Brave Enough (Tall, Dark, and Dangerous #3)(23)

Tag, ever observant, notices immediately. “Go,” he says, tipping his head toward the foyer. “I’ll take care of this. You can make a list of what you want for tomorrow. Cher and I can take care of today.”

I’m torn. I need to go greet my father, but I want to stay and work out the details with Cher. The last thing I need is for the household to appear to be falling apart because of Tag’s sick mother. My father is already going to be very unhappy about this situation. The last thing I need to do is give him a reason to toss them all out the door.

I have to admit to wanting to hang around in here because of Cher’s overly bright smile, too. As Tag explains what he’d like prepared for lunch and dinner (which actually sounds quite delicious), Cher watches him with stars in her eyes. She keeps taking deep breaths, which only draws attention to the ample chest straining against the linen of her shirt.

I curse the stab of jealousy as I make my way out of the kitchen and into the foyer to greet my father. I stop just before I step out into his line of sight and take a cleansing, calming breath, reminding myself that I’m a grown woman and this is my fate we’re dealing with, too.

I feel more prepared to face William O’Neal after my ten-second pep talk. My smile is perfectly polite and unruffled when I step out into the foyer. “Hi, Dad,” I say, catching my father just as he steps through the door.

“Weatherly, Weatherly,” he says, shaking his head, his tone rife with disappointment.

He has no idea just how disappointed he’s going to be on this trip, I think to myself as I give him my cheek.

Let the games begin.





TWELVE


Tag

Cher is interested. Very interested. I can see it in the way she licks her pouty lips so often. I can see it in the way she sat up a little straighter, just enough to emphasize her plump tits, when Weatherly left the room. I can see it in the way she smiles at almost everything I say. She’s being professional for the most part, but if we were meeting under different circumstances, I seriously doubt she’d be this discreet. I’ve known a hell of a lot of women like her. At this point, I can pick them out of a crowd. And while on any other day I’d probably make some arrangements to meet up with her later—or, hell, even take a little detour to the broom closet as I show her around the house—the only thing on my mind right now is Weatherly. With her in my head, I find it hard to really notice anyone else.

She’s out there by herself trying to deal with her father. I’ve thrown a twist into the already-complicated relationship they obviously have. When he finds out about me, she’s going to have an even bigger mess to clean up with him. He’ll think I’m all wrong for her. She probably thinks so, too. Deep down, anyway. The problem is they’re wrong about the things that make me inadequate for her in their eyes. They have no idea about the real reasons I’m wrong for her.





THIRTEEN


Weatherly

I haven’t had a chance to speak to Dad privately since he got here. Our ten-second run-in standing in the foyer was quickly interrupted by Tag touring Cher through the house. He winked at me as he passed, and nodded to my father, but otherwise, he didn’t pause in his chatter with the redhead.

“Who is that?” my father asked.

“Tag. You’ve met him before.”

“Not Tag. I know Tag, for chrissake. The redhead. Who is that?”

“We are hiring a service to take care of the cooking and the housekeeping while you and Michael are here. Stella isn’t well. She doesn’t need to be tending to us right now.”

At least my father had the good grace to appear worried and to express some concern. “Isn’t well? What’s the matter? It’s nothing serious, I hope.”

I went into a very brief explanation of her condition, to which he merely nodded and agreed that hiring out her duties was best. Before I could ask for a word in private, Michael had descended the stairs and, from that moment on, my time has been completely monopolized.

My father’s desire to matchmake is at the root of it, no doubt. He probably suggested that he and Michael come up here so that we could get to know each other better in a more relaxed setting. And when Dad gets something in his head, it’s nearly impossible to change his mind or alter his course. He’s like a dog with a bone.

His first suggestion was that he take Michael on a tour of the buildings on the grounds. I was more than happy to let them have at it, but my father insisted that I go, too, citing my childhood love of Chiara and Michael appreciating my “enthusiasm.” Politeness is too deeply ingrained in me to do anything more than simply smile and graciously agree, so that’s what I did. No reason to make this any more uncomfortable and disagreeable than it already is. Or is likely going to get, once my father finds out about Tag.

We returned to find lunch set up on the east veranda. I wondered what Tag was up to, because I haven’t seen a glimpse of him since he came through with Cher right after Dad arrived. I didn’t have time to look for him, though, because my father called for the Jeep right after we ate. I thought maybe I’d see Tag when he brought it around, but it was just sitting at the top of the driveway, empty, with the keys in the ignition.

I sat in the back for the Jeep tour of the vineyard, enjoying the breeze coming through the open rear windows. It was when we passed the merlot field that the ache began.