Beth Andrews - Caught Up in You

“I’m working.”

“Fine. I’ll buy.”

Eddie tossed the shims aside. “I don’t want a beer.”

Actually, a beer didn’t sound half bad. If a quick drink had been all James was after, he might have gone along with it. But James was too perceptive to buy Eddie’s evasions about Lena. Too damned nosy to let it go. And spending any amount of time deflecting what was sure to be an interrogation sounded like pure hell.

“I’ll text Leo,” James said. “Have him meet us.”

Both brothers yakking at him, questioning him, wanting to know his every goddamn thought? More like pure hell with the flames set to High.

Eddie stood. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Between putting in twelve-hour days for Montesano Construction, family obligations and his new live-in relationship with Sadie Nixon—his best friend since childhood—James always had somewhere to be. Something to do.

“Not for an hour.” He didn’t even look up from whatever he was typing. “Sadie and I are going to her parents’ house for Will’s birthday dinner.”

“You want to waste an hour while Leo hits on every pretty woman at O’Riley’s, that’s your choice. Me? I’m going to finish this, pick up my kid and go home.”

“You sure?” James asked quietly, but Eddie knew what his brother really wanted to know.

Are you really all right? Do you want to talk about it? What can I do to help?

He was grateful for the concern. He didn’t want it, didn’t need it, but he could appreciate it just the same. “I’m sure.”

Nodding, James stepped forward and slapped Eddie’s shoulder. Gave it an affectionate—if heavy-handed—squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He walked out, his phone once again buzzing for his attention. Eddie turned to his work. He appreciated his brother’s concern. Knew James and the rest of their family were there for him and Max if they needed them. Whenever. Wherever.

It meant a lot.

But there were some things a man had to do on his own.

* * *

“I’M TELLING YOU, that woman hates me,” Sadie Nixon said with such heartfelt drama, Harper glanced around to make sure they hadn’t been magically transported to a Broadway stage. Harper’s cousin always had had somewhat of a theatrical streak.

But, nope, they were still in Irene Ellison’s gourmet kitchen. The scent of roasting beef filled the air, mixed with the yeasty smell of the rolls in the second oven while potatoes bubbled on the back corner of the six-burner range. Speckled black granite counters topped white cabinets, and green-and-black accents kept the room from being too modern or austere.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Aunt Irene told her daughter as she spread whipped white frosting on a triple-layer coconut cake. “Rose is a lovely woman.”

“She’s a fabulous woman,” Sadie agreed, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the counter. “Wonderful, really. Kind. Caring. Considerate. And she hates my guts.”

Aunt Irene shook her head. “Now, Sadie—”

“It’s true. I’ve tried so hard to get her to like me. I bake her cookies. Pick up little gifts I think she’ll enjoy. Help with the dishes when we eat dinner there. I invite her out for coffee or shopping, just the two of us.” Sadie, in bright orange jeans that threatened to cause permanent eye damage, and a silky white top that fell from her shoulder, pouted prettily. Then again, everything Sadie did she did prettily. Hard not to when you looked like a blonde, blue-eyed fairy come to life. “She’s always busy.”

“Well, I imagine she is very busy, what with going back to school,” Aunt Irene said.

Lifting the lid from the potatoes, Harper frowned as steam heated her cheeks, probably curling her hair. “Mrs. Montesano is going to college?”

“She’s taking courses at Seton Hill.” Sadie swiped her finger through the frosting bowl when her mom’s back was turned. “She wants to be a social worker.”

Good to know at least one Montesano considered education important. Rose’s middle son could learn a lesson from his mother.

Harper gripped the fork like Norman Bates in Psycho and stabbed the potatoes with more force than necessary. Not that she was letting grumpy, stubborn Eddie affect the rest of her evening or anything. She’d let all that go. Her frustration with him. Her curiosity as to how someone who seemed so quiet and stoic could also be so blatantly antagonistic.

Her shock over the sense that he just hadn’t seemed to like her all that much.

She peeled her fingers from the utensil and laid it on the counter, replaced the lid on the not-quite-done vegetable. How could he not like her? They didn’t even know each other, for God’s sake. Yes, she’d tutored him, but it wasn’t as if they’d had many—or any—deep, meaningful conversations. There was no basis, none at all, for him to form what had seemed to be a distinct aversion to her.

Which was crazy. She happened to be extremely likable. Some would even say to know her was to love her.

Okay, so only her parents had ever said that but that didn’t make it any less true.

“Just be yourself,” Irene advised Sadie as she moved the remaining frosting out of her daughter’s reach. “I’m sure whatever problem Rose has with you will solve itself in good time.”

“Please. I broke her son’s heart. She refuses to forgive me.”

“And he broke yours. But you found your way back to each other and mended those breaks. Forgave each other. It’s the way of love.”

“It’s not that way for everyone.” Harper couldn’t help but point this out. “Beau and I never fought.” And her husband certainly would never have done anything to break her heart.

Sadie raised her eyebrows. “Never?”

“We argued once in a while but nothing major.”

Everything between her and Beau had been so easy. So right. They’d fallen hard for each other at first sight, were engaged within a year of that initial meeting and married six months later. They’d rented an apartment, scrimped and saved for two years until they’d had enough for the down payment on their house. Harper had gotten pregnant a few months after moving in and, after eight and a half months, gave birth to a perfect daughter in under nine hours.

They’d done everything right. Everything.

And still he’d been taken away from her.

“No fights means no makeup sex,” Sadie said. “Or in-the-heat-of-a-fight sex, which is even better.”

Harper sent her a smug grin. “We didn’t need to fight to make sex exciting.”

Sadie snorted out a laugh.

Irene retrieved a huge glass bowl of salad from the stainless steel fridge. “Before we delve any further into the sex lives of my daughter and my favorite niece—”

“Your only niece,” Harper and Sadie said at the same time.

“I’d like to get back to what I was saying, which is that you needn’t worry about Rose staying angry with you. She’ll eventually forgive you for hurting her child.”

“I don’t see you holding a grudge against James,” Sadie muttered.

“That’s because I was on James’s side the whole time.”

And with that piece of insight, Aunt Irene swept out of the kitchen and into the dining room where Harper’s mother, Mary Ann, was in charge of setting the table. Her Uncle Will and dad, Kurt, were entertaining Cassidy in the family room.

“Now that’s just mean,” Sadie called after her mother.

Harper rubbed her cousin’s arm. “Don’t worry. Aunt Irene’s right. Mrs. Montesano will get over whatever’s bothering her. No one can stay mad at you for long.”

“She’s giving it her best effort.” Sadie slid Harper an unreadable look. “Though I’m very glad to hear you say that.”