Seeing is Believing (7 page)

She wondered what kind of woman Brady was attracted to. She’d taken extra care with her hair and light makeup that morning, but she’d been forced to leave before he’d woken up because the girls had been restless. The note might have been a little wordy, now that she reflected on it, but she had wanted him to feel welcome.

Oh, yeah, she definitely wanted him to feel welcome. She supposed dropping her robe had accomplished that, all right.

“So, would you like to tell me who he is?” Amanda asked.

“What?” Piper glanced over at her mom, startled out of her thoughts. “Who who is?”

“The man who has you smiling that secret smile.”

Yikes. Piper tried to look innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she could feel her cheeks burn even hotter. She must look like she’d been slapped with a box of blush at this point.

“Oh, come on.” Amanda wasn’t known for her patience or gentle coaxing. “You know you can tell me. I hope he’s hot. Is he hot?”

Piper laughed. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” Actually, it was probably exactly what she was thinking. She hesitated, because saying his name out loud would surely give her away. But not saying anything about Brady would make it even worse when her parents did find out he was in town. Which they would, sooner than later.

“It’s just that Brady Stritmeyer showed up at Shelby’s last night and it was a shock to see him, that’s all. I was thinking how weird it is that he came back after all these years.” That hadn’t precisely been what she was thinking, but it was close enough to the truth to sound legitimate. She was curious about his return. That was no lie. It just wasn’t her primary concern at the moment. Things like how long he was staying and when she could kiss him again were occupying far more of her thoughts at the moment.

Amanda sat up straight in her chair. “What? Brady is in town? Why? And why do we still have these damn wicker chairs? It’s like sitting on a bale of straw.”

Piper chose the easier question to answer first. “We have the chairs because Grandma likes them.” Her father’s mother, Willie, and Amanda were as different as ants and elephants, but they had a deep respect for each other. “And I don’t know why Brady is here.”

“Curious.”

“What, about the chairs? Not really.” Even though Piper knew that wasn’t what her mother was talking about.

“No, why the prodigal grandson has returned home. Talk about wasted potential, that one. It’s depressing. And you know how I feel about depressing.”

Oh, yes. She knew. It was one of Amanda’s catchphrases whenever she didn’t like something. If it was depressing, it didn’t have the Amanda stamp of approval. Sometimes she was serious, sometimes she was exaggerating. Piper was used to her being slightly overdramatic. But her words reminded her of what Brady had told her about not painting anymore. “Why do you say that?”

“He could have been a successful artist, but he went off to art school in Chicago with all that swagger and bravado. It turns people off, makes it so no one wants to help you get ahead. It’s a shame, because he’s talented, but he was always a little insecure.”

“You think he’s insecure?” Piper asked in amazement. She wouldn’t have said anything of the sort. “He seems pretty sure of himself to me.” In bed and out.

Amanda swept her eyes over Piper. “I always thought you had a bit of a crush on Brady. But I’m sure you’ve outgrown that.”

Maybe not. “Why does it matter? He’s just here for a few days.”

Piper didn’t like the way she was being studied, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“I like Brady,” her mom said. “I always have. He’s charming and funny. But he’s the kind of man who is never satisfied.”

Piper could disagree on that one. He’d seemed plenty satisfied the night before, but she couldn’t exactly say that.

“He’s restless,” Amanda added.

“So?” Piper sounded petulant and she knew it. But she didn’t want her fantasy squashed like that dead snake in the yard. Couldn’t she pretend and indulge for a day or two before someone stomped on her head? She had known when she had gone into the hallway that there was no possibility of a relationship with Brady. But that didn’t mean she wanted the bloom knocked off the rose quite so fast. She wanted to enjoy the memory for at least a day or two before reality kicked her in the teeth.

“He’s not good enough for you,” Amanda said in a soft voice. “You deserve the best. Someone with staying power.”

Because she’d had a mother who died and a shitty stepfather. Because she’d been a bald little ragamuffin.

She got it.

She knew it.

She lived it.

Her parents wanted the best for her. She understood that and appreciated it. She loved them for it. But sometimes it was just damn frustrating to have them treat her differently. Like she was fragile. Never once in her childhood had she been spanked or grounded, even when she had acted up, which hadn’t been that often, but still. Nor had she really taken any risks or made any mistakes because she hadn’t wanted to scare them, cause them worry.

Her father had saved her from hell, so she shouldn’t cause him any. That was how she’d lived her life.

But damn it, she was a grown-ass woman, and if she wanted to get naked with her childhood crush, that was her business. It might have been a huge mistake, but it was her right to make it.

“Thank you,” was simply what she told her stepmother, because she wasn’t going to argue with her. Piper didn’t argue. She’d learned by three years old never to do that.

“I always thought you’d end up marrying Cameron,” her mother said.

Which made Piper want to roll her eyes. “Cameron and I are best friends, that’s it.” Nor was her friend the kind of guy who dug in and committed himself to a lifetime, which was why Amanda’s argument about Brady seemed doubly ridiculous. Piper heard the irritation in her voice and winced.

Fortunately, Logan chose that moment to serve as a distraction by whacking the dead snake so hard it flipped up and smacked a gawking Lilly in the eye with the tip of its tail, who burst into tears. Several of the dogs started barking, agitated.

“Daniel Logan!” Amanda said, bolting out of her chair and striding to the end of the porch. “That’s it. You are as done as dinner, mister. Apologize to Lilly and then get in the house.”

“It was an accident,” Logan protested, with the irreverence only thirteen-year-olds seem to have.

“For real? I mean, did your arm holding a stick just happen to fall on a snake? If you’re going to form an argument, make sure it’s a solid one. I know you watch
Law and Order
. The end result was an accident, but your initial action caused it.”

Piper got up herself to go and comfort Lilly, who was putting up quite a fuss. “There’s a snake in my eye!” she screamed, running towards the house.

Amanda snorted and shot Piper a grin behind her hand. “The kid has style. I like the drama of it all.”

It certainly wasn’t what Piper would have done at that age. But Lilly was a pint-sized drama queen. She flew up the porch steps and hurled herself at Piper, who hugged her.

“Let me see it,” Piper said gently, coaxing Lilly to step back so she could see whether any damage had been done. “Okay, everything looks fine. It will feel better in a second.”

“What’s all the racket about?” Piper’s father came out the back door onto the porch and adjusted his baseball hat to better shield him from the sun.

“Logan hit Lilly in the eye with a snake,” Amanda told him. “And I would like a cocktail.”

Logan was sullenly coming towards the house, his gym shoes kicking up dust. He’d gotten tall and lanky over the summer, his hair bleach blond like his mother’s.

“Oh. That sounds about right for a Saturday.” Piper’s father moved to the end of the porch, ruffling Piper’s hair on the way by as though she were still Lilly’s age. “Daniel Logan, I think you’re coming with me to clean out the chicken coop.”

“Dad, it was an accident!” Logan looked appalled at the injustice.

“Coop still needs cleaning.”

“Piper never has to clean out the chicken coop,” was her brother’s final protest, the stick still in his hand and striking the porch posts now.

Amanda stared down her son. “Really? Piper was cleaning the coop when you were in diapers.”

“Man up,” their father told him. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Piper felt bad for Logan. It had been an accident. Sort of. He certainly hadn’t meant to hit Lilly in the eye, even if he had been smacking the crap out of a snake. But whereas she normally would offer to do the task herself, she bit her lip and resisted the urge. She spent far too much of her time trying to please other people instead of herself.

“Piper.” Her brother turned big, brown, pleading eyes on her. He might be a sullen teen a lot of the time, but when she looked at him she still saw the toddler who’d snuggled up with her and followed her everywhere.

“I’ll help him,” she said.

Her parents protested. She knew she was undermining their intention, but truthfully she couldn’t say no to her brothers. Given that Lilly was gasping with laughter from being swung around by her father, it seemed she was already over her injury, so there was no permanent damage.

Piper moved with Logan across the hard-packed dirt of the yard to the perky yellow coop. Her brother was as tall as she was now, and it was a little disturbing. He wasn’t a little kid anymore. They both pulled on waders from the vintage cabinet sitting next to it and went inside. Logan reached for a rake while Piper shooed the hens up the plank to their nests.

“Sometimes I hate living on a farm,” Logan commented.

“I’ve lived in a trailer, and trust me, this is a whole lot better,” she told him. A farm was smelly and hard work, but Piper loved it. It was Tucker land and it would always be there. Like her father—consistent, reliable, steady. But Logan didn’t appreciate that as much as she did, and why would he? He didn’t know any better, hadn’t experienced hardship. Their younger brother, Jack, was more likely the one to wind up running the farm someday. Not only did he look like their father, with a stockier build and caramel hair, he loved the farm, had been clamoring for tractor rides since he was a toddler.

“Why do you still live with us?” Logan asked, giving a halfhearted pull at the straw and the muck beneath it. Then he seemed to realize how that sounded. “I mean, not that I want you to leave, but I don’t know why you’d want to stay. I’m not coming back home after college.”

“Because I love you.” Piper made kissy sounds in his direction, laughing at the look of discomfort on his face.

He stuck out his tongue. “Don’t you want to have a boyfriend or anything? I mean, I would kill to be alone with Jasmine. Mom won’t even let her over here to watch a movie.”

Piper was a little startled by the vehemence in his voice. Oh, Lord, puberty had kicked in with a vengeance. “Yeah, I don’t think Mom is going to let that happen anytime soon.” Their mother didn’t like Jasmine, and there had been under-the-breath comments about sluts sniffing around. She wasn’t about to trust Logan and Jasmine in a dark room.

It brought to mind the challenge of dating even at her age, because she did live with her parents. Until now, it had never particularly bothered her. Now it suddenly seemed to matter. If she did want to pursue a flirtation with Brady, how was she even going to do that? Once she came back home from Shelby’s the next day, they wouldn’t have any opportunities to be alone. Then when Brady left town, she would regret it.

There was no guarantee that he’d want a repeat of the night before, but she certainly did. How many opportunities was she going to have for sex like that? Not a lot. She shouldn’t have done it in Shelby’s house. If she had her own place, she would at least have had a shot at knocking boots a second time. Without any ghosts around.

Maybe she was still living at home because it was safe. Easy. Maybe it meant she didn’t have to date, to go out there and risk getting hurt. Or being lonely. She had never been alone, not since she was eight years old. Her stepfather had left her alone a lot, and it had scared her to the point she’d made up an imaginary friend to keep her company. Anita had moved to the farm with her but eventually had stopped turning up altogether.

But the fear of being alone was still there, deep down, in a dark, ugly spot.

She wasn’t a kid anymore, and she wasn’t fragile. But if she didn’t move on, she couldn’t really expect her parents to treat her any differently.

She didn’t want to live her life making decisions based on fear. She wanted to be in control.

Maybe she hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before, what with Rachel staring at her half the night and memories of Brady’s body over hers clouding her thoughts, and her judgment was impaired, but as the smell of chicken waste clogged her nostrils, she felt a swell of conviction. “You know, Logan, maybe it is time for me to get my own place.”

* * *

BRADY’S GRANDMOTHER WAS EXACTLY WHERE HE
would have expected her to be on a Saturday afternoon. She was on her front porch, rocking, a baseball cap on her head. Only whereas ten years ago she would have had a book in her hand, now she had an e-reader in front of her. As he came up the walk, she glanced up.

“Heard you were in town,” was her dry greeting. “About goddamn time.”

“Hi, Gran. It’s good to see you, too. How are you doing?”

“Fine.” She assessed him. “Well, your hair’s not blue. That’s a start.”

Geez, you dyed your hair as a rebellious teen and you never lived it down. “My hair hasn’t been blue in fifteen years.” Though he couldn’t be too annoyed. Seeing her face, he suddenly felt his gut clench. He had missed her. She looked older than he remembered. Her skin was thin and she’d lost weight. Her feet were a road map of blue veins and her hand shook a little. It shocked him. Scared him. Had a flood of guilt rushing over him.

“Thank God—that’s all I can say about that.” She patted the chair next to her. “Remember when you had that Mohawk? Your hair was jacked all the way to Jesus.”

That made Brady grin. “It was a statement.”

“You can call it what you want. Come sit down and tell me what’s going on in your world.” She held up the e-reader. “I’m just reading a novel I downloaded by that guy who writes those smaltzy books. It’s crap, but at least on this thing I can make the print huge. Easier on the old eyes.”