“Hello, McCready,” she said. “What’s your first name?” He didn’t blink. She’d always wondered what the first name of Trevor’s brother was, but neither he nor Trevor had ever coughed it up. Trevor was always Trevor, and McCready, it seemed, was always McCready. She sighed. “What can I do for you?”
“We need to talk.”
“Now?”
“I don’t make appointments.” He could talk without moving his lips.
Dizzy came up behind her. “Things won’t be busy for another half hour or so. You go. I can cover.” Dizzy nodded at McCready, and he regarded her without blinking, without moving a muscle. It was another of his unusual abilities to be so large and yet not move. He made a rock look like a vibrating ball of frenzy.
Outside, McCready crossed the street, leaving Connie little choice but to follow. He cut straight down the long slope by the promenade and stood in an area of melting snow and soggy grass and stared out over the lake. The lake was at its worst right now. In early spring, the water appeared frozen, but the ice had started to weaken—a white, pockmarked plain. Boring and deadly.
His gaze still on the expanse of the lake, he said, “You ever thought of getting back together with Trevor?”
It was a good thing he couldn’t see her face because she was pretty sure she couldn’t hide her sheer incredulity.
“I think that ship has sailed,” Connie said with what she hoped was the right amount of blandness and finality.
McCready grunted. “My brother never knew an opportunity when he saw it.”
Agreeing with him meant she was insulting his brother, which might not go over well. Connie settled on, “I guess we all make mistakes.”
“You making one now?”
The big man was at last getting to the point. “I’m not dealing, if that’s what you’re wondering. I was just saying that to make the kid I’m taking care of steer clear of Trevor.” Connie picked her way through the next bit to make sure that she didn’t offend McCready. “The kid’s mother was an addict out in Vancouver. Sold, too. I don’t want the same end for her.”
McCready turned his head just enough for him to see her from the corner of his eye. “Trevor let on who he’s working for?”
Connie forgot not to sound surprised. “I assumed he was working for you. I acted as if I was working for you, too, but I didn’t mention your name. The less the kid knows, the better.”
McCready made a clicking noise with his teeth. Connie remembered that sound from when she’d met with him last summer and he’d wanted to know where his brother was. She’d told him—she did have some self-preservation instincts. She’d felt sorry for McCready having to discipline his brother, according to the rules of the brotherhood.
“Nope. No one with me deals where kids work and play. No schools, no playgrounds. No lake.”
Which meant that Trevor wasn’t working for his brother, and his brother’s kind didn’t tolerate free agents. Once again, Trevor was heading for trouble, and once again Connie felt for McCready, who had the unenviable job of getting Trevor back in line.
McCready’s eyes shifted to a spot behind her. “You know why Ben Carruthers is staring at us?”
Connie glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, Ben was sitting on a park bench at the top of the slope, not even pretending to look away.
Ben, please leave.
Instead he stood and began his own slippery descent to them. Connie bugged her eyes out at him, willing him to stop, stop, stop. He kept coming until he’d slung his arm around her shoulders and faced McCready.
“Hello,” Ben said. “I’m Ben Carruthers.”
McCready nodded, dipped his chin at Connie and walked off.
“Good,” Ben said, low enough for McCready not to hear, but there was no guarantee that he hadn’t, either. Leastways, McCready kept moving.
Connie whirled out of the curve of his arm. “What were you thinking?” she hissed. “He can snap your neck.”
“I kinda doubt he would do that right here and now.”
“No, but he’s a bit touchy. You coming down here and doing that alpha-male thing makes him think that you’re just one more problem he’s going to have to deal with. Besides, it’s just not your business.”
Ben shrugged. “Still.”
That was his answer when he wasn’t going to change his mind and he wasn’t going to argue it, either. “What does he want with you, Connie?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to get involved, but hadn’t she promised to keep him in the loop about Trevor? “He wanted to make sure I wasn’t dealing drugs independent of him. That’s not allowed in Spirit Lake.”
Ben watched as McCready got into his beater of a truck. “Do the police know about him?”
“I’m sure he has a deal with them.”
“Our own are corrupt?”
Connie’s feet were cold in her bar boots, her toes frozen through the thin faux leather. “No! It’s just that... Look, I need to get back to work before Dizzy loses all patience with me.” She didn’t wait for his answer but slip-slid her way up to the promenade, Ben following.
Before she crossed to the restaurant, Ben touched her arm. “Ariel came by my workshop this afternoon.”
“What did she want? Wait. This afternoon? She skipped school.”
“It was during her spare,” Ben said. “Look, she was pretty upset about me encouraging you to put her into the system.”
“That’s putting it mildly. How about a smashed coffeemaker and a boot hole in the new drywall?”
Ben winced. “I’ll fix it.”
“The drywall, yes. The coffeemaker, no. Frankly, the death of My Maker was the one good thing to come out of our conversation.”
Ben’s frowned deepened. “The thing is, she made some good points. It got me thinking that—that I was wrong. About her. About you.”
Connie stared. “Are you saying that you changed your mind? That you want her to stay with me? Despite who she is? Who I am?”
Ben jerked his head in what she guessed was a nod, though it looked more like he’d got an invisible slap. He clearly found it hard to admit he’d been wrong, probably because he was always right.
“What exactly did she say that changed your mind?”
Ben gazed out at the lake. At his truck. At Smooth Sailing. “She asked not to be judged by her mother’s standards. She asked for a second chance. She asked for...a family.”
Wow. “She said all that?”
“Not in so many words.”
Trust Ben to see through the words of an angry teenager—and Ariel would’ve come on strong—to the hurt beneath them. Connie couldn’t help herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a hard hug. “Thank you,” she whispered against his ear. “Thank you for believing in her. In us.”
His arms came around her waist, tightened, then fell away. “Just—just trying to do the right thing, is all.”
He was the right thing. Ariel had come to Ben because she knew that, too. Hadn’t she practically ordered Connie to marry Ben? The girl had good instincts. Because any guy who could own up to his mistakes was a keeper.
She tugged on his hand. “Come on in. I’ll get you nachos.”
He hesitated and she gave another tug. “Come on. It’s a celebration. We all get a second chance. Thanks to you.” She leaned in. “Pretty please with no olives on top?”
He cracked a smile and she knew she had him. This time when she tugged on his hand, he came.
CHAPTER EIGHT
STANDING BESIDE SETH at the front of the church, Ben watched the woman he wanted for his bride walk down the aisle toward him. She’d explained several times during the past couple of months what she was wearing and why, but he hadn’t paid much attention. Now, as she came along in this light blue, delicate, sleeveless dress, the form hugging her curves a
nd her long legs stepping free from the gauzy curtains of her skirt to flash her long vine-y tattoo, her bare feet strapped to silver stilettos, her blond hair gleaming and abundant, he wished he’d listened so he could have trained himself to take full breaths.
Alexi, the star of the day, followed behind on Mel’s arm.
Ben did pull himself together by the time they all faced the pastor, if only because he didn’t want to blow his role as best man when he fully intended his position with Seth to be reversed next year, if not before.
Seth spoke his vows by heart, though it didn’t help that Connie was mouthing them, too. Alexi’s face melted under the words.
How was he ever going to top that? Didn’t matter, so long as Connie said “yes” at the end.
When Ben’s best friend and his new wife were presented to the assembly amid applause, his own heart was fit to burst from happiness for Seth and grief because it wasn’t him.
A hand slipped into his. Connie’s. She wasn’t looking at him but gathering Alexi’s kids around her to join the procession, her other hand in the clutches of four-year-old crowd-shy Callie. To everyone there, the joined hands must have seemed planned, part of “the look” of the wedding day. Ben stuck with the program and held her hand right out to the noisy receiving line, where Connie remained at his side in the same beautiful, radiant way that Alexi was beside Seth.
He would hope.
He would ignore Ariel who, in a black skirt and boots, was the only one there who didn’t smile once.
He would not dwell on outcomes, especially as he shook hands with Luke and Derek and hugged their wives, who all appeared, except for Lindsay, the unsuspecting wife of Derek, to be playing their parts, too.
Today belonged to Seth and Alexi, but that didn’t mean he and Connie couldn’t find their own happiness, too.
* * *
CONNIE COULDN’T REMEMBER feeling happier. Because Alexi looked sen-sa-tion-al—dress, hair, makeup, all glammed to the max. Because Seth rocked the vows and sorta smiled over at her after saying them. Because the whole ceremony had gone off without a hitch, despite a frantic morning race to get a bride, four kids and a church ready, not to mention herself.
Because of Ben, who gazed at her as if she was the bride.
Her hand had slid into his of its own free will, and honestly, how could she pull away without it looking awkward? Even when they finally released hands for the receiving line, his suited sleeve brushed her bare arm, and then again when they rode together in the back of the limo. His fingers touched hers as they passed off flowers, phones, envelopes and granola bars. Simple, ordinary gestures that made her feel both chosen and at home.
Now with the reception complete, dishes cleared away and speeches made, the DJ began the first dance. Connie was on the edge of her seat. For the past two weeks, she had taken Alexi’s part with her brother, coaching him through the steps. He had danced like his feet were cement blocks, but perhaps the secret lay in his partner. Because right now, with Alexi, Seth was a master.
Ben stepped behind her chair. “Time to join them.”
A few guests at the assembled tables were looking their way. Lindsay, grinning, was one of them. “No, they dance the whole thing alone,” Connie muttered through her own grin. “Tradition.”
Ben didn’t budge. “Seth’s orders. He did not want everyone watching him trip over himself and Alexi’s dress. He told me to get us out there as fast as possible.”
“He’s doing fine. Awesome, actu—” Her chair was tugged backward. “All right, all right. If that’s what he wants.”
As Ben’s arm came around her waist on the dance floor, she caught sight of Seth’s surprised expression. “Uh, Ben, I don’t think this is what he wanted.”
He drew her to within a finger’s width of his chest. “Oh. I might have misunderstood.”
Connie glanced back at Seth to communicate a nonverbal apology, but her brother’s head was already bent to Alexi. “That was sneaky, Ben.”
“Yep.” He picked up the pace and Connie found her feet working on their own. She remembered she and Ben had found places to go dancing, teaching each other how to two-step and polka from videos. They’d gotten good enough to dance with each other and no one else. Not that she’d wanted anyone else.
Ben led her in a slow spin around the perimeter, a revolving moon around the sun of Seth and Alexi, their moves sending up a couple of wolf whistles and a smattering of applause. Lindsay gave a hoot and turned to Derek, just like in the wedding photo. Except this Derek, a decade later, was downing a beer. C’mon, do the right thing, Connie silently begged him.
Seth beckoned to the guests, and at once the four kids and Mel streamed onto the floor along with a few other couples and kids, including Luke and Shari.
Ben’s lips brushed her ear. “You remember the first time we danced in public?”
“Yes. At Westerner Days.”
“Nope. Your graduation, remember?”
Oh, crud, yes. The memory nearly tripped her, but Ben’s hand and footwork got them back on track. He slowed their steps, which was fine as more couples drifted onto the dance floor.
Her mother had insisted Ben be her grad date. Connie had argued and fumed, ranted and raved, because the only reason her mom wanted Ben was so she could have someone checking up on Connie during the bush party that always followed graduation. Her mother had told her that if Ben wasn’t her date, she wasn’t paying a single penny toward her grad night, and so, because Connie had attached a hefty price tag to the event, she relented.
“I don’t think I’ve ever said sorry to anyone as much as I did to you during that one dance,” he said now.
She’d forgotten about that funny part of the grad. She grinned. “Three minutes and three rips in the dress. It’s why this one is shorter,” she added.
“That’s appreciated. You’re just as beautiful in this dress as you were in that one. More actually.” There was a catch in his voice.
She forced herself to focus outside their little bubble.
She wished she hadn’t. Derek’s eyes were locked onto Shari—who was dancing in Luke’s arms—with a look of raw, desperate love. Connie could see it from the dance floor. It must have been like a hot explosion to Lindsay, who stared at her husband in horrifying realization.
Connie moaned.
Ben pulled back. “What’s the matter?”
“Derek. Lindsay.”
Ben glanced at the couple, and for the first time in years, she heard him curse.
“Kinda ruins the mood, doesn’t it?” she murmured.
“I hope not,” he said, and pulled her tight to him. She let him because, on this of all days, she wanted more than just Seth and Alexi to have a happily-ever-after.
* * *
TEN THIRTY FOUND four-year-old Callie slumped over Ben’s shoulders in a dead sleep and Connie herding the other three kids, who were practically sleepwalking across the parking lot to bed.
Bed tonight was inside an RV that Mel had rented for the occasion. Earlier, it had acted as a dressing room and rest spot, and now the kids could roll into beds nearby without anyone having to drive. It was ingenious and thoughtful and utterly Mel-onish. Connie was anticipating a few calm minutes in the RV before diving back into the loud hall. And yes, maybe a quick, quiet moment with Ben.
She unlatched the RV door and stepped aside to let the rest of the kids enter first, leading with seven-year-old Amy. The girl’s scream yanked Connie up the stairs with Ben right behind. A woman’s voice called out.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m Connie’s friend.”
Uh-oh. Lindsay. Had the RV been left unlocked? Climbing inside, Connie made out Lindsay’s low-lit figure at the dining table.
“Hey, Linds. Ben and I were just putting the kids down for the night.”
“Okay,” Lindsay said, but didn’t move.
/> “C’mon, kids,” Ben said, “beds and pajamas.”
“I’ll be right back,” Connie whispered to Lindsay, and followed Ben to the bedroom at the back.
“No,” he said over his Callie-free shoulder. “Stay with Lindsay. I’ll handle this.”
“I have to put Callie into her pajamas.”
“Amy can help.”
A reasonable solution, which left Connie no choice but to be a friend to Lindsay who still hadn’t moved. Maybe nothing was bothering her. Maybe she just wanted a break from the events and the RV seemed like the natural, warm place to go.
“You knew about Derek and Shari, didn’t you?”
No such luck. “Yeah, I did.” Connie flicked on a light switch. Lindsay clapped her hands over her reddened eyes.
“Oh, sorry. Wasn’t thinking. Do you want a water? Something stronger?”
Lindsay shook her head.
“Something hot? I can make tea.” Why did she say that? How had tea ever helped a heartache?
“No. Thank you.”
Which left Connie with no option but to sit across from Lindsay.
“When we talked about me and Shari in my office a couple of months back, you knew then. You didn’t give me straight answers and that’s not like you. Don’t deny it. I’ve been sitting here for two hours, going over and over our conversation.”
Connie dodged Lindsay’s main point and clung to a detail. “Two hours? You told me that—”
“No, I told Derek that the babysitter was sick, a lie, so I could get out of there. He’ll stay, because why come home with me?” Her words came out slow and hollow.
“You confronted him?”
“I told him that I knew about him and Shari, but that’s it. Not exactly the time or place.”
Deeper in the RV came soft thumps and mutterings of the kids as they figured out their sleep arrangements. Would Ben find all their pajamas?
“Why did Derek do it?” Lindsay’s dress rustled like wind in a bush as she slumped forward. “Is it because I’m fat?”
Building a Family Page 11
