“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he admitted. But not for lack of trying. The connection was clear. Just not the motive.
“I thought so,” she said, her voice all too satisfied. “So all you’ve got is distrust of my sister because her last name is Perkins. Isn’t that perfect?” She turned her back, staring out the window.
He set his jaw. “Lauren?”
“Yes?” Her hands were clenched tight.
“I’m not having this argument again.” He refused to give her the satisfaction. “I have work to do. You know where to find me if you decide to be rational. Not just about the obvious, but about
He hoped.
SO MUCH FOR POSITIVE thinking and keeping an open mind. Lauren blew out an exasperated breath. How had she lost control of her life so quickly?
When she’d sold her designs to Galliano, she’d known she’d be taking a break from work until after the Paris shows. The timing had been perfect, since she’d needed to fix and sell this house. She just hadn’t counted on Jason Corwin blowing into her life and digging at old wounds. Some he’d caused when they were young and others her parents and sister had inflicted. When she’d approached him at the festival, she’d been thinking about fun, not feelings. Who knew he could still affect her so deeply?
She admitted to herself that she’d baited him into saying those things about her sister the other day, grasping at any excuse to throw him out before he could abandon her. She’d acted in anger, forgetting that his leaving meant she’d be living with the mice infestation without Jason’s comforting body beside her at night.
Somehow she’d managed to get some sleep and walk around the house, proving to herself she was braver than she’d realized. But her insides still churned at the thought of the little visitors and Trouble didn’t do nearly enough to catch them. Still, she’d proved she could manage, if not conquer, that particular fear.
Then Clara had challenged her to think positively. To put her deepest wishes into the universe and hope they came back to her. So she’d greeted Jason without harboring anger from their visit to her sister. And what had she received in return?
He basically accused her of lying about her motives for working in this room and then he dropped the bomb about Brody Pittman being at the prison.
Lauren pressed her palms against her pounding head. She wasn’t looking for a fight with Jason, nor was she trying to be blind to her sister’s faults. She just looked at the facts, and for the life of her, Lauren couldn’t reach the same conclusions as Jason. He insisted on thinking the worst without proof.
They made love in such perfect unison, but when it came to the important things in life, they couldn’t even agree to disagree.
THOMAS SAT ACROSS from his brother Hank in a booth at the far end of a restaurant two towns over from Stewart-far enough away that there were no familiar faces. Thomas faced the back wall and slunk down in his seat, embarrassed he’d let Hank talk him into spying on Clara and Edward’s date.
“Here they come now.” Hank, who faced out, pulled his Red Sox baseball cap lower on his head and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.
“Like that’s going to help,” Thomas muttered. “It’s nighttime and you look like an ass.”
Hank snorted. “I’ll take another beer,” he said to a waitress passing by.
“Would you like anything?” she asked Thomas.
He shook his head. “Unless you can make him disappear, I’m good.” He lifted his still full glass of club soda.
Hank leaned forward, elbows on the table, staring toward the center of the restaurant. “What do you know! Edward held the chair for Clara,” he said in a hushed yet still loud whisper. “I’m surprised he remembered that’s the right thing to do on a date.”
“Maybe he read Emily Post.” Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Listen, we can still go out the back door and they’ll never know we were here.”
Thomas didn’t want to get caught. Though Edward wasn’t speaking to him, his brother had taken his advice and started to move forward in his relationship with Clara. Thomas believed his brother would forgive him next. At the very least he still held out hope. But if Edward discovered Thomas and Hank lurking here, he would probably pile another wrong onto the list of grudges he already held against him.
Hank shook his head. “If you’re going to be such a downer you should’ve stayed home.”
“You’ve got a point, but someone had to make sure you behaved.” Thomas had had visions of Hank crawling on his hands and knees, ending up beneath Clara and Edward’s table in order to hear their conversation.
“I don’t buy that excuse. You wanted to see how things worked out between them for yourself.” As Hank spoke, he leaned around the booth once more. “They’re talking like civilized people!”
Thomas wouldn’t let Hank get sidetracked. “If I’m so interested in Clara and Thomas, why are you the only one spying?”
“Because someone has to, and I fill you in as soon as I see something worth reporting! Come on. Admit you’re as interested in these two getting together as I am.”
Thomas hated it when he couldn’t argue with his brother’s reasoning. Thank goodness, it wasn’t often that Hank was right.
Thomas leaned back in his seat, arms folded across his chest. “Of course I’m interested. I want Edward healthy so we can be a family again, and these baby steps he’s taking with Clara will help lead him back to us, too.”
“Aha!” Hank picked up a fork and waved it at him.
“But that doesn’t mean I’d invade their privacy to do it.”
“Stick-in-the-mud.” His lips turned down in a classic Hank-pout.
Thomas shook his head, suppressing a grin. He’d already decided not to respond.
Suddenly the ringing of Hank’s cell phone broke the silence. The loud song called attention to their booth, and as Hank fumbled to find his phone, the song continued its seemingly never-ending chorus.
“Why didn’t you put that thing on silent?” Thomas hissed.
“Because I don’t know how.” Hank finally found the phone and flipped it open, ending the serenade. “Talk to me,” he said, again in a too loud whisper.
“Who is it?” Thomas asked.
Hank put up a hand, telling Thomas to wait, his concentration on the call. He listened, nodding until he finally said, “Holy cow!”
“What?”
Hank ignored him. “Yep, he’s with me. I’ll let him know and we’ll call you when we get home.” He disconnected and placed the phone on the table. “I knew I shoulda brought my shotgun.”
“For the last time, what is wrong?” Thomas asked.
“That was Derek and you’ll never believe why he called.” Hank met Thomas’s gaze. “That lunatic Elizabeth Perkins escaped!”
Thomas blinked, certain he’d heard wrong. And if he hadn’t, how was such a thing possible?
He leaned closer to Hank. “Do you think we should tell Edward, so he hears it from family first and not from some stranger?”
“No need to tell me anything, I overheard everything,” a deep, familiar male voice said.
Thomas cringed.
Edward stood by their table, Clara beside him. “Odd choice in restaurants for you two, isn’t it?”
“When did you notice us?” Thomas asked, mortified.
“When ‘Old McDonald’ rang on the phone.”
Thomas shot Hank a deadly look before turning his attention back to Edward. His brother looked
