"I'm glad you're staying. I've missed you."
Scarlet turned and glared. "Stop doing that."
"What?"
"Saying things that make me less pissed at you.”
Rayne's soft laughter lingered in Scarlet's ears as she entered the kitchen.
Brent stood at the sink, drinking from a coffee mug. Damn. She didn't want to have to make nice with him. Not when she didn't trust him. No matter how in love with her sister he looked, she remembered his advances three years ago. He'd been classically smooth, intimately knowledgeable about what it took to get a gal in the sack. His kiss had told her all she needed to know about him... and now he was married to her sister. So weird.
She glanced at him as she set her plate beside the farmhouse sink. "Waiting to show me what a woman like me wants?"
"Don't do this, Scarlet."
"What?" Scarlet spun on him and parked her fists on her hips. "Don't remember your words to me that night? The sweet nothings you whispered into my ear while trying to get into my pants?"
"I was a different man."
"Yeah, right."
Brent set his mug on the tile counter. Loudly. She could feel his anger. "Look, I get it. I was an asshole. But I'm not that guy. I never was that guy. I'm no more a man-whore than you are a vampire-queen bitch. Just an act."
“Like I’m supposed to believe that?”
“That my life was damned empty? That I was a shell of a man who hated who he was but was afraid to let go of what everyone thought I was? Yeah. It’s the truth.”
Scarlet made a noise in the back of her throat.
“Whatever. Believe what you want. I love Rayne. Always have. She and Henry, along with claiming my writing career, have made me whole. Have filled me up. But go ahead and hold my past against me. Go ahead and think that people can’t change or better themselves. Seems fair."
Oddly enough, she liked him better pissed than smarmy. "I'll judge what's fair. I don't want you making her believe in love and then leaving her behind when new pastures call. I've seen it before."
I've experienced it before.
Broken hearts were no stroll through a park. She'd be damned if Rayne had to endure what she had over the past year. Only now did Scarlet feel as she could muddle through and function, no matter what face she wore in public.
"There are no other pastures. I've found my sanctuary." Brent shoved past her to the back door that would lead to the carriage house he leased from his parents. "I don't have to convince you, Scarlet. Don't make Rayne choose between you and her family. Cause whether you like it or not, I'm her family now."
Ouch. His words filleted her heart. She lifted a hand and tugged on the slipper that pressed heavy against her chest. It didn't help. Thing was, she couldn't truly protect Rayne or Henry. Not from the hurt that would come when Brent Hamilton moved on. And she knew he would, no matter what he said. He was too much like John, chasing shiny new things when he tired of the familiar.
She pushed a hand through her hair, allowing the tresses to fall forward and give her a whiff of the coconut shampoo she'd used earlier. For some reason, the beachy smell soothed her.
"He's right, you know." A voice came from behind her, causing Scarlet to jump.
'"Jeez, Aunt Fran, you could sneak up on a CIA operative.” Scarlet shoved her hands into her back pockets so she wouldn't fiddle with the necklace she wore like a personal albatross.
"How did you find out I was in the CIA?" Aunt Frances grabbed a ceramic mug with a picture of a Boston terrier on it and filled it to the tip-top with coffee.
Scarlet laughed. “Wouldn't surprise me a bit if you were."
She took in the aunt who had taught her how to swing by pointing her toes at God and how to look for blackberry vines along ranch fence posts. Her aunt had aged well. Her gray-streaked brown bob framed a lined face that bore a cheerful countenance and wide blue eyes. She smelled of roses and freshly baked pound cake, a scent only described as home. Though Scarlet stretched it in calling Oak Stand home.
She had no home. Rolling stone and all that. Living in New York City for the past four years was as close as she'd gotten to calling a place home. "Why did she marry him, Aunt Fran? He's a player and I don't see anyone taming a man like him."
Aunt Frances raised the mug to her lips and regarded Scarlet over the rim. Her stare was wiggle-worthy, but Scarlet refrained from squirming. Never could hide much from Aunt Frances.
"Perhaps, you are only seeing what you want to see. Allowing your experiences to color your perspective."