She couldn’t even do something as simple as getting a drink for Charlee? “Are you that lazy?”
Leah rounded on him, her fury instant. “No. I’m not lazy. But you just don’t understand. No one does.”
“So how about you tell me.”
“It’s part of her exercise.”
“Exercise! She wants a drink, for God’s sake.” He couldn’t handle this. Leah said she loved Charlee, but then she wouldn’t even help her with a small task. It didn’t make sense, and the more he thought about it, the more it confused him. Bitterness tangled with memories of his own mother’s neglect until he felt as if he would explode.
He spun away from mother and daughter. He had to get out. Now! Leah was like his mother after all, saying one thing but doing another.
Without a word, he headed out the front door, seeking the seclusion of the valley and the beckoning darkness beyond, embracing the solitude it offered. Hands deep in his pockets, head down and shoulders hunched, he strode the length of the driveway. But his brain whirred and the memories wouldn’t stop. He damned his mother, and he damned his brother for putting him in this predicament, forcing him to have a conscience.
He walked and kept on walking, trying to make sense of everything, anything. His brother had hated his own daughter. What was…had been wrong with Curtis? Curtis had been the devoted son, cosseted and indulged.
Mac scowled at that thought and continued walking and thinking.
The precious son. The precocious son. Everything Curtis had done had been perfect. And everything Mac had done had been wrong. The more he’d tried, the harder it had become, until hormones and attitude got in the way, and he’d walked out and not come back.
For years he’d escaped the familial bond and ignored his family. Then Curtis’s emails had come. His brother had vilified Leah, and Mac had believed him. No reason not to, he reminded himself, though somehow that thought didn’t seem quite as sound as it once had.
He kicked at the pebbles beneath his feet and shrugged his misgivings away. Besides, he thought, trying to subdue the escalating doubt, his investigations corroborated Leah’s debts. He’d witnessed her signature as bold as brass on every mortgage document. But—and it was a big but—he’d also seen… What?
Devotion to her daughter?
Something didn’t make sense.
Mac swore into the darkness, adding a few extra curses in languages he’d picked up over the years. Damned if he knew what was going on, but he sure as hell would find out.
Chapter Four
Two nights later, Leah sat at her desk, paperwork scattered across it. It couldn’t be right. Just couldn’t be. Leah scanned the figure work again, praying the amount of the repair bill was a mistake. Instinctively, though, she knew it wasn’t. Rewiring an old villa like hers wouldn’t be cheap. And according to the second quote she’d received in today’s mail, it wasn’t.
With a resigned sigh, she tucked the quote back into its envelope.
“Something wrong?” Mac leaned against the kitchen doorway, hands jammed into his jeans pockets.
“You’re back.”
“Yeah, a bit of quiet time never hurt anyone,” he said, offering a half smile.
Leah’s heart did a tandem of butterfly flutters. There was something different about him at that moment. Strong and capable. Unthreatening. And yet she wasn’t sure she could trust him. But trust had nothing to do with the heat that zinged between them, a sizzling electrical current connecting them that nothing seemed to be able to break.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Leah heard the taint of a lie in her voice as she clutched the quote to her chest. If Mac found out more money was required to rewire the house, another problem she couldn’t sort out, it would only give him more ammunition against her.
Soon she’d get it done. Soon. When the harvest came in, she would pay him back and get
Leah rounded on him, her fury instant. “No. I’m not lazy. But you just don’t understand. No one does.”
“So how about you tell me.”
“It’s part of her exercise.”
“Exercise! She wants a drink, for God’s sake.” He couldn’t handle this. Leah said she loved Charlee, but then she wouldn’t even help her with a small task. It didn’t make sense, and the more he thought about it, the more it confused him. Bitterness tangled with memories of his own mother’s neglect until he felt as if he would explode.
He spun away from mother and daughter. He had to get out. Now! Leah was like his mother after all, saying one thing but doing another.
Without a word, he headed out the front door, seeking the seclusion of the valley and the beckoning darkness beyond, embracing the solitude it offered. Hands deep in his pockets, head down and shoulders hunched, he strode the length of the driveway. But his brain whirred and the memories wouldn’t stop. He damned his mother, and he damned his brother for putting him in this predicament, forcing him to have a conscience.
He walked and kept on walking, trying to make sense of everything, anything. His brother had hated his own daughter. What was…had been wrong with Curtis? Curtis had been the devoted son, cosseted and indulged.
Mac scowled at that thought and continued walking and thinking.
The precious son. The precocious son. Everything Curtis had done had been perfect. And everything Mac had done had been wrong. The more he’d tried, the harder it had become, until hormones and attitude got in the way, and he’d walked out and not come back.
For years he’d escaped the familial bond and ignored his family. Then Curtis’s emails had come. His brother had vilified Leah, and Mac had believed him. No reason not to, he reminded himself, though somehow that thought didn’t seem quite as sound as it once had.
He kicked at the pebbles beneath his feet and shrugged his misgivings away. Besides, he thought, trying to subdue the escalating doubt, his investigations corroborated Leah’s debts. He’d witnessed her signature as bold as brass on every mortgage document. But—and it was a big but—he’d also seen… What?
Devotion to her daughter?
Something didn’t make sense.
Mac swore into the darkness, adding a few extra curses in languages he’d picked up over the years. Damned if he knew what was going on, but he sure as hell would find out.
Chapter Four
Two nights later, Leah sat at her desk, paperwork scattered across it. It couldn’t be right. Just couldn’t be. Leah scanned the figure work again, praying the amount of the repair bill was a mistake. Instinctively, though, she knew it wasn’t. Rewiring an old villa like hers wouldn’t be cheap. And according to the second quote she’d received in today’s mail, it wasn’t.
With a resigned sigh, she tucked the quote back into its envelope.
“Something wrong?” Mac leaned against the kitchen doorway, hands jammed into his jeans pockets.
“You’re back.”
“Yeah, a bit of quiet time never hurt anyone,” he said, offering a half smile.
Leah’s heart did a tandem of butterfly flutters. There was something different about him at that moment. Strong and capable. Unthreatening. And yet she wasn’t sure she could trust him. But trust had nothing to do with the heat that zinged between them, a sizzling electrical current connecting them that nothing seemed to be able to break.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Leah heard the taint of a lie in her voice as she clutched the quote to her chest. If Mac found out more money was required to rewire the house, another problem she couldn’t sort out, it would only give him more ammunition against her.
Soon she’d get it done. Soon. When the harvest came in, she would pay him back and get
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