Out of the Blues (8 page)

Chapter Eleven

Kilby and the breakfast of shame.

Every person staying at the hotel was a wedding guest. I found this out when I staggered downstairs for brunch. I wore my best jeans and a solid black long sleeve t-shirt without advertising or stains. The stale beer and lack of food from the night before had left my stomach tied up in knots.

Or that could be seeing the one night stand on the morning after we both did the walk of shame.

Thankfully there was no one in the lobby at four in the morning or there would have been questions.

Questions I didn’t want to answer.

Mason wasn’t in bed when the unwelcome wake-up call came. We hadn’t spoken much after. I crawled up on the sofa and he went upstairs. Coming back down when the storm had ended.

I still ached from floor sex.

“Earth to Kilby,” my brother said, he waved his hand in front of my face to get my attention. I was staring out into space and listening to the chatter of people I didn’t know while waiting for food that I didn’t want to eat to be served. “Where the hell are you man, it’s nearly ten, you’re usually up and on a tractor long before now.”

“True,” I sighed. But I usually go to bed a hell of a lot earlier than nearly dawn. I didn’t want to talk about anything with Hunter. Not right now when I was raw, physically and emotionally.

“I’m sorry, Kilby, I tried to get you a room of your own. I fucked that up, not Harper. My fault.” I guess he assumed it was sharing a bed with Mason that had me out of sorts. He was right, but not for the reason he thought.

“Not a problem. He sleeps quietly.” I didn’t know what that meant. I hadn’t actually slept with the man, as in sleeping in the same bed. But from the hour or so we shared the same mattress he didn’t snore or bounce or anything.

“Oh, so you and Mace are okay?” Hunter offered me a plate of smoked salmon on toast. I passed.

“I don’t sleep much, Hunter, and I’m out of my natural habitat. Has nothing to do with Mason. Leave it alone,” I growled at my brother who looked at me mid-chew.

Great, something I’d said had tingled my brother’s Spidey senses.

“It’s like a
Southern Living
pictorial around here, Harper.” I heard his voice from across the room. “Every brunch recipe from the last ten years is on your buffet table. Why is that?”

“And how would you know what was in
Southern Living
if you weren’t reading them on the down-low,
little
brother?” Harper sang out, and Mason lifted one delicate eyebrow in her direction.

“Only by ten minutes, but you admit you stole all of this from a magazine.” He wouldn’t let up, but he smiled when she turned around and pointed a finger at him, whatever she’d been about to shout came out as a laugh instead.

“You’re a jerk, Mace.”

“Why have bacon and eggs when there’s bacon and egg quiche. Oh, and let’s not forget Great-Grandma Lola’s grits and spinach casserole or something equally horrifying. Come on, Harper.”

“Shut up, Mason.” They were laughing and the people gathered ignored them, especially now that the buffet was open.

“Smoked salmon on toast was featured just last month,” I said to Hunter as he took another bite of his breakfast, and smiled when he choked.

“You’d know this how?” Hunter said when his mouth was finally clear.

“I went to the single-mingle at the community center, and a couple of women were discussing the dishes they’d brought.”

“Oh, a potluck single-mingle. Rural Tennessee has become really progressive since I left home.” He held his plate out again and this time I snagged what looked like a shrimp puff and popped it into my mouth while he laughed. “So tell me how the local singles deal with you dancing with some pretty boy out in the open?”

It was my turn to choke on my food. “Dammit, Hunter.”

“What? It’s a valid question.” He stabbed a melon ball with a tiny fork and waved it at me. “Because I can’t see you dancing with anyone. And I really can’t see you getting dragged to a place like that when you’re not there to meet any of the single ladies.”

There was concern in his voice instead of ridicule. I wished I’d never said anything. “I went to make a friend happy. She didn’t want to go alone. I didn’t dance. I don’t dance, and I don’t date boys.”

Mason Foxworth danced back into my line of sight and he was all I could see. He was dressed in a pair of crisp designer blue jeans and a pale purple button collar shirt that hugged his body like a second skin, he’d left the tails untucked. He hadn’t shaved today, his scruff slightly darker than his hair, that he’d left down to curl around his ear and casually brush his collar. He looked starched and relaxed all at the same time.

“He’s only seven years younger than you Kilby, hardly a boy. And you’re not an old man.” Hunter spoke softly. I realized I was staring and dragged my gaze back to the table.

“I didn’t mean him.”

“And you’re not interested at all?”

“No.” I lied and Hunter reached for the salt.

“So, where did the two of you go until four this morning?” he asked and I felt every ounce of blood drain from my face.

“Out to the old homestead. And the storm hit so we stayed and drank up all of that rank ass beer that was in the fridge. And found the bottle of my favorite uncle, Jack hiding in a cabinet and drank that, too.” The plate hitting the table right in front of me brought my attention up to the man who pulled out a chair next to mine. “Here, I managed to get the chef to whip up a real breakfast. Thought you might like some, too. Lots of grease. Morning, Hunter.”

“Morning, Mace,” Hunter said looking from Mason back to me. I didn’t look at Mason as I picked up a slice of bacon and popped it into my mouth.

“Hunter, Kilby,” Mason said pulling the chair out next to me and sitting down. He had the same on his plate: fried eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, tomato slices. Normal food.

“Mason,” I said in the same tone he used. “Thanks for the breakfast. Don’t think I could have looked a quiche in the eye.”

“That’s what I was telling my sister, but did she listen? Nooo,” he said as Harper carried over a plate and a champagne glass.

“What? And ruin my perfect twenty-five year record of not listening to a thing you say. Not happening. Morning, Kilby,” my future sister said and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. “So why on earth did y’all go out to the house?”

I didn’t get a chance to say good morning. Mason interrupted, “Why is the place falling apart? I mean seriously, Harper, you promised.”

“It’s not falling down. It’s just…I’ve been busy getting the hotel renovated, Mace, I didn’t have time to—”

“I don’t see why the two of you cling to that old place,” the mother of the bride said as she took a seat next to her daughter, leaving one seat open between Mason and herself. I could see Mason bristle out of the corner of my eye and resisted the urge to reach for his hand.

That I had the urge to touch him was unsettling enough. I didn’t need to have these people know I was pathetic enough to want something I couldn’t have. I especially didn’t want to know that last night was really exactly what it was. A one-off to get it out of our system.

“Because it’s home, Mother, or the closest thing we’ve ever had to one,” Mason replied, the teasing lilt he’d used on his sister was missing now. He stabbed his eggs and forked in a mouthful.

“What about the house in Los Angeles,” Arden said with a wave of dismissal while she searched for one of the waiters.

“You sold that house fifteen years ago,” Harper said. “And the house in New York. And the one in London. We have nothing left of our childhood but that house so we’re keeping it. End of discussion.”

“Sweetheart, it’s an old house. There’s not even air conditioning. And Cody died in that house, you should—”

“Give it a rest, Alice.” The empty space filled by the father of the bride. He looked about like I felt.

“We agreed that we’d never speak that name in public.” Arden Monroe lifted an eyebrow in censure. Now I knew where Mason got that ability from, as well as his drama queen personality.

“This ain’t public, this is family, and that’s the name I called when we made the two of them.” Doug Foxworth looked over at his son’s plate. “Damn, where did you get that? I’d kill for real food instead of Tapas.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Harper said and left the table to go to the kitchen.

“Coffee,” Arden said to the waiter who hurried over. “The whole pot. Now.”

The waiter nodded and rushed off.

“I don’t recollect an uncle named Jack.” I heard and looked up to find an older woman leaning between me and Mason. “Such a nice looking young man you are,” she said turning to me. “You two make a pretty couple.” And Mason tried not to spew his coffee while I tried not to sink into my chair.

“Great-Aunt Ethel, this is Hunter’s brother, Kilby.” Arden rushed to deflate the situation before Mason could blow a gasket. “And I have no idea about an uncle named Jack. Do we have anyone named Jack in our family?”

Mason groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “I think she’s talking about Uncle Jack from the Daniel’s side of the family,” he said from behind his hand.

Doug laughed, and Harper came back with two plates, one loaded with eggs and meat and the other with fruit and a small bowl of oatmeal. She set them down in front of her parents and looked around to see what was so funny.

“What did I miss?”

“Kilby and Mace got wasted on JD last night, and Aunt Ethel thinks they make a cute couple.” Hunter filled his bride in.

“Oh, is that all,” she winked at her brother. “Well, yeah, they do make a cute couple. Now is everyone set, can we eat?”

Aunt Ethel patted my cheek again and smiled. “Such a pretty boy, this one. Mason you should put a ring on him before he gets away.” She patted her nephew’s cheek and shuffled off to the table not far away.

“Oh my fucking god, kill me now,” Mason said sinking low in his seat. I wanted to join him. Because…my skin felt tight and I felt the room tilt. When Mason looked up his gaze locked on mine. “Hey, you okay? She was kidding. You know that right? It’s this whole thing that everyone in the family thinks I’m…Kilby?”

“Yeah, I’m good. It’s good. She’s a nice lady,” I said but I was well aware of the weight of Doug Foxworth’s stare and the feeling of dread that was only getting worse.

“I don’t know exactly whose aunt she is,” Harper said, I could tell she was rushing to change the subject and distract people from the topic as quickly as she could. “I mean, she’s always been just Great-Aunt Ethel, but which side of the family does she come from?”

Doug looked over his shoulder at the old woman and shrugged. “Could be the Mason’s. She was at our wedding, that’s all I remember. Ask your mother.”

Arden was busy scolding the waiter for not bringing cream when she distinctly asked for cream with her coffee. She looked back with a blank look on her face. “What? I don’t know. She’s always been around, I just go with it.”

“So half of these people might not even be relatives?” Mason finally came up for air. “I think I’ve always suspected that.”

“Anyway, we have so much to do today.” Harper again changed the subject as she pushed the spinach grits away with a curl of her nose.

“Told you that shit looked nasty. Should have just offered regular food.” Mason pointed his toast at his sister; he didn’t even try to hide his smirk.

“Anyway, as I was saying we have a tight schedule today. The staff will be entertaining the guests but all of you have places to be. The men folk have to be at the tailor for the final fitting of your tuxedos so that anything can be fixed before Saturday. And Mom, I need you to help me with my final dress fitting. I assume you have your mother-of-the-bride dress picked out. And Melissa will be in later for her fitting.”

“I don’t know why you’re having only one attendant. You have cousins and…don’t look at me in that tone of voice young lady. We’ve had this discussion,” Arden said, stirring cream into her coffee as she sniffed at her daughter.

“
Ad nauseum
, Mother. I didn’t want a circus. I didn’t want a huge affair, just family. You wanted to invite everyone we’ve ever met, so I did that, but I’m not budging on just Melissa. She’s my best friend and…I never stayed anywhere long enough to make any other close friends…real friends. And Hunter only wants Kilby to stand with him.”

“What about Mason? He’s your twin? You should at least include him in your wedding.”

“Oh hell, please, no, just leave me out of this whole mess. It’s enough I agreed to sing for her. I’m not standing up there for anything. I think one maid of honor and one best man is nice. Let it go, Mother.”

“Thank you, Mace,” Harper said.

My neck ached from watching the whiplash conversation. Hunter and Doug had similar looks of stunned disbelief.

“Don’t thank me yet. You need to tell me what you want me to play and help me find a score and do you want piano or guitar? Whole band? I have one day to get something arranged….and I know that look and I’m not going to like it, am I?” Mason looked at his sister with dread in his eyes. “I am not singing Endless Love or, god help me, if you invoke Whitney Houston I will become an only child.”