Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2 (3 page)

“But not before. You were being a good Samaritan.”

“Like I said, rotten night, middle of nowhere. When I came around the bend, I only saw a woman being pounded by the weather, alone by the side of the road. If it was my mom or sister out there, I’d want somebody to stop and help. I like to think somebody would.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It just happened to be me this time around.”

“What if I had a partner in crime built like Mike Tyson who coshed you over the head, and we left your body in the woods and stole your truck?”

“Have you been watching crime show marathons with Brenna and Maddie again?” Sean asked.

“Look, stuff like that happens in real life, too.” Rebecca glanced out the passenger window and tamped down the memory that oozed into her brain, unbidden. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat before looking back at Sean. “You know it’s true. You’re a lawyer, for Pete’s sake. You must hear all kinds of crazy stuff.”

“I do, but not that kind of crazy. Anyway, I’d rather take the...what is it?...maybe a one in a million shot that the person I stop to help is out to do me harm. If I don’t stop to help, the chances are one hundred percent that I’ll feel terrible about it.”

Rebecca gave him a light punch on the shoulder. “You’re a softy. Nothing but a big ol’ teddy bear underneath all that hot sexy. Who knew?”

“Don’t tell anybody. You’ll ruin my practice. No one wants a lawyer with a conscience.”

“Damn it. There’s Cal’s truck. We missed surprising them,” Rebecca said when they turned into the Kinkaids’ driveway.

Sean eyed the landscape for an out-of-the way place to settle his truck and maneuvered around other parked vehicles, choosing a spot in the icy grass while Rebecca took in the house and yard with admiration. Sean’s mother, Edie, had decorated for Christmas the day after Halloween, and the Kinkaid home, with red-bowed wreaths of evergreen adorning every window and garland looping the rails of the wraparound porch, glowed now from within and without with enough lights to power a small city. Primrose and pansies, and other winter-strong flowers Rebecca couldn’t name, overflowed from large urns and planters on the porch and nestled in the garden areas amid the evergreen shrubs. Rebecca wondered if the flowers would survive the freezing rain. She supposed they would, or Edie wouldn’t have put them in harm’s way.

“Maddie told me that the first time she saw your parents’ house Jack joked that it was the inspiration for one of Thomas Kinkade’s paintings.”

Sean turned off the engine. “We’ve no relation to the artist. The last names aren’t even spelled the same. That fib was one of Jack’s favorite things to tell people when he was a kid.”

“That’s because it looks like it could be true.”

“I guess. Hey, I’ve got an umbrella in here somewhere. You want me to find it?”

“Nah. At this point, the rain and sleet can’t do more damage than they’ve already done.”

His eyes moved upward to what Rebecca supposed looked like a dripping beehive on top of her head. She opened her mouth to snap a smart-ass comment with regard to her Marge Simpson look, but caught her breath when Sean looped one of her escaped curls around his finger and gave the spiral a gentle tug. His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head as if her naturally curly hair was the most fascinating thing in the world. And then he looked beyond her through the window and set her curl free. “Your boyfriend’s name is Tate, right?”

“Nate.”

“That’s right. Nate.” Sean opened his door and offered a genial wave to the man glowering on the porch. “Hey, Tate. How ya doin’?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes and opened the door.

“Why didn’t you answer your cell phone? I’ve been going crazy here!” Nate hollered from the covered porch. The precipitation stopped him short of coming down the stairs.

“Flat tire and no cell service, but I’m fine. Sean rescued me from the side of the road.”

“A call would’ve been nice, Rebecca.”

“I just told you, no cell service.”

Mollified for the moment, Nate stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and waited.

Sean stared at Nate for a beat and then his eyes cut to Rebecca. “Leave your stuff. We’ll get it later after the weather eases up. C’mon, let’s make a run for it. Your man is desperate for a kiss and to cop a feel.” His smile shot through her like a lightning bolt.

Oops. Wrong man
. She looked away from the mischievous Sean and blinked through the blurry windshield at Nate.

“Ready?” Sean said.

You have no idea.

She gave herself a mental head slap and grabbed her purse. “Yep. Let’s go for it.”

They hopped from the truck, slammed the doors, and jogged across the yard, laughing as the run for warmth turned into a slippery race. Due to the angle of the truck, Rebecca had the advantage. She ran up the porch stairs and out of the storm several steps ahead of Sean. Nate caught her in his arms and she laughed up at him, wiping the water from her face and pushing away loose strands of hair with her hands.

Sean loped up the stairs, nodded to Nate, and disappeared inside the house.

“I was worried about you,” Nate said.

“I appreciate your concern, and I’m sorry I worried you, but you know cell service is spotty on these mountain roads. I’m just lucky Sean showed up.”

“I’m sure you had service at some point between here and there.” He scowled. “I feel like an afterthought.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean for it be like that.”

“It’s not just that. I know your work is important, but you let it take precedence over everything else in your life.”

Rebecca frowned, tired of revisiting this conversation. “When we started dating, I told you my main focus is the family business. Ever since Dad’s heart attack, Caleb and I have had to step up to keep things on track, and because Cal is running his own business, too, I’ve taken on most of the responsibility. If you remember, Nate, I warned you I’m not in a good place for a serious relationship. You said you were okay with that.”

Nate dropped his arms and stepped back. His expression bordered on a pout and Rebecca doused a blast of annoyance. She had been honest with him from the start. What else could she do?

“Let’s not talk about this now, okay? I’m soaked, freezing, and turning blue out here. C’mon. Let’s go have a good time. We can talk all this out later.”

“Fine.”

Rebecca reached for his hand but he drew away, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she plastered on a bolstering smile and opened the door. She walked into the foyer of the Kinkaid home, greeted by the delicious scents of baked goods and roasted meats comingling with pine and bayberry. The formal living room to the right boasted a stone fireplace that swallowed the better part of one wall and glowed with crackling logs. Candles flickered on the mantle. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, themed with angels and elves, and miles of curling red and silver ribbons.

Sean’s mother, Edie, met her at the door with a warm embrace. “Welcome!” Edie took Rebecca by the shoulders and delivered both a broad smile and a critical once over. “Bless your heart, sweetie, Sean wasn’t kidding. You’re soaked. I’d give you a big smooch hello, but I don’t see a dry spot anywhere. And you’re shivering. Well, c’mon now, let me have that wet coat. Brenna!” She called to her daughter, “Take this sweet thing upstairs and find her some dry clothes. And stand her up in a hot shower so she can warm up.”

“I really don’t need--”

“Of course you do, honey. You’ll agree with me the second you take a look in the mirror. Trust me.” Edie winked and patted Rebecca’s shoulder. “Brenna!”

“Here, right here.” The always-gorgeous Brenna Kinkaid, her sleek hair as black as Sean’s and eyes the same shade of blue, hurried from the kitchen and down the hall, her enviable curves on display in a red cashmere sweater and snug jeans. She smiled a greeting at Rebecca and held out a steaming mug. “Mulled wine, my own recipe.”

“Thanks.” Rebecca curled her icy fingers around the warm mug and sniffed the contents. “This smells like heaven.”

“Tastes like it, too, if I do say so myself. It’s similar to the holiday cider I brew for the L&G,” Brenna said, referring to the coffee bar she owned and operated in town, the Lump & Grind. “But this recipe for home packs a punch, so watch out.”

Rebecca sipped, let the mulled spices tingle her tongue, and then took a good swig to revel in the hot brew sliding down her throat to warm her. “Is there whiskey in here along with the wine?”

Brenna smiled. “I told you it packs a punch. C’mon upstairs. Let’s get you dried off and warmed up. Mama’s right. A hot shower will fix you right up.”

“Where is everybody?”

“The ladies are in the kitchen, and the men have gravitated downstairs to Daddy’s man cave. Except your grandfather. He’s in the kitchen eating cookies, getting buzzed on mulled wine, and flirting with me like the construction jock he used to be. I wish I knew him when he was forty years younger,” Brenna said. “C’mon. I’ll find you a change of clothes and then you can hunt down your brother and sister-in-law to-be.”

Rebecca took a second to pull off her wet boots and socks, which she left on the mat by the door next to Sean’s soaked shoes. She hoisted her purse over her shoulder, took a couple big swigs of her mulled wine, and followed Brenna up the stairs in her bare feet, enjoying the relaxing and warming effects of the beverage. They met Sean on the second floor landing. His wet hair gleamed like black ice, and he’d traded his dripping business attire for jeans and a ragged NYU sweatshirt.

Sean winked at Rebecca and his lips curved in a slow smile. “Call me if you need any help.”

“You’re a moron,” Brenna said, but Sean just laughed and proceeded down the stairs. “My brother is an idiot,” she said to Rebecca, but the words came through an indulgent smile and her words carried no bite.

“A charming idiot.” Rebecca hoped her tone sounded as light as she intended.

“Yeah, but don’t tell him I said that.” Brenna led Rebecca to the left and flipped on the bathroom light. “Towels are in this closet. Soap, shampoo, conditioner--all that stuff--is in the shower. Feel free to use it. I can see by your face that you feel uncomfortable using the shower, but you shouldn’t. It’ll warm you up. Besides--” She patted Rebecca’s hair. “--you’re going to want to do so something with that mess.”

Rebecca glanced around Brenna to see herself in the mirror. Her eyes widened and she emitted a horrified squeak. It was worse than she thought. Her hair had gone from beehive to rat’s nest, and the mascara she applied earlier had laid skid marks from cheeks to chin. Dear god. She looked like an eighties punk rocker gone wrong--or horribly right, depending on one’s perspective. Either way, she needed serious fixing.

Brenna stepped from the bathroom and pointed down the hall to the left as she led Rebecca in the opposite direction. “Daddy and Mama’s room is down there. Behind door number one here,” she walked past the first closed door to the right of the stairs, “is Jack’s old room. Sean’s is behind door number two, and my old room is here.” She stopped at the end of the hall across from Sean’s room. “You’d think Mama and Daddy would’ve converted these bedrooms into useful spaces after we moved out, but they never bothered. And I’ll apologize now for the Backstreet Boys and ’NSync posters.” She opened the door to her childhood bedroom.

“Justin Timberlake still does it for me,” Rebecca said, “so you’re forgiven.”

She stepped into the time machine that was Brenna’s old bedroom. As promised, boy band posters adorned the walls, along with Bright Hills High School and University of Georgia pennants, and four framed poster replications from Monet’s Water Lilies series. Three walls of pale pink were offset by a fourth of eye-popping fuchsia from which protruded the canopied bed dressed out with lacy trimmings and an overabundance of pillows running the gamut from frilly to plush. Red fuzzy dice the size of cantaloupes dangled from one of the bedposts, and a collection of Mardi Gras beads swung from another.

“Wow,” Rebecca said, taking it all in.

“I know. I was such a cliché.” Brenna made a face. “Did your parents entomb your old bedroom like this?”

Rebecca laughed. “Hardly. The day I moved out my mother moved in her sewing machine and a new TV, and that was that.”

“Well, let’s see what we can find you to wear. I got into the habit of leaving a few changes of clothes here because it’s convenient, like on a night like tonight when the weather is bad and it’s easier to just stay over. Sean does the same thing.”

While Rebecca poked through the few things hanging in the closet, Brenna looked through her dresser drawers.

“I appreciate your offer for a change of clothes, but I can’t imagine you have anything that will fit. I’m a flagpole and you’re an hourglass.”

“You’re willowy,” Brenna argued, tossing a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants onto the bed, followed by a pair of thick socks. “That isn’t the same as a flagpole. How tall are you, anyway?”

“Five-seven.”

“You look taller than that, but then I’m height challenged at five-foot two. Maybe these sweatpants will work, and the sweatshirt is a large. I gave up trying to be a size six long ago. And anyway, I like to give the girls plenty of wriggle room.” She shimmied to make her point.

Rebecca looked down at her own chest and smirked. “I like my sweatshirts roomy, too, so this will be perfect. Thanks.”

“I don’t have any extra bras here--”

“They wouldn’t fit me if you did.”

“--but there are some undies in the top drawer, and I’ll share, but if you feel hinky about that, I understand. And you know where to find the bathroom. Other than that, I guess you’re all set.”

“Thanks, Brenna. I appreciate it.”

“See you downstairs.” Brenna smiled and slipped from the room.

Rebecca finished her hot drink and set the mug next to a Bedazzled princess phone that sat on the bedside table nearest the door. She made a mental note to bring the mug downstairs with her so she could fill it up again. The mulled wine, spiked with whisky, had done its job, and her relaxed muscles and warm belly conspired to remind her of her exhaustion. Maybe taking a shower was just what she needed to wake her up. She eyed herself in the mirror over Brenna’s dresser and admitted that she’d benefit from a makeover.