A Man of Honor (12 page)

No, one beer was fine with him, thanks. He’d keep his wits about him.

“So, Brady,” Henry said as he dipped a chip into the homemade guacamole and sat down on a cushioned deck chair. “Tell us a little about where you’d see Kingston Shoes headed under your leadership.”

“Well, sir, I’d do everything I can to up the productivity. To guarantee the workers a decent salary and to get your shoes known across the nation. Maddie and Nick’s grandfather are a great design team. Now you need great marketing to get the product out there. My father always used to say to us kids growing up, work hard and work smart, meaning that efficiency is the key to building up the company.”

Brady had all the perfect answers. He came from the perfect family. He possessed everything Cat could want, had everything her family was looking for, and was clearly crazy about her. Preston wanted to take him out of the job applicant pool just for that.

Cat opened the sliding door to the house, carrying a full tray of watermelon. As she headed down the few stairs to the deck, her sandal caught, and she lost her balance. The watermelon tipped and pieces began to slide off the tray.

Preston struggled to stand up with such force, his chair tipped over backward with a resounding
thud
. Before he could lumber over to help, Brady was beside her, grasping her by the elbow and catching her, another hand steadying the tray. Preston’s damn leg had tripped him up and slowed him down as usual.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Brady whispered loud enough Preston could hear. Then out loud, “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”

Grandmeel picked up Preston’s chair. In a low voice, she said, “Now, wouldn’t want you rushing over there and tripping on the watermelon seeds. You might hurt your good leg.”

“With all respect, Amelia,” Preston said, “I’m used to dodging land mines, so I don’t think a couple of slippery seeds are going to trip me up.” Preston barely registered her reply. Because Brady had helped Cat steady herself and was still touching her arm. He swore he saw him whisper something in her ear and sure enough, saw color rise to her face.

Shit.
The man was making a play for her right in front of him.

Cat righted herself. “Thanks, Brady,” she said. “Glad I’m okay, but I’m afraid half the watermelon isn’t.”

Brady bent down and started picking up the fallen melon and throwing it into the trash, something else Preston couldn’t help with.

“I’ll go back into the house and get some more,” Cat said.

Preston was about to say he’d help her when Brady said it instead. And accompanied her into the kitchen.

“I’m so glad Brady’s interviewing for our CEO job,” Grandmeel said. “We need a smart, tough, and aggressive leader.”

“He certainly is skilled,” Preston said.
But he’d better not be using those skills on Cat.

Cat’s father tossed Preston a deferring look. “I appreciate the hard work you’ve put into narrowing down the CEO candidates, son. I know how hard you’ve been working at it.”

Preston forced himself to focus on Mr. Kingston’s words instead of wondering what the hell Brady was up to with Cat in the kitchen. He managed to crack a smile that felt as if he were moving his muscles through layers of caked-on mud. “Yes, sir. We’ll for sure find a person who’s a great fit for the company. Dedicated, hardworking, and shares your mission. I want to help you find someone who appreciates the way you all make your shoes. Who understands that quality does appeal over quantity.”

He wasn’t 100 percent sure Brady understood that. Oh, he was all about productivity, but the methods he’d use to get the company up to speed seemed to indicate he’d take away local jobs for automation and outsourcing.

“Are you saying some people interviewing for the position want us to use machines to speed up the shoemaking?” Derrick asked.

“Productivity is important,” Nick said. “But Kingston Shoes were and always will be handmade.” He turned to Henry. “I told you Preston had a good grip on the company’s mission.”

Yes, he did. But right now, the only mission Preston saw Brady having was to get Cat laid. A mission Preston didn’t like one bit. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make a trip to the restroom.”

When he entered the kitchen, Cat and Brady were standing at the island. Brady was cutting pieces of watermelon, and Cat was arranging them on the tray. And they were laughing.

“Hey, Preston,” Cat said. “Need anything?”

“Just to talk to you,” Preston said, taking her by the arm and leading her out of the kitchen. “Would you excuse us a minute?”

That’s when Preston realized he was sweating. He couldn’t wait another minute to tell her the truth. That he’d made that dumb move with Lacey today out of panic and stupidity. That he’d never wanted to let Cat go. That all he’d ever wanted was to have her, and how could he have her when he was in such a shit state of mind? When everything about his world was different now and he didn’t even know who the hell he was anymore. Yet he had to tell her. Because he could not let this aggressive shithead walk in and take over.

“What is it?” Cat asked. Her tone was irritated. Her eyes held an impassive, hardened look he’d never seen before.

“Cat, I—”

“Oh, before you start, I want you to know there’s no need for you to try to fix me up with anyone else. Brady’s asked me out. I like him a lot.”

He tried not to show his shock, his surprise. His
devastation
. Everything had turned out exactly as he’d planned. He’d rejected her, hurt her so she’d give him up for good, and found her a better man. Someone who was hale and hearty, from a better family, and who fit in perfectly with hers.

“That’s…great, Cat. It’s just what you wanted.”

He searched her eyes for any signs she was calling his bluff, but she was smiling sweetly, her look expectant. Like she was excited she’d finally met an upstanding guy who was a gentleman and who treated her like she deserved to be treated.

Everything he wasn’t or couldn’t ever be. The guacamole and chips he just ate tossed sickly in his stomach.

“What were you going to tell me?” she asked.

He broke his hold on her and turned back to head back to the kitchen “N-nothing. Just wondering if taking me to PT before heading to school was going to work for you tomorrow.” Later tomorrow afternoon the wedding party was meeting at the lodge at the lake for fun and festivities before the big day on Saturday.

“I’m already packed for the weekend and I’ll pick you up at eight sharp. Sound okay?”

“Great. Everything sounds great. Thanks.”

Too bad nothing, absolutely nothing, felt great inside.

…

Liz opened the screen door and walked in with an empty pitcher of iced tea. Cat was sitting at the island after sending Brady out with the watermelon, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Over the past week, she’d tried to wear Preston down with compassion, with confrontation, and now she’d resorted to primitive caveman tactics—good old-fashioned jealousy. She felt sick. He’d backed down, seemed happy for her. Shit, why did she go and do that?

“Wow, you never told me you had a love triangle thing going on,” Liz said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Maddie already told me you’re not really dating Preston. But is it warm in here?” She fanned her face with her hands. “Because he’s throwing you enough heated glances to send the fire pit up in flames.”

“We had a fight. The heated glances are probably from wishing he were anywhere but here.”

“What is there to fight about if you’re not really dating?”

“It’s super complicated.”

Liz sat down across from her at the island. “Look, Cat, I’ve been gone a whole year, and we all know how my happily ever after turned out. But through all this, I’ve learned one thing, and it’s that honesty is the keystone of any relationship. If you don’t have that, you don’t have anything. And you know what? The honesty part starts with yourself.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“I’m saying that before you walk away, don’t be afraid to demand honesty of him and of yourself. Then if it doesn’t work, you have nothing to look back on with regret.”

Liz wrapped her arms around her and gave her a kiss on the head. “I’m glad you’re back,” Cat whispered.

“Me, too,” she said.

Cat waited until Liz left and she was alone in the kitchen, the muffled sounds of chatter and laughter from outside filtering through the glass doors. God, would this day never end? She really did have a splitting headache. Now that Brady knew Preston and she weren’t dating, he wasn’t shy at all about letting her know his interest. Despite Preston’s conviction in telling her good-bye for good, he had seemed agitated and tense.

All she knew was she’d had it with men, and she needed some Advil stat. She headed from the kitchen to the bathroom, which was off the front hall. On the way, she noticed a wallet and phone sitting next to her keys where she’d placed them on the polished antique hall table her mother kept underneath the arch of the staircase.

Preston’s. They were still sitting there from when he’d stopped to give Nick the business card. A family portrait taken when she was sixteen sat above the table. Life had seemed so simple then. She glanced from her newly-without-braces smile down to the objects on the table.

Lacey’s voice sounded in her head again.
If you don’t believe me, check his wallet.

Cat wasn’t a snoop. She’d never read her sisters’ diaries or flipped through their desk drawers.

What was it Liz had just said? That honesty was the cornerstone of any relationship. Had Preston’s pride trumped his ability to be honest? He was a proud man who hated to show weakness of any kind. Opening that wallet could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one she was certain would never come again. If there was a chance something in there could explain the contradiction between his feelings and his actions, she was going to take it.

Her hand hovered over the wallet. The flip side was that it could lead to more disappointment when she found nothing amiss. Besides, if there had ever been anything in his wallet having to do with her, it had likely been removed long ago.

But still.

With trembling hands, she lifted the smooth soft leather square, turned it over in her palm, noted its slightly worn edges. The public part of Preston always was so perfectly put together, the thought that his wallet was a little rough around the edges made her smile. A noise made her jump and almost drop it—the tumble of ice cubes from the ice maker into the bin in the freezer. She had to act fast. So she opened it.

Her eyes scanned quickly over the typical male wallet contents. Credit cards, a ticket stub, his driver’s license. Nothing spectacular. She was just berating herself for violating his privacy when something caught her eye. Tucked behind a sales receipt in a clear plastic window was a photo. With trembling fingers, she pulled it up enough so she could see it.

It was a photo of her from last September, taken at a wedding of two high school friends. She was dressed in a strapless cream-colored silk dress, holding a clutch, and grinning widely for the camera, the concrete steps of the church behind her. She’d just walked out of the church and was about to join the crowd to wait for the bride and groom.

She barely remembered it being taken. Preston had captured her at a perfect moment—caught up in the joy of the wedding, forgetting the fact that she’d come without a date—she’d tagged along with Derrick and Jenna. Still upset over her recent breakup, she hadn’t wanted to be seen, to be confronted by well-meaning friends, but she’d forced herself to go, and the day had turned out to be unexpectedly fun. Preston had been snapping pictures all day using his fancy new camera lens, and he’d been joking with her, teasing her. What had he said?
Hey, beautiful, turn and smile for the camera.

That last night before he deployed, they’d walked out together from the wedding. They’d been dancing, every single dance. He’d walked her to his car. There under the full moon, the moonlight casting bluish ethereal beams through the magnolia branches overhead, he took hold of both her hands and pulled her up from where she was leaning against the car, up, up, and into his strong arms. And then he kissed her. A spectacular, magical kiss that began featherlight and breezy and turned into something completely different. He slid his hand around the nape of her bare neck and pulled her against him, and she’d clutched at his back, feeling the taut planes of muscle, the strength, the soft, wonderful feel of his lips on hers.

Their lips met, at first tentatively, and then suddenly joining with a hunger she’d never known. At the time, she’d attributed it to the relief of finally letting go of Robert. And the champagne, and the fact that she hadn’t had sex since a month before she and Robert had broken up.

She’d wanted to taste every part of him, and she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue, met it with her own and pressed herself against his rock-hard body.

She tugged at the lapels of his tux. “Take me to your hotel,” she said boldly. His new house on the lake wasn’t even finished being framed yet, she couldn’t offer to bring him back to her parents’ place, and time was short. He was leaving at 5:00 a.m. for the airport, and she didn’t want to spend another minute tiptoeing around how much she wanted to be with him.

He kissed her again, hard, and she ran her hands down the densely corded muscles of his back. She felt free, freer than she had since Robert had bailed nearly two months earlier.

Preston pulled away, holding her at arm’s length. Stroked her cheek with one finger. His touch was so gentle, just like the look in his eyes. She didn’t want the fairy tale to end. For her dress to turn to rags and for him to be gone, thousands of miles away, when they’d finally found each other.

She reached up and grasped his arms. “Let’s not waste any more time,” she said, tugging on him.

“I-I can’t, Cat.”

“You—don’t want me?”

“More than anything, but not like this.”

“I haven’t had that much to drink,” she said.

“It’s not that. It’s too soon. I don’t want to be your rebound.”