Chance of a Lifetime (Anderson Brothers) (14 page)

Chapter Twenty

G
en awoke surprisingly rested for someone who’d spent all night making up for lost years. Chance had kept her on her toes…and knees and back and everything else, until they finally cried “uncle” and drifted off to sleep somewhere in the early morning hours.

She grinned and stretched when they made it down the porch steps into the soft sand, loving the general soreness all over and the specific soreness in certain places.

Turning toward the warmth of slanting morning sun, she sighed. A seabird screeched and the waves
shooshed
up on the shore in a relaxing tempo.
Heaven.
She wished they could stay on the island forever, but bliss would end Monday when she returned to her job…and the inevitable grilling she’d receive from her big brother once she turned her phone back on. She’d left it with Claire’s on the plane when she was told there was limited to no reception on the island, and nobody used a phone here.

Dread pinched her throat for a moment at the thought of what was certain to be an epic lecture from her big brother, who called and checked up on her daily like she was an invalid. The real problem boiled down to the fact that he held all the cards financially. She made a good salary, but she still relied on drafts from her trust left by her grandparents. A trust he controlled, thanks to a power of attorney she’d signed at her parents’ urging when she turned eighteen and the world still seemed dangerous and impossible to navigate. They were consumed with the notion she’d need someone to look out for her after they were gone, and since Walter was a lawyer, they thought it was a brilliant move. She hadn’t, but went along with it in her usual compliant fashion.

She took a deep breath through her nose and pushed the anxiety down, focusing on the warm breeze on her face and the fresh sea air.

Chance twined his fingers through hers, and they struck out through the sand.

“I’m starving,” he said. “We need to take provisions back to our cottage after the wedding so I can stay fueled up to keep up with you.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

“You sure didn’t.” He pulled her to a stop and wrapped his arms around her. Reaching up, she ran her hands through his shower-wet hair. “And you didn’t hear me complain this morning, either.” He kissed her, and her body roared to life. “Nor will I complain this afternoon when this wedding is over, nor tonight, nor tomorrow or any day after that.”

Any day after that
. The long-term reference made her feel buoyant, like she could fly. But then Walter’s angry voice in her mind sent her plummeting back to earth. Tomorrow she’d return home. Back to the real world and her overbearing big brother. There had to be a way to get him to see reason and lighten up. To show him she was self-sufficient and didn’t need an overseer.

“You okay?” he asked. Her face must have reflected her thoughts.

“Yeah. You?”

“I’ll be better when you’re naked on top of me again,” he said, nipping her earlobe. “Flat rude of my brothers to interrupt our day with a wedding.”

They struck out again, and she was relieved there were no biting insects. No-see-ums. Her new spirit animal—or at least a good nickname.

The dress Claire had lent her for the wedding flowed around her legs, making her feel light and feminine. Beautiful, like Chance had described her over and over last night.

Pushing thoughts of Walter aside, she smiled and fell into step beside him, bare feet sinking in the soft, warm sand.

She heard voices before they made it to the porch of the main house. The low thrum of Will’s baritone sax…then Claire’s oboe. And there was someone else. A deep, masculine voice as well, but there was a harder edge to it. As they neared, she still couldn’t make out words, but there were crisp consonants punctuating his speech. When they climbed the steps to the porch, the words sharpened into focus.

“Chance should take this up in private with him,” the unfamiliar voice said.

“No. Gen needs to be a part of the conversation,” Claire answered.

“I agree with Claire,” Will said.

Chance paused on the porch, grip tightening on Gen’s hand. His alarm was contagious, coiling like a snake up her arm, threatening to constrict and cut off circulation.

The unfamiliar voice spoke again. “I want to talk to Chance alone and let him make the choice. No need to stress out little sister. This is between Walter and Chance.”

So much for pushing thoughts of Walter aside.

“You might be right, Michael,” Will answered.

Oh shit.
The new voice was Chance’s big brother. She’d met him only a few times as a child, but read about him regularly. The tabloids made him out to be powerful, ruthless, and untouchable. But observing Will and Chance together made her doubt that. How could he be so different from his brothers? And he was getting married along with Will. That didn’t fit what she’d read about him being a man-whore, either.

“It’s all good,” Chance assured her. The hinge squeaked as he opened the door.

But it
wasn’t
good. She could feel the tension in the air—sense it, not only through his touch, but in the silence that greeted them as they stopped inside.

“Michael. Good to see you. Happy wedding day.” Subtle vibrations down his arm to their clasped fingers indicated he was shaking hands with his brother.

Something thumped to her right, possibly someone kicking a shoe off? She turned her head toward it. “Did you guys have a nice night, Gen?” Claire asked.

“Yes.” Nice didn’t even come close. She turned her head, trying to get a reading on the room. It was unusual for her to feel so disoriented. Not only was she unfamiliar with her surroundings, she didn’t know where everyone was or what they were doing. She was aware this was the living area, but she’d only spent time in the kitchen, dining room, and porch so far.

“Where’s Mia?” Chance asked.

“She’s a little under the weather and is taking a nap with the dogs.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, Chance, we need to talk. Do you have a minute so we can speak alone?” Well, true to the tabloids’ description, Michael was direct, with no bullshit.

To her surprise, Chance’s hold on her hand loosened. “Regarding?”

There was rustling from Michael’s direction, then Chance took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She tilted her head and turned her ear toward Michael to try to figure out what was happening.

“No need to speak alone,” Chance said.

“I’d prefer it,” Michael answered.

“I wouldn’t.”

Enough.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.

There was a long, tense pause, then a frustrated huff before Chance answered. “Michael just showed me a picture on his phone. You were right about the fountain. Someone got a picture of us.”

Her stomach dropped like she was descending on a superfast elevator.

“It’s…” He moved his hands to her shoulders. “It’s obvious in the photo we’re…good friends.”

Good friends.
The elevator hit the bottom before her stomach. She covered her mouth, not sure what bothered her most: his minimized description of their relationship or the fact that Walter might have seen a picture of them together.

“Good friends?” Michael said. “It looks like you’re giving her a tonsillectomy with your tongue.”

“Okay. So I lost my head and wasn’t very discreet. You’re a fine one to throw stones. Shall we talk about a kiss between you and Mia on Bow Bridge a while back?”

“This is different.”

“Oh, because it’s me and not you?”

“Be cool, little brother.” Will’s voice came from the back of the room, near the kitchen door. She had now placed everyone in the room.

Michael cleared his throat. “No. Because your secretary went through your office voicemail and you’d received a very angry phone call and some threats because of it.”

Walter.

Chance guided her to a chair and put her hand on the arm of it. His fingers trembled, and she wondered if it was fear like hers at being discovered, or anger. She sat, too numb to do much else. This couldn’t be happening. For the first time in a decade, she’d felt free and happy. Now, her big brother was going to ruin everything…again.

“Walter called the office late yesterday evening looking for you when the photo came out attached to a column about Michael and Mia,” Will said. “Mildred replayed the message for Michael when he got to the office early this morning.”

“He’s pissed, Chance. Really pissed,” Michael said. “Evidently, when Will told him about the trip to the island, he mentioned Gen would be helping Claire, but he omitted the small detail that you would be here, too.”

“Yeah, well,” Will said, voice low. “That seemed unimportant to me at the time. It just slipped my mind.”

“Of course it did. And he was really hot about the fact that her phone was off. Did that slip your mind, too?”

“Um, that was my suggestion,” Claire said. “I told Gen to give her regular life a rest and leave her phone on the plane like I do.”

Shit, shit, shit,
this was bad. Walter would keep her on such a tight leash now, she’d never be out from under his thumb. God, he’d probably tell her she had to move back home with her parents again.
No. Freaking. Way.

There were footsteps at the far end of the room, like when Chance paced last night. Bare feet padding across tile, followed by his voice. “You said he made threats. What did he threaten?”

Michael answered from farther away this time, perhaps by the kitchen door.

“Most of it was blowing off steam. He threatened everything from legal action for kidnapping, to physical violence, to flying out here to take her back home.”

Take her back home. Back to her safe life. Safe…
Yeah, pass the mints, please.
When would Walter understand she was grown? She was self-sufficient and could make her own choices, including who she… She took a deep breath. Who she knocked number ten off her bucket list with.

“Gen and I will talk this out and deal with it however she wishes,” Chance said.

“I’m so sorry.” Gen cringed inwardly. It figures an apology would be the first words out of her mouth. She seemed to spend her life apologizing. “I am sick this is interfering with your wedding. The last thing I want is to ruin—”

A hand on her shoulder cut her off. Roses. It was Claire. “Gen, we’re getting married in a few hours no matter what happens with your brother. We’re in love and happy. Nothing can ruin our wedding.” Claire’s voice shifted from above her head to her right side. She’d probably knelt by her chair. “What we want is for you two to be happy. Don’t spare a thought for us. Think of you.”

Will added, “Try not to fret it, Gen. We’re all behind you in this. I’ll give Walter a call and calm him down. He’ll be civil because he wants to do business with Anderson Enterprises. Enjoy your last two days here, and when you get home, you and Chance can go talk some reason into him and end this once and for all. Until then, make yourselves useful and help us take the dishes and silverware to the tent outside.”

Chance’s familiar scent met her nose as he wrapped her in his arms, his warmth bolstering her like fuel. “I’m here. You’ve got this.”

S
taying busy helped, but Chance could still see the tension in every move Gen made. After the single large round table was set up and chairs in place, he and Gen arranged silverware while the brides and grooms got ready. The minister arrived and turned out to be their youth leader at church when they were in high school, so he caught them up on all their classmates, and to his credit, he didn’t mention Chance’s spotty past.

Before long, the bride’s friends arrived, in matching free-flowing sundresses, and soon after that, Chance found himself standing barefoot in the sand, filling the role of best man to both of his brothers. His red hibiscus Hawaiian shirt matched those of his brothers, and to everyone’s amusement, Michael’s dogs had on scarves made from the same material.

They’d been through a lot, the three of them, and he was proud and happy for his brothers, but also, as he stood there, listening to them exchange vows with the women they loved, he found himself uneasy. Would he ever have this moment?

During the ring exchange, he peeked over his shoulder. Genny sat in the only row of chairs next to Mia’s maid of honor’s husband, Mark, and the two dogs. When Claire said the wedding would be small, she wasn’t kidding. Not even a photographer other than Mark, who was snapping off shots on his phone.

Gen had her face turned toward the beach wind, rather than the wedding. Perhaps she could hear better that way, or maybe, like him, her thoughts were elsewhere. Maybe on how she’d handle the situation with her brother. As much as he’d like to take Walter on himself or face him side by side with Gen, this was her battle to fight. If she wanted to become independent, she’d need to act independently; otherwise, she was using one crutch to displace another. He wouldn’t, couldn’t be that crutch. Hopefully this time, she was ready to stand up for herself. Until she was, his role in life might be no more than this: to bear witness to other people’s happiness.

G
en shoved her fish around on her plate with her fork, not able to take a bite. The thought of confronting her brother, and the fact that he’d threatened the Andersons, turned her stomach. Every now and then, Chance would touch her under the table; he was as distracted as she was. Still, she’d grown to love these people, and she needed to put on a good face, regardless of the fact that her big brother loomed over her happiness like a threatening storm cloud. Not only could he make her miserable, he could deny payments from her trust for her apartment rent, which would mean moving back home with her parents. Someday, she’d have enough from salary alone, but living in the city was expensive, so for the next few years, she needed that trust money, which meant she needed Walter.

Michael’s bride, Mia, seated to her left, was not eating either. She could tell because she hadn’t moved at all. Nor was she engaged in the animated discussion of a Greek archaeological dig between Claire and Michael. On her right, Will, and Mia’s friends, Mark and Sue, laughed about something Michael did during their wedding in the Hamptons recently.