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As he watched his father saunter toward them, Deacon tested his cheek with two fingers. “Please don’t tell me that you already spent the money I gave you.”
Donny John held up his hands. “What good is money unless you enjoy it, Valentino?”
The use of his middle name never failed to piss Deacon off. “It’s Deacon.”
Donny John released an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know why you boys insist on being referred to by the ordinary names your mother gave you. Being named for legendary lovers is part of the Beaumont heritage. And Valentino, Lothario, and Romeo are names that get people’s attention.”
“And get your ass kicked on the playground,” Nash said dryly.
“Which is why I taught you to box,” Donny John said. “Although it looks like Val…Deacon could use a refresher course.” He pointed a finger at Deacon. “You forget defense always comes before offense and timing is everything.” He demonstrated by lifting his fists in front of his face. “That’s why Nash always gets the upper hand. You’ve never learned how to close the hole after a jab.”
No, Deacon had never learned how to close the hole. Whenever life had thrown him a jab, he had always been open to the pain that followed. His father’s inability to provide for his family. His mother’s death from cancer. His true paternity. The wounds were still there and unhealed. Which might’ve explained his sharpness.
“If you want money, I’m tapped. If you want to fish, the poles are on the porch. And if you want something to eat, there’s hot dogs in the fridge.”
His father looked wounded. “Why, I just wanted to spend a little time with my sons.” He tipped his head. “Of course, now I am a little curious about Olivia Harrington. When she passed me in that big ol’ Suburban, she looked in quite a hurry.”
Damn. It figured that his father would run into Olivia and recognize her immediately. Of course Deacon had known her as soon as he’d looked into those big innocent-looking eyes that seemed to take up half her face.
“So I’m going to assume that she was here to tell you about her father dying?” Donny John said.
“How did you find out?”
“I ran into Francesca.”
Deacon didn’t have to ask how Francesca knew. Wealthy people kept track of wealthy people, and Francesca had always been overly curious about Michael Beaumont.
Donny John shook his head. “Poor Michael Casanova. I never thought he would go first.” His father’s eyes were sad. Donny John might have his faults, but he loved his family.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Deacon said.
After only a few moments, Donny John shrugged. “I had hoped that we could reconcile before he died, but I guess that’s what this is about.” He pulled one of the contracts Olivia had left from his back pocket. “I found this on the kitchen table. Now I’m not good at deciphering legal jargon, but it seems to me that Michael decided to do his forgiving through my sons.”
Deacon released his breath. Now that Donny John knew about the money there would be no getting rid of him until he got his share. A share he would no doubt blow at the crap tables.
“Nothing is final yet,” Nash said.
“Nor will it be.” Donny John unfolded the contract and flipped to the back page. “Especially when Deacon has yet to sign.”
His brothers turned on him.
“You didn’t sign?” Grayson said. “But I saw you.”
Nash grabbed the contract from his father and studied the signatures at the bottom before his gaze narrowed on Deacon. “Are you fuckin’ crazy?”
It was a good question. One he’d been asking himself since Olivia had driven away. A sane person would’ve signed the papers and celebrated all the way to the bank. Instead Deacon had not just kept himself from realizing his dream of being a millionaire, he’d kept his brothers from realizing theirs. And he wasn’t sure why. One minute he was bent over the contract with pen in hand, and the next he was air-writing. Since only a fool would screw up a deal for one hundred and fifty million, Olivia hadn’t even glanced at the signatures before putting two of the contracts back in the folder and heading out the door to wait for her ride.
He had little doubt that his stupidity had to do with the fantasy he’d clung to for all these years. When he met Olivia again, he’d wanted to be a self-made man with all the power. Instead Olivia was still the powerful one, handing out charity to the hillbilly Beaumonts. And it just hadn’t sat well. Not well at all.
Unfortunately, his damned pride wasn’t worth losing millions over.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll sign this copy and send it to her. I’m sure it won’t change the deal.”
Donny John slapped him on the back. “Now, that’s my boy.” He rubbed his hands together. “So what say we head into town for a steak dinner?” He smiled. “My millionaire sons’ treat, of course.”
“No one is celebrating yet,” Deacon said. “Not until I see the will for myself and we have the money in the bank.”
He should’ve taken the contract from Nash and signed it right then. Instead he turned and headed for the front porch. He needed some time to think. And since he did his best thinking alone, he grabbed his fishing pole and headed to the same fishing spot he’d been in when Olivia had taken the plunge into the water.
