Page 19 of Always

“Please, call me Maggie.” She holds the door open. “I’ve seen your photo in magazines, but you’re even more handsome in person, Mr. Black.”

“Braden,” I say, walking into the small foyer. “Please.”

“Of course. Braden.” She smiles brightly and motions to a tall man with graying hair. “This is my husband, Steve. Skye’s father.”

I hold out my hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Steve says. “Please come in and make yourself at home. We honestly had no idea Skye was seeing anyone. She’s not always the most forthcoming.”

“I see,” is all I say.

“Have a seat.” Steve gestures to a faded navy-blue brocade armchair. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Maybe just a glass of water.”

“Of course.” Maggie smiles. “Right away.”

Steve sits in a brown leather recliner. Before he can say anything, Maggie returns with a glass of ice water and hands it to me.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Our pleasure.” Maggie takes a seat on the blue couch. “What brings you here, Mist— er, Braden?”

“Business. I have a meeting in Kansas City tomorrow.”

A little white lie. I canceled the meeting with Beauregard, but I feel strange that Skye’s parents might think I came here unannounced specifically to meet them.

“What kind of business?” Steve asks. “Seems you have your hands in everything these days.”

He’s not wrong. “I’m just looking at a company for a possible acquisition,” I say. “Plus, as you may know, we got our start in—”

The latch on the front door clicks.

I turn toward the sound.

And I have to keep my eyebrows from flying off my face.

Chapter Eight

Skye stands in the doorway, holding a small suitcase that drops to the floor with a loudthudand topples onto its side.

“Honey!” Her mom rises and pulls her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

A few seconds lapse. I don’t offer any explanation for my presence, though she’s looking at me with venom in her expression.

Finally, “I live here. At least I used to. What’s his excuse?”

“Mr. Black…er…Braden called earlier today and asked if he could come by,” Maggie says.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were in a relationship, Skye?” Steve queries.

“Because I’mnotin one,” she says.

I clear my throat then, rise, and walk toward her. “I realize how this may look.”

Is she happy to see me? Angry at my presumptuousness? Both? Or is she simply perplexed? She gets perplexed a lot. I don’t. Nothing much perplexes me.

Nothing, that is, except Skye Manning. And what she does to me.

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