Page 6 of Beehives and Broken Heroes

Millie pushed the photo closer to Allie. “Take it. Ask your mother where they are. They’re mine, but if she won’t give them up, I’ll buy them back.”

Allie blinked. “Why would you want them?” If her dad really had done what Millie said, why would she want them back? Tony had nearly ruined Allie’s business, and she’d given up the engagement ring he’d given her immediately. She didn’t want any reminders of him. If he’d cheated, she knew that desire to distance herself would be that much greater.

Millie sniffed, her joy in the situation fleeing instantaneously. “You . . . you’re just like your mother. An irritating reminder in looks and temperament. Flighty, self-centered, and arrogant. Not that I would expect you to understand, but your father loved me, and he gave me those pearls. I want them back, and if I don’t get them, I’ll take this to court.” At that, she turned on her kitten heels and stormed from the store, leaving Allie a wilted mess behind her.

Allie rushed to the door, locking it behind Hurricane Millie, then ducked down at the end of the counter where no one could see her. Now that Millie was gone and Allie’s shock started to fade, her breathing came deep and hard as tears threatened to spill over.

Her fingers slid over the slick paper, sticking to it, and she looked down. In her grasp was the cursed photo she’d thought was on the counter. She didn’t even remember picking it up. She stared at it, at Millie, at her dad, and could no longer keep the tears at bay.

First her dad passed away, then they found that he’d made a bad business deal with a longtime family “friend” and had lost all their money that forced them to sell their house, then her stupid ex-fiancé had tried to steal her company and had gotten her kidnapped, and now her dad was a big fat cheater pants!

She looked heavenward, silently praying for God’s comfort to wrap around her.

Tears ran down her cheeks in a deluge as she stared at the photo once more. Her heave reflex started to react at the way her dad stared at Millie. The way Allie had always wished someone would look at her. Wide-eyed with wonder, head over heels in love. How could a man who looked that much in love, a man who she’d always thought was the most honorable man she’d ever known, be a cheater? How could he have cheated on that woman with her mom and in the same year marry her mom? She chucked the photo across the room; it skidded to a stop on the decorative wood floors her father had crafted especially for her and her sister when they’d opened the shop.

That was it. She was done. If she couldn’t even trust her dad, how could she ever trust any man ever again?

She couldn’t. That’s how.

Chapter 3

Brandon stood with Andy and Mark Winslow on the Winslow’s porch, which they’d enclosed with screens for the winter. They leaned against the sides, drinking cola and, in Mr. Winslow’s case, sweet tea. Mr. Winslow was just the opposite of Mrs. Winslow in just about everything. He was calm, dressed conservatively—though he did have an impressive mustache—and was apathetic about most things, except the weather. Brandon wondered if that wasn’t an intentional way of balancing out his wife’s flamboyance.

“Last year it was still in the fifties by this week,” Mr. Winslow said. “The weather can’t ever make up its bloody mind what it wants to do here.”

A heater hummed softly in the far corner, keeping the space comfortably warm. Cash Evans hovered over a large barrel grill where he cooked a brisket that smelled so good, Brandon’s eyes kept drifting to it like it was a beautiful woman. He just hoped his mouth wouldn’t start watering.

Andy groaned. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled.”

Cash grinned and moved the brisket over, adding five large skewers of veggies—another ten sat on a platter to the side of the grill. “Thanks. It’s a recipe I use at A Cut Above.”

Brandon signaled to Cash with his cola. “Cash here is a bona fide chef. A Cut Above is one of his restaurants in Cali.”

“If it smells as good as it tastes, I could die a happy man,” Andy said.

“Why do you think I keep coming to these things week after week?” Brandon took a sip of his drink and crossed one long leg over the other.

Cash gave him a wry gaze and arched an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason you come for?”

Brandon glanced over his shoulder toward the street, wincing as the movement made his side ache, and hoped Andy wouldn’t catch on to Cash’s meaning. He didn’t need his friend prying. He avoided looking at his watch, even though Allie and Jo were late. Cash had informed them upon their arrival that Jo had gone to gather Allie and bring her here. That’d been fifteen minutes ago, and Sticky and Sweet wasn’t that far. Brandon had started to worry.

Mr. Winslow laughed. “Well, we know you’re not here to be set up with one of my girls by the missus.” He patted Brandon on the back. “You’ve been a good sport.”

Brandon didn’t know how to respond to that, so he took another sip of his drink. Where were Allie and Jo? He hoped they hadn’t gotten a flat.

Andy elbowed him from the other side. “So, tell me about the twins. What are they like?”

Dagnabit, Andy had caught on.

Brandon exchanged looks with Cash, and Cash chuckled. “Cash would know better than me. He’s engaged to one of them, and I’m just a business partner and pity invite to family parties,” Brandon said.

“I’m glad you come,” Mr. Winslow said. “I’m used to being outnumbered by girls, but with you and Cash here, it makes it easier. Plus, you’re so big it’s kind of like having two men here.” He pointed to Andy. “And with your friend, four.”

Cash lifted his hands, a skewer in one and tongs in the other. “What about me? I’m tall. I’m six foot one.”

A car pulled up out front, and before it fully stopped, the passenger door opened. Allie jumped out and marched up the walk, her red hair flying in long, beautiful waves behind her, a scowl on her face, and a binder under one arm.

A moment later, her identical twin, Jo, tore around the car and raced after Allie. “Allie! You can’t have the scissors.”

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