Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce (10 page)

Mom sat in her usual spot to Mason’s left, and that left Dad’s chair for James. Mason’s shoulders tensed as Lewis stared at James in their father’s chair. He waited, not breathing. Would Lewis start another fight just as they were sitting down to dinner? Mom slammed her drink down on the table, spilling wine over the side, and everyone looked at her. She glared at Lewis, daring him to say something. One more word and Mason knew she’d throw him out.

Lewis, please don’t make her choose.

Lewis pressed his lips into a straight line, and Martha picked up the platter of turkey before her. Mason finally took a breath, and Amy squeezed his thigh under the table. Mom handed him the plate of turkey, and he dished some out on his plate. As he passed it to Amy, he whispered, “Dad’s seat,” and tipped his nose toward James.

She closed her eyes and nodded, then opened them and took the plate from him. They passed the dishes around in silence. He knew Lewis was dying to say something, but before he got the chance, Amy raised her glass of white wine and tapped the side of it with her spoon. Not that she needed to quiet the room.

Everyone put their hands in their laps and gave her their attention.

“I’d like to offer a toast,” she said.

Mason, Mom, and James picked up their glasses. Amy turned her brilliant smile on Lewis, who finally raised his as well. Maybe she’d decided to kill him with kindness. It was better than trying to argue with him like she had with Mason.

“To Martha, for asking Dad and me down to celebrate this wonderful holiday with you and your family. It means more to us than I can say.”

Amy’s voice was strong and sure as she gave the toast Mason knew must have been fraught with emotion. He glanced at James. The gruff older man’s face was stoic, but Mason could see the hint of pain lurking in his eyes.

Mason clinked his glass against Amy’s, then sipped the sweet cold wine. He couldn’t imagine how James must feel right now. Was he blaming himself for the silent tension blanketing the room? The poor guy probably thought Lewis’s anger was all for him, but it wasn’t.

“So, if the meal kills us all, we all know who to blame, right?” Mason said. He had to change the mood in the room, and fast.

Everyone laughed, and Amy punched him lightly on the bicep, but her eyes betrayed her thanks. They dug into the delicious meal, and light conversation resumed between Mom and James.

While they kept up a steady back-and-forth, Amy leaned over and whispered in Mason’s ear. “Really. Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

He nodded and then glanced at Lewis, who was glaring even harder at them than he had at James. Shit. He was just looking for another reason to explode. Usually the meal was over so quickly compared to the work put into it. But today it couldn’t end quick enough. He quietly tapped his toes beneath the table as they finished eating. Adrenaline coursed through his body, searching for an outlet. He couldn’t just sit and wait for Lewis to lose it again.

“Bro. Let’s clear the table and go get dessert,” he said as soon as Mom put her fork down.

”Yeah sure,” Lewis said. They stood.

“Let me help,” Amy said. Lewis glanced from her back to Mason and grinned. What the hell?

“Nah, y’all relax. We got it,” Mason said. He led his brother into the kitchen and set the plates down on the counter. “Back the hell off, Lew. I know we didn’t expect company, but Mom hasn’t said that James is anything more than a friend.”

Mason turned to find Lewis gaping at him. “I can’t believe this. He just shows up. Takes Dad’s spot. Laughs with Mom. And it’s like thirty years of marriage never happened. Who the hell does that guy think he is?”

Mason could practically see the steam coming from Lewis’s ears. It would be so much easier to tell him that their dad was a world-class jackass, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“He’s a good friend to Mom, and he makes her happy. Honestly have you seen her smile or heard her laugh that much since the divorce? Or even before. Name one Thanksgiving,
one
in the past five years that you’ve seen her like this. You can’t, and you know it.” He took a step toward Lewis.

“You’re only okay with this because you’ve hated Dad practically your whole life.”

Not his whole life…but certainly since he was a teenager. Mason shook his head. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Dad. This is about Mom. She’s happy. Why can’t you be happy for her instead of acting like a petulant child? And leave Amy the hell alone while you’re at it. She doesn’t need your bullshit.”

Lewis’s eyes widened, and he slammed the plates down onto the counter. “She doesn’t need it? Who the hell are you? You’ve known her, what, like five minutes, and you’re defending her to your own family? God, Mason, what are you, in love with your future stepsister? She turn that pretty little smile on you, and you just fell all over yourself to please her?”

Mason clamped his mouth shut. His fingers closed into fists, but he kept them at his sides. Lewis was just pissed and wanted to pick a fight. He couldn’t have known how close to the truth he was or how ready Mason was to slam his brother’s face into the wall for talking about Amy that way.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You’re fucking her, aren’t you? I knew I saw her whisper to you at dinner. And if I’m not mistaken, her hand was on your damn knee. Always been a man whore, ain’t ya? You just couldn’t keep it in your damn pants, could ya?”

Mason took his brother by the shoulders, itching to shake some sense into him. “Lewis, please listen—”

“Get your hands off me!” Lewis’s right shoulder lifted, and the next thing Mason knew, his brother’s fist connected with his jaw. He slammed back from the blow, releasing his hold on his brother and bending over, clutching his face.

“Lewis Anthony Rider!”

Mason stood up, still holding his jaw. His brother could throw one hell of a right hook.

Lewis turned to gape at his mother. He knew there’d be no going back from this one. “Mom, I—”

“Get out of my house. Right now.”

Mason didn’t think he’d ever heard her so angry. Lewis opened his mouth and looked like he was going to take a step toward Mom, but seemed to think better of it. He spun around and walked out the back door, slamming it behind him.

Mom’s shoulders slumped, and Mason wrapped his arms around her. She let her breath out in a shaky sigh and clutched him to her. He was going to kill Lewis for this.

“Uh-oh,” Amy said, standing up from the table. She looked at her dad. What had happened now? Mason had been glaring daggers at his younger brother.

“Give them a minute, Ames,” her father said. He looked up at her with such sadness on his barely lined face it broke her heart. She fought the wave of depression swimming through her. It wouldn’t do her any good now. She sat and listened intently for a sign of anything good coming from the kitchen, because she could see from Dad’s guilt that he would try to break things off with Martha. He wouldn’t let her tear apart her family for him, even if she was the only chance at happiness he would ever get.

A car door slammed out front, and the squeal of tires quickly followed as someone peeled out of the driveway. She had the urge to run to the front window and see if it was Mason who had taken off in such a huff. God, she hoped not. She wanted at least a few more days with him before she went back to her life in New York.

A second later she breathed a sigh of relief when Mason spoke from the kitchen, but she didn’t hear the words. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to figure out what was going on and how she could help fix it.

“I’m just going to help clear the table,” she said. But he knew the truth.

“Okay, I’ll be in in just a few minutes.”

She picked up two platters and headed into the kitchen. She almost dropped them as soon as she crossed the threshold. Martha stood before Mason, holding a bag of ice to his chin. He sat on the stool at the island and glanced at Amy as she stood stunned. The door swung back and hit her in the ass, and she leaped forward and yelped.

Mason laughed, and Martha turned to give her a small smile.

“Sorry, just figured I’d help clean the table off.” She walked across the kitchen and placed the platters on the island.

Mason took the ice pack from his mom, keeping his chin tilted up. “I got it.”

“That hotheaded brother of yours. I figured he might refuse to come up at all if I told him ahead of time. But keeping it from him only made things worse. You know how close he is to your father. The divorce came as a bigger shock to him than any of the rest of us, I think.”

Amy shouldn’t be here for a conversation like this. It was personal. Familial. As much as she longed for a family, she wasn’t part of this one.

“It’s not your fault,” Mason said to his mom. Then he turned his eyes on Amy. “Or yours either, so stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“All apologetic and doe-eyed.”

Mason was probably right. She was looking at him like it was her fault. Because it was. If she hadn’t pushed, Dad would never have come down. And Martha would be having a nice, drama-free holiday with two of her sons.

Martha left them, and Amy was alone again in the kitchen with Mason. He pulled the ice away from his face and lowered his chin. “You’re still doing it,” he said.

She shrugged. “Sorry. I can’t help it. Let me look at that while you’ve got the ice off.”

“Ah, so you’re the kindergarten teacher
and
the school nurse?” His voice was light, teasing, when she knew there was so much more beneath. What had he said to make Lewis react so strongly?

“Most teachers double as school nurses these days. Lots of scrapes and bruises in my line of work.” She tilted his head back a little so she could see the point of impact. He winced at the movement. “What the hell happened?” She didn’t care if it wasn’t her place to ask.

“I said some things Lewis didn’t want to hear. He’s still angry with all of us—the whole world, probably. About the divorce.”

She pushed his hand that held the ice back to his face. “Keep that on there. And of course Dad and I didn’t help. Pouring salt into old wounds and all.”

He nodded. “Stupid kid. He doesn’t know anything about why they split up. In his eyes, Dad was perfect. Never did anything wrong. So the divorce came out of the blue.”

“Who filed?” She sat down on the stool beside him. The dishes could wait. Her plans for a perfect Thanksgiving had flown out the window when Lewis had punched her… She didn’t know what to call Mason. Or why she thought of him as hers. She pushed that thought aside for examination later. Right now she needed to focus on salvaging what she could.

“Mom. And she had every right to.” Mason clamped his mouth shut. There was a lot more to the divorce than Mason was telling her. Dad had said it was kind of an ugly divorce and that Martha was still heartbroken, but he hadn’t shared any of the details with her. Maybe because he didn’t know them. If Mason was playing it this close to his vest, something major must have happened between his parents. What could break up an almost thirty-year marriage? And why did Mason seem firmly on his mother’s side?

Then it hit her.

“How many women did he sleep with before your mother found out?”

Mason’s eyes popped wide. He opened his mouth—to deny it or confirm it, she wasn’t sure—but then he closed it again. Something dark crossed his face, but he chased it away with a half-assed smile. It really wasn’t any of her business anyway, so she let it go.

“I’m so sorry he hit you,” she said.

He shrugged. “Wasn’t the first time. Probably won’t be the last. Lew’s always had a temper. Don’t blame yourself, though, okay? Or your dad. This is the happiest I’ve seen Mom in I dunno how many years. It’s nice to see.”

She looked up into his eyes and realized she was sitting too close to him. She knew she should back up, but she ached to kiss away the hurt with her magical lips. She’d kissed away a lot of boo-boos in her days as a teacher, but this was very different. If she started kissing away his pain, she’d be too tempted to take him upstairs. And they still had to have dessert. Of the non-Mason variety.

“What?” he asked. “God, Amy, you have got to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She tried to play the innocent, but she knew he didn’t buy it.

His right arm snaked between the back of the bar stool and her hip until his fingers curled into the small of her back. She sucked air between her teeth and tensed. Heat sparked in his eyes as his fingers slipped under the fabric of her shirt and touched her skin. She let out her breath on a moan. He closed his eyes, long lashes hiding his bright blue irises from her view. Martha and her dad were talking just a few feet away in the dining room.

She pulled back from his delicious touch, afraid that much more would have her leading him upstairs. No doubt they’d get caught. That was just what Dad needed, another reason to stop seeing Martha. He was probably in there right now breaking it off.

Mason smiled around the ice pack, and she slipped off the stool. She neared the door to the dining room but glanced back at him over her shoulder.

“I’ll start cleaning up in here,” he said, apparently not willing to follow her into the other room.

Coward. He wasn’t ready to face anyone else yet. She pushed open the swinging door, but Dad and Martha weren’t at the table. She could hear them in the living room. She neared the table, ready to clear more dishes.

“Maybe it’s too soon,” Martha said.

“I can see that now,” Dad said.

“Not just for them, James. But for me too.” Martha’s voice was barely a whisper.

Shit. So maybe Martha wasn’t going to convince James they could work things out. She was ready to throw in the towel too. Amy’s heart ached for them both. They were so happy together.

“I’m sorry, honey bun. I didn’t mean to make this harder on you. Come here.”

She would be walking in on serious parental smooching action if she got much closer. With that image in her brain, Amy took one step back, and then another. Right into Mason.

She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling.