Page 9 of Blue Jean Summer

“Knowing her, you’ll never find it.”

Hayes groaned.

“I’m going to head inside,” I said. “Take your time. I’ll keep the table from mutiny until you come in.”

He tilted his head to the side, resting his temple against the brick. “You sure?”

I flashed a smile and brushed my hair over my shoulder. “Handling a table of fake mourners is a piece of cake. I’ve got this in the bag. Some have even called me charming.”

Lines, graceful like the mountain ridges, formed along the corners of his eyes, though his lips barely lifted. “Thanks.”

“See you in a bit,” I said as I started up the two steps that led inside.

“Cath,” he said when my foot hit the top step.

I paused and looked over my shoulder.

Those devastating eyes were softer now as they looked up at me. “I mean it. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Anything for your granddad.”

—

Hayes slipped into the dining room a few minutes after I had taken an empty seat to the right of the head of the table. As soon as he took his place at the top of the long mahogany table, the rest of the guests settled while servers swarmed with plates of salad.

The crisp red edge of the late-spring radishes and bright leafy greens were far too cheery for the occasion. I watched Hayes out of the corner of my eye as he lifted his fork and took the inaugural bite to signal to the rest of the table that it was time to eat, but that one nibble was all he could muster.

When all the surrounding eyes were turned away, I reached over and quickly swapped my nearly empty plate with Hayes’s, making it look like he had eaten more than he had.

It took him a moment, blinking as he comprehended what I had done.

I lifted my linen napkin, pretending to dab my lips while I whispered, “It’s hard to eat when you feel like you’re dying too.”

Hayes stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”

I reached for him and laid my hand on his forearm. “It’ll get better someday. Today is not going to be that day. And that’s okay.”

Hayes laid his hand on mine, trapping it against his arm. “Thank you.”

The earth-shattering slam of the front door broke the sanctity of the moment, but Hayes didn’t flinch as Lewis came storming through in a whirlwind of obvious disdain. Lewis paused as he cut through the dining room, locking his beady eyes on where Hayes held my hand like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

Instead of pulling away, Hayes’s long fingers curled around mine, pressing into my palm. Without a word, Lewis sneered in disgust and headed up to the second floor. The servers reappeared to clear the plates and serve the next course, but Hayes never let go of my hand.

Chapter 4

Hayes

I jumped at the knock on the glass panes of the French doors that separated Granddad’s study from the rest of the house. Did I doze off with my eyes open? I blinked and tried to refocus on the email from my attorney, but the words kept blurring together.

The knock sounded again, and I looked up.

Hallie let herself in and dropped a plate on the desk. “You need to eat, Mr. Wilder.”

Now I knew I was hallucinating. There was no way Hallie had called me Mr. Wilder.

I stared at the towering turkey sandwich, then looked up at Hallie. “Not once in all the years I’ve known you have you ever called me Mr. Wilder.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t my boss when we were in high school.” She smirked. “And I like to stay on my boss’s good side.”