Chad went home and found his brother on a ladder against the south side of his spectacular rehabbed barn-mansion.
“So this is what you blew off our meeting with DMC Solutions for,” he said by way of greeting. “A little whipped, aren’t you?”
Eric was installing a drip-system for the hanging flowerpots his girlfriend wanted. Leda had a green thumb but because she worked most days in the neighbors’ market garden, she had little time for beautifying their own yard. She wanted self-watering hanging baskets, so Eric was giving her self-watering hanging baskets.
Eric set the electric drill down. “Totally worth it.”
Chad shook his head, as if disgusted, but secretly, he envied his brother. For the first time in years, Eric looked truly at ease with himself. Like he’d found something he hadn’t even known was missing.
His brother’s settledness only brought out an increasing restlessness in Chad, which pissed him off. His own life was just fine. He was doing what he loved, on his own time, beholden to no one.
Then Eric came home, fell in love, built a home, happy-freaking-ending.
And suddenly Chad was spinning his wheels. In reverse.
“Bagged a twin yet?” asked Eric, waggling his eyebrows.
“What makes you think I want to?” he countered, irritated by the assumption. Especially since it was correct. Or, had been, at least.
Eric climbed down the ladder. “You’re alive. They’re alive. Didn’t think any more reason was needed. Or did they peak early? Not as cute now that they’re all grown up?”
It had been just one night but even then, those Cash sisters had known how to make an impression. The rumor had gone around that they’d been skinny-dipping in the hotel pool and every guy on the circuit claimed to have seen them, but in fact, no one had. The girls’ street cred had gone way, way up thanks to a salacious event that probably hadn’t even taken place.
Only Chad knew that it was real.
“Oh, they’re hot as ever.” But he wondered why, now that he finally had the chance to figure out which twin had fuelled his youthful fantasies, he didn’t seem to care anymore.
“Plus,” continued Eric, “you haven’t been to Lutherton in weeks. Everyone knows you were seeing someone out there, so I figure that’s over. We didn’t need to hire the sisters. We could have organized our own barn dance. So, natural conclusion: of course you’re trying to land one of them. Maybe both. So? Any luck so far?”
Chad picked up the ladder and moved it to the next basket location. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
Eric climbed up, chortling. “Oh, strike out. That’s gotta hurt.”
Maddie and DeeDee had struck out. Not him. Unless you counted Cynthia.
Chad gave a long-suffering sigh. “I hired DMC Solutions because a proper benefit requires more than hot dogs and beer. We either wrap old Grandpa’s generosity in charity or pay tax on it. This is how it’s gotta be, brother.”
Eric’s smile faded at that.
As the older of the two, Eric’s childhood memories and the delinquent father responsible for those hardscrabble early years were bleaker than Chad’s. He considered their inclusion in the will of the paternal grandfather they’d never met a slap in the face, but he was willing to let Chad put it to good use.
“So, how’s it going?” asked Eric.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Chad held the ladder as Eric climbed down again. “Cynthia Henley runs the show and is putting together an awesome media package for us. But the Cash sisters are the event planners and one of them just jumped ship.”
“So hire another company.”
He’d considered it. But he’d seen the panic on Cynthia’s face. She was so determined to meet her obligations, sisters or no sisters. How could he pull the rug out from under her?
“No need for that,” he said quickly. “I’m confident in Cynthia’s ability. I just want to keep you in the loop.”
Eric surveyed the black tubing on either side of the front doorway, then nodded in satisfaction.
“Perfect. Leda’s gonna love it.” He hiked the ladder over his shoulder and turned his attention back to his brother. “Whatever you decide is fine by me.”
Eric’s enthusiasm for Building Tomorrow had never matched Chad’s. He was more focused on building his own today, with Leda and her daughter. Chad understood, but still, it irked him.
“We’re testing signature cocktails tonight. If you want to share your opinion.”
He loved Cynthia’s suggestion that they feature a special drink. He loved even more the idea of spending an evening taste testing with her.
“Sure,” said Eric. “Leda’s done nursing Hera so she’ll be more than happy to help out. When and where?”
“Tonight,” said Chad, surprised. “My place. Thanks, man.”
He’d been expecting another argument for beer and hot dogs, or at best, indifference.
“Oh, a heads-up,” said Eric, as Chad was walking away. “There’s a chance I won’t be able to make a personal appearance at your dance, after all.”
Chad stopped.
“What?”
They were counting on Eric’s draw as a former bull-riding champion to bring in donors. He was supposed to give an inspiring speech recounting the injury that ended his career and the surgery that prevented him from being permanently disabled, a surgery he’d only been able to afford because of excellent sponsorship and a few good wins, followed by well-timed investments.
“We picked the date specifically because you said it would work. I can’t change it now.”
“Relax. It’ll probably be fine,” said Eric, oblivious to Chad’s reaction. “Leda’s waiting on a settlement hearing. If we have to go to Billings that weekend, then we’re going to Billings. Period. But chances are, it’ll all be taken care of by then.”
Leda was in the process of securing child support payments, finally, from the guy who’d left her pregnant and alone. Making him man up was a burr under Eric’s saddle. It wasn’t the money; it was about taking responsibility and Eric was big on responsibility. He loved to point out when others failed in that area but rarely trained his eagle eye on his own shortcomings.
“I’m counting on you, Eric,” said Chad quietly. “Everyone is. What am I supposed to do now?”
“Nothing, go ahead with your plans. I’ll be there if I can. I just can’t guarantee it. That’s all.”
Eric’s cell phone chirped then and he turned his back on Chad.
“Hey, honey,” Chad heard him say.
Chad walked across the yard, away from the barn-mansion to his own neglected abode, shaking his head at his brother’s thoughtlessness. It wasn’t Chad’s fundraiser. These weren’t his plans.
Building Tomorrow was their project. So why did he feel like he was in it alone?
He paused at his porch and kicked his boots against the step to get the dust off, then went inside. He had planned to do some cleaning before Cynthia showed up with the booze, but what was the point of choosing a cocktail if the success of the event it was for depended on a guest of honor who might not even show up?
The foundation’s first event could be dead before it was born. Logan Stafford wouldn’t get the support he deserved and of course there’d be no need for Cynthia’s services.
Cynthia, who was working so hard to pull this off for them.
He flexed his fingers.
Slow down.
He forced himself to take a deep breath and opened his fists.
He was overreacting. It had been a warning only. Chances were, the event would go off without a hitch, with Eric a full participant, as planned. There was no need to cancel and certainly no need for anyone else to worry about a problem that would likely not materialize.
He pulled out his cell phone and hit Cynthia’s number to confirm the taste testing. Drinking a few cocktails and calling it work sounded like the best idea he’d heard all day.
Cynthia pulled her car to a stop on the yard of Anders Run. Chad had agreed to show them around the property before they started testing drinks and she had her smart phone ready for any notes and photos she might want to take.
“Hey, ladies,” he called from the porch. “You put the sunset to shame on this lovely evening.”
Did those lines actually work?
As usual, he wore faded jeans that clung to his lean legs and well-worn boots. His chambray shirt looked butter-soft from age and wear, like it wouldn’t crunch so much as pool on the floor when he took it off before bed.
He pulled off his hat and there was that grin again, all aw-shucks, ma’am and harmless.
Harmless looking.
“Aren’t you sweet,” said Maddie, tucking her arm through his and smiling up at him.
Cynthia walked ahead of them. “We’ve got more work than time, people. Let’s go.”
“Slave driver,” said Maddie.
“Now, Maddie,” said Chad. “She’s doing exactly what I’ve hired her to do.”
“What you hired both of us to do,” corrected Cynthia, giving her stepsister a look. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got.”
Chad gave them the nickel tour. The original farmhouse, which belonged to him, needed some love, but it had an antique wood-burning stove that could be a focal point. If a few walls were knocked out, the windows enlarged, the floors redone...
The rest of the ranch, however, was in great shape. The barns were rustic but solid. There was a well-kept apple orchard loaded with small, green fruit. A tractor sat on a patch of fallow earth, black cattle observed them over a sturdy fence and beehives popped out of a field of wildflowers off in the distance.
Chad had spent a lot of time and effort building the place up, Cynthia noted. It was nothing fancy, but he’d probably salvaged it from near ruin, on his own time, at his own pace. A labor of love, like the rehab projects Logan Stafford took on. No wonder Building Tomorrow meant something to him, she thought.
At Anders Run, Chad had created something from nothing, for himself, without the constraints of others’ expectations.
How wonderful that must feel.
Chad shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked to the far edge of the yard. “And that’s Eric’s place.”
He gestured to a soaring structure with wide timbers, a hipped roof and floor-to-ceiling windows. It had obviously begun life as a barn, but now appeared to be a showcase home, stylish but rustic.
“It’s beautiful,” said Maddie. “Look at those lines!”
“Yup.” He hunched his shoulders and looked off into the distance. “He’s got great vision, my big brother.”
His tone suggested that an occasional case of pink eye wouldn’t be amiss. Just to level the playing field.
“I don’t know,” said Cynthia slowly. “The old farmhouse has great potential.”
Chad’s eyes met hers. “I’m going to finish it.”
It was an assertion she felt he’d made before.
“Of course you are.”
“And it’ll be fabulous, too,” added Maddie. She flung her arms out and turned in a circle. “The whole place is wonderful. It’s perfect!”
Chad’s eyes flickered but he didn’t look away. His smile returned, but not the easy grin he’d given them upon their arrival. This one was quieter. More real.
Private.
“Is that the arena?” Maddie hurried ahead of them. “It’ll work great. It’s covered, so weather won’t be an issue. We can put fresh wood chips down on the floor.”
Cynthia blinked, dragging her eyes away from Chad.
“After you,” he said, slow and low.
He had a really nice voice. Smooth, like ice cream melting. Which is what her insides felt like when she listened to him. She bet he didn’t sound slurpy at all when he kissed a girl.
Oh. No way.
She lifted her hands, then caught them in front of her face and interlaced her fingers. Slapping your head won’t help, Crazy-Cakes, she admonished herself.
This was not happening.
But the nerves quivering slow and hot in her belly disagreed. Apparently her brain, like nature, abhorred a vacuum and when she wasn’t looking, Chad had slipped into the man-shaped spot once occupied by Eric.
A perfect fit. Like a tick in a dog’s ear.
“It’ll take a lot of work,” said Cynthia. It helped to focus her mind on the details. Nothing held on like a tick.
Until you got the right tool around its pointy little head.
“Cinderella, Cinderella,” said Maddie. She gave Cynthia’s shoulders a squeeze. “You worry too much. I think it’s perfect. You have a wonderful ranch, Chad.”
She let go of Cynthia and took Chad’s arm, leading him toward the darkness of the arena.
Chad shot Cynthia a quick glance, concern in his warm eyes.
“Guh-guh-go on,” she said. “I’m right behind you.”
She didn’t have to listen to her traitorous brain. She wasn’t susceptible to crushes anymore. He wasn’t interested in her, and she most definitely wasn’t interested in him. Any vibes she might be imagining were just what guys like Chad did. They attracted women deliberately, whether they wanted them or not, because they could.
Maddie was obviously more than willing to play that game. In fact, she likely wouldn’t rest until she’d wound him around her little finger, which was a good thing, Cynthia told herself. Once he and Maddie were an item, Cynthia would be able to stop thinking about his melty ice cream voice and deep water eyes. And his long, lean body, all muscled from chasing mustangs and whatnot.
She was not his target audience and it would be wise to keep that uppermost in her mind.
“You sure?” Chad asked, looking almost reluctant. As if he’d rather stay with her.
Delusional.
“I’m sh-sh-sure.”
She walked around vaguely, waiting until they disappeared inside. Then she bent over and braced her hands on her thighs, breathing hard.
She could not, could not, have a crush on Chad Anders. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. With a business to run. She had to get this under control.
Thankfully, no one but her stepsisters knew about her one foray into high school high jinks. If Chad had even seen anything – which wasn’t a certainty – he wouldn’t have been able to identify her.
Question: When you’re naked in a hallway, with only a hand towel for protection, what part of your anatomy do you cover?
Answer: Your head, of course.
Advice for the ages.
That fateful event had settled into the recesses of her memory and she’d gone back to being a good girl, a quiet girl, a supporting actress to her vibrant stepsisters.
Not once had her own name been mentioned in connection to the rumors. Why would it be? Who would suspect her? No one.
Only Cynthia herself harbored inklings of the girl who had the tequila-fuelled courage to streak down a hallway, hoping to shed, for once, her boring, ordinary image and be someone crazy. Someone free.
Crazy, no problem.
Free? Not so much.
She decided to pace out the yard, to get an estimate for parking capacity. With Maddie keeping Chad occupied, she could, she would, focus on the work at hand, so that’s what she put her mind to.
The yard was large, but if everyone that they invited came, it wouldn’t be enough. They could provide valet service, though, if the neighbors agreed to let them use their yard. She made a note on her clipboard. Melinda and Austin Sweet, she recalled. Sweet Montana Farms. According to Chad, they produced honey and their name actually was Sweet. They were a happily married couple with a baby and everything.
So sweet it made her teeth ache.
Some people had it all, it seemed.
Focus, Cynthia!
She had the attention span of a fruit fly.
Parking. Getting guests from their cars to the arena. They’d be dressed up, so the rough terrain of the yard would be a problem. They could, she thought, make a plywood walkway, lined with potted plants, linked by streamers.
She looked at the hanging baskets on Eric’s restored barn-house. Beautiful. If they could get more of those to line the arena, and Chad’s porch too, it would tie the whole yard together, for a lovely effect.
She walked through the arena gate, and into the covered portion. Where were Chad and Maddie? She listened for voices but heard nothing. The bright light of outdoors left her temporarily blind but as her eyes adjusted, she saw them, dim figures in an even dimmer corner.
She opened her mouth to call out, but as she did so, the two shapes turned into one. She blinked. No wonder she hadn’t heard voices.
She backed out, stumbling and shielding her eyes against the brilliant sunlight, fighting an odd sense of, what?
Betrayal? No.
Surprise? A bit.
Disappointment?
That was it.
But why? She’d expected Chad to make a play for Maddie. He’d probably have toyed with DeeDee too, had she stuck around. It was the way the world worked. It’s how her sisters worked. She wasn’t an idiot. She’d prepared herself, and everything.
It’s just that... it was so... obvious. And for some reason, for a moment or two, she’d thought maybe he was above that. More than that.
She thought she’d caught a glimpse of a real person, rather than the player he was reputed to be. Sure, he flirted with the girls; it was impossible not to.
But to actually go for it?
Come on, Chad.
“Cynthia, thank goodness,” said Chad, stepping out from the arena. He had Maddie by the arm. She had her hand over one eye and was making noise aplenty, now.
“I need a mirror!” cried Maddie. “Ow, it hurts!”
“Help me get her to the house. She’s got something in her eye,” explained Chad.
“Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” asked Cynthia.
Maddie pushed ahead of them, staggering blindly. “Where’s the bathroom? I’ve got to get this out.”
From the mascara running down Maddie’s face, it appeared she was speaking the truth. So they weren’t making out in the dark.
Okay.
She took Maddie’s other arm. “Come on, honey. We’ll get you taken care of.”
But Maddie was as unwieldy as she was loud and her impractical heels unequal to the gravel yard. She went down awkwardly and landed hard.
“Maddie!” gasped Cynthia, dropping to her knees beside her. “Are you okay?”
Chad reached out to her, but Maddie waved it away.
“Wait.” She blinked, rubbed her eye again, then heaved a sigh. “Thank goodness. Whatever was in there is gone. I must look a mess!”
“Yup,” said Cynthia. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
But as Maddie began gathering her legs under her, she squealed, and plopped down again.
“My ankle!” she wailed.
Chad reached for her foot and slipped off her shoe. Honestly, what was she thinking, wearing heels out to a farm?
“Ow! Don’t touch it.”
“Hang on.” Chad scooped Maddie up in his arms. “Let’s get you inside before you kill yourself.”
Cynthia knew her sister wasn’t faking her pain but the sight of her snuggled up against Chad’s chest made her own chest feel tight and small, while echoingly empty and tight at the same time.
Chad walked quickly to his farmhouse, easily managing the weight in his arms, while Maddie clung to him, fragile and helpless and so appreciative of a big, strong man. Even with swollen eyes and ruined make-up, Maddie turned a totally klutz move into something sweet and sexy.
Cynthia followed them into the house, her sneakers clomping safely on the gravel, reliably if unremarkably doing their job.
Just like her.