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“Well, of course we do,” Mrs. Matthews says helpfully. “Avery here was just doing what I asked her to. I needed to make sure that Casey didn’t do something stupid, like harass his ex-wife when he should be trying to win her heart, not let her set his truck on fire.”
Oh shit.
I watch her face and realize that the Matthewss don’t know that Casey and Bria are still married. For a second, I think about telling them. But I’m not going to be that person, not right now. I’m not the one to stir the shit pot just because I can. Instead, I make a mental note to tell Bria. She might be able to use it when Casey won’t leave her alone.
“I’ll give Chief Townsend a call,” Mr. Matthews says briskly. “Let him know, in case a call comes in, that our boys went a little crazy last night and misplaced a vehicle.” Then his head is gone, and the screen door closes right behind him.
“See, dear?” Mrs. Matthews smiles at me, and tears sting my eyes again at the pain that she struggles to cover. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But the truth always comes out. Now.” She stands up, leaving me alone on the bench. “Let’s go have some coffee, and maybe Patrick will make French toast. It’s my favorite.”
When I walk into the kitchen after her, my face is bright red with embarrassment from the night before.
I’d seduced him and left him with blue balls. All because he called me on my shit and made me feel bad about myself. But all he did was tell the truth. The truth I might hate, but still the truth.
Shit.
I need to apologize… Maybe one day or in a year. When he calms down or when I die. Yeah, that sounds like a better plan. I’ll leave a note detailing my apology in my will, and my lawyer can give it to him.
Having made the perfect plan, I sit down at the old table that takes up the middle of the kitchen and do my best not to show my thoughts.
When the front door opens in the distance, I know I made a huge mistake. I should have left Mrs. Matthews alone on the porch and run in the other direction. Instead, I let her get under my skin, and I stayed.
Too late to run.
Loud footsteps approach, and my shoulders shrink, even as Mr. Matthews sets a piping hot cup of coffee down in front of me with a knowing look on his face.
In marches Casey, followed directly by Cameron and Carter. All three of them wear matching expressions of menace on their faces that I know I’m the cause of. But they can’t see me, at least not yet. The way the Matthews kitchen is set up, there is a large serving bar that separates the kitchen from the dining area, where I happen to be hiding.
“How did you get it back?” Casey barks at his father. “Carter said that little menace stole it while he was sleeping.”
I can’t help it. I snort.
Sleeping, my ass. He was awake, breathing hard, and ready for the same thing I wanted.
Even quietly, it draws attention. Thankfully, Mrs. Matthews shifts so that she stands, blocking any view they may have of me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says smoothly, putting on the ‘mom’ voice that mothers so effectively use. I recognize it because my ‘teacher’ voice had been created from years of watching my mom use hers on me and my siblings.
“Come on, Mom.” Cameron’s voice is lower than his brothers, more reserved and intense, like he will bring a storm of chaos down on anyone’s shoulders who stand in his way. “We know she took off with it.”
“I asked her to,” Mrs. Matthews insists. “Ask your father, if you don’t believe me. But remember whose house you’re standing in, child.” Her voice grows firm. “At this ungodly hour in the morning, I might add. It’s nice to see you, of course, but could you please leave?”
I lean over, catching a glimpse of the brothers, all of whom look like they haven’t slept a wink. Carter’s eyes narrow as he looks at his parents. “You never want us to leave. What’s going on here?” He stares pointedly between the two of them, both blocking me from view, and crosses his arms while he waits for an answer.
“None of your business,” Mr. Matthews snaps. “Now I’m about to make French toast for your mother. Maybe you should leave.”
Carter’s face flushes, much like mine had out on the porch, and I can’t hold it in anymore. The laughter starts to bubble in my chest, and then I lose control. I laugh so hard that I fall out of my chair and hit the ground, tears streaming from my eyes the entire time.
“I believe,” Carter says seriously while nudging me with his foot. “That you owe me an explanation, Ms. James.”
I look up at his face, eyes watering with laughter, and realize I have nowhere to run.
I am definitely screwed, and not in a good way.
I can’t even say the alcohol made me do it, either.
11
CARTER
