Playing Dirty (9 page)

Her words only heightened his frustration and fueled his anger. He was losing her and he’d never even been given a chance to fight. “This isn’t about fairness. It’s about him staking his claim on you.”

“I don’t see—”

“That’s the problem. You don’t where he’s concerned. Why can’t you see that he’s manipulating this situation to his advantage? That he’s manipulating
you
?”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“Wake up, Mattie,” he argued. “He’s establishing his territory.”

“Wow. Really?” Her eyes widened. He’d touched a nerve, but he was beyond caring. She wasn’t the only one hurting here. “Way to make me feel like a lone fire hydrant in a dog kennel.”

“I apologize,” he said, knowing he wasn’t furthering his cause by being an ass. “But will you at least stay at your dad’s place. I’d be more comfortable if you and Phoebe weren’t under the same roof as Grayson.”

She let out a sigh. “He’s her father, Trenton, not an escaped criminal.”

“Fine. Then why can’t he stay at the motel? Hell, I’ll pay for it.”

“Because this is his
home
. Stop being unreasonable.”

“Am I?”
 

“I don’t want to argue.”

“Neither do I.” He closed the distance between them. “Don’t stay here, Matt. Go to your dad’s.”

“I made him a promise,” she said.

“You made a promise to me, too,” he countered. He smoothed his knuckles down her cheek. “I’m not giving you up without a fight.”

He tucked his hand beneath her chin and urged her head back. “I’m not giving up on us,” he said, then dipped his head to brush his mouth over hers. He expected her to pull back, to push him away, but hope swelled inside him when she kissed him back. Hope that they still had a chance.
 

He swept his tongue into her mouth, took his time tasting her. He didn’t want to think about the decision she had to make, or how it was going to tear him apart if she chose to stay with Grayson. Going back to Dallas without her was the last thing he wanted to do, but really, what choice did he have? If he pushed too hard, he could end up pushing her right into Grayson’s arms.

He slid his hand down her back to her curvy backside and urged her closer, aligning their bodies until she was pressed against him. He deepened the kiss, reminding her of what they’d shared these past months. The past two weeks.
 

She leaned into him, fisted her hand into his golf shirt and clung to him. Letting go wasn’t an option. She was his wife, and he’d find a way to move heaven and earth if it meant she’d stay with him.

“Well, isn’t that sweet. Saying goodbye?”

Mattie immediately stiffened and jerked away from him. Color stained her cheeks. Because she was embarrassed at being caught kissing her husband?
 

He looked over at Grayson. The bastard stood casually in the doorway wearing a smug expression, his shoulder propped against the doorjamb, his arms crossed. For half a second, he seriously considered planting his fist in the guy’s face one last time. “Fuck you, Grayson.”

“Trenton,” Mattie said, an unmistakable warning note in her voice. Not that he blamed her after his behavior that morning.
 

“I’ll get my things,” he told her. “I’ll call you later.”

She looked as if she was about to cry again. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
 

He steeled himself to stay away from her, to not go to her and hold her as she cried. To let her lean on him. For as much as it hurt to admit, he knew that was no longer his role.
 

“I’ll try to be patient,” he said again. “Just don’t expect me to wait forever.”

* * *

“You didn’t have to do this,” Mattie said, putting the last of the perishables in the refrigerator. Her sister hadn’t just picked up a few essentials, like milk, eggs and bread. She’d gone and bought out half the grocery store, plus the butcher shop, not to mention the damage she did to the ice cream aisle. “I was planning on doing the shopping tomorrow.”

Griffen finished restocking the pantry with a variety of snack foods, staples, four different brands of cereal and a mountain of canned goods. “I figured you had enough to deal with,” she said. “Under the circumstances, grocery shopping would have to be the last thing on your To Do List.”
 

“I won’t have to buy groceries for six months. This is a lot of food, Griff.”

Griffen shrugged. “I didn’t know what you needed.”

“So she bought everything.” Jed closed the patio door and went to the sink to wash his hands. “Grill’s all cleaned and ready to be fired up.”

Griffen laughed. “Right, it was all me,” she said. “I wasn’t the one who practically ordered up full sides of beef and pork from the butcher. Or bought enough chicken to make Colonel Sanders nervous.”

“I figured if I’d been held in enemy territory for five years, a fat, juicy steak would be at the top of my list of must-haves.”

Griffen hiked her eyebrows upward. “Team Trenton, huh?”

“Please don’t take sides,” Mattie said. “This is hard enough without people taking sides.”
 

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, then bent and gave her a kiss on the cheek followed by a quick squeeze of her shoulder. “From now on, just call me Switzerland, okay?”

“It’s all a bit much,” Mattie told them referring to the groceries, “but no less appreciated.” She set the ears of corn on the counter along with onions and a half dozen potatoes. Normal activities under abnormal circumstances. Trenton had been sent packing back to his condo in Dallas, and she was preparing to have a BBQ with her sister’s family. She didn’t even know how to process that information.

Griffen folded the empty grocery bags and stowed them in the pantry. “Where’s Ford?”
 

“The garage,” Mattie said. She went to the pantry for a can of fruit cocktail, a bag of shredded coconut and the pastel-colored, miniature marshmallows. “He was surprised when I told him I hadn’t sold his Mustang, so I imagine they’re getting reacquainted.”
 

She’d refused to sell the car that had been his pride and joy. The restoration of the 1966 Mustang had been his ongoing weekend project, something that had taken him countless hours and was still not fully complete. Even in its current state, she could’ve sold it for a great price, but she hadn’t been able to do it. So, she’d paid a small fortune to have it brought back to Texas where it took up half of the garage. There were other things she’d kept as well. Books he’d liked, music CD’s and movies. She’d even kept most of the mementos they’d collected throughout their marriage, not to mention their courtship. Much of it was stowed in storage containers, hidden on the top shelf of the guest room closet. She’d kept it all, because she hadn’t been able to part with the memories. She’d told herself she’d kept them for Phoebe’s sake, in case her daughter might someday want to know more about her father. But now she wondered if she’d been completely honest with herself. Had she kept them because a part of her had never stopped hoping?
 

“Guess I should go talk to the guy,” Jed said.
 

“That’s a good idea.” Griffen gave her husband a wide grin. “Go spread your loyalty around.”

He grunted in reply, but took off for the garage, dragging Austin with him. With Phoebe momentarily occupied in her room with the gifts Trenton had left for her, Mattie turned to Griffen. “So no luck getting hold of Dad?”

“No,” Griffen said. “I’ve been trying all afternoon. The calls go right to voice mail, and he hasn’t answered any of my texts.”

“He’s up to something,” Mattie said. Their dad had been rather cryptic lately about his whereabouts.
 

“It has to be a woman,” Griffen added. “Why else would he be so secretive?”

“Maybe because Mom’s only been gone a little over three years.” She really had no idea what her father had been up to in recent months, but she’d be willing to bet Griffen was right and a woman was involved.
 

“You know, if you’re not up for Sunday dinner tomorrow, we can cancel.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” In the Hart family, Sunday dinner was as sacred as Mass on Sunday morning. When her mother had passed, her father had insisted the tradition continue, and since she was the family cook, the main responsibility had naturally become hers.
 

She handed Griffen the corn to clean. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“I take you’re not talking about Sunday dinner.” Griffen started removing the silk. “But I don’t have an answer.”

“Do you know how weird this is? My dead husband is alive, my new husband is back in Dallas, alone, and I’m prepping for a goddamned backyard BBQ like it’s a normal Saturday afternoon. And I still have to plan a menu for tomorrow.”

“Scrub the potatoes, Stinkerbell. If you think too much, you’ll go nuts.”

She let out a harsh breath. “You scrub the potatoes. I’m making fluffy ambrosia salad.”
 

Griffen glanced at the ingredients on the counter. “Since when you do you put coconut in ambrosia?”

“Since Ford’s home and he likes it that way.” She looked at Griffen and her eyes filled with tears. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

“Forget what you think you’re supposed to do.” Griffen turned off the tap and used a dish towel to pat the potatoes dry. “Do what feels right.”

Mattie moved to stand next to her sister. She dropped her head against Griffen’s shoulder. “That’s the problem,” she said around the lump in her throat. “If it feels right, then I’m worried it’s all wrong.”

“Maybe there’s no right or wrong in a situation like this.”

“Tell that to Trenton,” Mattie said. “Or Ford.”

She snagged a paper towel, dabbed her eyes, then let out a sigh. Maybe Griffen was right. If she kept busy and didn’t think too much, she just might make it through the next few hours.
 

“I can’t believe Trenton agreed to leave you alone with Ford,” Griffen said.

“Truthfully, neither can I.” If the situation were reversed, no way in hell would Ford ever leave her alone with another man, especially one she’d just married.
 

She went to work, mixing the ingredients for the fruit salad. As she worked, Griffen readied the corn for the grill. She told her sister about the earlier events of the day, and by the time she finished, and she had the first stage of the salad in the refrigerator. The potatoes and onions were diced and wrapped in foil packets for grilling, the steaks seasoned. And why wouldn’t she? Weren’t they celebrating her husband’s safe return?

“Look at it this way,” Griffen said. “Ford’s home. Risen from the dead. Why on earth wouldn’t we celebrate with a couple of steaks on the grill?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mattie said. “Maybe because the grieving widow is someone else’s blushing bride?”

Griffen smiled. “Yes, well. There is that.”

Six

FORD LEANED BACK into the soft cushions of the sofa, eyes closed, a short glass half-filled bourbon grasped loosely in his hand as he quietly absorbed the sounds of home. His wife and daughter talked in the kitchen, or rather Phoebe rattled on and on while Mattie made distracted sounds of acknowledgement as she put away the last of the leftovers. Her family had gone home. No radio played in the background, no vapid television program filled the void, just—home. Just the three of them.

He’d appreciated all the trouble Mattie’s family had gone to in trying to make him feel welcome. But in all honesty, this was the moment he’d been craving, the actual experience, the lead fantasy primarily responsible for him keeping his sanity in an insane situation. That moment when only the nucleus of his little family existed together under the same roof. Just him, Mattie and Phoebe. No concerned, no well-meaning, albeit hovering, sister-in-law, or her sports-legend husband, attempting to fill awkward silences with inane chatter, or a nephew more interested in the smart phone seemingly glued to his hand than the long lost uncle returned from the grave. He’d always loved Mattie’s family, but all he’d wanted was to be alone with his wife and child. Alone, where he planned to remind Mattie the only possible solution to their current situation meant Trenton Avery was history.
 

Without opening his eyes, he lifted the glass to his lips and took a drink. The bourbon slid smoothly down his throat and settled warmly in his gut, doing little to dull the razor sharp edge of jealousy slicing away at his momentary sense of contentment. For five hellish years, he’d dreamed of coming home, of resuming his life with Mattie, of fulfilling their hopes and dreams for the future. He’d be damned if he’d allow another man to take what rightfully, and legally, belonged to him.

He reminded himself that he was here, now, and Avery wasn’t. That had to count for something. Maybe he hadn’t exactly played fair in throwing down the Daddy card with Matt, but the way he figured it, after all he’d been through, he’d earned whatever advantage he could wrangle.

For too long he’d lived with only memories and fantasies. Remembrances of the simpler moments in their life together had helped him survive the years in captivity. Dreams, not just of coming home, but of Mattie. The way her eyes darkened when she was aroused, how she’d rub up against him when they kissed, as if she were never close enough, even when they were skin to skin.