Love at Any Cost (28 page)

 23 

I
f ever a polecat there was 
. . . Cassie studied Jamie MacKenna through slitted eyes while he and Bram played piggyback badminton with Meg and Maddie on the back lawn. A summer breeze ruffled her hair as she sipped lemonade, her mood as sour as the drink in her hand.

Casually comfortable, both men wore buttoned waistcoats over pin-striped shirts rolled to the elbow, neckties askew from dashing about with young women astride their shoulders. Peals of laughter took flight in a cozy backyard fragrant with honeysuckle and Aunt Cait's cottage roses, while a battered shuttlecock soared with every whack of the racket. Cassie's smile thinned considerably.
Mmm . . . I'd like to swing a racket right about now, but not at a shuttle 
. . .

“So . . . this is progress, right?” Alli leaned close while they watched the game from a wrought-iron settee on Aunt Cait's stone patio.

“If you call no eye contact and occasional grunts ‘progress.' ” Cassie scowled and popped cashews in her mouth from a candy dish, voice low as she eyed Logan and Blake embroiled in a game of chess while Aunt Cait focused on needlepoint. “At least he
showed up, even if he'd rather be out there romping with Maddie than talking to me.”

“I just think he's nervous and embarrassed—”

“And guilty?” Cassie added, mouth in a slope.

Alli chuckled, bumping her shoulder. “Oh, yes—very,
very
guilty. It's written all over his handsome face—the man feels like a dog after what he did to you.”

“Good.” Cassie pelted more cashews, grinding them into dust like she wished she could do with her
feelings
for Jamie MacKenna.
Or the polecat himself.

“Ah-ah-ah . . . ,” Alli said with a wag of her finger, “you promised you'd forgive Jamie and try to be sweet, remember?”

“Forgive? Yes. But sweet?” Her lips curled into an evil smile. “As sweet as a hive of honeybees with three-inch stingers.”

“Well, I'm just grateful you decided to forgive and forget even though the pretrial courtship didn't work out.” Alli fanned herself with the letter she just wrote to Roger Luepke. “After all, Jamie's like a brother, so it's strange when he's not around.”

“Not as ‘strange' as when he is,” Cassie muttered. She lobbed a few more nuts to the back of her throat. “At least now.”

“Come on Cass, look at it this way—it's better to find out now he's not the one before a courtship where you fall head over heels, right?”

Wrong.
Cassie tossed more nuts, chest expanding with a quiet sigh. “I suppose.”

“Cassie, Alli—we're going to play charades, girls against boys!” Maddie flew across the lawn, auburn curls bouncing as she launched into Cassie's arms.

“Are we, now?” Cassie kissed Maddie's nose, ignoring Jamie and Bram when they ambled over for lemonade. “Won't that be unfair? You know, since girls are smarter than boys?”

“Ha! Girls are ‘smart,' all right,” Jamie said with one of the first smiles he'd sent her way all evening. His eyes twinkled as he took a deep glug of lemonade. “Smart-aleck, that is.”

“Oh, really?” Cassie hiked a brow. “Would you care to make a wager, Mr. MacKenna . . . or have you lost all your gambling money on pool and poker?” She gave him an innocent blink.

Jamie patted his pocket. “Nope, Miss McClare, I've just enough left to prove my point.” A flash of white teeth confirmed the old Jamie was easing back, and a silent sigh feathered her lips. After all, she cared about the mule-brained dope even if he
had
led her on.

Maddie tugged at her mother. “Mama, Blake, Uncle Logan—we need you to play too.”

Aunt Cait glanced up, obviously hesitant. “Darling, you all go ahead. It will be an unfair advantage if I play, with more ladies than gentlemen.”

Logan ambled past to stretch out in a chair with a cautious smile. “Oh, come on, Cait,” he said, hands braced to his neck. “Ten more of you still wouldn't be an unfair advantage.”

Lips pursed, Aunt Cait pitched her needlepoint on the table and rose with a jut of her chin. “On second thought, darling, I believe there are egos to burst.”

“What's an ego?” Maddie asked.

Alli grinned. “A bit like those balloons at your birthday, remember? All full of hot air?”

Maddie's eyes went wide. “Golly—do we get to pop 'em just like Herman Hatfield did?”

Cassie chuckled with Aunt Cait as Alli provided paper and pencils. “Oh, honey, you bet.”

“Goody!” Squealing, Maddie squeezed between Cassie and her mother on the settee.

“Listen up,” Alli said, handing out supplies. “Write down the name of a book, play, famous person, or song and toss it into this bowl.” She wrote her own, then collected the others. “Uncle Logan will time each turn, but ladies first. And Cass gets to pop the first balloon . . .” She winked at the men. “Uh . . . I mean the first draw.”

Eyes closed, Cassie plucked a paper from the bowl. With a throaty chuckle, she splayed a hand to her chest, her smile smug. “Oh my, this really is too easy.” She cupped a hand to her ear, eyes in a squint. “Wait—did you hear that? I believe I heard something pop.”

“That would be your grand delusions, Cowgirl,” Jamie said with a lazy drawl.

“I don't know, sounded more like an overinflated ego to me.” Alli grinned.

“A particularly large one, if I'm not mistaken,” Cassie replied, wadding her paper up and lobbing it onto the table. “Okay, Uncle Logan, start timing—now!” Chin up, Cassie posed like Napoleon, tips of her fingers tucked inside the pearl buttons of her blouse.

“Famous person,” Alli shouted.

Cassie tapped her own nose and held up a finger, patting four more to her arm.

“One word, four syllables.” Aunt Cait leaned in, competitive juices obviously flowing.

Raising a single finger to indicate first syllable, Cassie pointed to herself.

“Cassie!” Maddie shot up from the settee, arms in the air.

With another skim of her nose, Cassie faced her palms to each other, slowly closing the space between.

“Shorter version of Cassie—Cass?” Alli said with a hopeful slope of brows.

Cassie patted her nose, then casually hiked a thumb at Jamie with an angelic bat of eyes.

“Casanova!” Alli launched in the air with a squeal.

Jamie's lips took a wry twist as laughter erupted. “Very funny, Cowgirl.”

Sucking air through clenched teeth, Logan shook his head. “Uh-oh, ten seconds—we've got our work cut out for us, boys. You're up, Bram—make us proud.”

The laughter and levity were high and the competition as fierce as the fun while the lead bounced back and forth like the shuttle over the net. The pink haze of dusk lent a warm glow on the final round when Aunt Cait redeemed the win with a record-breaking nine-second pantomime, cheeks flushed as pink as the sky. “Goodness, humiliated by
Pride and Prejudice
,” she said sweetly, sending a rare smirk Uncle Logan's way. “Imagine that.”

Jamie rose with a wide stretch of arms. “As painful as it is to leave you gentlemen at the gloating and mercy of these ladies, I fear I have tasks to which I must attend.”

Cassie fought her disappointment with a saucy tip of her head. “Nursing your pride?”

The side of his mouth crooked. “No, ma'am, if I wanted to do that, I'd challenge you to pinochle because it would be my extreme pleasure to take you down a few pegs, Miss McClare.”

“Good luck with that,” Blake said. “Cass is as good at pinochle as she is at poker.”

“So I hear.” Jamie quirked a smile. “A rain check, perhaps?”

“Certainly, but do make it on a payday, Mr. MacKenna,” she said with a flutter of lashes.

Alli straightened Jamie's tie with a pout. “Come on, Jamie, do you really have to go?”

Jamie tweaked a loose lock of Alli's hair. “Sorry, Al, but I
promised Jess I'd be home early. We're finishing up a chess game, and she's anxious to take me down.” His gaze flitted to Cassie with a swerve of a smile. “A desire I evoke in a number of women, it seems.”

“How is Jess doing?” Caitlyn's tone softened at the mention of Jamie's sister.

Cassie noted the sudden strain in his jaw. “Her fall over the Fourth took a toll, I'm afraid, but she's slowly recovering, although not quick enough to suit me.”

Aunt Cait rose to give him a hug. “We'll continue to keep Jess in our prayers, and you, as well.” She kissed his cheek. “Give your family our love, and please tell them I'm hoping they can join us for the holidays this year, so please try to coax them, will you? You're like family, James MacKenna, and that goes for your mother and sister as well, is that clear?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jamie said quietly. His cheeks colored as he cleared his throat, the invitation clearly uncomfortable. “I'll certainly extend your invitation, Mrs. McClare, as always, but since Jess's fall, it seems Mom sticks closer to home more than ever before, so I can't promise they'll come.” He quickly squatted to give Maddie a tight squeeze, then rose and drew in a breath, flashing a stiff smile. “Well, good night, everyone.”

Alli poked Cass with her elbow as goodbyes followed Jamie to the door.

“I'm going, I'm going . . . ,” Cassie muttered, catching up in the foyer. “Jamie?”

He turned, and she couldn't help but notice the hesitation in his eyes.

She halted several feet away, absently picking at a sliver on nails chewed to oblivion the last two weeks. “I . . . wanted to . . .” She cleared her throat. “No, I
needed
. . . to tell you something.”
Inhaling deeply, she winced when she yanked the hangnail clean off, down to the nub. The pain from her nail coincided with that in her heart over the polite distance in his eyes. She looked down, noting the blood on her finger. “I . . . owe you an apology—”

“Cass, no—”

Her head shot up. “Yes, Jamie, I do. You've every right to court whomever you please.”

Lips firm, he averted his gaze, eyes fixed on the floral pattern of Aunt Cait's foyer rug.

“True,” she continued, exhale shaky, “you shouldn't have led me on, especially in Napa.”

His eyes met hers, and the sorrow she saw plucked at her heart. “Cass, forgive me—I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were, but so was I.” Emotion bobbed in her throat as she stared at the man who'd inched his way into her heart. Opting to follow Alli's advice to make amends, she blew out a halting breath, determined to be Jamie's friend if nothing else. “Over the last few months, I've touted faith in God and forgiveness until you were blue in the face, and then when I have the opportunity to show it firsthand, what do I do? I let my hurt and disappointment embitter me to the point that I throw you out on your ear.” She clutched her arms to her waist, chin elevated to keep it from trembling. “My only defense is I was so mad I wanted to spit in your eye, brand you with a red-hot poker, hang you from the highest—”

He raised a palm. “I get the general idea, Cowgirl.” He slipped his hands in his pockets, a grin tugging his lips. “So I guess I should be grateful you only threw me out?”

She smirked, the tangle of nerves in her chest slowly unraveling. “You have no idea, Pretty Boy. Mark has a permanent bruise the shape of my boot.”

His smile faded. “I deserve that and more,” he said quietly.

“Yes, you do, but to show you I live the faith I tried to drill into that hard head of yours, I've chosen to forgo on the bodily harm.” Melancholy crept into her heart . . . as well as her smile. “Because the truth is, Jamie, I value your friendship.” She extended her hand. “So . . . friends?”

He stared, his words soft and low. “That didn't work out too well the last time, Cass.”

“Oh, trust me—this time it will.” She hiked a thumb to the ceiling. “And I have boots and a lasso to prove it.”