Текст книги "A Taste of Summer"

Автор книги: Beverly Preston

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A Taste of Summer

By

Beverly Preston

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2015 by Beverly Preston

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotations used in critical articles or reviews. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy.

Cover Image by Scott Hoover

Edits by Ellie McLove

Cover designed by Caylee Rae

Visit Beverly Preston at

www.beverlypreston.com

To my youngest daughter Jordyn,

Your strength and courage inspires me and so many others

You are a warrior

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Other Novels from Beverly Preston

About the Author

Acknowledgments

To everyone who is falling in love with The Mathews Family, I cannot thank you enough for your support and words of encouragement.

To my husband Don, thank you for loving me just right.

To my family and friends who support me in my endeavors, your words of encouragement and friendship are priceless.

Caylee Rae, thank you for creating a gorgeous cover. I love it!

Jennifer Haren, Cara Gadero, Francine Petro, and Pamela Carrion…you ladies rock! Thank you for taking the time out of their busy lives to administrate and promote the fan page for my writing and The Mathew Family Series. Your love and support means the world to me. This crazy journey wouldn’t be the same without you and the BBG’s.

I would also like to thank Denise Milano Sprung, Amy Barber, and Kimberly Morse-Bertoia. Your valuable input made A Taste of Summer even better.

Chapter One

‡

Sweat trickled down her arm from wrist to elbow. Droplets of determination pooled on the rubber mat beneath her spin bike. Carrie Ann crouched lower, hovering over the handlebars, intensifying her focus. The nose of her saddle bumped against her inner thighs as she pedaled aggressively, cresting the top of her virtual hill. Her pace slowed, but she pushed through the discomfort. The burn in her glutes was no match for her steadfast determination to fit into the little red dress hanging in her closet.

The music on her iPod switched tracks, cueing her cool down with Dance With Me Tonight by Olly Murs. She reached down giving the resistance knob three half turns loosening the tension on the pedals. Sitting back onto her cushioned seat, her stride coasted along with the beat slowing her heart rate.

Carrie Ann lifted her hands to the ceiling working through a routine of stretches. She dismounted the bike and kicked her heel to her bum, closing her eyes as she deepened the stretch in her tight quad. Switching feet, Carrie Ann bobbled slightly and threw her arm out to the side for balance, accidentally whacking someone next her. Startled by the jolt, her eyes popped opened, staring at a teenage boy. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him over the bass of Rude Boy by Rihanna thumping in her ear.

Her brows lifted inquisitively. Carrie Ann tugged the earbud free from her ear, tossing the handsome young man a small smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What did you say?”

He crossed a lanky somewhat defined arm in front of her, casually gripping the handlebar of her bike. “I said, you must be exhausted—” Before she could reply he continued, “—from running through my mind all day.”

Surely she must’ve heard him incorrectly. He was probably fifteen at most sporting a baby face and a patch of ten whiskers on his chin. “Excuse me?”

A dose of youthful overconfidence drifted over his mouth in a sharp grin. “I seem to have forgotten my number. Can I have yours?”

“My phone number?” Carrie Ann scanned the near vicinity, row after row of workout equipment, for the practical jokester responsible for the madness. “Ha ha. Very funny. Who put you up to this?”

Her amusement only encouraged the boy’s macho bravado. “No one put me up to anything. I need a date. I just got into LA and I’ve got this Red Carpet event—”

“A date?” she scoffed at the ludicrous suggestion. Though she looked young for her age, Carrie Ann was still all of thirty-four years old.

“Yeah, you know. A date. You, me, hundreds of fans screaming as we stroll down the Red Carpet.” His voice cracked emphasizing the words Red Carpet…for the second time. A self-absorbed twinkle gleamed in his brown eyes as if he expected her to melt and drop to her knees right there in the gym.

“Kid, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“I’m totally serious. My uncle has this movie premier and I can’t just bring anyone.” A chunk of blond hair fell on his forehead and he flipped his head to the side. My date needs to be…hot, and well, you’re the hottest girl I’ve seen since I got to LA.”

She sneered at the absurdity. Silliness turned to annoyance. Carrie Ann switched gyms a few months back, paying out the nose to invest in her fitness and more importantly her privacy. Her last gym was more crowded than a cattle call casting session.

Carrie Ann rolled her eyes. She moved around him, gathering her workout towel and reaching for her bag. “Look kid, you seem real sweet, but—”

“You’re right about one thing.” A familiar voice, deep and perfectly modulated, approached from behind. “She is the most beautiful woman you’ll ever lay eyes on. But, you’re reaching for the stars with this one, Drew. She’s a heartbreaker.”

An ice cold tickle ascended up her spine raising the hair on the back of her neck. Her head snapped, glancing over her shoulder, colliding with a pair of rich amber eyes from her past. Without breaking eye contact, Ryan Summer strolled right into her personal space sporting athletic shorts, a fitted muscle shirt and a killer smile.

Nowadays, most people knew the Hollywood heartthrob as Ryan. Just Ryan. No last name needed. But after nearly a decade of blockbuster hits and infamous relationships that skyrocketed his success into superstardom, to Carrie Ann, he was still just Summer. Her old college flame.

“Funny, I could say the same about you,” she countered his jab, marshaling a bit of annoyance in her tone to combat the rush of heat spreading to her already pink cheeks.

A sexy smile caught the curve of his wide, firm mouth. “Hello, Red.”

“Hello, Summer.” Carrie Ann tossed a trivial nod toward the teenager. “Who’s this? Your new apprentice?”

“Apprentice?” Moving a step closer, he dragged his fingers through the short cropped layers of sandy blond hair. “This is Mark’s boy. Do you remember my nephew, Drew?”

“Your brother’s boy?” she questioned in surprise. Avoiding the view of his bicep curling into the size of a softball, Carrie Ann ran a quick scan over the young man at his side. “Whoa, you had to be four or five years old the last time I saw you.”

“I don’t remember meeting you.” Drew’s eyes flickered with bemusement and optimism.

She extended her hand. “I’m Carrie Ann. I knew you when you were—”

“You’re Carrie Ann? The Carrie Ann?” The boy spun toward his uncle, his blue eyes broadened in disbelief. “The One?”

Her stomach twisted hearing the title. A flash of perspiration instantaneously flooded her palms. Before she had time to renege on the clammy greeting, Drew clasped her hand, giving it a polite shake.

A low rumble of laughter simmered in Summer’s chest and a rosy shade of red burnished high on the bridge of his nose. He nodded, “This is The Carrie Ann. The One who got away.”

No matter how many years had passed, it never got any easier to see him. Each time she did, she suddenly found it harder to breath.

The pounding of her heart quickened as her gaze slipped over his rugged well-defined features. A three day scruff accentuated the slight dimple at the bottom of his chin. The disheveled layers of hair were wet from exertion near his temple and nape. Time had been very good to him.

She felt the warmth of Summer’s hand close around the back of her bare arm. The early morning stubble of his beard brushed against her cheek as he leaned closer pressing a small kiss near her temple. Carrie Ann squirmed at his nearness, ducking to the side attempting to put some space between them.

“I’m…I’m all sweaty,” she insisted breathily.

“It’s okay,” he murmured softly in her ear. The heat of his breath brought chill bumps to the damp skin near her neck. “I remember enjoying you all sweaty.”

Ryan’s golden eyes locked onto hers, anchoring her feet to the floor. The penetration of his stare momentarily tied her tongue in a knot, turning the awkward moment even more difficult. Carrie Ann hadn’t bumped into Ryan in at least three years and she hadn’t seen him covered in sweat in ten. An image of him, gloriously naked, flashed in her mind and her thighs. Frustration mounted as her body willingly betrayed her.

Carrie Ann’s jaw set rigid contemplating the idea of flipping off her hooha for its insubordination.

“That was a long time ago,” she snipped abruptly.

“Seems like only yesterday to me.” His voice so faint the words were nearly inaudible.

She returned her attention to Drew. “I’m sure I’m just one of many women who’ve made your uncle’s list.” Her tone came out a bit sharper than intended filling her with a strange pang of guilt.

The boy, oblivious to her insolence, gave a doubtful shake of his head. “I don’t think so. He still—”

“No matter how many years go by, Carrie Ann,” a rogue smile tipped the corner of Summer’s lip, “you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

Carrie Ann tossed him a sardonic one-shoulder shrug of appreciation for the compliment. A compliment she suspected he used on all of his old girlfriends. Desperate to change the direction of their conversation, she chided, “Drew was just showing off his greatest pick-up lines. Is that seriously the best you can teach him?”

“Blame that on his dad, not me,” he joked.

Her eyes scanned beyond rows of sports equipment toward the exit, mentally visualizing walking out the front door, before settling her gaze back on Ryan’s handsome face.

“And you know I don’t need pick-up lines to impress a woman.”

He stood a mere twelve inches from her, filling her breath with traces of clean heated male skin. A scent that was all too familiar. The thumping of her heart impeded the movement of her feet. Another bolt of awareness struck low in the pit of her stomach watching his grin turn full detecting her discomfiture.

The cocky smirk spreading over his face was damn near like striking a match to kindling doused in gasoline. Dangerous. Especially if you stood too close.

“Yeah, I remember. All you had to do was flash a football jersey at women to get them into bed. I’m sure you get much further with an Oscar.” She dished out another jab before rationalization kicked in. It took less than five minutes for her ex to burrow under her skin like a sliver. Why the hell do I let him get to me like this?

The smile chased away from his face. Replaced with sort of deep contemplative sadness. His gaze drifted to her ponytail. As if in a trance, Ryan reached out and looped a piece of her silky dark hair through his fingers. “Your hair’s getting long. You growing it out?”

It was getting awkward.

It always did.

Every time they bumped into each other she felt like he wanted to pick up the pieces of their relationship right where they left off.

“Yep, I’m growing it out. Women do that occasionally. I should get going. Good luck finding a date, Drew.” Hiking the strap of her gym bag over her shoulder, she forced a subtle smile looking at Ryan. “And please, for the sake of all women in LA, teach him some better material. Maybe even go the extra mile and teach him the proper way to ask a girl out. You know…flowers, movies, maybe even go as far as making sure the woman is born in the same decade.”

“I’ll be sure and do that.” His smile warmed, heating the color of his eyes to smooth cognac beneath the thick rim of dark lashes.

Carrie Ann didn’t bother wasting time changing out of her cycling shoes or stopping at the ladies locker room. The sound of her hurried steps drowned out the pounding of her heart as she made a beeline past the front door toward the parking lot.

Slipping into the solitude of her car, she gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Attempting to rid herself of the onslaught of emotions rising to the surface, Carrie Ann closed her eyes and drew a breath of air through her nose. Slowly, she filled her lungs to full capacity, and held, before letting it go between pursed lips.

Her head fell back against the beige, leather headrest. Every time she saw him, their goodbyes always seemed unfinished, the air always felt heavier, and the pain in her heart always tore a little deeper.

Carrie Ann and Summer met her third year of college at a party following a football game. Sparks flew the first time they laid eyes on each other. He was smart, gorgeous, funny and cocky as hell. None of which could be measured on a small scope. Summer wasn’t the egotistical, narcissistic, big-headed kind of cocky that came strapped to the majority of football players she knew. Summer bore the kind of cockiness a man possesses when he holds enough self-assurance for that of a dozen men. Nothing was out of his reach. Not even Carrie Ann Lowell.

Carrie Ann grew up with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, or as she liked to refer to it as the silver shovel crammed down her throat. Her father was a renowned LA attorney. He cut his teeth and his sheets defending the rich and famous. Her mother died of a rare heart condition when she was only eight years old. After surviving three stepmothers from hell, or gold diggers as she preferred to call them, Carrie Ann vowed never to settle down until after college. More specifically, she swore she’d never step into a serious relationship until she was at least thirty years old.

Thirty was the golden number. The line she drew in the sand. That was, until she met football star, Ryan Summer.

Summer was USC’s most beloved quarterback. A football hero and rumored to be the overwhelming favorite for the Heisman Trophy, until a knee injury crippled his career. They dated for nearly two years. He was the love of her life…until he broke her fucking heart.

After their break up, Carrie Ann turned to charity work, directing her focus to the Have a Heart Foundation in honor of her mother. Fate interceded late one afternoon when she and her best friend, Shayla, were chilling out on the terrace of Shayla’s uncle, legendary actor Tommy Clemmins’ cliff side mansion. They were enjoying a bottle of wine, brainstorming new ways to bring awareness to the foundation, while watching the rare site of whales breaching off the Malibu coastline. After two glasses of cabernet, she became easily distracted by the surfers coming in from their afternoon set. Her binoculars zoomed in on the towel-clad hard bodies as they undressed on the beach. Her feet were propped up on the wrought iron table waggling back and forth taking in the show when she scoffed sardonically, “Maybe I should just have some hotties pose naked for a calendar. That would raise money for the HAH Foundation.”

“You definitely should,” Shayla joked with a clink of their wine glasses.

“Seriously!” Carrie Ann nodded hotly, bolting to her feet, the wheels in her head spinning at full throttle. “I should create a calendar with LA’s finest eye candy.”

“I’d buy it.”

“Do you think Tommy would do it?”

“You just ruined the yummy visual I had going.” Shayla cast a deplorable eye roll. Her uncle was voted sexiest man alive by People magazine. “You’re not really going to ask me to ask my uncle to strip naked for a calendar?”

“No, of course not. I’ll ask him.”

And just like that, the Have a Heart ~ Bare Your Soul campaign sprang to life. Ultimately, Tommy Clemmins turned down the offer to bare it all, but gladly offered a long list of people who would. What started as a calendar filled with celebrities posing nude, with the exception of a red heart shaped pillow covering their private parts, rapidly turned into a nationwide phenomenon.

After a few years of very impressive, not to mention record breaking, source of revenue, the heart logo adorned everything from boxers to pro sport uniforms, including the recent addition of its very own brand of lingerie targeting women over the age of forty. The Bare Your Soul campaign sparked new life into the HAH Foundation, raising tens of millions of dollars and awareness for heart disease.

Carrie Ann’s career flourished, shining brighter than she could’ve ever imagined in her wildest dreams. And so did Summer’s. Eight months after their breakup, while attending a New York fashion show with his then would-be girlfriend, Summer took to the catwalk on a dare. He half strutted, half staggered, down the runway in scant white briefs and a plush floor length white fur robe. Hitting home on all points, he carried a football in one hand and a rock glass in the other with the neck of a whiskey bottle protruding from his pocket.

Bam!

The salacious move earned him the cover of a dozen magazines and instant fame. A few months later he signed his first movie role. The sci-fi action flick turned into a trilogy and his career skyrocketed. Ryan was a natural. He toppled the silver screen for nearly a decade and, at one point, three of the top six box-offices branded his name.

Thirty came and went. Men came and went. But, the lasting image of their breakup left more than a profound rift in her heart. It crushed her. She never got over it. She never got over him. He’d tried to contact her a few times over the years, but she didn’t believe in second chances.

Not even for him.

No matter how much it hurt.

Sitting in her car outside the gym, Carrie Ann ripped the elastic band from her hair and shoved her trembling fingers through her long dark mane. Her nose and lips burned as unshed tears blurred her vision.

Crying over ex-lovers was for pussies.

And Carrie Ann Lowell was no pussy.

Anger and irritation forged its way to the forefront throttling the memories that threatened to rise to the surface. She kicked out of her cycle shoes and tossed them into her gym bag, opting to drive home barefoot. It took minutes for her pulse to settle into its normal rhythm as she headed for home along Highway 1.

The ring of her cell phone streamed through the speakers of her Cadillac CTS-V. Seeing her best friends name flash across the dash, brought relief to her scattered thoughts. Carrie Ann pressed the call button on steering wheel. “Hey, Shayla. What’s going on? Please tell me you’re here?”

“Hi, chica! We just got in. We’re unpacked and ready to hit the beach. Are you home?”

“Actually, I just left the gym and I’m one exit away from you. Let me stop at home—”

“Just swing by on your way home. The boys are dying to see you. Unless you want to go home, grab your swimsuit and spend the day with us at the beach?”

“Can’t,” she said regretfully. “I really wish I could, but I’ve got to get the final headcount approved by the Bare Your Soul committee for the Bachelor/Bachelorette Auction. I’ll stop by, but I only have an hour.”

Carrie Ann heard Shayla’s twins in the background. “Who’s coming over?”

“Aunt Carrie Ann will be here in a few minutes,” Shayla boasted.

Shrieks of excitement filled the quiet interior of her car bringing a big smile to her face.

“Go watch out the window so you can enter the gate code when she gets here.”

Chapter Two

‡

Massive black wrought iron gates parted as Carrie Ann pulled into Tommy Clemmins’ driveway. Shayla sold her home in Malibu and moved to Las Vegas after marrying her husband, John Mathews. She visited Malibu often, spending the holidays and summer months at her uncle’s estate, nestled into the rocky cliff side.

Richard and Thomas greeted her with toothless smiles when she got out of her car. Carrie Ann wasn’t their aunt by blood, but it didn’t matter. Being Shayla’s best friend for fourteen years gave her the eternal aunt-privileges.

“What’s up boys?”

“Nothin’.” they announced simultaneously, throwing their hands on their hips, elbow to elbow, as if making a blockade for her to pass.

She clasped her fingers around her hip bones. “You’re gonna make me go through this again?”

Their hazel eyes twinkled mischievously, saying in unison, “Yep!”

Carrie Ann gave the identical boys an exaggerated eye roll. “Alright. Let’s see if I can get it right this time.”

“You’re never gonna get it right.” One of them held a Mason jar turned into a make-shift piggy bank. He gave it a shake making the coins jingle.

“I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance.”

“Choose wisely or you shall not pass.”

“Oh my gosh. Okay.” Her body shook with laughter wondering what movie they were quoting. Getting into character, she narrowed her gaze hunching forward to inspect their identical features. “Freckles? Check. Big round hazel eyes? Check. The tooth fairy informed me that Richard lost another tooth.”

The boys smiled wide, orneriness flickered in their eyes. Each hooked the corners of their lips with their index fingers stretching their mouths open as far as possible. Both were missing the exact same three teeth.

“I bet one of you yanked out a tooth while driving here from Las Vegas just to make a buck off me.” She received a round of giggles and another shake of the jar. Carrie Ann pointed to the boy on the left. “Okay, I think you’re Thomas.”

Judging by the obnoxious grin of victory gleaming in their eyes, she was going to have to ante up.

“Ha! Fooled you again, Aunt Carrie Ann!”

She ruffled her fingers through two heads of blond layers, placing smooches to the twin’s foreheads. Digging into her wallet, she asked, “What’s it gonna cost me this—”

“Five bucks,” rolled off Richard’s tongue before she could even finish her sentence.

“Five bucks?!”

“Infation, Aunt Carrie Ann.” The L lost to the missing gap of Thomas’s two front teeth.

“You’re trippin’ kid! How ’bout two bucks? And you can make the difference later if I accidentally say a bad word.”

The boys looked at each and shrugged. “Deal.”

She folded the bills and shoved them through the slot cut into the lid. Richard and Thomas hugged her around the waist before taking off in a gallop, trotting past their mom standing in the doorway.

Shayla leaned against the opening as the hem of her summer dress danced in the breeze.

“I had to pay homage to the Mason jar.”

“I was watching through the window,” Shayla chuckled, giving her a welcoming squeeze. “Yesterday it was a tarantula cage…today it’s a vault for all their loot.”

“What happened to the tarantula?” Carrie Ann’s eyes fell to floor beneath her bare feet, making a quick but thorough inspection of the tile.

Shayla frowned. “Casualty of war. It accidentally crawled under my tire.”

“You ran over their tarantula?” Her bottom lip protruded. “That had to be awful.”

“It was terrible, but they’re okay now. Optimus received a beautiful departing ceremony in the backyard.”

“You are going to have your hands full in a few years. Those two boys are too adorable for their own good.”

Linking arms at the elbow, they made their way inside, joining Shayla’s uncle Tommy and his daughter, JC at the kitchen counter. JC’s husband Reed was in the middle of talking, but all discussion came to halt, leaving Carrie Ann to assume perhaps she was intruding on an important conversation.

“Am I interrupting?” She questioned, cutting off the awkwardness.

Tommy greeted her with a warm, uncle-like embrace. “No, of course not. Come on in.”

JC nodded, slipping a strand of her long caramel hair over her shoulder. Struggling to keep her expression neutral, she chimed, “We were just talking about how excited we are about attending the premier. Weren’t we?”

“Yes ma’am,” Reed agreed sweetly. His Texan accent, muscular build, and ice blue eyes were warm enough to make every woman in a five mile radius swoon. A crimson glow burnished over the bridge of Reed’s nose.

Unable to shake the feeling she’d stumbled right into the middle of something, she wondered what could make a man like Reed blush. She observed the couple share a small timid smile. Carrie Ann’s brows lifted to a doubtful point.

“Sounds exciting.” Carrie Ann snickered.

“It is exciting. You’re going to have a great time.”

“Me?” A jolt of anxiety rushed through her.

“Yeah, you.” Tommy’s dark brown eyes twinkled impishly, locking on Carrie Ann, making it impossible for her to look away.

“No, no, no. I’m not going to the premier.”

“Sure you are.” Tommy’s lips remained pressed together as a convincing grin broadened across his face. Carrie Ann knew he was saving the full flash of pearly whites in case he needed to pull out all the stops. After a few beats his lips parted exposing a dazzling gorgeous smile. One that could melt any woman of any age for any reason. “Now, Carrie Ann, how long have you known me?”

“A long time, Tommy—” She cast a small vexing eye roll to the side. “—but that has nothing to do with it.”

“Sure it does. You’re going to attend the premier to support your favorite uncle. And as an added perk you’re going to take the opportunity to invite some last-minute heavy hitters with deep pockets to your Bachelor/Bachelorette Auction next weekend.”

This struck a chord. He knew damn well it would. Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! She folded her arms on the counter and dropped her forehead, hiding her face. A low groan of disapproval crooned in her throat.

“Oh come on, Carrie Ann. It’s not that bad.”

“It is that bad, Tommy.” She lifted her head meeting him with a hard glare. “I ran into him this morning at the gym. If I go to the premier Summer’s going to think—”

“You and Ryan had a thing?” JC interjected, eyes wide drooling with curiosity.

Carrie Ann massaged her temples as if ridding an oncoming migraine. “Yes. We dated for a couple of years, but it was a long time ago.”

“Really?” JC’s voice rang in astonishment.

“Ryan? Is that the hot guy with the wolf eyes in Tommy’s new movie?” Reed asked, curling his fingers into quotation marks when he used the word hot.

Shayla’s uncle recently made the transition from gracing audiences in front of the lens to stepping behind it, taking on the role of producer. Tommy met Summer when he attended college with Carrie Ann and Shayla. The three of them were inseparable. It seemed an easy match when Tommy collaborated with Ryan when producing his first film. The movie was set to premier in a few days, but rumors already swirled with talk of Oscars for the producer and cast.

“Yes, that’s him.” JC laughed out loud.

Carrie Ann and Shayla cut a sharp glance at JC.

“What?” JC shrugged innocently. “He’s handsome.”

A ping of jealously stabbed at Carrie Ann’s heart wondering if there was a possibility JC had been one of Ryan’s many lovers. Prior to her marriage to Reed, the gorgeous blond had been in the modeling circuit for years and was well-known for a string of somewhat scandalous outings with men from around the world.

Carrie Ann watched as Reed coolly curled his fingers around JC’s hips drawing her back into his chest. Brushing his lips along her neck, he took a gentle bite of her lobe privately querying in her ear.

JC’s jade eyes widened and her lip curled in revulsion. She answered her husband’s mute concerns with a quick shake of her head, “Ewww. No. Noooo. Definitely not.”

Carrie Ann expounded, unloading the breath she’d been holding. The relief-filled exhale captured Shayla’s attention, causing her to raise a quizzical brow.

“What?” Carrie Ann cleared her throat, automatically going on the defense. A habit she seemed unable to shake over the years. “He’s not ewww. It’s not like he’s a bad guy.”

A snicker of doubt escaped JC’s lips right before she sealed them tight.

“Tommy,” Shayla interjected. “Would you like to take this opportunity to explain to Carrie Ann why JC thinks Ryan is…Ewww?”

A deep resounding chuckle sifted through the kitchen. “Umm, no, Shayla—“he drew out her name in protest “—not particularly.”

“Tommy…” Shayla encouraged with several bats of her lashes.

He palmed the granite counter, spreading fingers wide as if using the hard surface for moral support. “There’s the slight possibility I might’ve fibbed a little.”

“Fibbed?”

“Just a small harmless lie.” He fumbled through the words, mindlessly spinning a ring on his finger.

Tommy’s wife, Tess, strolled into the kitchen. Her dark shoulder length mane was pulled back into a ponytail, wearing not a stitch of makeup and still looking absolutely gorgeous.

“I thought I heard your voice,” Tess announced in a sing-song voice, embracing Carrie Ann.

“Shhh,” JC exclaimed, placing an index finger to her lips. “Tom’s about ready to get into some hot water for lying.”

Tess wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist giving a look of mock-disbelief. “You? Get in trouble? Never.”

Shayla interceded, “Tommy was just getting ready to come clean to JC about Ryan.”

“Ahh…the reckoning. I knew this would come to light one day.” Tess gave a sinister snicker. “By all means, please carry on.”

“I didn’t really lie, per say. I simply told a small story.” He paused to clarify, “Reed, this was before you and JC met. We were all together at a party in Italy. Production on the film had just launched, so I invited Ryan to join us. That’s when I encountered my first case of OPFS.”

Noticing Carrie Ann’s confusion, JC explained, “Over Protective Father Syndrome. He had a bad case of it.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

“The last thing I needed or wanted was Ryan near my daughters.”

“Or any other man.” Tess teased.

“So…I took the liberty of implying that Ryan was into some not so reputable things.”