Dane lounged against Susan Spencer’s kitchen counter as Fernsby took over the space, providing both the meal and the dessert. T. Rex lay under the kitchen table in the dog bed Fernsby had brought for him. Because Fernsby and the dog went everywhere with Dane.
Especially with Cammie gone and Rex pining for her.
It had been two weeks since their defining soccer game and the roundtable at the Buena Vista Café in San Francisco. After Cal had drawn up the merger agreement, they’d all participated in the signing meeting a few days ago.
Susan and Bob wanted to host a dinner party at their new home in Portola Valley, completely renovated for them by the Mavericks. “Now that you’re all in business with the boys—” The Mavericks would probably always be boys to Susan. Her boys. “—Let’s have a party. Though we met at Gideon’s New Year’s Eve gala, we should all get to know each other better.”
Dane had readily agreed, and here they were—Troy, Clay, and Ava chatting with the main group in the living room, while Gabby oversaw everything Fernsby did, much to the butler’s consternation. Susan joined them, though she’d ceded control of her kitchen to Fernsby for the night.
Swiping an appetizer off an almost empty tray Fernsby had just replaced out in the great room, Dane squatted by Rex’s bed to offer the dog a tasty bite.
“He’s adorable.” Susan leaned down to pet Rex’s head.
Dane stood again, taller than Susan, who was a tallish, kind-eyed woman with a cap of silver hair and a lovely smile. “Thank you for allowing us to bring him.”
“He’s so well trained.” She lowered her voice to add, “We have three new puppies in the family, all of them a year old. We’re still in training mode.”
Fernsby interrupted with a loud gasp rumbling up from his throat. “Sir,” he belted out, “the dog is getting fat. He waddles. No treats. How many times must I convey that fact to you?”
Dane looked at the outraged man and chuckled. “But you’re making roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. It’s driving Rex crazy.”
Fernsby eyed him balefully. “Lord Rexford,” he intoned, “was sleeping before you disturbed him. He wasn’t even aware there was roast beef nearby.”
Susan gave Dane a sympathetic smile.
Fernsby bent to open the oven door, the scent of Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes wafting into the air. “The Yorkshires are done,” he declared, taking them out and setting them on the stovetop. The roast beef rested on the counter under a foil tent. “They’re perfect.” Fernsby allowed himself a swift nod of congratulations. He’d made the Yorkshires in a muffin pan, turning them into popovers, with a hole in the center for his rich, homemade beef gravy.
Dane’s mouth was already watering.
“They look absolutely amazing.” Susan gave Fernsby the praise he required.
Then the man looked to Gabby, his mouth stretched into something resembling an evil grin. “I know you want a Yorkshire. With gravy. Lots of it. And butter on your roast potatoes.”
Gabby screwed up her face, lips pinched, eyes squinty. “That is just so gross.” She turned to Susan. “If you let him in your kitchen, he’ll add butter to everything, even if it doesn’t need it. He’s a butter fiend.”
Face devoid of any expression now, nose imperiously in the air, Fernsby said, “Butter and eggs are the staff of life.”
But Dane knew Fernsby had prepared a special meal for Gabby—vegan meatloaf, a baked potato, vegan sour cream to top. He just liked to rub Gabby the wrong way. The feeling was mutual.
Susan tied on her apron. “I’ll help serve.”
His tone immutable, Fernsby said, “Dear lady, you go be with your guests. Let me handle this. It’s what I do.” He put a hand to his chest. “I’m Fernsby!”
Then he handed her a glass of champagne and shooed her away like the Grinch patting Cindy-Lou Who on the head after she’d just walked in on him trying to stuff the Christmas tree up the chimney.
Susan Spencer hooked her arm through Dane’s and led him out to the living room, where all the Mavericks were gathered. She whispered, “He’s really amazing.”
“And he’s bossy.”
They shared a smile.
The dining table had been set with crystal, porcelain, and silver, two leaves added to accommodate them all. The massive great room held the seven Mavericks, their ladies, and all the family that went with them, including Charlie Ballard’s mother, Francine, and Evan’s birth mother, Theresa, who hadn’t made it to the soccer game. Tony Collins, Kelsey’s twin, had come tonight too.
They all rather overwhelmed the small group of Harringtons. Dane wished once again that Cammie could have been here for the celebration. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine her next to him, her sweet scent seeping into him, her warm hand on his arm as she pointed out this or that.
He had to shake himself back to reality.
Ava had cornered Will Franconi’s wife, Harper. He was glad his family was making the rounds. He hoped they felt the same emotional impact he did.
Dane had spoken with Harper earlier and learned she was a recruiter, handling placements for high-powered business executives. What intrigued him most was her love for her brother, Jeremy. The young man had been hit by a car when he was a child. Now, at the age of twenty, he still had the mind of the boy he’d been. And he was delightful. Harper had become his guardian when their parents were killed in a plane crash, and he admired how she’d taken responsibility. Much the same as Cammie took responsibility for Lochlan. He hadn’t missed that Harper had been just about his age when his parents died, and he’d taken on the role of head of the family.
Troy was engrossed in a conversation with Matt and Ari Tremont. Clay had just stepped away from Rosie to snag an appetizer off Fernsby’s tray, and Dane took his spot. “I have to congratulate you again on your gallery showing back in January.” All the Harringtons had complimented her on the great show after the soccer game, but Gideon had given Dane more news. “I hear you sold almost every painting. Your art is truly amazing.”
Gideon wrapped an arm around his pregnant fiancée, pride gleaming in his eyes. “It was so successful that she never has to crunch another number again in her life.”
Rosie had been an accountant, and Gideon met her through his sister, Ari. Rosie and Ari had been best friends since they were girls in foster care.
All the Mavericks had come from troubled backgrounds. Gideon joined the Army right out of high school to take care of his mother and little sister. And yet, for all his loyalty, after their mother’s death, Ari had been lost to him when she disappeared into the foster care system. He’d spent years trying to find her. It was an amazing story. Now he’d joined the family, along with Rosie and her son. And Jorge was treated like a treasured grandson, the same as Noah, Matt’s boy.
With Susan and Bob, Dane knew instinctively, there was always more love to go round.
Dane moved through the crowd—and it was a crowd. He’d spoken with Ari earlier, the kindergarten teacher. She’d met Matt when she became Noah’s nanny. Dane figured it had been love at first sight for both father and son.
He’d also talked with Paige Collins, who was a family therapist. From things she’d said, Dane had a feeling she’d helped bring Evan back together with his long-lost mother and the twins. Obviously, twins ran in the family.
Tasha, Daniel’s girlfriend, was a web designer, executing brilliant ideas for Daniel’s DIY empire, creating an amazing 3D application for Daniel’s customers to design their own kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms, and living spaces, both indoors and out.
Dane was good at getting people to talk about themselves. He gleaned information by listening rather than talking. Cammie often told him that was his superpower, getting people to open up. He supposed it was true, but only because he was genuinely interested. Besides, he wasn’t one to talk much about himself.
Fernsby entered then, clapping his hands to gain everyone’s attention and saying in his sonorous, cultured British voice, “Dinner is served.”
Everyone took seats while Gabby helped Fernsby carry in the plates. He did not do buffet-style, instead plating everything himself and giving everyone a portion of each selection.
Dane managed to sit between Charlie and her mother.
“This all looks so scrumptious,” Francine enthused before delicately tucking in.
As they ate, he took the opportunity to tell Charlie, “I’ve seen your magnificent sculpture at Montgomery Media. The Chariot Race is one of the most amazing pieces of artwork I’ve ever seen.”
Charlie and Sebastian met when he’d commissioned her to create the stunning sculpture for his new San Francisco headquarters. Next to her, Sebastian beamed with pride, just as Gideon had over Rosie’s art.
Francine Ballard covered his hand with hers, her papery skin slightly cold. “You should see her dinosaurs. Charlie makes awesome dinosaurs. She even has a T. Rex. And I know your little dog is named after that ferocious beast. Maybe you need a big Tyrannosaurus Rex in your yard.”
Charlie laughed. “That might be a bit much for a little dog.”
Dane shook his head. “But that’s why he’s named T. Rex. He needed a big-dog name since he’s a big dog in his own mind. He’d love a big T. Rex.”
“He’d probably pee on its tail,” Charlie said, pretending indignation.
Francine giggled and flapped her hand. “They’re all rusty anyway, so it won’t matter.”
Dane saw a big T. Rex in his future to go along with his little T. Rex. Cammie would love it.
God, how he wished she were here. The need was a sudden ache in his chest, a hole she’d left behind. But Lochlan needed her now more than ever.
The meal was delicious, everyone complimenting Fernsby. He beamed with pride, though no one else but Dane probably noticed that shine in his silvery gaze. For dessert, he’d made his to-die-for mille-feuille.
Matt took a bite and moaned. “This is the most incredible dessert I’ve ever tasted.”
Gabby took her seat after helping to serve dessert. “Maybe we could try it without butter. What do you think, Fernsby?” She held up her vegan, gluten-free peanut butter brownie.
Fernsby gaped. “No butter? Have you gone mad? One must use as much butter as possible. How else do you get the pastry in your mille-feuille to puff?”
He returned to the kitchen in a huff, exiting to peals of laughter.
After Fernsby’s luscious dessert—why did that word make Dane think of Cammie, of her smooth skin and her luscious lips he’d tasted only for one night?—they moved once again to the enormous great room to chat over coffee and after-dinner drinks.
Dane joined Susan and Bob Spencer by the grand fireplace. Since it was mid-February, Bob had lit the fire.
“You have a great family here,” Dane told them.
“And it’s growing all the time,” Bob said with a big belly laugh, his gaze floating over his daughters-in-law and their baby bumps.
Daniel joined them, while Tasha chatted excitedly with the pregnant group. Paige placed Tasha’s hand on her round mound, and they all squealed with delight when it seemed the babies kicked.
“Tasha seems a little too interested.” Daniel eyed her with what could have been longing.
Susan patted his arm. “Don’t worry. Your time will come.” And that could have been a twinkle in Daniel’s eye.
“I want to thank you all for having us here,” Dane said. “My brothers and sisters and I are enjoying ourselves immensely.”
Daniel clapped him on the back. “This merger will be good for all of us.”
He couldn’t know how much his words meant. Now more than ever, Dane wanted to be part of this family, not just for himself, but for his brothers and sisters. He wondered if Bob Spencer, with his comment about a growing family, had included not only the coming babies, but the Harringtons as well.
Susan and Bob were the glue that held this band of brothers—and more—together. They’d married young, had little money, and lived in an apartment barely big enough for them and their two children. Bob had been a baggage handler at O’Hare and Susan a waitress. Yet, when Daniel brought home his friends, all of them in bad places in their young lives, Susan and Bob had taken them in. They’d given each Maverick exactly what he’d needed—love, support, discipline, and life lessons. And these Mavericks had even taken on the responsibility for their little sister, Lyssa, who was just a baby at the time, being ten years younger than Daniel.
And all the while, Dane’s parents had been roaming the globe. Dane recalled holidays when they’d been absent because the skiing was too good in the Alps. It was as if the Harrington children were afterthoughts. His parents had never offered the love he and his siblings craved, as much as they’d all wanted and needed it. Maybe Dane had craved it the most.
Their answering refrain when he’d begged? You always want too much from people, Dane.
What would his family have been like if they’d been raised as the Mavericks had? Maybe he would have been an uncle by now. Maybe they would have learned how to love instead of fearing and mistrusting it.
He flicked his gaze to his brothers and sisters as they worked the room, talking, laughing. Did they feel what he did—a craving to be part of this family? He wondered, too, about Cammie. After losing her parents so young, after having only her uncle, even as much as she loved Lochlan and was now on the verge of losing him, did she crave something bigger?
As if thoughts of Cammie had conjured her up, his phone rang, her ID on the screen.
Excusing himself, he stepped away to answer, his gut roiling. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked even before she could say hello.
Her voice quivered. “It’s Uncle Lochlan. His aides are here.” She choked back what could only have been a sob. “He’s barely breathing, and his pulse is almost nonexistent. They told me that if they turn him, he’ll probably go.”
“I’m leaving now.” He hated that she was so far away, that he couldn’t be there with a snap of his fingers. It would take him over an hour.
Her voice whispered across the airwaves. “Thank you.”
“You hang in there. Wait for me.”
“I will. I better go now.”
She was near tears, and her pain tore at him like a fist closing around his heart. He had to go. Now. He couldn’t waste a single minute getting to her.
Approaching the Spencers again, he said, “It’s Cammie. Her uncle. I’m sorry, I have to leave.” On the way out, he squeezed Ava’s arm. “It’s Lochlan. I have to be with her in his final moments.”
She pressed her lips together, her face solemn. “You go. Give her our love. Call me later.”
Dane knew she’d check with her own people and was, in fact, already reaching for her phone.
In the kitchen, he found Fernsby with his hands in soapy dishwater, an apron around his waist. “It’s Cammie’s uncle,” Dane said.
Fernsby’s eyes turned a misty gray. “You must immediately go to Camille. Don’t worry about Lord Rexford and me. Gabby can drop us off in Pebble Beach on her way home to Carmel. It’ll be a perfect opportunity for me to give her a few pointers about the health benefits of butter and eggs when she’s driving and can’t hit me,” he said with a straight face.
Dane wanted to hug him. Trust Fernsby to break the tension.
Then he headed out, thinking only of how quickly he could get to Cammie.
* * *
Daniel stood with his parents by the fireplace.
“What a caring family you’ve connected with,” his mother said, that look in her eye when she was wondering exactly how she could help someone in need.
Daniel couldn’t smile after witnessing the anguish written on Dane Harrington’s face. “They were orphaned at a young age. Dane was barely twenty-one and had to drop out of college. Ava did too. The others were still in high school or middle school.”
“You know what I think, honey?” His mother’s gaze roamed over the remaining Harringtons in the room.
This time, Daniel chuckled softly. “I already know, Mom. You’re always wanting to take in strays. Now you want to take in the Harringtons.”
“I barely know Dane, but I can see he’s a man who’s always taken care of other people. Maybe he needs someone to lean on too.”
Tonight allowed him to see the Harringtons in a new light. They might be leaders in their fields, but they were also orphans, without the love of inspiring parents. While they seemed exceptionally close, they hadn’t had Susan and Bob Spencer in their lives. Daniel and his brothers had achieved what they had only because of his parents. They’d taught him how to love. He wondered if he’d have recognized his love for Tasha without their inspiration in his life.
Maybe the Mavericks could bring more to the table than just some good business ventures. Maybe they could bring his parents and a share of the love he’d known all his life. Lord knew his parents had so much of it to give.
* * *
The bed stood in the center of the room, paintings of flowers and landscape scenes on the blue walls. Comfortable chairs sat on either side, and a long bureau held Lochlan’s things, though he no longer needed them and hadn’t for months. Cammie stood by the quiet form, holding his hand. She was exactly where she’d always been, at her uncle’s side.
That’s who Cammie Chandler was—steadfast, caring, and loyal.
The pain cracking her features nearly broke Dane.
Though he hadn’t made a sound, she turned, the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks. The moment she saw him, they flowed once more, and in the next moment, she was in his arms.
He held her tight as she shook against him.
She put on such a strong front. She was strong. That’s how the Mavericks had seen her at the soccer game. But inside there was a fragility she hid from the world, growing right along with her uncle’s disease. Dane knew how hard this was for her. It was why he’d rushed to her tonight, why he visited every week, why he video-chatted with her every night, trying to take her mind off the agony of watching her uncle deteriorate.
Holding her now, he whispered words she needed to hear. “You are the best niece in the world. You’ve done everything possible for Lochlan. And I’m not leaving your side while you go through this.”
She pulled back, swept a fresh wave of tears from her cheeks, and gave him a weak smile. “Thank you. I don’t want to be alone for this.”
He cupped her face in his palms. “You’re never alone. I’m always here.”
Then together, hand in hand, they turned to her uncle’s bed.
* * *
At dawn, Fernsby stood in the kitchen window of the Pebble Beach house, Lord Rexford in his arms. Dane pulled the Jaguar into the garage, and Fernsby fed Lord Rexford a bit of leftover roast beef. “You need a treat too,” he cooed to the dog. “You feel bad for Camille. As we all do.”
After Lochlan Chandler’s passing a few hours ago, Dane had stayed with Camille until she’d fallen asleep. But when she woke, she’d sent him packing. That was her way, always needing to show people how strong she was. Dane had respected that. So did Fernsby. But he knew it had been a long night for them both.
He shifted Lord Rexford in his arms. Camille would be coming home soon. It had been a terrible time for her, and Fernsby would treat her gently. Tomorrow, when she was rested, he would call her with his condolences and the words of comfort he could offer. “But it’s best she comes back where she belongs very soon,” he told the dachshund.
As he heard the garage door close, he gave the dog one final command. “Now it’s time to show those two they belong together. No matter how hard it is to get them to see that romance is inevitable. She needs him just as much as he needs her.” He kissed the tip of the dog’s nose. “We’re in this together, Lord Rexford. It’s going to take all our skills.”