Chapter Five

Tara bit her lip and turned to stack the notecards and replace the ribbon. She had woken with a killer hangover that even her walk to downtown had not completely cleared. The sight of the tall, blond stranger, however, did what all the wine the night before had not—momentarily make her feel like something other than the bitter hag Charlotte had rightly accused her of being. Though no handsome face could erase her disappointment, the distraction of flirting with someone so clearly interested was impossible to resist.

Clamping down the urge to sigh like a giddy teenager, she tried to concentrate on reorganizing some of the displays, but her mind kept wondering back to Justin. Tara couldn’t remember when she had been so instantly attracted to someone. Those gorgeous amber eyes and broad chest of his drew her attention as soon as he walked through the door. She wanted to sketch him, capture all that masculine appeal on paper, and she hadn’t been interested in drawing anything but nature since her first nude experience at art school.

A man with that much appeal could easily be a player, but Tara had not gotten that vibe from him. He seemed like a nice guy by the way he cared about getting something for his sister and having ever noticed that his aunt sent handwritten notes. He also appreciated her work, which showed incredible taste and class. He had not said where he moved from. She could not detect an accent. That was one of the things she could ask when he came back.

She smiled as she had the brief thought that she was glad she met the newcomer before Shelby or Charlotte had spotted him. Her sisters were as different as night and day, but one thing they had in common was the ability to attract men. They loved Shelby’s gentle beauty and Charlotte’s more exotic looks and intensity. So far, though, no man had been good enough to catch their attention for long, though many tried.

“Is that display causing you any specific grief, or do you have a hangover?”

Tara turned to see her cousin Brandon towering over her, wearing a frown that made her wonder if he had had his own night of overindulgence.

“What makes you think I have a hangover?”

“Because I just saw Charlotte, and she had the same look. It usually means y’all tied one on.”

Ah. The scowl was explained. Brandon was one of those men who had not been deemed good enough, though, bless him, he had never given up. He fell hard for Charlotte in high school, years before she became Tara’s stepsister. Though Brandon was one of the best guys around, Charlotte just never could picture them together. It made Tara sad for Brandon, but the guy had to give up eventually.

“Where did you see Charlotte?”

“In the coffee shop—with some guy. A tourist by the looks of him.”

“Oh.” Tara’s heart sank. “What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. Short.”

“Everyone seems short to you, Paul Bunyan. What color hair did he have?”

“Brown, why?”

Relieved, Tara just shrugged. “If you’re looking for your grandmother, she’s not here. She had a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

“I know. I talked to her last night. I came to talk to you, but maybe I should wait until you are finished sobering up.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I am perfectly sober, thank you very much, and my headache is almost completely gone. What’s up?”

“I’ve taken a job, and I don’t think you are going to be happy about it.”

“Since when do you consult me about jobs? Why should I care—” She paused and then breathed in a sharp breath. “You are working for the pig who bought my farm, aren’t you? Brandon!” She completed the exclamation with a stomp of her foot. “How could you be such a traitor? I suppose he’s paying you nicely to build his hipster lemonade stand.”

“What? Lemonade stand? You are still drunk. I don’t see the guy sitting on the porch squeezing lemons for all the customers he’ll have out in the middle of nowhere. He is fixing up the house and plans to do much of the work himself, but somethings are beyond his skill.”

“Sounds familiar.” Tara wanted to throw something. She’d had a nice morning, and then the reality of her situation came crushing back in the form of her backstabbing cousin.

“I’m not a traitor, Tara. I’m a man in need of a paying job. I can’t afford to turn this one down because of sentimentality. Winter is coming, and all the work will be dried up until spring. I’d like to pay my bills the next few months and not feel guilty about it.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Damn it. You are as pragmatic as Charlotte. Why won’t anyone just let me be angry about this?”

“Because we care about you and understand the family dynamic enough to know you’re heading straight down the road to Franville, and you know what a witch your mother is when she doesn’t get her way. We’ve all tried hard not to be like our parents. Don’t slip now.”

Tara’s shoulder’s slumped. Not wanting to have the same argument she’d had with her sisters, she changed the subject. “We were spawned from a generation of assholes, weren’t we?”

Brandon smiled and nodded. “Yes, but we’re grown now, Tara, and are responsible for ourselves.”

“Yeah, yeah. Save your sermons, father. Hey, can you watch the counter for a minute? I want to go run a brush through my hair.”

“You really should. I was just about to say it looked pretty ratty.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and walked to the back room, where she pulled out her purse, brushed her hair, and applied what little makeup she kept in her bag. Thankfully, the lighting in her aunt’s shop was designed to make things look good, even a woman pushing thirty with clear signs of a hangover beneath her eyes. After she chewed on a couple sticks of gum long enough to be sure the last signs of the coffee she had drunk but barely tasted was sufficiently masked, she returned to the front, where Brandon was engaged in a friendly conversation with a man carrying a large to-go bag. They both turned to her, but only one smiled. Brandon rarely did so unless under extreme duress.

“Well, I’m going to take off. See you, Tara.”

After shooting Tara an amused look and nodding at Justin, her cousin quickly vacated the shop. She was glad to have to skip the need to shoo him away. He would accuse her of being an asshole, again. Putting all thoughts of her traitorous cousin aside, she turned to Justin and smiled.

“So how was your tour of the town?”

“Interesting. I saw some familiar artwork in the gallery across the street. Your paintings are even lovelier than your jewelry.”

She barely managed not to sigh. She was vain enough to be swayed by compliments on her art and honest enough to admit it, at least to herself. Everything about this man seemed genuine, though, so she allowed herself to be flattered without guilt. “Thank you. I love to paint, especially when the area provides such inspiration.”

He smiled and placed the bag on the counter. “I know you said you liked Proud Larry’s, but to be honest, I didn’t like the looks of the place. I asked around, and a few people said Speedy’s has the best specialty sandwiches in town. You are well known on Main Street, it appears. It wasn’t hard to find out your favorites.”

Tara didn’t know which thought flying through her head to concentrate on first. She settled on the slight indignation she felt toward his dismissal of Proud Larry’s. The owners had come to town a few years ago and turned the restaurant into a spot that wasn’t weighed down by trying to appeal to tourists. It was an eclectic place, with nudes on the walls and a rather interesting fresco of dogs playing hopscotch. At first glance, it could be easily dismissed as a hippy hole in the wall. She decided to let that pass, figuring he’d get in the swing of things once he settled into the place.

The second thought that came forward was slightly more alarming. “Who did you ask?” Don’t be Fran. Don’t be Fran. Don’t be Fran.

“She was standing behind me when I asked the clerk if she knew you. I didn’t get her name, but she had long black hair and green eyes a lighter shade than yours.”

Tara was only a little relieved. “That’s my sister Charlotte. She is going to rag me all night about the hot guy buying sandwiches.”

A corner of his mouth tilted, and she refused to be embarrassed by the slip up. He was hot, and no way did he not know that.

“The two of you don’t look much alike.”

Tara walked to the door, closing but not locking it. Customers could still come in, but she would be alerted by the bell. She then gestured for Justin to follow her to a small break room.

“She’s my stepsister. Her father married my mother when we were all in college, but we grew up as friends. I live with her and my sister Shelby just up the hill.”

“In the house with the amazing views.” He started unpacking the bag, and she was relieved to see her second favorite sandwich appear. Her actual favorite was filled with onions and garlic. She owed Char for that one.

“You seem to have some investigative skills. I assumed you moved here to work at the university, but now I wonder if you are a cop or a lawyer.”

“Well, you are almost right. I was a lawyer. I quit my job before I moved here.”

“Is that a hint that I should pay for my half of lunch?”

He laughed, and she swallowed hard, admiring the little lines in the corners of his eyes. Happy lines. He was getting more and more appealing.

“I’m not destitute, yet, and I am accustomed to more expensive lunches.”

“Lobster and Cristal?”

“No, sandwiches that cost twice as much. I moved here from Manhattan.”

That was surprising. She would not have figured he was from such a large city. He seemed more homegrown. “That’s a big change.”

“That was the idea—to eliminate some of the noise and have a simpler life.”

“And being a lawyer didn’t give you that life?”

“No. I like law. I respect it. It appeals to the part of my nature that appreciates order and knowing where things fit, but I was never going to give impassioned speeches about it the way you do with your art.”

“And you didn’t figure that out while in law school? I only needed one semester to figure out I wasn’t going to be an accountant.”

His smile was rueful and a bit guilty. “I was in law school for the wrong reasons. I applied and then worked my ass off to graduate with honors just so I could join a rival firm and piss off my old man.”

“That’s quite a commitment to pissing someone off. Did it work?”

“It did. He didn’t speak to me for two years and cut me out of his will.”

He was dressed casually but expensively, so Tara figured the financial loss didn’t hurt him much.

“Did you ever face him in court?”

“No, thankfully. He would have mopped the floor with me. What he lacked in substance, he made up for in style. He knew the law well and could deliver that knowledge in a way that could cast doubt on even the most damning evidence. He was a master manipulator and a controlling bastard. That’s probably more information than should be shared on a first date.”

Date. She had to tramp down the sudden rush of nerves that word caused. “Don’t be uncomfortable. There must be something about me that screams ‘Tell me all your troubles, even the ones no one needs to know about.’ You wouldn’t believe the things people tell me, and not even people I know well. Total strangers will just unload right after saying ‘how do you do.’”

“Is that a hint that I need to shut up?”

She giggled. A giggle from a near thirty-year-old with a hangover could not sound alluring. “No, not at all. In fact, I’ll reciprocate with my daddy issues. My father couldn’t be called controlling, but bastard is accurate. My parents divorced when I was twelve. He’s a history professor, and he took a position in Charleston, where I’m sure one of the perks for him is having access to young college girls with their own daddy issues.”

“Something he has in common with my father. My sister was born when I was eighteen, to a woman only five years older than me. I didn’t even know about her until almost a year later. He was still married to my mom at the time. What about your mother? You said your stepfather is the mayor, so she must have remarried.”

“She did, several years after she dropped me and my sister with my grandmother, who had just lost her husband, while she moved to Europe to reinvent herself. It took about six years, but she managed it. At least enough to snag one of the richest men in town when she returned. So there. We are now even on first date inappropriateness.”

He laughed as he tossed his empty wrapper in the bag. Then, taking her hand in both of his, he gave her a slow, easy smile, making her insides flop.

“You are a kind woman, Tara, to tolerate such rambling from a man you barely know.”

She wanted to speak, but her wit escaped her. She was too caught up in the gentle warmth of his eyes and his hands cupping hers. None of her previous boyfriends, all two of them, had affected her so easily. He brought her hand to his lips and then rose from his chair, his eyes now showing a trace of something wicked that took that warmth straight to boiling.

Justin’s eyes roamed hers and then slid down to her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, and she held her breath, waiting to feel him reach for her. He didn’t. Instead, he tugged at her hand until they were standing side by side and finished clearing the table.

“So I have daddy issues, no job, and there’s the sister I keep telling you about. Still, I would like to see you again if you aren’t scared off.”

Tara smiled. This was what she needed. Something new, and gorgeous, to look forward to. “Not scared. I have my own daddy issues, my mother certainly wouldn’t call art a job, and I have two sisters I haven’t warned you enough about. Sounds like we’re pretty even.”

He took her hand again as he made his way to the door. “Well, I may not be employed, but I do have quite a job on my hands. The place I just bought needs a lot of work. Is it impolite to ask how you are with a hammer?”

Tara began to speak but stopped in her tracks. Something about his words sent a chill of realization through her. “What?”

“I’m only joking. I hired that guy Brandon to do some of the harder jobs, but I still plan to get my hands dirty, at least some.”

“You hired Brandon?”

“Yes. That wasn’t a mistake, was it? His references were excellent.”

“You bought the farm?”

Of course he did. Unemployed lawyers didn’t sweep into town for no bloody reason.

“I did buy a farm. It’s out of town a way but has great potential.”

This was him. The guy whose money was more important than her dreams. She pulled her clammy hand out of his.

“Are you okay?”

She stepped back. “Fine. Maybe that isn’t my favorite sandwich after all.”

Her stomach was certainly roiling, but not from lunch. She tamped down the urge to scream, instead allowed all the resentment she felt since the first time she lost the house serve as her shield against another disappointment.

“I don’t—”

“I’m sure you have things to do, and so do I. I don’t want my aunt thinking I’m a slacker.”

Before he could say anything, she guided him out the door and then turned away, not looking back to see if there was any of the regret in his eyes that she was determined not to feel.