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“Not even a little.”
“At least you’re honest about it.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Now. I suggested we go now.”
“Works for me.” He studied her, wondering how much trouble he would get in for kissing her, and knowing it would be worth it. “Here’s the thing.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re putting conditions on helping me? You’re the one who insisted.”
“No. I’m telling you that when I said I was a player, I wasn’t kidding. I never get serious. I don’t do relationships and I’m not the guy you take home to meet the parents.”
“You’re already having dinner with my mother on Thanksgiving.”
“That’s different. It’s not a date.”
She tilted her head. “You’re warning me off.”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t expressed any interest in you. Is this your ego talking? Are you assuming that a woman can’t be in the same room with you without begging for your attention?”
“I wish, but, no.”
Her gaze was steady. “You’re going to make a move.”
“Most likely.”
One corner of her mouth turned up. “Announcing it up front isn’t exactly smooth.”
“You’re difficult to resist.”
She laughed. “Oh, please. I’m very resistible. Trust me.”
He moved a little closer. He liked the sound of her laughter and how she wasn’t aware of her appeal.
She put her hand on his chest. “Let me see if I have this straight. You’re warning me that you’re not someone I want to be involved with, and at the same time, you’re convinced you have enough going for you that I’ll give in anyway.”
“Absolutely.”
He put his hand on hers, liking the feel of her fingers against his chest. Skin on skin would be better, but a man had to take what he could get.
She pulled free and dropped her arm to her side, then shook her head. “You’re a weird guy, you know that?”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure you have. Let me get my coat, and while we head to the warehouse, you can share all the details. Knowing the depth of your awfulness will help me resist you.”
“Now you’re mocking me.”
“Hey, you think you can seduce me against my will. I think a little mocking is called for.”
FOUR
EVIE WASN’T SURE about brunch at a bar, but she showed up right on time anyway. She was a little bleary-eyed from spending every free moment over the past few days watching the videos of The Dance of the Winter King. She’d broken down the choreography of over half of the production. With luck, by the end of the holiday weekend, she would have the whole dance down on paper and then be able to put it all together for the girls.
While each age group had already learned the basic steps they would need for their section of the production, there were no transitions, no flow and the order of the dances had yet to be determined. Traditionally, the younger, less experienced students would go first, but Evie was playing with the idea of having the older soloists do short routines in between each group. Although, with time ticking, that might not be a smart move.
She walked into Jo’s Bar to find the main room already filled with a couple of dozen women. Unlike regular bars she’d been to, this one had flattering lighting, the TVs already tuned to the parade and the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air.
The bar itself was being used as a buffet. Large chafing dishes sat in a row, with a stack of plates at one end. Big trays of cut up fresh fruit offered healthy choices next to a display of pastries that made Evie’s mouth water. Even the voice in her head—the one that warned about potential butt and thigh growth—was silent with carb anticipation.
A tall no-nonsense thirtysomething woman walked over carrying a tray of glasses of champagne. She stopped in front of Evie.
“I don’t know you,” she said, a friendly smile buffering her blunt statement. “Visiting relatives?”
“Evie Stryker.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “The mysterious dancing sister of the cowboy brothers. Everyone wants to meet you.”
“I can’t decide if that’s a compliment or if it makes me sound like the villain in a horror movie.”
The woman laughed. “Dancer killer. I like it. I’m Jo, by the way. This is my bar.” She nodded toward a guy opening bottles of champagne behind the bar. “I promised everyone this would be girls only, but he’s married to me, so technically he doesn’t count. Besides, he’s a good guy, so that’s something. Your group is over at that table. Enjoy.”
Evie walked in the direction Jo had indicated, not sure what she would find. Heidi, Annabelle and Charlie were already there, which allowed her to relax.
Annabelle, Shane’s pregnant fiancée, jumped to her feet when she spotted Evie. “Thank goodness. Charlie is not willing to drink for two, which is very selfish of her, and Heidi’s resisting drinking at all.”
“I have to handle dinner later,” Heidi protested. “I’m responsible for the turkey. Do you really want me wielding a sharp knife after a couple of glasses of champagne? I don’t think so. If I hurt myself, one of you will have to milk the goats.”
Annabelle sighed. “Fine. Be reasonable.” She drew Evie to the table. “I’m dying for champagne. Can you drink a glass now so I can watch you and experience it vicariously? Please?”
“Ah, sure,” Evie said, not clear on what Annabelle wanted. She didn’t think watching someone else drink would be very satisfying, but she was willing to go along with it.
She sipped from the glass Annabelle handed her. “Delicious.”
Annabelle sighed. “I knew it. I miss champagne.”
“I’d miss coffee more,” Charlie muttered. “The whole pregnancy thing is a giant pain in the ass, if you ask me.”
“It’s not really your ass that hurts,” Annabelle said in a mock whisper.
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the update.”
“I thought you were hearing the pitter-patter of little feet,” Heidi said.
Charlie ran her hands through her cropped hair. “We’re still negotiating.” The strong, competent firefighter flushed. “Clay is worried that once I’m pregnant we’re going to have to, um, spend less time...you know. He wants a few more months of us alone.”
Evie stared at her, not sure what she was talking about. Wouldn’t they still be alone during the pregnancy?
Annabelle leaned toward her. “Sex. She’s talking about sex. Clay’s worried that Charlie might have morning sickness or something and he won’t be getting as much. They need the bloom to wear off the rose, so to speak.”
Evie covered her ears. “Okay, I’m not having that conversation. Clay’s my brother and that’s just disgusting.”
The other three laughed.
Conversation shifted to the plans for the day—what was happening when. The four of them walked over to get started on the buffet.
“Oh, Dante said he’d drive you, if you want,” Heidi told Evie. “He said to knock on his door when you were ready.”
“Thanks.”
She hadn’t seen Dante since their trip to the warehouse a couple of days before. Despite the flirtatious teasing at the dance studio, once they’d arrived to view the sets, he’d been all business. His claims to have worked in construction had turned out to be true. He’d studied the sets, had taken notes on what needed to be fixed and started a preliminary supply list.
All things that would help, Evie told herself. She had a big job ahead of her, and she didn’t have the time to complicate her life with a guy. Still, there was something about Dante....
Something best left unexplored, she cautioned herself. A philosophy he obviously embraced. For all his flirty ways, after the set viewing, he’d simply dropped her off at her place with a quick goodbye and left. Apparently the only thing he’d exaggerated had been his attraction to her.
Evie collected a small piece of stuffed French toast and some bacon. Heidi chose a lot of protein, while Charlie filled her plate with food for twenty. Annabelle kept touching her stomach, as if trying to figure out what she and the baby were in the mood for.
Five women walked in together, and most of those already in the bar called out greetings. Heidi moved close to Evie.
“The Hendrix family women,” she murmured. “Denise is the mother. The three who look exactly alike are triplets. Dakota, Montana and Nevada. Nevada’s the one who’s pregnant. The one who doesn’t look like the others is Liz Sutton, the writer. She’s married to Denise’s oldest son.”
The women looked happy to be together, Evie thought, watching them. The sisters and sister-in-law seemed especially close and kept near their mom.
She knew her brothers had grown up tight and, even when Rafe was at his most imperious, had kept in touch with the other brothers. She’d always been the odd one out. Never fitting in. As a kid, she’d felt as if everyone was mad at her all the time, but she never knew why.
She started back to the table, only to come to a stop in front of her mother.
“Hello, Evie,” May said with a tentative smile.
“Um, hi. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“I drove in after Heidi. I wanted to get a few things started for dinner tonight.”
Evie nodded, wondering if her sister-in-law had known May was coming to the brunch all along, but had failed to mention it. Had Heidi made that clear, Evie would have found a reason not to attend.
Evie started to step around her. May put her hand on her arm.
“Wait,” her mother said. “Evie, we should talk.” May glanced around at the crowded bar. “Maybe not here. But soon.”
Evie looked for a place to set down her plate. She’d suddenly lost her appetite. “There’s not very much for us to talk about.”
“Of course there is. It’s been so long. I want...” May drew in a breath. “I’d like us to stop being angry with each other.”
To anyone else, that was probably a very reasonable statement. Evie fought against the sudden rush of tears in her eyes. “Sure. But first answer me a question. What do you have to be mad about? Me being born? Because that’s not anything I could control.”
May stiffened. “That came out wrong. I’m sorry.”
Evie shook her head. “I don’t think it came out wrong at all. I think you’ve been angry with me for a long time. As for talking, as far as I’m concerned, until you can tell me what it is you think I did, we have nothing to say to each other.”
With that she walked back to the table. She set down her plate, picked up her champagne glass and drained it. Then she went in search of a refill.
* * *
“ARE YOU DRUNK?” Dante asked.
Evie leaned back into the soft leather of his very expensive, very German car. She’d been driving the same dented, slightly rusty old Chevy for nearly five years. The seats were more spring than foam, the windows didn’t close right and the mechanic actually sighed every time she took her car in for service.
“This is nice,” she said, stroking the side of the heated seat. “I’ll try not to throw up.”
“Gee, thanks,” Dante said, turning his attention back to the road. “You are drunk.”
“I’m buzzed. There’s a difference.”
“It’s one in the afternoon.”
“I was at a brunch and there was champagne. Plus I had a fight with my mom and that took away my appetite.” She frowned, or at least tried to. She couldn’t exactly feel her forehead. “We didn’t fight. Not really. She said we should stop being mad at each other. I’m the kid. What did I ever do? That’s what I asked. Is she pissed I was born? But she didn’t have an answer. There’s never a good reason, you know?”
She turned to Dante and blinked. “What were we talking about?”
“You need to eat something.”
“Turkey. I’ll eat turkey.”
“That’ll help.” He glanced at her. “She said she was angry?”
Evie tried to remember May’s exact words. “She said she would like us to stop being angry at each other. Being annoyed at me is kind of implied.”
“Poor kid.” Dante briefly put his hand on top of hers.
For a second Evie enjoyed the warmth of the contact, then the meaning of his words sank into her slightly soggy brain. Poor kid? Poor kid? Is that how he saw her? As a child? What happened to her being a sexy vixen? Not that he’d ever used that phrase, but still. He’d implied she was. Or at least her dancer work clothes. She didn’t want to be a kid. She wanted to be vixeny. Vixenish. Whatever.
She leaned her head back against the seat and sighed. Life was far from fair.
Two hours later she’d munched her way through a fair amount of the veggie platter Heidi had put out and finished off about a half gallon of water. The buzz was long gone, as was the faint headache that had followed. Through careful maneuvering, she’d managed to avoid spending any time alone with her mother. Oddly enough, Dante had helped more than a little. He’d stuck beside her from the second they walked in the door.
Painfully aware that his concern was more fraternal than she would like, she told herself not to read anything into his actions. Dante was practically family. There was no way to avoid him while she was in Fool’s Gold, and as her plans had her staying well into the new year, logic needed to win over longing. Well, not longing. Acknowledging that Dante was smart and sexy was simply stating the obvious. It wasn’t as if she had a thing for him or wanted anything other than casual friendship.
“Halftime,” Heidi said, walking into the living room. “It’s time, people.”
“Time for what?” Dante asked.
“I have no idea,” Evie admitted, but stood along with everyone else.
Shane sighed. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
Evie pointed to the kitchen. “You know, the big turkey in the oven was our first clue.”
“Funny. It’s Thanksgiving, and if we get a big feast, so do the animals,” Shane said.
