Come Home to Me (25 page)

“He just needs some distance, like I said. He feels guilty for keeping it a secret, and yet he can see why everyone’s better off that way.”

“We
are
better off,” Cheyenne insisted. “Dylan is, anyway. He’s so happy.”

Presley certainly hoped so, because it was too late to turn back. “Have you heard from Riley?”

“Here and there. He was at coffee last Friday. Why?”

“I’ve tried to reach him a few times, but he hasn’t replied.”

Cheyenne finished her drink and tossed the container in a nearby wastebasket. “He had high hopes where you were concerned.”

“I don’t see why.”

Her sister gave her arm a slight tap. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not putting myself down. There wasn’t any chemistry between us.”

“On your side, maybe. But you were already in love, so I’m not sure you would’ve felt it even if it had earthquake proportions.”

“He hasn’t been coming in for his massages,” she said. “I feel like I should give him his money back. I sent a text to that effect, but no answer there, either. I guess I’ll have to call him again.”

“Don’t bother returning his money. I love Riley, but it’s his choice whether he gets the massages he bought. You haven’t done anything wrong.” She slipped Wyatt another of his organic juice-sweetened animal crackers. “I’m guessing he’ll schedule an appointment in a few months, after Aaron’s gone and he thinks you’ve had a chance to forget him.”

If she could forget Aaron, she would’ve done it already. “Maybe you’re right.”

A honk drew their attention, and Presley glanced over to see Aaron parking his truck.

“Speak of the devil,” Cheyenne murmured.

“He knew I was going to be here. I told him. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Maybe he’ll finally have something to say to me.”

Presley pulled a chair from the table closest to them so he’d have a place to sit. “You didn’t reply when I texted you to see if you wanted me to order for you,” she said as he walked up. “I was afraid maybe you weren’t going to make it.”

“I was driving. But that’s okay. I’ll grab something.” He paused long enough to take Wyatt, who was giddy with happiness at the sight of him, into the coffee shop.

As the door swung shut behind them, Cheyenne winked at her. “He looks good.”

She grinned. “He always looks good.”

When Aaron returned carrying an iced coffee, he bent to kiss her before taking his seat. “What’d you get?” he asked as he positioned Wyatt on his lap.

“My regular.”

“Chai tea? I should’ve known.” He smiled at Cheyenne. “This girl won’t eat anything that’s bad for her anymore.”

Cheyenne moved her purse to give him more room. “I know. Makes it difficult to have dinner at Just Like Mom’s, right?”

“Speaking of Just Like Mom’s. You guys are on for tonight, aren’t you?” Aaron asked.

“To meet your new stepmother?” Cheyenne whistled under her breath. “Of course. I’m dying of curiosity.”

“I’m glad
you’re
excited about it, because I’m not,” Aaron said.

Cheyenne slid the sugar toward him. “It should be less awkward if there’s a group.”

He ripped open one of the packets. “My thoughts exactly.”

According to what Aaron had told her, Anya Sharp had been trying to get the Amos brothers to have dinner with her for weeks, and they’d finally run out of excuses. “I’ll make an exception with my diet,” she said, “even though you’ve been taking me to that restaurant too often as it is.”

“Are you nervous about meeting her?” Cheyenne asked Aaron.

“Not nervous,” he replied. “Apprehensive. Who knows what this woman will be like?”

Cheyenne waved as someone called out to her from across the street. “Maybe she’ll be pleasant. Haven’t you talked to her on the phone? Dylan told me you’re the one who set this up.”

“She’s been calling me ever since Dylan gave her my number. You’ll have to thank him for me.”

She laughed at his sarcasm. “He couldn’t put her off any longer and figured you’d have better luck.”

“Apparently, I’m a softer touch than I like to believe. Or I got her after she’d run out of patience. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. I was afraid she’d just show up at our house.”

“She’s that aggressive?”

“Absolutely. She’s so damn eager to meet us, but I don’t get why she’s in such a rush. Why not wait until my father’s released?”

“I agree,” Presley said. They’d talked about this before.

“We’re all adults,” he added. “It’s not as if we need a mother.”

“Maybe she’s lonely,” Cheyenne said. “She married a convict, after all.”

Experience had taught Presley that Aaron didn’t enjoy talking about his stepmother, so she changed the subject. They’d find out exactly what Anya was like tonight. Conjecture was getting them nowhere. “So how’d it go this morning?” she asked Aaron. “Did you sign the lease on the cute little house you found in Reno?”

He’d asked her to go with him, but she had yoga class and three massages.

“I did. Handed over my security deposit and first and last month’s rent.”

“Nice.” She managed to keep her smile in place.

Cheyenne looked from him to Presley and back again. “So you’ve rented something? It’s official?”

“Nothing too fancy,” he replied. “But it’s comfortable.” He nudged Presley for confirmation. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“I love it,” she admitted.

Cheyenne scooted her chair back so she could stay in the shade of the giant umbrella. “When will you be moving?”

“The lease starts June 1.”

“That soon? That’s only a week away.”

“June’s always been my goal—once I decided to do this.”

Cheyenne frowned. “But Presley’s birthday is at the end of the month, and I’m planning a big party. You’ll drive back for it, won’t you?”

Presley spoke up before he could. “If he has time. It’ll be hard work to get the shop going.”

“If I have time?” he echoed.

“You’ll be busy.” She checked her phone. “I’ve got to run or I’ll be late for my next massage. Chey, are you okay with Wyatt?”

“I can keep him with me,” Aaron said. “I’ve got some calls to make, but I can do that at the house.”

“Great. I’ll see you later.” Aaron had kissed her when he sat down, but she was always careful not to lay any claim on him, especially in public. So instead of touching him, she gave her baby a quick hug and waved goodbye.

27

C
heyenne watched her sister leave. “She’s doing so well.”

Aaron handed Wyatt to her while he folded up the stroller. He kept a child’s seat in his truck, which was something Cheyenne had never thought she’d see. It made her smile every time she saw it peeking up over the window. “Here in Whiskey Creek?”

“In life. Generally.”

When he narrowed his eyes, she knew he recognized that as the lead-in it was.

“Sounds like you’re getting philosophical.”

“I’m just glad she’s happy!” she said, trying to backpedal.

“And that’s it? Tell the truth,” he retorted. “You have something else on your mind.”

Aaron wasn’t letting her get away with anything.

Cheyenne scowled at him. “Come on, Aaron. I just need to know that you care about her. You do, don’t you?”

“I’ve told you before that I do.”

“And yet you’re going to move to Reno and leave her behind?”

His expression held a not-so-subtle warning. “Stop. Don’t get involved.”

She didn’t dare push him any harder. At least he was being a good father. She couldn’t fault him there. And he treated Presley really well. It was only his lack of commitment to the relationship that worried her. She knew how difficult that had to be for Pres.

With a sigh of frustration at his hardheadedness, she said, “Can we talk about the baby, then? At last?”

He drilled her with another level stare. “
Which
baby?”

“
My
baby.” She put a hand to her stomach. “The one you gave me.”

“I don’t want you to ever talk to me about that again,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned that night at Presley’s—what we did—it never happened.”

“Fine. Wonderful. There’s just one problem.”

He grimaced but asked, anyway. “What’s that?”

“I don’t want it to cost me my relationship with you. You matter to me, as my brother-in-law. And you matter even more to Dylan. When I made the decision to ask for your help, I wasn’t consciously trading you for what you could give me.”

Fortunately, he didn’t say that was a trade she’d make without a second thought. He could’ve accused her of it, considering how desperate she’d been. But he seemed to understand that she was trying to get everything to go back to normal. “It hasn’t cost you anything, Chey. Just forget it, okay?”

“I can’t forget. You treat me like a complete stranger these days, and that makes me feel it was a mistake to involve you. It’s not as if we can ignore each other indefinitely, Aaron, even if I was willing to settle for that. We’ll continue to see each other at events like the one tonight, when we have to meet the new Mrs. J. T. Amos. I’d rather those events not be awkward.”

After glancing around to find the sidewalks clear, he lowered his voice. “I treat you the way I do because I don’t want you to acknowledge what happened. I don’t want you to thank me. I don’t want you to be grateful. I don’t want us to be any different than we were before because of our little secret. The idea that what we did would bring us close feels wrong to me, do you understand? Just be happy and make my brother and your baby happy. That’s the only way I can feel good about the situation.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

She could tell that wasn’t the response he’d been expecting.

“What?
Why?
”

“Because I
am
grateful. I could never explain how much. And I will never mention it again, to you or anyone else. But how could I ever forget that you’re the one who made it possible for me to be a mother and Dylan a father?” Although she held Wyatt, and he held the stroller, she stood and gave him a brief one-armed hug.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he mumbled as she pulled away. “But that’s all that needs to be said, okay? No more thankful smiles or ‘are we okay’ glances.”

She laughed. “Got it.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God.” He strode to his truck and put Wyatt’s stroller in the bed.

“There’s just one more thing,” she said, following him.

He turned to face her. “I’m almost afraid to ask what it is,” he said dryly.

“If you hurt my sister again, I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.” She nodded as if that was the end of it, and he finally seemed to relax into his old self.

“Glad we’re back on familiar ground,” he said, taking his son.

* * *

Anya Sharp-Amos was nothing like Aaron had expected. He’d thought she’d have to be unattractive and well past her prime to settle for a prison inmate. But she was neither of those things. Maybe thirty-five, she had an excellent figure and was doing everything possible to flaunt it—hardly a challenge since she was dressed in a pair of shorts that practically showed her ass. The addition of a leather vest and army boots made her look like a true biker chick. The tattoos on her arms and legs, and the fact that she reeked of tobacco smoke, completed the stereotype. But Aaron could suddenly understand why his father had married a woman he didn’t even know. After twenty years in the slammer, the promise of conjugal visits could probably tempt him into anything. To a regular man, however, all she had to do to ruin her appeal was open her mouth. She was far too pushy for Aaron’s taste; he’d experienced just
how
pushy when she wouldn’t let him postpone tonight’s dinner.

“Look at all these handsome men.” She stood as they filed in, then she motioned for a teenage girl, who was apparently with her, to show some enthusiasm. Whoever the girl was, she didn’t seem happy to be included in this little get-together. She rolled her eyes as if she was sick of her mother, and gave them a brooding glare.

“This is my daughter, Natasha,” Anya announced. Aaron had already guessed from the teen’s large almond-shaped green eyes that they were related. But Anya had never once mentioned a daughter when they’d spoken on the phone, so Natasha came as a total surprise.

“She’s got a bit of an attitude problem, as you can tell,” Anya went on. “She needs some big brothers to set her straight and look out for her. Because if there’s trouble, she’ll find it,” she added with a smoker’s raspy laugh.

They were meeting at the steakhouse in Sutter Creek. At the last second, Aaron had called her to change the location. Anya had argued, said she really wanted to see where they lived. But he hadn’t been too excited about having this meeting at Just Like Mom’s, where the whole town could watch. Now he was glad he’d insisted they eat here, where they could maintain a degree of anonymity. This was going to be quite an interesting—interesting as in
horrifying
—meal, and he was pretty sure the girl, Natasha, understood that even better than he did.

“You must be Dylan,” Anya cried, picking him out immediately. “I recognize you from the picture your father showed me.”

Aaron wanted to ask what picture. They certainly hadn’t sent J.T. anything recent. But he had no idea what Grady, Rod or Mack had provided. They were a lot closer to J.T.

Dylan nodded and suffered through an enthusiastic embrace before managing to extricate himself and introduce Cheyenne, who was staring at her stepmother-in-law in stunned disbelief.

“My God, you’re gorgeous!” Anya grabbed Cheyenne next. “Look at you.”

Her too-loud voice caused several other diners to glance over, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. Cheyenne didn’t even get a chance to respond before Anya turned to Aaron. “And you! Tell me your name. No, wait. Are you Aaron? You are, aren’t you?”

“I am.” He saw that her daughter had propped her chin on one fist and was sunk in on herself, as if she wished she could shrink into oblivion.

“So you’re the one I’ve been talking to for the past two weeks,” Anya said. “I hear you’re a bit of a troublemaker. Your father has so many funny stories about you, like that one where you jumped off the roof because you thought you could fly and nearly broke your back.”

Aaron was glad he had Wyatt in his arms. That made it difficult for her to plaster herself against him as she had Dylan. She fussed over Wyatt next and then sized up Presley.

“I see you’ve met your match with this stunning creature. And you are?”

Presley cleared her throat as if she was suppressing laughter, but Aaron was too overwhelmed to find this funny. “Presley Christensen,” she replied.

“Named after the King. God, that’s rich. Aren’t you cute!” She nudged her daughter so hard, she knocked her chin off her hand. “Well, Natasha, if you had your eye on Aaron, you’re out of luck.”

“Mom!” The girl’s disgusted expression indicated that she understood how completely inappropriate
that
was, even if her mother did not.

“How old are you?” Presley asked, focusing on the girl.

Folding her arms, she leaned back in her chair. “Sixteen. I’m also sixteen years younger than my mother.” She smiled sweetly. “In case you were wondering.”

Aaron
had
been wondering. He’d guessed thirty-five. But Anya was a year younger than he was?

This situation just kept getting more bizarre. In all the letters they’d received from their father, and the calls they’d received from Anya, there’d never been any mention of her daughter, let alone a daughter who was still in high school.

At least...he hoped Natasha was in school. She seemed ready to flip off the whole world—a sentiment he could identify with from his own angry years but one that didn’t produce the best results. So maybe she’d dropped out. If not for Dylan, he probably would have.

Aaron quickly introduced Rod, Grady and Mack so she couldn’t regale them with stories about each one of them. Then they took their seats, ordered and ate. The conversation was stilted; none of them had much to say. But Anya kept it going, babbling on and on about how much their father had changed, and how he looked as young as they did. It wasn’t until Dylan had paid the check—she didn’t even attempt to pay her way—that she got to the real reason she’d been so eager to meet them. Apparently, she was being evicted from her place in Los Banos, had no money to rent elsewhere and was hoping they could help her get a place in Whiskey Creek, so she’d be all moved in when J.T. returned.

Aaron almost started laughing when this came out. Finally, all her calls and effusive compliments made sense.

Fortunately, Dylan took the lead on their response. If Aaron had had to talk right then, he might’ve told her she was exactly what he’d been afraid she’d be—a parasite.

“How much do you need?” Dylan asked.

“Just a couple thousand,” she replied. “Your father told me to tell you he’ll pay you back as soon as he can. He’s worried about us.”

“My father said
he’d
pay us back?” Dylan asked.

Aaron knew what his brother was thinking—J.T. didn’t have a pot to piss in.

“We’re a bit down on our luck now, that’s all,” she said. “Once we get moved, I’ll find work, and we’ll be fine.”

If
she could find work. Otherwise, what would happen? Would she expect them to continue taking care of her?

Aaron suspected she would.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid we can’t help,” Dylan said, but Anya wasn’t willing to let it go at that. She’d gotten them all out here for a reason, and she wasn’t going home empty-handed.

“Look, if it was only for me, I wouldn’t ask,” she responded. “But I’ve got Natasha to think about. She needs a roof over her head, the poor girl. I mean...if you don’t have the cash to lend us, maybe we could move in with you guys. J.T. said there should be plenty of room. He said maybe she and I could take your old bedroom, since you moved out,” she told Dylan.

Natasha had remained silent throughout the meal. She’d ordered only a side salad and picked at it, and the way she flushed when her mother pleaded their case gave Aaron the impression she’d known this was coming and hated every word of it. She hadn’t been the least bit friendly, but she was the one he felt sorry for. She reminded him of Presley and Cheyenne when they were younger, completely at the mercy of an irresponsible mother.

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t work.” Aaron spoke up to support Dylan. “But my father will do what he can for you when he gets out, I’m sure.”

“It’ll be too late by then,” she cried, grabbing Cheyenne. “Can’t
you
talk to them? I know this isn’t the best introduction, but we’re family now.”

Cheyenne looked startled that Anya had chosen her for this appeal, and the fact that she’d laid hands on his wife didn’t sit well with Dylan.

“I’m sorry if we seem coldhearted, but we barely know you,” he said. “It’s my father’s place to see to your needs.”

Aaron ground his teeth. They’d be fools to let her start using them. But...what would happen to the girl? They’d come into this feeling leery, afraid that Anya would try to get away with something, but they hadn’t expected the complication of an innocent party.

“J.T. gets out in less than three months,” Anya went on. “We wouldn’t be there long. What’s three months if you can save two people from becoming homeless?”

The girl looked so disheartened that Aaron was tempted to say they’d take her and her alone. Dylan was wrestling with the same uncertainty; Aaron could see it on his brother’s face. But, in the end, it was Grady who spoke up.

“What if we take Natasha? Do you have a friend you could live with until Dad gets out?”

Anya rocked back, obviously insulted that they’d try to exclude her. “I can’t let my teenage daughter move into a houseful of men! Not without me there to protect her.”

“It wouldn’t be a household of
men,
” Aaron pointed out. “It’d be a household of brothers—to set her straight and look out for her, remember?”

Her lips pursed at his sarcasm but it was Natasha who responded. “I don’t need anyone. I can make it on my own.” Tossing her napkin on the table she got up and walked out.

Anya didn’t follow. “Don’t listen to her. We don’t have anywhere else to go,” she pleaded. “If you’re willing to take Natasha, you can let me live there, too, can’t you? Why would you want to split her up from her mother?”

Aaron was willing to bet Natasha would love nothing more than to be separated from Anya. He was also convinced she couldn’t make it on her own at all, that she had no real options, or she wouldn’t have accompanied Anya here today.