Like a pistol shot at the start of a race, everyone jumped into motion at once. Bo’s mother set about pouring iced tea while his father began slicing the roast. Bo reached for the basket of rolls. Across the table, his sister spooned vegetables onto Toby’s plate, much to the child’s displeasure.
“Tobias,” Bo’s father chided, “you are going to eat every one of those green beans. Your mother grew them herself.”
“Yes, Granda,” Toby grumbled, cramming a green bean in his mouth.
“Better give me some of those too,” Bo said, holding his plate out to his sister. As she scooped out a serving, Bo winked at Toby. “I hear there’s cake later.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.” His sister shot her son an accusing look, her smile taking out the sting.
“Cherry-cola cake? I am surprised.” Bo grinned at Luna. “What are we celebrating?” A thick, rich chocolate cake sweetened with cherry cola and slathered with just the right amount of fudge frosting and topped with maraschino cherries, his favorite dessert was usually a treat his sister reserved for special occasions.
“Your new job,” Luna said. “You start filming tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not really a new job,” Bo hedged. “Just another project for Windy City Stunts.”
“Just another project,” Luna echoed in a mocking voice. “You’re working on a Sylvia Jensen movie!”
“Who?” Mom asked.
“Sylvia Jensen.” His sister glanced at their mother. “She directed all those superhero movies.” Luna returned her attention to Bo. “My big brother has hit the big time.”
“You get to work with superheroes?” Toby asked, eyes bright with excitement.
“Not exactly.” Bo leaned across the table. “This movie is about a girl who fights for justice and stands up for what she believes in. She’s a hero, but no cape or superpowers.”
“Oh.” Toby’s face fell.
“She does have to ride a horse, though,” Bo added.
“Oh?” With typical exuberance, Toby’s curiosity bounced back. “Fast?”
“Very fast.” Bo nodded. “To escape the bad guys.” He washed down the last of his roll with some iced tea. “That’s part of my job, to make sure everyone’s safe while on horseback.”
From the head of the table came a grunt. Bo glanced up. His dad’s attention was on his plate, but Bo knew that grunt had been meant for him. Dad had never been a big fan of his career choice. Bo pushed his food around, stomach churning with guilt. He knew his father still resented the fact Bo hadn’t taken over for him here at the estate. Dad had never been able to understand why Bo would refuse such an opportunity.
As the story went, Bo’s father had come here from Ireland with barely more than the clothes on his back. The position of stable manager for Murphy Farms was an answer to a desperate man’s prayers, providing a steady, if not lavish, income, as well as use of the carriage house and surrounding property. Dad had been able to settle down. Get married. Raise a family.
But everything, from the beds they slept in, to the table they ate on, was owned by the Murphy family.
Sadie’s family.
From a young age, Bo had known that the world was divided between the haves and have-nots. His dad liked to say fortune came with the flip of a coin. And Bo knew which side of the coin he fell on.
And which side Sadie did.
After Dad’s accident, Esther Murphy, Sadie’s grandmother, had insisted Bo’s family stay in the carriage house. The house and gardens were theirs to use until his dad’s death. She’d also asked Bo if he wanted to take over management of the stables. The offer made sense. Bo knew the property and the horses as well as his father and had already been helping with many of the responsibilities for years. Plus, if Bo accepted, his family could remain in the carriage house for another generation.
It seemed like the perfect solution. Grateful for the opportunity and what it would mean for his family, Bo came very close to accepting. But the thought of pouring everything he had into a place that belonged to someone else, that he could never truly call his own … didn’t sit well with him.
He didn’t want to step into his father’s shoes, he wanted to stand on his own two feet, earn his own way, be his own boss. It’s why it was so important he eventually took over Windy City Stunts. To make it his.
And then, of course, was the issue of Sadie. Did she even know what had happened to his father? The arrangement her grandmother had made? Probably not. She hadn’t had a fucking clue about his life, so why would this be any different? As far as Bo knew, she hadn’t set foot on this estate in a decade. He doubted that was a coincidence.
Sadie may not have kept up with what he’d been doing all these years, but Bo had stayed informed about her. He’d already known where she’d planned to go to college in Chicago, and knew she moved to New York City right after graduation. He’d followed her career faithfully, knew every cheesy commercial she’d made, the movies she’d had minor roles in, every television show she’d appeared on. His abuela wasn’t the only one who watched every single episode of that angst-fest of a soap opera Sadie had starred in.
Ever since he’d found out she’d been cast in this movie, even though he’d been worried about how she’d react to seeing him, he’d been looking forward to seeing her. Bo had expected Sadie to be angry, to hate him even. But he hadn’t been prepared for her initial coldness. Her calm aloofness. The fact she’d not known a single thing about what he’d been doing in the years since she’d seen him last.
It was like she hadn’t thought about him at all. Her indifference hurt worse than her anger.
“Can we have cake now?”
Bo cast a grin across the table at his nephew, grateful for the distraction.
“I still count three green beans on that plate, mijo,” Luna observed. She looked over at Bo. “And your uncle Bo has a whole pile left.”
At Toby’s accusing glare, Bo crammed a forkful of green beans in his mouth.
“I can’t wait to see that escape scene on the big screen,” Luna said, watching her son as he ate the last of his vegetables one bean at a time. “I read the book and thought the story was amazing. Did you know the author is from right here in Chicago? And young? Like my age.”
Bo chewed, watching his sister in stunned silence. Luna didn’t ramble often. She really must have loved that book.
“Who did they cast in the lead?” Luna asked, attention shifting to Bo. “Anyone I’ve heard of?”
Green beans lodged in Bo’s gullet. Oh, you’ve definitely heard of her. He forced himself to swallow. “Sadie Gold,” he mumbled, bracing himself for his sister’s reaction. She’d never been a member of the Sadie fan club.
“Sadie?” Luna’s voice rose. “Sadie Goldovitz?” She leaned back in her chair, staring across the table at him. “You’re working with that spoiled little b—”
Their father cleared his throat, loudly. Swearing was not allowed at the dinner table.
Luna shot a quick glance at her father, then her son, before flicking her eyes back to Bo. “Brat?”
Bo stared down at his plate and poked at his remaining green beans. Ever since they were little, Luna had despised Sadie. But his sister had never told him why, so Bo had decided it was some female thing and given up trying to figure it out.
“Isn’t that Esther Murphy’s little granddaughter?” his mom asked. “The one who would stay with her during the summer?” She smiled at Bo. “You two used to be inseparable, gallivanting all over the place.”
“That was a long time ago,” Bo said, cheeks heating.
“Never had time for anyone but each other,” Luna grumbled.
Bo glanced at his sister. Had she been jealous? Was that her problem?
“Little Sadie. A movie star.” Mom sighed. “I remember when she was on that show Abuela likes, the American telenovela.” His mother waved her hand, searching for the title.
“Hope General,” Luna said. “Yeah. She played a spoile
d brat on there too.”
“Pfft, that’s just her TV character, mija. I thought Sadie was a lovely girl. And I know our Bo certainly thought so.” His mother cast a playful look his way. “It’s been so long since I saw her in person, though. How does she look?”
“Good,” Bo grunted. He should have stayed in the stable. “Stella looks good too,” he observed, desperate to change the subject.
As he hoped, his mother immediately took the bait, nodding. “She does, doesn’t she? Poor old girl.”
“Isn’t Stella the same age as you, Uncle Bo?” Toby asked.
“That’s right, we were born a few months apart.” Bo’s heart tugged with affection for the sweet aging horse. Lippizans tended to live longer than average, but at thirty, the mare was nearing her end. At best, she had five more years, though likely it was closer to only two or three. He sighed, filled with melancholy at the passing of time.
“Mamá?” Toby asked, tugging on Luna’s arm. “Uncle Bo isn’t going to die soon, is he?”
“What? No, baby,” his sister assured her son, running a hand over his sandy-blond hair, so like his own had been at the same age, and likely how Bo’s dad’s had been as a boy too.
In terms of rolling the genetic dice, Bo and his sister had managed to split things evenly. While Bo had Dad’s brown hair and Mom’s coppery eyes, Luna had inherited their mother’s black hair and Dad’s green eyes.
And while Toby’s hair would likely darken to the same shade as his uncle and granda, his eye color was altogether different—blue as a robin’s egg—most likely from his father’s side. But Bo couldn’t know for sure, and he would never, ever ask. Like her feelings for Sadie, Luna refused to discuss Toby’s father.
“I’m not going anywhere, little man,” Bo assured his nephew. “Horses are different than people. They don’t usually live as long.”
“That’s sad,” Toby said, lip quivering.
“It is,” Bo agreed. “That’s why it’s important we do everything we can to make sure Stella is as happy as we can make her while she’s still with us.”
“Is that why you bring her sweets whenever you come visit?” Toby asked.
“Bonifacio Maguire Ibarra,” his mother drew his full name out, the syllables ricocheting around the dining room, her voice laced with accusation, “have you been giving that horse sugar cubes again?”
“Huh?” Bo blinked, face a mask of innocence as he glanced up from his plate. He slid a peek at his nephew. Toby’s lips were sealed shut, but the kid was shaking in his chair, vibrating like he was about to burst from holding the secret inside. Bo wasn’t sure how much longer the little guy could last. “How about some cake?” he suggested.
His sister rose from the table and went to the kitchen. Toby scuttled off his chair and hurried after. Eager to sneak a lick of icing while his mother sliced the cake, and likely equally eager to escape Abuela’s scolding.
“Relax, Mom.” Bo offered her an appeasing smile.
“You shouldn’t give Stella sweets, it’s not good for her.”
“I only gave her a few and made sure she had some carrots too.”
His mother made a face, but he could tell she was caving.
“Come on now, Mami. The old girl needs a little sugar in her life,” Bo said, adding a little sugar to his voice for her too.
As he knew she would, his mother shook her head, a reluctant smile curving her mouth. He leaned across the table to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Fine,” she relented, patting his head with affection. “But only a little. I don’t need her developing diabetes.” A small animal veterinarian by trade, his mother didn’t specialize in horses, but she’d been around them long enough to provide basic care. Though the stables were technically not her domain, Bo’s mother viewed every animal on the property as her responsibility.
His sister reappeared, Toby at her side, carrying a plate loaded with a giant slice of cake.
“Whoa, little man, that’s a lot of cake.”
“It’s for you, Uncle Bo.”
Bo watched, heart as full as his stomach was about to be, while his nephew carefully walked the plate to the table and set it in front of Bo. “Gracias, sobrino.”
Toby nodded, face beaming with pride. “Mamá let me cut it myself.” He paused, face squishing up. “Well, she let me help.”
“You might have to help me too. I don’t know if I can eat this all by myself.”
“’Kay.” Toby nodded, scrambling back into his seat. “After I’m done with mine.”
“Deal.” Bo laughed, and waited until his sister was done serving everyone and had returned to her own seat. “Thanks for this, sis,” he told her.
“Just make sure I get a ticket to the movie premiere,” she shot back.
“You still want to go now that you know who’s playing the lead?” he teased.
“No le hace.” Luna rolled her eyes. “It was a really good book.”
“I guess so.” Bo laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” He dug into his cake, wanting to groan with pleasure as the sweet rich fudge melted on his tongue. If he ate this entire piece, he’d likely be the one developing diabetes, but it’d be worth it.
“How’s the garden?” Bo asked.
“Not bad.” Luna licked a bit of icing from the prongs of her fork.
“Not bad,” their father harrumphed. He stabbed at his cake. “Your sister is selling vegetables at five farmers’ markets now, and has business deals with flower shops all over town.”
“Really?” Bo looked at Luna. “That’s great.”
“Dad’s been a lot of help.” She sidestepped the compliment, cheeks growing rosy beneath her tanned skin. “The farmers’ markets will be winding down soon, but homecoming season is starting, so I’m getting lots of orders for corsages.”
When Luna first started the garden, Bo had been hesitant to ask her too much about it. It was a sensitive subject for his sister. Eight years ago, after getting pregnant with Toby when she was still a teenager, she’d given up her dreams of leaving home to study agricultural design in California. Instead, she’d poured her heart and soul into designing a garden here, selling the organic vegetables and homegrown blooms at local farm stands.
Luna had a real talent with plants. A natural green thumb with an eye for arrangements. Bo had always admired his sister’s ability to take the curve ball life had thrown her and keep swinging. She impressed with him with the way she managed to juggle everything.
From the beginning, Toby’s father was never in the picture. If his sister chose to raise her son as a single mom, that was her business. At least, by Luna living here, Mom and Dad were able to help with Toby.
“Uncle Bo?”
Toby’s tug on his sleeve pulled Bo back to the dining room table. He smiled down at his nephew. “Yes, sobrino?”
“Are you going to finish your cake?”
Bo laughed. “Tell you what.” He split the large slice down the middle. “How about we share?”
Toby eagerly agreed, and they both dug in. Bo’s thoughts drifted to the start of filming tomorrow. Working with Sadie wasn’t going to be easy, but he was so close to getting what he wanted, he could almost taste it. If the movie ended up being the blockbuster everyone was predicting, Bo was confident he’d have the leverage he needed to convince Vic to let him take over. Scooping up another forkful of cake, Bo vowed to do everything he could to ensure the film’s success.
CHAPTER 6
INHALE. HOLD, TWO, three, four. Exhale. Hold, two, three, four. Sadie breathed, slow and deep, moving through the centering exercises she always did right before a performance. She’d been doing the same routine for years, from standing backstage during college shows to waiting for her cue on Hope General, to now, when she was due on set in less than five minutes.
Usually Sadie waited until she was actually on set before running through her exercises, but while sitting in the makeup chair, she’d realized she was on the verge of completely losing her shit. Shit,
which lost, would take way more than five minutes to find again. She took another deep breath.
Or attempted to. As soon as she began sucking in air, the makeup artist yelled at her.
“Knock that off!” Zara waved her powder brush with an air of menace and warned, “Unless you want to walk out of here looking like you have three boobs.”
Sadie choked back a laugh and glanced down at her chest, where Zara was busy making her cleavage camera ready. Through the magic of highlight and contour, encased in a tight leather vest (and a damn good bra), Sadie’s not-quite-a-B-cup rack had never looked so impressive.
Doing her best to hold still, Sadie inhaled slowly.
“Nervous?” Zara asked, darkening the shadow between Sadie’s breasts.
“No,” Sadie lied. After all, what did she have to be nervous about? She was only minutes away from shooting the first fight sequence in the film that would either make or break her career. This role was the chance Sadie had been waiting for ever since quitting the soap—ever since she’d decided to become an actress, really. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
But with great opportunity came great risk. There was a reason films that did poorly at the box office were called bombs. If the movie failed, her chance at a career on the big screen would be blown. Kaboom.
Worse, it would give power to the whispers that had been circling around her for years. Rumors claiming she’d only gotten her role on the soap opera because of who her family knew, not what she could do. Insinuations that her career was based on connections, not talent.
The thing was, the best rumors began with a kernel of truth. Her father may be in the hotel industry, but he had a lot of friends in the entertainment business. Friends who attended the same charity events, played golf at the same country clubs, vacationed at the same resorts. Friends who did favors for each other. And Sadie had landed an audition for the soap thanks to someone her dad knew. But despite what the websites reported, she’d won the role on her own.
Nobody seemed to care about that part of the story, though. Not even after she’d earned an Emmy for her performance as the emotionally scarred poor little rich girl on Hope General. All they saw was what she played on TV. The spoiled socialite. The pampered princess. Sometimes Sadie wondered if she’d made a mistake taking that role. But she’d long ago decided life was too short for regrets. She’d made a choice. She had to live with it.
Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 5
