About That Night Read online

  * * *

  “BOURBON,” C.J. TOLD the bartender at O’Riley’s, the bar Kane owned. “Neat.”

  She eyed him as she poured. “You’re not here to cause trouble again, are you?”

  He almost grinned. “You’re thinking of the wrong Bartasavich. I don’t cause trouble. I fix the trouble my idiot brothers get into.”

  She set his drink in front of him, and that was when he recognized her as the waitress who’d tried to throw him out the last time he was in this dump. Her dark hair was a bit longer and pink on the ends, but when she brushed her hair aside, he saw the neck tattoo. “Kane doesn’t cause trouble around here. So don’t start on him, or you’ll have to mess with me, and I’m not as nice as I seem.”

  He saluted her with his glass. “Yes, ma’am.” To show he wasn’t the least bit scared, he winked as he took a sip. He waited until she’d walked away before downing the rest of the drink.

  Shit. He’d blown it with Ivy again. There should be some sort of law stating he could act like a complete ass only twice in front of the same woman. He wanted to blame her and he partly did. She brought out the worst in him, with her vague answers and smart-ass comments.

  But he was a grown man, responsible for his own actions and choices.

  He could have chosen to trust her. To believe her. Given her time to tell him what he wanted to know on her own.

  “Slumming?”

  C.J. sighed and looked up to find Kane smirking at him. He’d known he couldn’t avoid his brother—it was Kane’s bar, after all. But dealing with him was never easy. “I’ll take another bourbon. And this time, don’t be so stingy with the pour.”

  Kane eyed his empty glass, then his face, then shrugged. Pulled the bottle down and poured a healthy amount into C.J.’s glass. “If you’re here as dad’s errand boy again, the answer’s still no.”

  The first time C.J. had come to Shady Grove had been after Kane had wrecked his motorcycle over a year ago. He’d gotten away with some scrapes and bruises and a broken arm, but it had freaked out Estelle enough—who’d run away while her mother was on vacation—that she’d called Senior and told him she was worried about her dad. So C.J. and Senior had hightailed it to Pennsylvania to check on Kane.

  C.J. had then told Kane that their father wanted to offer him a job, a cushy office job Kane hadn’t earned and anyone could have told Senior he would never want. But their father was nothing if not stubborn.

  It was probably what kept him alive since his stroke.

  “Dad’s not running things at the office anymore,” C.J. reminded his brother. “I am. Don’t hold your breath for any job offers from me anytime soon. You want to work for Bartasavich Industries while I’m in charge, you’ll have to earn it.”

  “Good thing I’ll never want to work there.”

  C.J. knew his brother meant what he said. Of Senior’s four sons, C.J. was the only one who worked directly for the family company, was the only one who wanted to, who’d busted his ass to prove he belonged there and not just because his father ran the company. He’d refused to take any handouts from his father, had started at the bottom and worked his way up, proving he deserved his success.

  Oakes was happy with his law practice, and Zach was off playing Marine and seemed to want to make that his career. C.J. never would have thought Kane would stick with one job for very long, especially one where he was in charge, where he was responsible for employees and customers and a building and taxes. But stick he had. So much that he was getting married and staying right here in Shady Grove.

  “If Dad didn’t send you to try to lure me back to Houston,” Kane said, “what are you doing here?”

  C.J. drained his glass. “Drinking mediocre bourbon. Seriously. You can’t order anything better than this?”

  Kane’s eyes narrowed. His arm wasn’t broken now, the way it had been the last time they’d faced off at this very bar, but C.J. wasn’t worried. Kane might be all badass, with his tattoos and motorcycle and piss-poor attitude, but they’d gone around enough times in their lives for C.J. to know he could handle his own against his little brother.

  He was the one who’d taught Kane how to fight, after all.

  “You want some fancy drink,” Kane said, “maybe with a pretty pink umbrella in it? Try the country club or King’s Crossing. Now, why are you here?” He stiffened. “Is it Dad? He was fine when I called to check on him. Did something happen? Did he take a turn for the worse?”

  “Dad’s fine.” If not being able to speak and having to learn how to use his body all over again was fine. “There’s no change.”

  Kane’s expression grew grim. “Maybe we need to consider taking him to a different doctor.”

  C.J. wanted to point out that there was no we in this situation, but Kane had stepped up after Senior’s stroke. He and their old man had never gotten along, but Kane had taken care of things here when Senior had been in the hospital, their father having suffered his stroke during that trip he’d made to Pennsylvania last fall. C.J. wondered if Kane realized Senior had come to try to reconcile with his second son, to see if there was some way they could be in each other’s lives.

  C.J. thought his brother did know, and that was part of the reason why he’d made several trips to Texas since they’d taken Senior back home. Why he called every few days to check up on him.

  “He’s seeing the best specialists in Houston,” C.J. pointed out. Funny but it was usually him wanting to take charge, wanting to make things happen when he felt they were moving along too slowly. “We have to be patient.”

  Kane shook his head. “You must be drunk. You’re not patient.”

  “I have to be in this case.” He’d realized he’d drive himself crazy if he tried to control things. He couldn’t make his father get better. He could only pray that it would happen.

  “So you’re not here because of Dad.” Kane grinned. “What’s the matter, Junior? Miss me?”

  C.J.’s answer to that was to flip his brother off. “I’m in town on business.” He accepted the fresh drink Kane poured for him. “Personal business.”

  Kane frowned, but then a light C.J. didn’t like one bit entered his eyes. “Does this personal business have anything to do with a woman?”

  C.J. nodded. “Ivy Rutherford. She works at King’s Crossing and Bradford House.”

  “Never thought I’d see the day when a woman would have you so wrapped up you’d leave Houston—and your precious job—just to track her down. I hadn’t realized you even knew anyone in Shady Grove other than me and Charlotte.”

  “I met Ivy at your engagement party.”

  Kane’s eyebrows rose. “Must have been some introduction.”

  “You could say that.” He sipped his drink. “She’s pregnant.”

  C.J. didn’t have to wait long for his brother’s reaction.

  Kane laughed. Hard.

  “It’s not that funny,” C.J. muttered while Kane still guffawed like an idiot, so loud that several other patrons turned his way. Even his scary bartender with the neck tattoo frowned at him in concern.

  “You’re not standing on this side of the bar. Trust me,” Kane said, still chuckling. “It’s freaking hilarious.”

  “I don’t even know if it’s really mine.”

  “Did you sleep with her?” C.J. gave a reluctant nod. “Then I guess it’s possible. Don’t tell me you told her you didn’t believe her.”

  “What was I supposed to say? ‘Great? Let’s get married’?”

  Kane shook his head, giving him a pitying look. Kane was pitying him.

  His life was in the toilet for sure.

  “You know how we grew up,” C.J. said. “We were taught to watch out for ourselves, that people always wanted something from us.”

  “We were taught that,” Kane admitted. “And maybe there was even good reason for it, but we’re adults now and can make up our own minds. We learned how to spot the users, the people who wanted to get close to us for the money or because of our last n
ame. Is Ivy like them?”

  C.J. wasn’t sure, and that was the problem. “Look, I’m here to see if she really is pregnant with my child, and then she and I can decide what to do, how to proceed. If she ever talks to me again,” he mumbled.

  Kane grinned. Looked like C.J. was really making his brother’s day all jolly and bright. “You pissed her off, didn’t you? You did a Senior and got all arrogant and controlling, and she told you to kiss ass.”

  “Something like that.”

  “It must kill you,” Kane said, leaning against the counter, all at ease and happy with his life while C.J. was just trying to figure a few things out. “To realize you’re human. You made the same mistake I made—though I was a dumb kid when I got Meryl pregnant with Estelle.”

  No, what killed him was that he’d made the same mistake their father had made twice. Senior had been married to their mother when he’d had an affair and gotten his mistress pregnant with Oakes. Then, when he’d been seemingly happy in his second marriage, he’d cheated again and fathered Zach.

  Worse than following in Senior’s footsteps? He’d acted like him. Kane had been right. C.J. had been arrogant with Ivy. Controlling.

  A chip off the old block.

  Shit.

  But he could still fix this. All he had to do was stop reacting as though Ivy was out to get him.

  Before it was too late.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE NEXT MORNING, C.J. met the deliveryman at the door of Bradford House, accepted the envelope from the PI Oakes had hired. The envelope filled with information about Ivy, about her past and who she really was. He paid and tipped the deliveryman, then shut the door. His fingers tightened on the packet. He stared at it, wondering what he’d find out inside, wondering if he even wanted to know.

  He looked up and felt his heart tumble when he saw Ivy walking toward him, holding hands with a little boy.

  He had a flash, a premonition of her coming toward him, fingers linked with their child’s, her smile soft and inviting and sexy just for him, her stomach softly rounded with their second baby.

  He shook his head, dispelling the image. Crazy. He wasn’t a man prone to flights of fancy or who believed in premonitions or visions of what was to come. The future was what you made happen. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny; he believed in hard work and following through.

  But it had been a nice daydream, one he’d never thought he’d have pictured for himself, especially not with someone who wasn’t the type of woman he’d ever thought of having a future with.

  “Skulking around, trying to get a look at me?” Ivy asked with that sexy smirk. “Or are you just taking your stalking up to a new level?”

  “Neither,” he said, holding up the envelope. “Just had some work delivered.” He glanced at the boy, who was whining and holding his arms up to Ivy. Ivy picked him up, and C.J.’s stomach turned. Would he find out from the information the PI had gathered that this kid belonged to her? “Your son?” he asked, his words tight.

  Though she and the boy both had blond hair, C.J. didn’t see much resemblance between them. “Would it bother you if he was?”

  Hell, yes. “Is he yours?” he asked instead, not liking feeling so judgmental.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t make a habit of getting pregnant by random men. You’re the first. This is Mitchell, Fay’s youngest son. She has two, both born within the bonds of holy matrimony, in case you were harboring disparaging thoughts about her.”

  He stepped closer. “I wasn’t. Hello, Mitchell.” The kid pressed his face into the side of Ivy’s neck and hugged her with enough force to have her eyes bugging out. C.J. frowned at her. “Is he afraid of me?”

  “He’s shy.” She rubbed the child’s back. “He’s not used to strangers, and he’s not big on men in general, are you, buddy?”

  “You’re good with him.”

  Her mouth quirked. “You sound surprised.”

  He was. She was so overtly sexy and not exactly maternal. “Do you have siblings?” Maybe she had younger brothers and sisters she’d helped with while growing up.

  “Nope.” She winked. “Only child. I figure my mom was smart enough to realize once you hit perfection, there’s no point having more kids.”

  He grinned. “I agree. Too bad that logic didn’t stop my father from having three more sons.”

  “Just your father?”

  “He had one of them with my mother. The other two with other women.”

  The kid lifted his head and started playing with Ivy’s hair, and C.J. almost envied him. He remembered how soft it was, how fragrant, how it had trailed across his body, branding his skin. “Maybe I should be asking if you have a habit of getting women pregnant,” she said.

  “You’re the first.”

  “Good to know.”

  “This whole thing is a first,” he admitted, following her as she carried the kid upstairs. “I’m not...used to kids. Except my niece, but she’s seventeen now, and when she was that little, I didn’t spend much one-on-one time with her.”

  “Yeah, well, this is all new to me, too. Before I started working here I’d never been around kids. Never babysat or had friends with younger siblings.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

  “Should you be carrying him up the stairs like that?” he asked.

  “As opposed to having him tossed over my shoulder or dragging him up by his feet?”

  “No. I meant, is it safe for you to be carrying something so heavy at all, especially up the stairs?”

  “As far as I know. Again, this is my first time. But I do know that women all over the world have kids—often times more than one—and that they probably have to carry the older one during pregnancy, so I’m guessing it’s fine. My doctor says I’m perfectly healthy, and since I’m beyond the first trimester, she thinks things should go smoothly.”

  C.J. shoved his hands into his pockets as they reached the second floor. “Good. That’s...good.” And made sense. He was just so out of his element here, felt so helpless, and he hated it.

  “Yes. It is.” Ivy studied him, since he was just standing there. “I suppose you’ll want to go to your room, get working on those papers you have there,” she said with a nod at the envelope.

  He stared at the envelope having forgotten about it. Now he wondered what to do. He didn’t often feel guilty about his decisions, wasn’t usually this indecisive. “I do have work.”

  He always had work. Always had responsibilities and people counting on him.

  She shifted the boy to her other side and he smiled, patted her cheek. “Love you, Ivy.”

  She kissed the top of his head. “Love you too, buddy. You’re my favorite guy, you know that?”

  He nodded and went back to singing a song and playing with her hair.

  Something tightened in C.J.’s chest, as if she’d reached inside and squeezed his heart when she’d smiled so softly at the little boy, when her expression had softened with so much love. Who the hell was she? Why couldn’t he get a read on her?

  “I’m going to call my doctor,” Ivy said to C.J., drawing his thoughts back to their conversation. “See if I can get an earlier appointment, maybe even today. If I do, you can come with me. We’ll have her do an ultrasound in the office. I’m not sure about the paternity stuff but you’ll get to hear it straight from her how many weeks along I am.”

  He nodded. “I appreciate it.” He wouldn’t apologize for wanting proof. They didn’t know each other. Every time they were together that fact was brought home yet again.

  “I’ll come get you when I find out what time,” she said before walking away.

  He stepped into his room, shut the door behind him. Stared at the envelope. Thought about how she was letting him go to the doctor with her. How she’d admitted she was new at this, too. And he tossed the sealed envelope on his bed and crossed to the desk to get some work done.

  * * *

  AS SOON AS Graci
e stepped out of Bradford House onto the back patio, the heat hit her, like a slap to the face. She turned right around, ready to go back inside and tell Fay she couldn’t possibly take Luke a glass of lemonade. It was too hot out. And did Fay have any idea what the humidity did to hair like Gracie’s?

  She’d likely give Luke—used to looking at his pretty girlfriend with her smooth, shiny hair—a heart attack.

  And thinking of Kennedy only reminded her of how the other girl had treated her that day in school last fall. Nothing could have shored up her resolve better. No way was she going to let Kennedy scare her off.

  Especially when the redhead wasn’t even here.

  She shut the French door with a soft click, feeling defiant. Rebellious. Ha. Take that. She may not be popular, may not be beautiful and golden, but she wasn’t a coward. And after Luke had been so nice about her brothers Saturday, after he’d walked her home from Andrew’s, she’d decided there was no reason for her to continue being so standoffish. Then, at some point in the future, after they’d gotten to know each other better, if they’d discovered they had enough common interests and views on certain subjects, then they could possibly become friends.

  It wouldn’t be the same as it had been with Andrew, she insisted to herself as she walked across the patio, the smooth stones hot under her bare feet. She and Andrew hadn’t been friends. Hadn’t taken the time to get to know each other. Everything between them had happened so quickly. One day they were neighbors who’d never even spoken to each other, and a few weeks later, she’d slept with him.

  She switched the sweating glass of lemonade to her other hand, wiped the moisture from her fingers on her jean shorts. Her own fault for being so needy. For falling in love with him after such a short time.

  Her fault for believing it when he’d said he loved her, too.

  All in the past, she assured herself. She was over it. Mistakes happened and, honestly, if you couldn’t make a few during your teen years, what was the point of adolescence?