrumph. “Well, you’re pretty enough to be a senator or a congressman. Or were you thinking governor?”
He lifted his shoulder. “I’d like to be governor. After being at the firm, I’m not sure I want to live in DC. I’ve heard it has more lawyers per capita than ants in an ant colony.”
Uncle Arthur snorted. “It does at that. Your mother is pleased, I expect.”
“Yes.”
“What about your father?”
He hadn’t spoken to his father since he’d let his mom walk out of the house without a word. His dad had always been a workaholic with an intense career, but still… How could the man he’d idolized not have stopped his wife from leaving him? Not tell her that he loved her and valued her and wasn’t just comfortable with her? But he hadn’t, and Matt’s rage bloomed again, just thinking about it all. Not to mention how he’d railed at Andy and him for leaving behind successful careers to settle for less in Dare.
“No. If he wants to find out how I’m doing, he can pick up the phone.”
This time, there was no harrumph. “Henry, enough of that bounding about. Sit.”
And from the rear view mirror, Matt could see the evidence of yet another person other than himself who could make his dog obey.
He and his uncle traveled the rest of the way to Arthur’s house in silence. When they arrived, Matt insisted on seeing him to the door.
“What am I, some girl you plan to kiss after a hot date?” he scoffed. Uncle Arthur had his pride, but he was close to eighty and had a cane, and there were patches of snow and ice on his sidewalk.
“Just doing what any good nephew would do.”
“Coddling me. My body might not be prime, but my mind surely is.”
“Fine. It’s icy out tonight, and I don’t want you to fall. Sue me.”
“That’s your business.” Uncle Arthur’s mouth tipped up.
Still, he took Matt’s arm, and they walked to the door at the older man’s pace.
Once they reached it, Uncle Arthur turned to look him in the eye. “Let me give you some advice. My best friend and mentor, Emmits Merriam, ran for the Oklahoma senate seat and had the pants beat off him. It didn’t make him any less of a man, and if you don’t win, the same is true of you.”
Matt spontaneously leaned in and hugged his uncle, soaking in the comfortingly familiar smell of Old Spice. “Good night, Uncle Arthur.”
“Goodnight, Young Matthew.”
He walked back to his car with a smile on his lips. It had been a while since his uncle had called him that and, like always, it made him feel important.
At moments like this, he was one hundred percent sure moving back to Dare had been the right thing for him to do.
Chapter 4
Elizabeth Saunders rapped on the door of Jane’s house the next morning. When her friend opened it, the dogs at her feet, she held up a white pastry bag.
“Provisions for the courageous,” she said. “You deserve a gold medal for telling Matt Hale he could take you out for a beer in exchange for helping him with his dog.”
For Jane, this was as big as landing on the moon.
“And let’s not forget that I told him he could buy me dinner if his dog was really bad,” Jane said with a grin.
Elizabeth shucked off her boots at the door, giving Annie and Rufus the expected rub down. “Then let’s pray he is really bad.”
“Which one?” Jane asked with a smirk, planting her hands on her slim hips.
“You know who. Weren’t you the one who got all hot and bothered when you saw him trussed up on the ground in a red leash?”
Elizabeth made herself at home, flouncing onto the caramel-colored leather couch, while Jane disappeared into the kitchen. Unlike her own preference for cool tones and clean lines, her friend’s decorating leaned toward warm colors and accents. The walls were butternut squash yellow, which contrasted beautifully with the cherry wood floors and wainscoting running through her rustic, lodge-style home. The oversized windows provided a breathtaking view of the valley, cushioned between the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. The artwork on the walls was a mix of European café scenes and expansive landscapes of sea or forest. Everything about her friend was cozy and sweet.
Jane might not like it, but she was still a small-town girl at heart.
And Elizabeth loved that about her even if she couldn’t relate.
“I didn’t even know if I could get hot over something like that,” Jane said, emerging from the kitchen with a tray holding a silver coffee service and two place settings. The cups rattled when she set it on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“It does take a lot to make you hot,” Elizabeth said, coming over to sit beside her. She had known Jane for long enough to pick up on any number of personal details. After all, they’d started out as roommates in Harvard at eighteen and lived together until they graduated with their MBAs. They’d been friends for almost twelve years and were closer than sisters.
“Yeah, the polar opposite of you.” Jane’s mouth twisted as she arranged the sage green plates, silverware, and napkins. “How was your date last night?”
The chocolate croissants Elizabeth had brought from Brasserie Dare were both spongy and crisp when she drew them out and put them on the plates. Her mouth watered. She hadn’t expected to find a bona fide French restaurant in such a small town, but she was grateful for it. It was the next best thing to eating in a Parisian café.
“Yeah, sorry about that. It came together last minute at the grocery store.”
“Of course it did.”
Her friend’s sarcasm was so normal she didn’t even respond to it. “I’ve seen Jeremy at Hairy’s before, so when we ran across each other in the produce section—”
“He commented on your melons, and you offered to let him feel them.”
“You don’t need to get on my case just because you’re missing your Wonder Woman bra.”
They might be a world apart in cup sizes, but their IQs were about the same. Both genius level and proud of it.
“It’s just that I don’t think Matt’s going to want…this.” She gestured to her body.
Elizabeth took her hand. They’d had this conversation a million times. “Listen, you’re nuts. You’re beautiful in a petite way. And now you don’t have to worry about men liking you for your fake body. Don’t you remember that conundrum?”
Her friend grabbed the croissant and bit into it, moaning a little. “Yes. The same guys who liked Raven’s big hair and fake curves wouldn’t look at me twice after I took off my costume. Something you never had to worry about.”
It was true that Elizabeth resembled her alter ego more, but she hadn’t let any of the men she’d dated on the road see her without the wigs and other disguises that had transformed her into Vixen. She guarded her personal identity as though it were Fort Knox, and since she never went out with someone more than a few times or stayed over after sex, unmasking herself hadn’t been a huge issue. Well, except for her padded bras, which had taken her natural C-cup size to double Ds. Even when she wasn’t wearing a wig, her hair color changed every few months, and right now it was caramel brown.
While life without her alter ego of Vixen was an adjustment, she didn’t miss the color contacts, stage makeup, or fake beauty marks. The makeup had clogged her pores and given her chronic acne. Now her skin glowed, and all she had to use was a tinted moisturizer. Her own parents wouldn’t recognize her—as Vixen or Elizabeth—and that was better for everyone, since they were leeches and drug addicts. If they k
new who she was now and where she was, they’d try to suck the life out of her. Just like they’d done after finding out about her friendship with Jane, a connection they’d hoped would open new doors of money and opportunity for them.
“So you’re getting used to being the real you all the time,” she said, shaking off the past. “Me too. We were every man’s fantasies in those outfits. Now it’s time to channel the true fantasy. You. Me.”
Jane polished off her croissant. “I can’t see the real me being any man’s fantasy.”
Being a man’s fantasy was easier than Jane made it out to be, but that was just Jane. She wanted hearth and home.
“The one who loves you will, trust me. He won’t see anyone but you.”
“I can’t even imagine what that feels like.”
Her self-esteem had been in the crapper since the day she’d been born a girl. The esteemed Phillip Wilcox and his perfect political wife, Helen, had wanted a boy more than anything, and Jane always joked that their intention had gotten crosswise with the Universe. She had a boy’s body, just not a boy’s parts.
Without a male heir, they’d pushed Jane to be the most accomplished child a couple could boast about. She’d had a resume at age two to get into the elite local preschool, knew how to count to ten in five different languages. By five, she played two musical instruments. By ten, she’d composed her first symphony. By fifteen, she’d won a national mathematics competition. And by twenty, she’d accumulated a million dollars managing her own stock portfolio, something she’d built from her math competition award of ten grand.
While their parents came from radically different social spheres, they had one thing in common: they were accomplished manipulators. It was one of many reasons why neither Jane nor Elizabeth had any contact with their families.
“It will happen, Jane,” Elizabeth said. “Give it time.”
“So back to your date.” Jane dug out two slices of quiche next and arranged them on their plates.
“Right. We went out to a movie. The new Ben Affleck flick. Not bad. And then he drove me home. We made out for a while and then I said goodnight.” She shrugged and dug into her own croissant.
