Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (50 page)

He tipped her chin until she was looking at him. “Do you think I'm still trying to buy the company?”

“Aren't you?”

“I'm helping you, Savannah, like I promised. All of this is a...temporary lull in our regular lives.”

“That doesn't answer the question, Mac.” As she said the words, she knew the answer already. He'd deftly avoided the truth and she had been a fool—a total fool—to fall for him. A temporary lull? The words stung.

“If the methods we're trying to save the company don't work out,” Mac said, his voice going all serious, all hints of
we
erased now. “Then, yes, I'll make you a fair and equitable offer.”

The old Mac Barlow, the one she had met that first day, was back. The man she had seen tenderly lift the baby bird into the birdhouse had disappeared. Tears welled in Savannah's eyes, but she willed them away. “Of course you would,” she said, her voice wavering a little. “I wouldn't expect anything less.” Then she barreled past him and down the stairs before he could see the truth in her eyes.

* * *

Mac rode too fast down the still-wet roads, heedless of the slick pavement. All he wanted was distance. Distance between himself and that beach house. Distance between him and Savannah. And most of all, distance between him and the truth.

That for all his talk about wanting to help her, in the end he really wanted what he had come here for—a quick and easy acquisition that he could turn around as soon as the ink was dry.

He thought of the days he'd spent helping her on the beach house. It had been nice, really nice, seeing something come together. Building something. It reminded him of when he'd been a kid building tree forts with his brothers, setting up campsites in Boy Scouts, erecting towering piles of blocks in his living room.

Those days at the beach house had been a vacation from his reality, though. It wasn't as if he was going to give up everything he had built and go into remodeling homes for a living. In the end, he was good at one thing—finding struggling companies, buying them up and turning them around for a profit.

But that didn't ease his guilt about Savannah Hillstrand. He never should have slept with her. Even now, the image of her laying in that bed, one arm above her head, a warm, inviting smile on her lips, made him want to turn around and go right back to her. Instead, he gunned the engine, leaned into the curve and headed toward his father's house.

He hadn't listened to the voice mail on his phone left there earlier by Colton. He already knew what it would say. His twenty-four hours were up and either the Barlows had learned about this new member of the family or they would find out when Colton showed up in town. No way was Mac going to let that happen.

He pulled into the driveway, shut off the engine, and cursed his timing. His mother's car sat beside his father's truck, so close their side mirrors almost touched. Damn.

Mac stowed the helmet, then headed up the stairs and into the house. As soon as the front door opened, his mother popped her head out of the kitchen. “Maxwell! I'm so glad you're here. I'm just finishing up dinner, if you want something to eat.”

“I had some pizza earlier, Mama.”

She pouted. If there was a contest to show love with food, Della Barlow would win, hands down. “Okay, but if you change your mind, there's a nice baked chicken with your name on it.”

“Thanks. Maybe I'll grab some.” But he had no intentions of doing that, or staying long enough to share a meal with his parents. No way could he sit here through dinner and pretend everything was okay. Or sit across from his father and not read him the riot act. “Where's Dad?”

“Out in his workshop. When you see him, tell him dinner will be done in a few minutes.”

“Will do.” Mac passed through the house, pausing to give his mother a kiss on the cheek, before heading out the back door and down to the converted shed his father used for storing his tools and whatever the project of the day was. Ever since Bobby had retired from the garage, he'd taken up woodworking, mostly making things such as jewelry boxes and a new mailbox.

His father sat on an old wooden stool in the shed, sanding the top of a small table. He looked up when Mac entered. “Mac. Didn't expect to see you here.” Bobby's face shifted from surprise to wariness.

Another storm was on its way and Bobby needed to deal with it—now—and before it showed up unannounced.

“I came to share a voice mail with you.” Mac pulled out his phone and pressed the Play button beside the message from Colton. A second later, his brother's voice filled the speakers, sounding surprisingly a lot like Jack and Luke. “Mac, this is Colton. I'm coming to town in a few days and stopping by to finally meet our dad. I know you don't want me butting in your life, but it's my right to know who my father is. Maybe we'll get to meet. In fact, I hope we do. I'd really like to know my brothers, too.”

The message ended and Mac tucked the phone back in his pocket. He gave his father an expectant look.

Bobby cursed and pushed off from the bench. “He really wants to do this?”

“Sounds like it.”

Panic flooded Bobby's eyes. Everything was about to hit the fan in a very big way. “Did he say when?”

“Dad, you heard the same message I did.” Mac let out a breath. “What does it matter? Whether Colton is arriving Tuesday or next Sunday, you still have to tell Mama, and then Luke and Jack.”

“Tell Mama what?”

Damn.
Mac closed his eyes and cursed. He'd left the door to the shed open. He turned, hating himself for not thinking, and saw Della's face, a little wary, a little curious. “Tell you—”

“Mac, don't.” Bobby got to his feet and put a hand on his son's arm. “Don't.”

He wheeled back to his father. “You can't keep pushing this under the rug, Dad, and you need to deal with this
now
. Not a week from now. Not thirty more years from now. Right this minute.”

“Tell me what?” Della asked again, her voice smaller now, her words quaking.

Silence thickened the air in the shed. Bobby stood there a long time looking at his shoes. Mac shifted his weight, wishing he hadn't come here now, not when his mother was home. The last thing he wanted to see was his mother's heart broken.

“Aw, hell, Della.” Bobby sighed. “I have to tell you something. Something I should have told you years ago.”

“Tell me what?” The third time the words were just barely a whisper.

“Remember that trouble we went through a couple years after we got married?” Bobby said to his wife.

“Yes.” Her gaze darted from her husband to her son. “It was a long time ago.”

“Thirty-three years, to be exact.”

“We'd been married such a short time,” she said. “We were so young and foolish, and Lord knew we should have been smarter and waited because neither one of us was much ready to be married.”

“No, we weren't. And some of us didn't act like we were married, either. And it turns out there were...repercussions to the stupid choices I made.”

Mac watched his mother take in those words, turn them over in her mind. He could see her processing it, hoping it meant something other than what she thought, then as the realization hit her, he saw the hurt and anguish fill her face.

“What are you talking about, Robert?”

“I...I should get out of here,” Mac said. No way could he stand here for one more minute and watch his mother's world get destroyed.

“No, you stay,” Della said, her voice firm now. “Because apparently everyone knows something I don't know.”

Bobby toed at a pile of sawdust on the floor. He didn't say anything.

“Robert? Tell me.”

He raised his gaze to his wife's, and in his father's eyes, Mac saw genuine regret. “You knew about Katherine.”

The name was like a verbal slap, and Della's eyes welled. But she held her ground, chin up and gave a short nod. “Yes, yes, I did.”

Bobby turned to his son, apology written all over his features. “I told your mother years ago that I...I stepped out on her. I was young and stupid when we got married, and as much as I thought I wanted to settle down, the actual settling-down part scared the hell out of me. So I kept on acting like I was a single man. I was working in Atlanta at the time, running parts for one of those auto-supply chains, and I met this woman named Katherine.”

Mac's mother stood like a rock, her face as unreadable as granite. “We went through an awful time after I found out about that,” she said. “I left your father. Moved back in with my parents for six months.”

“While I got my head screwed on straight.” Bobby looked at his wife again. “And realized I had already married the best woman in the world.”

The sweet words didn't soften Della's features. Her lips thinned and she met her husband's gaze head-on. “So what don't I know?”

More silence. In the world outside the converted shed, a dog barked, someone started a lawnmower. Life went on. Mac waited. Della waited. Bobby ran a hand through his hair, then finally realized the words had to be said and he started to speak.

“Katherine... She had a son.” Bobby cleared his throat. “
My
son.”

In that moment Mac felt just as bad for his father as he did for his mother. He knew his parents loved each other—
that
he'd never doubted—but he could see the fear and guilt in the hunch of Bobby's shoulders, the tremble in his voice. Mac's mother just stayed where she was, swaying a little.

“A...a son?” The words squeaked out of her.

Bobby nodded, his eyes downcast. “His name is Colton. And he wants to meet me, meet the boys.”

Della's lips thinned again. She didn't say anything for a long, long time. Mac wished he had left before this. That he didn't have to watch pain flicker across his mother's face, or hear the regret and guilt in his father's breaths.

Della turned to Mac. “And you knew about this?”

“I just found out a few days ago. Colton somehow found his way to Uncle Tank,” Mac said, because he wasn't about to add more to the story with telling his mother that her brother-in-law had known for years, “and Tank called me. I didn't know what to do, so I talked to Dad and...” Mac put out his hands and didn't finish the sentence.

“I see.” Those two words chilled the room. Della looked from her husband to her son, then back to her husband. “It is best that you meet your son, Robert. He deserves that.”

“And—” Bobby drew in a breath, let it out in one long shaky exhale “—where will you be when all this happens?”

Della's eyes welled, and her hands trembled at her sides. Instead of answering him, she turned on her heel and walked out of the shed.

* * *

The next day, Savannah sat at her father's desk and went through the motions. She'd tried to fill his shoes—had for months now—but they never felt quite right. She looked at the list of recommended changes and cuts that Mac had left her, and decided the only way to get the hang of this job was to do it. And keep on doing it, day after day, like she had been. But this time with more commitment to the job. No more running out to repair something on the beach house. No more distractions. Just putting her nose to the proverbial grindstone.

Maybe then if she spent enough time in the offices and on the plant floor, being the CEO at Hillstrand Solar would become second nature. It had to—because her only other choice was to sell and watch the company be parceled out like cake at a wedding.

She headed down to the plant floor, found Betty at her usual station and pulled her aside. “Hi, Betty. Do you have a second?”

“Sure, sure. Oh, wait. Let me show you the cutest picture of my grandson. He was blowing bubbles on the back deck and it was just the sweetest thing ever.” Betty pulled out her phone and started scrolling through the photo app.

Every second you spend talking to them is a second they don't spend earning money for the company.

Savannah glanced down at the plan in her hands. A plan that would surely fail if the CEO failed to implement all its strategies, too. Yet another piece of advice Mac had given her—that the road to success started at the top, which meant she needed to be a better role model and act like a boss, not a friend. “Actually, Betty, let's save that for break time. I need to talk to you about relocating a few things in the shipping department. If we bring the packing table closer to the box storage and set up a better-designed mailing station, we should be able to get packages out the door faster. I also want to set up a pallet right beside shipping so as soon as an order is packaged, it can be loaded with the others and be ready to be brought to the trucks.”

Surprise lit Betty's eyes. “Sure, sure. I can get Jeremy to help me move that table and set up the pallet.”

“Thank you. And please do it today. We are trying to make every step of the operation leaner and faster.”

Betty gave Savannah a long, assessing glance. Savannah expected some resistance, a little anger at the change in tone, but instead a slow smile curved across Betty's face. “Your daddy would be proud, Savannah.”

The words caught Savannah off guard. “He would? Why?”

“You're acting like a boss. I think that's awesome.”

“Thank you.” The unexpected praise warmed Savannah and for a moment, she wished her father were here to see the company beginning to take shape again.

“By the way,” Betty went on. “That Mac Barlow that you brought in as a consultant or whatever, he's doing a great job, too. All of us were talking, and he's a pretty sharp tool in your toolbox. He's a little hard to get to know at first, but once he loosens up, he's downright pleasant. And easy on the eyes.” Betty grinned, then gave Savannah a little salute. “Right. Back to work. I'll get right on moving that table, Miss Hillstrand.”