Honeysuckle Dreams Page 14

  Her guys. A smile curved her lips.

  Brady turned at the sound of her footsteps. His gaze sharpened on her as his smile hit pause.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey. How’d it go?”

  “Pretty good.” Hope tickled Sammy’s foot as he swung forward. “Hey, little guy.”

  Sam’s eyes lit up and he kicked his bare legs. “Ga-ga-ga-ga.”

  “Is Daddy pushing you in the swing? What a good daddy!”

  “So . . . don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me everything.”

  She caught him up on the details about the program. “So, overall, Diana and I seem to be on the same page, and she even came out and said she definitely wants me for the position.”

  His eyes pierced hers. “Why do I feel a but coming.”

  “Well, because there’s a little unexpected snag. It seems there are two of us in the running.”

  His brows collided, two commas forming between them. “What? She said the interview was just a formality.”

  Hope nodded. “She did. But there’s a jock from Chicago looking to relocate, and Darren likes him for the position. He wants to interview him too.”

  “And Darren is . . .”

  She made a face. “The station’s GM.”

  Brady’s lips tightened. “Well, that ticks me off. They shouldn’t have all but promised you the position if they weren’t prepared to offer it. When will you know something?”

  “She didn’t say exactly. But soon, I’m sure. Dirk retires in seven weeks.”

  “I hate this. This job is perfect for you, and anyone with half a brain can see that.”

  “I’m not going to lie. It was totally unexpected, and I’m pretty disappointed.” She was surprised how hard that was to admit out loud. How vulnerable it made her feel.

  He slipped his arm around her and hugged her against his side. “Of course you are. You’ve been counting on this.”

  She looked up at him, relieved that he’d drawn her close. That he’d known just what to do and say to alleviate that vulnerability.

  But one look in his eyes, and she could see the potential consequences of the situation settling on him. Weighing on him. She remembered his words from their honeymoon and wanted to put him at ease the way he’d just done for her.

  “I need you to remember what I said before. Job or no job, I have no regrets about marrying you, Brady. I got a pretty sweet family out of the deal. I’m content with that.”

  He let out a breath. “That means a lot to me, Hope. But I still want this job for you.”

  “Thanks for saying that. I just feel kind of stupid for assuming it was mine already.”

  “Hey.” He squeezed her waist, his eyes inviting pools of blue. “There’s no reason to feel that way. It’s not your fault.”

  “Thanks. But I’ll be okay either way, all right?”

  He gave her a long, searching look, then tugged her close enough to steal a soft kiss. She felt the touch in the shiver that raced down her arms. In the quickening of her breath. In the tingle of want in her belly.

  A string of emphatic baby babbling interrupted their brief interlude. Sam had drifted to a stop, and he was flapping his arms. They laughed at his impatience and decided it was time to go home and get supper started.

  As Hope scooped Sam from the baby seat, her own words rang in her head. She’d be okay if she didn’t get the job. Wouldn’t she?

  She’d started her radio career at her college station her freshman year and had fallen in love with it. After graduation, getting on at the local station had seemed like a no-brainer. And shortly after her arrival, when she introduced her Living with Hope program, she discovered that the prospect of helping people was a real bonus.

  But her career now seemed to be on the brink of disaster. With the local station shutting down and her life firmly rooted here now, what she would do if she lost this opportunity?

  chapter twenty

  Three weeks later Brady felt they had settled into a comfortable routine. During the week Hope took care of Sam while he worked in his garage. On the weekends he took care of the baby while she worked at the Rusty Nail. Most Saturday nights he showed up, Sammy in tow, and sat with their friends. Hope would take a break sometime during the night, then slip back into her managerial role after supper.

  He had met with his attorney, who was busy preparing his case. Brady had reported Mrs. Parker’s belligerent behavior, and Calvin had said to keep him apprised.

  Hope still hadn’t heard from the radio station except for a brief email saying there would be a delay since the candidate from Chicago was flying in for the interview.

  Brady was pleased with his business. He had as much work as he could handle, and he could get lost for hours under the hood of a car. Coming home to Hope and Sam each night put an extra bounce in his step. They’d somehow managed to blend their lives together with minimal effort.

  There were little things. She was a bit of a neat freak, so he made an effort to pick up after himself. Late at night she tended to get wound up just as he was winding down, so maybe he didn’t hang on to her every word.

  On TV he watched only The Grand Tour and ESPN while she favored Dr. Phil and the Hallmark Channel. She read widely—anything she could get her hands on—while he was content with the latest sci-fi novel or just the newspaper.

  But variety was the spice of life. They agreed on the important things. Their faith, a routine for Sammy, open lines of communication.

  Their roles were being negotiated and established. Hope kept the house clean and running smoothly. She did the grocery shopping because she enjoyed it and he did not. She cooked on the weeknights, and he took over on the weekends. He managed most of the yard work, took out the trash, and did the bills.

  Which was what he was doing tonight, following a long but productive day. He was in the dining room, the bills strewn across the table.

  Hope sat on the living room floor with Sam, helping him with a shape-sorting cube while a legal drama played out on the TV.

  “Oh, you know he did it,” Hope said to the TV. “Get your head out of the sand, woman.”

  Sam babbled around the fingers in his mouth while he worked the cube.

  “Try this one, honey,” Hope said, moving the circular block to another hole. “Good job! He did it, Daddy!”

  “He’s a smart boy.” Brady opened the credit card bill.

  He paid it off each month religiously to avoid interest, but tonight his eyes bugged at the balance. Whoa. What in the world? He hoped it wasn’t a fraudulent charge. That had happened to him less than a year ago, and it had been a pain to update all the auto payments and bills with the new card.

  He scanned the list of purchases, and his eyes zoomed in on a charge he didn’t recognize.

  “Um, Hope? You know anything about this charge to Bluefly.com for three hundred dollars?”

  She glanced up and froze. “Oh, yeah . . . that. I meant to mention it. Also, I probably should’ve mentioned that I may have a tiny little shoe fetish.”

  He looked down at the balance again and back at her. “Okay . . .”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about the shoes. I was nervous about the interview—I may have gone a little overboard.”

  Just a little. His last shoes had cost him thirty-five dollars on sale at Payless. “Maybe you can put your fetish on hold until your job comes through?”

  She made a face. “If my job comes through.”

  “It will. I have every confidence. But in the meantime . . .”

  “I know. I really am sorry. I guess I’m not used to sharing money.” She winced. “And, um, you might see one more little charge on there from my friend Kate Spade.”

  He scanned the purchases, coming to a stop toward the bottom. He worked hard to keep the censure from his voice. “Two hundred and seventy-three dollars? She must be an awfully good friend.”

  “It’s a purse. It’s really pretty. It was an outlet sale.”

  �
��Hope.”

  “I’d take them back, but I’ve already broken them in.” Her eyebrows popped upward. “You know what? What’s fair is fair. I spent six hundred . . . so why don’t you go spend the same on yourself. New tools . . . a few laps around the race track in a Ferrari or something . . . It’ll be good for your soul.”

  “But bad for our bank account, because then we’d have spent over a thousand frivolous dollars.”

  She grimaced. “Yeah . . . there’s that.”

  “Hope . . . I mean, we’re hardly destitute here, but we’re not exactly rolling in cash either. We just paid for a wedding, there are lawyer bills, and we also agreed that building a savings is a priority.”

  “I know, I know. In my defense, I told you it might be a good idea to keep the money separate.”

  She had. But somehow that just didn’t seem like a real marriage to him.

  “I’m not trying to be a killjoy here. I want you to have nice things now and then. But I think maybe we should sit down and work out a budget.”

  “Now, now . . .” She chuckled uncomfortably. “There’s no call to go throwing around the B word.”

  He gave her a long look. Audrey had been a spender, but he’d never dreamed Hope would be too. She was so down-to-earth and reasonable. At least, he hoped she was reasonable.

  “Fine,” she said on a heavy sigh. “You’re right. We’ll work out a budget.”

  chapter twenty-one

  Brady received his drink from the server and took a sip, his eyes drifting around the Rusty Nail in search of his wife. The band hadn’t taken the stage yet so the rowdy Saturday-night crowd talked over the country song blaring from the speakers. The dance floor was filled with couples, some swaying, some attempting the two-step.

  The smell of grilled burgers and onion rings made Brady’s stomach howl, but he was set on waiting for Hope to take her break so they could eat together.

  “Look, he’s pointing at Hope.” Daisy had commandeered Sammy as soon as she’d arrived. She and Zoe had kept the baby occupied for the past twenty minutes.

  “That’s his new trick,” Brady said.

  “It’s so cute,” Daisy said.

  Sam was smiling, still following Hope with his eyes, the slobbery finger now in his mouth.

  Brady followed his eyes and watched Hope chatting with a customer at one of the front tables. Next she zipped over to the hostess stand to have a word with the girl manning it. A moment later she was heading into the kitchen.

  “She’s busy tonight,” Zoe said.

  “She’ll take a break when she can. You all go ahead and order. She won’t mind.”

  “I can wait,” Jack said. “Had a late lunch.”

  “We did too,” Cruz said.

  “We already ate,” Noah said.

  Daisy was too wrapped up in Sam to respond. She gave him neck kisses until he giggled.

  The slow strains of “My Best Friend” came on. Josephine excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, giving Noah a peck on the lips before she departed. They’d left little Nicholas with his grandparents for the evening, and Cruz and Zoe had the night out alone too. Brady should probably schedule a date night soon. Sometimes he forgot he was still courting his wife.

  Across the table Cruz took Zoe’s hand and, with a tender smile, pulled her up. Other couples joined them on the dance floor and began swaying to the romantic song.

  Bryce Carter approached Daisy, and a moment later she was handing Sammy back to Brady and rising to follow him.

  Brady shifted Sam to his other arm and caught an intense look on Jack’s face. He was watching, wistful eyes tight at the corners, as Daisy followed Bryce to the dance floor, hand in hand.

  Brady caught Noah tossing Jack a sympathetic look before excusing himself to get a refill.

  Jack’s hands had curled into fists on the table, and a shadow moved over his jaw.

  Brady nudged him. “Hey . . .”

  All traces of pain disappeared as Jack turned his way. A benign smile—his pastor face—had replaced his frown.

  What had just happened? Brady couldn’t find the words, so he gave Jack a long, searching look until Jack blinked and looked away. Took a sip of his Coke.

  “What’s up with that, buddy?” Brady said.

  “What’s up with what?”

  “You . . . That look. There something going on between you and Daisy?”

  Jack gave an awkward laugh as he rearranged his silverware. “Get real. She’s way too young for me.”

  Brady guessed there were nine or ten years between them. “Not that much.”

  “Well, apparently she likes them young.” Jack’s eyes flashed toward the dance floor where she and Bryce were swaying and talking.

  Daisy was several years Bryce’s senior. “It’s just a dance, man.”

  “Doesn’t matter anyway.” He pushed his Coke back. “She’s a member of my congregation.”

  “And yet you’re staring after her like you’re a starving man and she’s the last loaf of bread.”

  Jack scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “What, you’re married four weeks and now you’re an expert on love?”

  Brady’s brows shot up. “Love, huh?”

  Jack gave him a look he’d never seen from a pastor. “Knock it off.”

  Touchy. Brady raised his one free hand. “Don’t kill the messenger. I’m just saying, you could ask her to dance if you wanted.”

  Hope slid into the seat beside him. “Whew! Busy night.”

  Brady was glad for the interruption but probably not as glad as Jack. “It’s hopping, all right. Everything okay in the kitchen?”

  “Running like a well-oiled machine.”

  “I do love a good simile.”

  “Thought you’d relate to that one.” She reached out for Sam, and the baby leaned toward her. “How’s my big boy, huh? Oh, you look so handsome tonight! Did Daddy dress you up?”

  “Ga-ga-da-do!”

  “I know! Are you hungry?”

  Josephine returned as the song drew to a close, and the band readied onstage. Daisy and Bryce moseyed over to his circle of friends, and from the corner of his eyes Brady watched Jack trying not to watch.

  How had he not noticed this? He wondered if anyone else knew. Then he remembered Noah’s look.

  Once everyone except Daisy had returned to the table, they ordered their food. Last Chance rolled into their first number. The group chatted as best they could with the loud music blaring, catching up and reminiscing.

  Brady grabbed Hope’s hand under the table and held it on his thigh. He loved the way she glanced at him when something made her laugh, as if she wanted to share the moment with him.

  The server came, setting down his burger and fries and Hope’s grilled cheese. After all the food arrived, they tucked in, but the chitchat continued, occasionally erupting into boisterous laughter.

  Brady didn’t even notice a visitor approaching the table until he felt a touch on his shoulder.

  “Hi there, Brady.”

  He looked up, and the dregs of a smile slipped.

  April’s face was barren of makeup. She was still attractive, though she looked older than her forty-six years. Her dark-brown hair was threaded with gray and pulled back into a long braid that fell over her shoulder. A red V-neck T-shirt hugged her thin frame.

  “Aren’t you glad to see me, baby?” she said over the music.

  Hope’s hand had tightened on his. Conversation at the table had come to a screeching halt as everyone stared at April Russell—or whatever her last name was now.

  Brady fought the urge to shrug off her hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “Honey . . . I came to see you.” She squeezed his shoulder before working her way around the table and sliding into Daisy’s empty chair. She leaned forward on her elbows. “Catch me up on what I’ve missed.”

  Like his entire life? The last time he’d seen her was between his sophomore and junior years of college. He’d been just a boy, st
ill living at home during the summers, working at Gunner’s Garage. She’d barely managed to look him up before she was off again. And last time she hadn’t even managed that.

  “Brady?” April said. “What’s been going on with you, hon?”

  Everyone was staring at her. At him. He was glad the band was too loud for most of the others to hear anything that might be said.

  “Granny died, for starters.” It was a callous thing to say. But it just came out somehow in a clipped tone that gave away too much.

  Something flickered in April’s brown eyes. She fiddled with the strap of her oversized purse, her eyes darting around the table. “I heard that a while back. I would’ve gone to the funeral if I’d known.”

  “Well, we didn’t know where you were.” Granny had given April a phone last time she was in town, but she must’ve sold it.

  April chuckled. “Oh, well, you know how it is. I can hardly stay in one place for long. The world’s so grand. So much to see. I’ve been all over since I seen you last—Louisiana, Texas, Arkansas. But enough about me. What have you been up to, honey?”

  He gave her a wry look. “Quite a bit, actually. I’m married. I have a son now.”

  April sucked in a breath as her gaze slid to Hope, then to the high chair next to her where Sammy was munching on something with slobbery fingers.

  “Oh! I’m a grandma! Is this him? He’s just darling!” She leaned across the table and rapped her blunt fingernails on the table like she was trying to get the attention of a cat or something. “Hi, sweet thing. I’m your grammy. Oh, Brady, he’s such a fine boy.”

  Brady felt the urge to sweep Sam into his arms, but April was already introducing herself to Hope. Some of the others had deserted their suppers and left the table. Only Jack, two chairs down, remained. Maybe he thought they’d need mediation. Maybe they would.

  April gazed at Sam. “He looks just like you when you were a baby—that chin, those blue eyes.”

  Brady pressed his lips together. There was so much wrong with that sentence he didn’t even know where to begin. If he had been of a mind to correct her, that is—and he wasn’t.