Page 95 of Whiskey Chase
“And I can’t believe my son who has been groomed for this life is so willing to throw it all away. People were just starting to forget, and then you have to surprise everyone with Redneck Ruby.”
“Scarlett,” I corrected.
“Devlin, forgive me for saying so, but does it sound like I care what her name is? I’m not having some barefoot country hillbilly ruining your career. We’ve worked so hard for this, given you every opportunity, and to see you just throwing it away on a girl...” she trailed off as if she couldn’t bear to finish the thought.
“I’m not throwing anything away. I’m finally enjoying myself for the first time in thirty-some years, Mother.”
“Enjoying yourself?” her tone was reaching into the upper octaves of horror. “Do you think you have the liberty to enjoy yourself? McCallisters serve. It’s a responsibility and an honor.”
“You’re overreacting,” I told her. My blood pressure was rising. It wasn’t the first time one of my parents had laid a guilt trip to keep me on the straight and narrow. I always caved.
“You’re not grasping the damage you’ve done tonight.Everyoneis talking about you and her. Blake is going to have to work overtime just to sweep this under the rug.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I took my girlfriend to an event where we both had a nice time,” I said evenly.
“The fact that you refuse to even consider the ramifications just proves that you’re not ready to come back. Your father is going to be devastated. You’re acting like you don’t even want this anymore.”
I scraped my hand through my hair, pacing the kitchen. “I have to go, Mother.”
She huffed out a few more insults and guilt trips and I disconnected.
Once they met her, they’d understand the draw. But I wasn’t about to force Scarlett into a visit with them. Certainly not now. She’d done nothing wrong. Hell, I wasn’t convinced that I had either. Why would being with someone who made me happy, made me feel stronger, be wrong? Scarlett had been there for me when my own family closed ranks against me, shunning me. It had been Scarlett who’d picked up the pieces and put them back together again. It was Scarlett who—
“You look like you’re contemplating a word problem on the SATs,” she said lightly from behind me. I turned to admire the view.
She wore a cami and short set in soft heather gray with pink trim. Pajamas had never looked so sexy. My anger over my mother’s phone call was already dulling.
I handed her a glass of wine.
“I heard you talking,” she confessed, perching on the arm of the leather armchair.
“My mother called,” I told her, pushing her hair over her shoulder and trailing my fingertips down her neck.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, her gray eyes wide and worried.
I nodded. “Everything is good,” I murmured.
She perked up. “So we can eat that pizza that smells like heaven?”
I smiled down at her. “I’ll get the plates.”
“Can we eat on the balcony?” she asked, nodding toward the glass wall.
“Of course.” We divided up slices and plates and spices—garlic salt for her, oregano for me—and juggled everything to the sliding door. Annapolis on the water was always quiet at night. I could hear the faraway echoes of late night diners on a restaurant patio overlooking the bay.
Boat mooring lights glowed and bobbed gently in the night.
Scarlett flopped down in one of the cushioned patio chairs and propped her bare feet up on the railing. She was so different from Johanna. I didn’t know why I felt the need to make the comparison other than the fact that my ex-wife and I had attended so many events like the one tonight. Johanna had never picked up a horseshoe or caused a scene over malicious gossip. And when we’d come home, she’d change into silk pajamas and sip hot tea while we discussed who said what to whom. She wasn’t a woman to prop her feet up on anything or to ever consider pizza a meal.
“I can practically hear you thinking,” Scarlett said dryly, with her mouth full.
I gave her a half smile. “Just thinking about tonight.”
“You’re thinking about a lot more than just tonight. Did it feel good to be back?” she asked, mopping at the sauce on the corner of her mouth.
“It felt...” I paused and thought. “Familiar. Comfortable.”
“Hmm,” she said without further comment.
