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She gently massaged her temples. “I am in far too much pain to actually ask the questions I am certain I should be asking.” She took a slightly larger sip of the Bloody Mary and downed the two tablets he’d laid out beside the glass. “I’m going to attempt to finish at least half of this and go back to bed. Am I on a timeline here, Sparky?”
The childhood nickname widened the smile on his lips. “Whenever you feel better, come out. I’ll text when I’m leaving if I don’t see you before then okay?”
Dean waited until she’d taken another bite of the food before getting up, sliding on shoes that were much nicer than he normally wore to work, and slipping out the door. Within seconds he had hopped into the truck beside Mat. “Thanks for this, bro.”
The other man carefully backed out of the narrow driveway before responding. “You realize that you have three actual brothers who are all happily married and probably a lot better at this than your divorced cousin, right?”
“Listen, Sherry was a—” Dean managed to stop talking before the word that was so accurate, but also so insulting, to the woman Mat probably still cared about came out. “You’re better off. Seriously, you’ll find someone else. And…I am better off without my brothers knowing anything about any of this. It’s a friggin’ mess until I can get her to see that it doesn’t need to be.”
Mat sighed and hit the right turn signal with a little more force than necessary. “So where to first?”
Dean rubbed the back of his neck and looked out the window before facing Mat again, his cheeks burning with the knowledge he’d left out a few important details. “Before you say anything, I already talked to Wyatt. He knows we’re going to be late today and I know you don’t have any clients booked until one…”
His cousin groaned loudly. “What are you getting me into here, Dean?”
“Mini road trip?” He held up the directions on his phone, already being called out by the slightly robotic female voice.
Mat uttered a string of curses under his breath, but took the device from Dean’s hand and slid it into the phone mount attached to his vent. “I better at least get a decent lunch for this.”
“I’ll pick something amazing. And I’ll buy.” Dean held up three fingers, his pinky and thumb touching at his palm. “Scout’s honor.”
His cousin merged onto the interstate smoothly before shooting him a disbelieving glare. “First, you’re gonna be broke by the time this little errand is over, and second, you were never in the scouts.”
Dean chuckled but didn’t argue either point. Just because he worked at his brother’s ranch and spearheaded a unique and highly recommended program there didn’t mean he was as comfortable as his siblings. But he was smart with his money, and aside from the tricked out motorcycle, he put a decent chunk in his savings account every month.
One thing he held in common with both Wyatt and Connor was the fact that they did things on their own without the financial backing of their parents…aside from the sports car they gifted him for his graduation. Even if that meant struggling sometimes.
Being broke was a bit of an exaggeration, but his savings would take a small ding. And he really couldn’t think of a better reason.
***
Jillian
Present Day
Jillian fumbled with the phone blaring out a calypso rhythm, her blurry eyes struggling to focus on the screen. When her sleepy vision righted itself, she groaned and swiped across the glass screen to connect the call. “Hello, Mother.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still lazing about. It’s nearly two in the afternoon.”
Her mother’s shrill voice combined with the realization that she’d slept another six hours after Dean had left was better than a bucket of ice water. She cleared her throat and jumped from the bed, thrilled her headache was gone when her feet landed firmly on the hardwood floor.
She rummaged through the small bag that housed her essentials, desperately seeking a toothbrush and toothpaste to rid her mouth of the lingering aftertaste of beer mixed with the Bloody Mary and omelet. How the hell had Dean managed to talk to her with breath this lethal?
“Sorry, Mother, I’m still operating in a vastly different time zone. Did you need anything specific?” Locating the small items felt like finding gold and she clutched them to her chest and raced to the bathroom.
The older woman cleared her throat in such an exaggerated way Jillian rolled her eyes as she applied the thick paste to the brush. “Well, I’ve secured the club two weeks from now for this…wedding.” She paused just long enough to make her disdain apparent. “You were making some sort of ill-fitting joke by calling this entire thing real…weren’t you?”
As much enjoyment as Jillian got from tormenting her mother with the idea that she and Dean were getting married for real, she didn’t want the woman to have a heart attack. And despite all her faults, Helena had been through a hellacious few months. The family fortune and high social standing that meant nothing to Jillian meant the world to her mother. Even though she couldn’t understand it, she also couldn’t turn off the stirring of empathy.
“No, Mother, you know exactly why I’m getting married and you know the validity of it.” She scrubbed her teeth for a few moments and spit out the excess foam in the sink. “But you also need to remember that Dean is bailing us out by agreeing to this. His entire life is being upended by going along with this ridiculous ploy to appease Grandfather’s insane and archaic stipulations.”
Helena huffed on the other end. “I still can’t believe Silas Murphy agreed to write such a preposterous will.”
Jillian finished freshening her mouth, swished some water, and sent it spiraling down the drain. “That doesn’t really matter at this point. We are in this situation and the only way to access the funds you need is through Dean.” She pressed her lips together for a moment and summoned a brief flare of will. “And I expect you to remember that and treat him kindly from now on. Especially considering the fact that your own son is barely even answering your calls and certainly hasn’t stepped up to help in any way.”
“First of all, it sounds like you’re brushing your teeth, which is exceptionally rude to do while on the phone. You’ve apparently lost all sense of decorum out in that…wilderness. Secondly, Bradford sunk every dime of his half of the inheritance into his business, and with the time difference in Thailand, it’s unrealistic to expect him to be in contact regularly.”
Jillian rolled her eyes at her mother’s familiar excuses for her brother’s absence. “It’s Sierra Leone, Mother. An actual country. Remember? You’ve done fundraisers to dig wells—”
