Harlequin Superromance August 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: What Happens Between FriendsStaying at Joe'sHer Road Home

by Beth Andrews

  Tackett’s laugh was sly. “You and I know better.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut and her chin sank to her chest. What had she been thinking, all those months ago? She’d compromised her professional image by getting involved with a coworker. A coworker with a reputation for being a player.

  Tackett’s disapproving hum dragged her back to the here and now. “Did you offer him the bonus?”

  “It made things worse.”

  “Because you didn’t do it right.”

  She held the phone away from her ear and hefted it in her hand. She looked at the lake, and back at her phone. If she threw it just right she could probably get four, maybe five good skips out of it. But it wasn’t worth losing her job over. Losing the promotion sucked enough.

  “Mr. Tackett, I know how to negotiate a deal. The thing is, both parties need to be interested.”

  “Well, what did he say?”

  “That he wouldn’t consider it.”

  “Bastard’s holding out for more money.”

  She had no trouble recalling Joe’s contempt at the mention of a bonus. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then what? The cliché about everyone having a price is only a cliché because it’s true. So figure out Gallahan’s price.”

  Trouble was, she already knew it. And she had no choice but to pass that information on to Tackett. Because if he found out about Joe’s proposal before Allison told him about it, it wouldn’t matter if Joe came back to T&P and brought a dozen big-name clients along with him. She’d still be out of a job.

  So, while crossing her fingers and envisioning a giant neon sign endlessly flashing the word NO, she told Tackett about Joe’s proposal. He interrupted before she had a chance to tell him she’d rather spend a winter in Greenland.

  “There’s a multimillion-dollar account at stake, here. Mahoney refuses to work with anyone else so I don’t care how you do it. Hammer a nail, bake a cake, perform the dance of the seven veils. Just get Joe back here. Take the two weeks. Stick to him like syrup on a pancake. And, Kincaid? Don’t come back without him. Do what it takes, you hear? You show up two weeks from Monday without Joe Gallahan, you’ll be clearing out your desk.”

  Her stomach dropped to her knees and her neon sign went from flashing NO to BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME, SUCKER.

  She rolled her lips inward and disconnected the call. She had to go back. She had to cave. To him. Her head drooped and her spine sagged. How did she get herself into these messes? After several moments of pointless self-pity she found herself scanning the rocks at her feet.

  Before she did anything else, she’d find the source of that glint of green. Maybe she’d snag herself a good-luck charm—she needed all the help she could get. She hitched up her pants and dropped into a crouch, blinking against an annoying eyeball burn.

  There. With a quiet squeak of glee she scooped up the square of tumbled glass. The stone felt sleek and cool against her skin. She stroked her thumb across the surface worn smooth by the water.

  Her phone rang again. She glanced at the caller ID, lost her balance and almost fell on her ass. Forget the strawberries. Straight rum would do just fine.

  The strident sound continued. She rose out of her crouch, her thumb hovering over the connect button. But only for a millisecond.

  No way she could handle this. Not now.

  Seconds later a much-too-cheerful chime signaled the caller had left a voice mail. Nerves prickled in her chest as she pocketed the piece of polished glass, entered her password and held the phone to her ear.

  “Where’s my money, bitch?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  OH, NO. OH, no, no, no, no, no. Staring blindly down the rocky expanse of beach, Allison listened to the remainder of the message. Her mother had hit Sammy up for another two thousand. He’d staked her, even though he’d promised to cut her off. And she’d lost it all playing blackjack.

  Allison swallowed against the bitter panic rising in her throat. Sammy wanted his money, and he wanted it now. All of it.

  I’m talking lump sum, bitch. No more of this payment shit.

  She didn’t have it. Her mother knew it. Sammy knew it. Which was why he’d previously offered to take payment in trade.

  The bastard.

  In his dreams.

  God, what a nightmare.

  Her fingers started to ache. She relaxed her grip on the phone, felt suddenly graceless as rocks shifted and rattled beneath her feet.

  She’d call Sammy back. Try to negotiate more time.

  She stumbled forward, almost stepped on a half-decayed fish. Her throat tightened. The bottom line was, she would have to deal with Joe. Assuming he hadn’t changed his mind. Though why would he? Having someone he considered a traitor at his beck and call for the next two weeks? Considering how he felt about Tackett and his methods—and her, by association—no way he’d make it easy on her.

  But she could handle it. For a guaranteed paycheck at the end of every two weeks she could handle anything. She had to.

  Sammy was the most merciless—hence the most successful—moneylender in the Washington metropolitan area. But if she could convince him that padding loans was bad for business, maybe he’d cut her a break.

  She shoved her feet back into her pumps. She’d downsized her apartment, her car, her wardrobe. In view of the debts her mother had racked up—not to mention the money she’d siphoned out of Allison’s bank account—a PR rep’s salary didn’t stretch anywhere near far enough. Allison had looked for other jobs, with no luck. Not a shocker, given the state of the economy.

  She had to keep her job. Yes, her mother had messed up. Big time. But no matter what she’d done, there was no way Allison would let her own mother spend her days fretting that one of the people in line with her at the supermarket might just be someone sent by Sammy to deliver a “friendly reminder.”

  She marched back to her car. She’d return to Castle Creek first thing in the morning because she’d had more than enough of Joe Gallahan for one day, thank you very much. And since T&P was paying her expenses, she’d snag a room at the Hampton Inn the next town over, call room service and order up a strawberry daiquiri.

  Or two.

  Then she thought of Joe as he’d been a year ago and winced.

  Club soda would have to do.

  * * *

  THE FAMILIAR RUMBLE of a truck outside the room provided just the excuse Joe needed to set aside his trowel. He winced as metal clanged on ceramic. No, the relentless throbbing in his head was just the excuse he’d needed. Or it should have been. But instead of pausing and taking something to ease the pain he’d decided to punish himself. Not for drinking—hell, he’d have to punish himself every damned day for that. No, his crime was in wishing, even for a moment, that Allison Kincaid had come to see him simply because she’d wanted to.

  Not because she’d had to.

  He pushed up onto his knees and went still, the sudden greasy churn in his gut making him grateful he was inches away from a toilet. Hell. He breathed in deeply, slowly. The nausea passed.

  With a grunt he pushed to his feet, grimacing at the stiffness in his legs, the ache behind his eyes. He brushed the grit from his palms and studied the floor. Once he got it grouted and scrubbed and got the walls repainted, he could cross another unit off his list.

  Three down, six to go. He had ten rooms altogether, but the one at the far end was currently his personal gym, and no way was he giving that up. No matter what Allison had implied the day before, he was making progress. He already had a good head start on this room and, hell, he and a crew had spent an entire month replacing the roof—

  He blew out a frustrated breath. Why did it have to come back to her? Why should he care what she thought? This was why he’d moved four hundred miles north. To get away from the expectations and the
guilt. The responsibility. And the woman who’d cared about her job more than she’d cared about him.

  He lifted his hands over his head and leaned left, then right, in a careful stretch. Here in Castle Creek he had no one depending on him but himself. And whenever he let himself down, he invited himself for a drink at Snoozy’s and got over it. Life was good.

  He was well rid of her.

  So why did he suddenly feel so damned restless?

  Two truck doors slammed. Parker had brought Nat with her, a realization which both cheered and saddened him. If the kid kept seeing him like this, it wouldn’t take long for her to decide he was more zero than hero. He sucked in another deep breath, swiped the hem of his T-shirt over his face and headed out to the parking lot.

  Parker Macfarland, a tall, pretty redhead with an unfortunate love of baggy overalls, held up a hanging basket dripping with purple and red blooms. “A little something to cheer up your lobby, since you insisted on painting it brown.”

  “Not brown. Buff.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s still brown.”

  He took the basket and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, my sweet.” He managed a grin, pleased by the gift, and by the conspicuous absence of a certain nine-year-old. He made a show of sniffing the flowers.

  “Funny thing,” he said. “These smell like fresh-baked muffins.”

  Parker’s carbon-copy daughter popped out from behind the pickup, a foil-covered plate in her hands. “Surprise,” she shouted.

  Joe staggered backward, hand to his heart. Giggling, Nat offered him the plate.

  “Tell you what, sport. Can you hold on to that for me? I need to wash my hands.” He led them through the lobby and headed for his apartment while Parker found a place to hang the basket of flowers and Nat helped herself to a glass of milk. Joe closed himself inside his tiny bathroom and took a swig of Pepto, praying Nat wouldn’t push a muffin on him. He purposely avoided looking in the mirror.

  When he returned to the lobby, Parker was trying to explain why it wasn’t the best idea for Nat to share her milk with the geraniums. She turned to Joe and made a “what will she think of next?” face.

  “I hope you don’t mind us dropping by so early. I drew up some plans for your landscaping and I was hoping you’d look them over, let me know what works for you and what doesn’t.”

  Joe frowned. “That’s great, but...you sure you have time? With Reid overseas, I figured you’d be struggling just to keep the greenhouses going.”

  “With Reid overseas, I’ll take all the work I can get. Helps keep my mind off...you know.”

  He did know. Parker’s first husband—Nat’s father—had been in the Army, like Reid. Only he hadn’t survived his tour in Afghanistan, a tragedy that Parker’s new husband, Reid, had been responsible for. Several months ago, Reid had shown up on Parker’s doorstep, determined to make amends for the friendly-fire disaster. They’d ended up falling in love. Just two months ago, and only two weeks into his marriage, Reid had been deployed for the third and final time and Parker was terrified that something would happen to him, as well.

  “Anyway.” She smiled brightly. “Don’t forget Nat’s out of school for the summer, if you need extra help. She and Harris have already picked up where Reid left off, clearing junk from the outbuildings.”

  “How’s the old man feeling?” Had to be tough for someone as active as Harris, a former Marine, finding out he had a heart condition.

  “Ornery, since we’re all making sure he takes it easy.”

  “We play poker during our breaks.” Nat swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and flashed a smile. “Harris owes me fourteen ice cream cones.”

  “Yeah? I like ice cream. Maybe you guys could deal me in sometime.”

  The smile turned sly. “I found something yesterday. I brought it for you.”

  “Another surprise? You’ll spoil me, kid. Well, first, I have a surprise for you. Bring your milk. I want to show you something out back.”

  Parker’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no. We’re not going back there. That grass has to be three feet tall. You won’t catch me wading through that sea of ticks.”

  “Gross.” Nat gave an exaggerated shudder.

  “Just follow me.”

  Despite the threat of ticks, Nat jogged ahead of them and disappeared around the front left corner of the building. When Joe and Parker rounded the same corner, Nat was already standing at the rear edge of the motel. She glanced back, looking nervous.

  “I saw something.”

  Joe moved in front of her and scanned the trees. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. It was at the edge of the woods.”

  “An animal? A person?”

  “I think it was a person, but I—I’m not sure.”

  Parker palmed her daughter’s shoulder. “Could it have been a deer?”

  “Maybe. I only saw it for a second.”

  “I’ll check it out.” Joe tugged once on Nat’s ponytail. “Be right back.”

  He crossed the field, his boots making scuffing sounds as he waded through the layer of freshly cut grass. The sharp, sweet scent of the leavings reminded him of his brother. Braden had reveled in the smells of a lakeside summer. Joe’s stride faltered and his chest went suddenly hollow.

  “See anything?” yelled Nat.

  Shake it off, man.

  He held up a hand to buy himself time, and finally registered a trail through the dew-damp grass, parallel to the one he’d just made. Kids, cutting through the woods on their way to the lake? Wouldn’t be the first time. As long as they didn’t start lighting matches he had no problem with it.

  He paused at the edge of the field, peering into the shadowed depths. Watching. Listening. The occasional dart of a squirrel, the stirring sound when a gust of air pushed through the leaves. With a series of loud nasal screeches, a blue jay warned him to mind his own business.

  Good advice. Excellent advice. He strode back across the field, doing his damnedest to pull away from the thoughts of his brother and the plans they’d made. When he reached Nat and Parker he stopped, and shaded his eyes with the flat of his hand.

  “You must have scared off whatever it was.” Nat peered around him, ponytail dangling. “You okay?” She nodded.

  “Thanks for checking.” Parker wandered a few feet into the newly shorn field. “When did you do this?”

  “Couple days ago.” He raised his eyebrows at Nat. “What do you think?”

  “Of the grass?”

  He reached behind the square wooden structure that stood outside his back door—if he didn’t have something sturdy protecting his garbage cans, the raccoons would scatter trash all the way to the lake—and retrieved a battered pair of wooden sticks. Each stick had a slight hook at the bottom.

  “Of our hockey field,” he said.

  “Cool!” Green eyes sparked.

  Parker shot him a look drenched with gratitude. He winked and offered one of the sticks to Nat, who was bouncing up and down. “I’ll rake up the cuttings and rig a couple of goals. I figured with softball over, you might be ready to try something new, Nat.”

  The girl took the stick and proceeded to whack at a nearby dandelion. The bright yellow head popped off and sailed across the field and Nat giggled.

  “When can we start?”

  “No way you’re bringing that home with you,” Parker said quickly. “I can see it now—petals all over the greenhouse floor. Please give that back to Joe. He’ll let you know when the field is ready.” When Nat protested, Parker gave her an arch look. “Aren’t you forgetting something? In the truck?”

  Nat shoved the stick at Joe and ran off. “Take your time,” Parker hollered after her. Thumbs tucked in the straps of her overalls, she turned back to Joe.

  “You’re not lo
oking so hot.”

  “Reid would be relieved to hear you say that.”

  “I’m serious.”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

  “Because of Allison?” He reared back and she chuckled. “Hazel was here. You know what that means. All of Castle Creek is clued in by now.”

  So much for privacy. Yet another reason to be pissed at yesterday’s visitor.

  “You two were coworkers?”

  He took his time putting the hockey sticks away. “She’s a PR rep for an advertising firm near D.C. I worked there as an account exec before moving here.”

  “And you quit because your brother died?”

  Parker wasn’t the pushy type. She’d back off if he asked her to. But she’d brought muffins. And he still owed her for patching him up after that brouhaha at Snoozy’s bar.

  “That was one of the reasons. I had a hard time handling it. Afterward I was ready for a change.”

  “So with Allison here, you’re reliving some tough times.”

  He hesitated. She showed him any more compassion and he’d be draped all over her, weeping like a grand showcase winner on The Price Is Right.

  Apparently she sensed that, too, because she changed the subject. “Thanks for taking such good care of Nat. It makes it easier for Reid, knowing you’re looking out for her. You should have heard the two of them on the phone when she told him you’d taught her to rappel—she was so excited and he was so jealous.” She put a hand on his arm. “I don’t know if you realize how much she depends on you. We both do. We all do.”

  He managed a nod. As nice as it was to hear, he could feel the familiar heaviness pressing against his rib cage, coiling like a cobra around his windpipe. He breathed in deep, filling his lungs. An open field at his back and still that closed-in feeling.

  Parker gave him a sympathetic smile edged with concern. “Too much touchy-feely? You’re looking a little green. Even more than before, I mean.”

  Nat came back around the corner, a cardboard box cradled in her hands. Joe’s throat went tight again. The way the kid was beaming—he had a bad feeling about this.