In Shady Grove: About That Night Part 25

Clinton rinsed a bowl, set it in the drainer, then emptied the sink. "You must have really enjoyed cooking."

Ivy snorted. "More like, I enjoyed eating, and if I wanted to eat something that wasn't out of a can, I had to cook it."

He nodded. "Your mother didn't know how to cook?"

"For all I know, she may have been a gourmet chef, had the skills to be one, but she didn't bother making meals. She preferred to have someone else doing things for her."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sounds like my mother."

"Well, having only seen your mother that one time, I can't say for sure, but I'd guess there were plenty of similarities. Vanity, for one. Fear of ageing, of being old and no longer seductive. Of losing the power she'd held over people since she first learned how to bat her baby-blue eyes."

He stared at her, and Ivy wished she could tell what he was thinking. "You just described my mother perfectly."

Ivy nodded. Smiled. "Yeah, I figured they were cut from the same cloth."

"I'm almost glad they won't ever have a chance to meet," he muttered. "They'd probably bond, and a friends.h.i.+p like that could ruin the world."

"No need to worry. My mom would have hated yours. She didn't like compet.i.tion. Besides, your mom has everything Melba always wanted. The wealth. The big house. Melba would have thought your mom had it made. No worries, no having to wait on drunks, no flirting for tips."

"She was a waitress?"

"Since she was old enough to serve alcohol." Ivy had taken to the trade earlier than that, having worked the breakfast s.h.i.+ft at a local diner during high school. Having the same profession was where any similarities between Ivy and her mother ended. Melba had hated waiting on other people. But there was no shame in being a waitress. In working hard. Something her mother had never understood. "To Melba, her job wasn't a way to get ahead-it was a way to meet the man who would finally give her everything she'd ever wanted. Everything she deserved. Taking care of herself wasn't her priority."

"What about taking care of you?"

Ivy forced a smile. Took two plates from an upper cabinet. "That, too, was a necessary evil. A burden. Don't get me wrong. She wasn't abusive or even neglectful. I was clothed and fed-though not well, until I started cooking for us. She was just...vain. Self-absorbed and focused solely on what other people could do for her. How they could help her. Focused on finding a man to take her away from her life. Give her everything."

The timer buzzed and Ivy pushed away from the counter to turn off the rice. Set the plates on the table. "My mother was beautiful. Stunning, really. One of those women people stop and stare at, the kind who turn men into s...o...b..ring idiots. She knew how much power she had, and she used it whenever she could. She loved attention and went through men like gum."

"Like...gum?"

"She chewed them up, then spit them out. She was always looking for something better. Someone better-looking, more exciting, richer." Ivy pretended great interest in folding a paper napkin, matching up the corners, getting the crease just right. Part of her was afraid to let Clinton hear about her past, about her mother. She cared what he thought, she realized, and that grated. But another part wanted him to know where she'd come from. Needed him to see her clearly. "She loved me-in her way. As much as someone so narcissistic can love anyone else. But as I got older, she viewed me less as a daughter and more as a rival. All women were compet.i.tion to her, and for that compet.i.tion to be her own daughter...? She hated it and began to resent me for being younger. For taking attention away from her. Things between us were tense, and as soon as I graduated high school, I moved out. We weren't close during those last few years."

That was an understatement. About the only time she and her mother spoke during that time was when they happened to run into each other.

"How did she die?" Clinton asked.

"Car accident. She'd been seeing a local businessman who was going through his midlife crisis by buying a sports car and taking on a beautiful c.o.c.ktail waitress as his mistress. The roads were icy. He took a corner too fast and went off the road. She died instantly. He survived. One of those freak things where he walked away with a few bruises and scratches. He came to see me after," she heard herself admit. She'd never told anyone about her mother's lover visiting her. "And offered to pay for her funeral expenses."

"Generous of him. He must have cared about her quite a bit."

"More like he was worried if he didn't at least offer, I was going to take him to civil court, fleece him and his family of all his hard-earned money. It was payoff, pure and simple. I declined."

"You paid for your mother's funeral? She didn't have insurance?"

"When you live paycheck to paycheck, you can't afford luxuries such as life insurance or even health insurance. I paid to have her buried."

She'd used the money she had saved for culinary school. Now she was saving again.

"I take after her, you know," Ivy felt the need to point out. "In looks. In temperament. But I promise you this-I'll be a better mother."

Studying her in a way that made her nervous, Clinton slowly closed the distance between them. "I've never met your mother, but I know the type of woman you've described. As you said, your mother and mine have quite a bit in common, and I can tell you that you're nothing like them. You haven't been sitting around waiting for some man to take care of you. You're one of the smartest, hardest-working people I've ever met. I know you don't need me to take care of you or to make you happy, but I'd be d.a.m.ned lucky if you let me in your life."

And then, millionaire Clinton Bartasavich Jr., with his designer jeans and s.h.i.+rt that cost more than she made in a week, did the most wonderful thing a man had ever done. He kissed her forehead and hugged her. Just...held on.

She wanted to resist, to a.s.sert her independence. It was scary being that vulnerable, but in the end, she couldn't fight the emotions flowing through her. She relaxed, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, wrapped in that embrace, his chin resting on the top of her head, his hands making soothing circles on her back, her cheek pressed against the softness of his s.h.i.+rt. His warmth seeped through the material to her cheek. She could hear his heart beat strong and steady.

When she finally lifted her head, she gave him a wry smile. "And that's the story of my mother."

He laughed. "My mother doesn't seem so bad now." He frowned, scratched his cheek. "Don't get me wrong-she's a lunatic sometimes, and if she collects one more boy-toy boyfriend, I'll probably go insane, but at least she didn't blame me or Kane for her mistakes. Just our dad."

Ivy laughed, remembering his mother in that little dress at the engagement party. "I'm glad I could help you realize you don't have it so bad, after all."

"Your mother didn't know what she was missing by not being a part of your life," he said gruffly. "Don't ever think you're like her."

"I don't want to, but I have used my looks to get attention, to get certain things in life." Admitting it was hard, but somehow, making this confession to Clinton seemed like the right thing to do. "When I was younger, it was easy to charm the boys a bit to make myself feel good. Oh, look how many boys want me, want to date me, have me on their arm, but then I realized that they were using me as much as I was using them. I became cynical. I couldn't tell who was with me because they really liked me and who just wanted to use me. For a while, I couldn't even tell that about myself. I used them and told myself it was fair because they were doing the same."

Maybe Clinton had been right earlier. Lord knew she hadn't given those men or herself nearly as much credit. Especially herself.

She forced herself to face Clinton. "But I don't expect you to take care of me. Your child, yes. But I already know you'll take care of your responsibilities. I don't want you to think I'm trying to trick you into a relations.h.i.+p with me. If you want to go your way, I understand."

He kissed her. Hard. Just swooped right down and claimed her mouth, the kiss stealing her thoughts and her breath. When he finally broke away, he scowled at her, took hold of her upper arms as if he wanted to give her a shake. "Does that feel like I want to leave? I'm the one who came here, asking you to give me a chance. Don't push me away, Ivy."

He wanted a.s.surances she couldn't give him, so she hugged him. But even as she held on, she knew she'd have to let him go eventually.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

C.J. STEPPED INSIDE O'Riley's the next afternoon, tipped his hat back and scanned the bar for his brother. Pearl Jam's "Even Flow" played over the jukebox in the far corner. It wasn't nearly as crowded as it had been when he and Ivy had been there for dinner. Only a few tables had customers, while the booths lining the wall were empty.

C.J. would have thought the bar would be busier on a Friday, but maybe midafternoon was slow no matter what day it was. Then again, today was July third. Maybe people were at home, gearing up for the Fourth, getting ready for picnics, parades and fireworks. All of which he would like to share with Ivy. If he could convince her to spend the holiday with him. He thought he could. Especially after last night.

Ivy had opened up to him. Had trusted him with a piece of her past. And since he hadn't pushed for more, the rest of the evening had been relaxed and fun. They'd eaten a delicious dinner then watched the latest Tom Hanks movie. It'd all been very normal. Almost as if they were a couple.

But it wasn't enough. He wanted to spend more time with her. And what better way than celebrating their country's independence?

He'd call her about it, maybe charm her into having dinner with him tonight, as well. Right after he figured out why his brother had texted him and invited him for a drink.

He didn't believe for one minute that the impromptu invitation was Kane's way of extending an olive branch. For one thing, Kane didn't drink. Not since becoming clean and sober over fifteen years ago. For another, Kane had never reached out to C.J. first, preferring to stay hidden. Letting his family make all the moves.

Now suddenly Kane wanted to pal around?

Something was up. Whatever it was, C.J. figured there was a good chance he wasn't going to like it.

He started walking across the room, spied Kane in the last booth. Kane looked up, caught C.J.'s eye and gave him a smug grin that set all of C.J.'s instincts humming. Had his footsteps slowing, his muscles tensing as if waiting for a blow.

A blow that landed squarely in his midsection when he reached the booth and saw Ivy sitting across from his brother.

"Look at that," Kane said. "You're right on time."

C.J. couldn't take his eyes off Ivy. "What are you doing here?"

She scowled. Then turned that glare on Kane. "Did you call him?"

Kane lifted a shoulder, all bada.s.s in his white T-s.h.i.+rt, with his tattoos peeking out from the sleeves. "I may have sent him a text inviting him for a drink. But only because I thought it would p.i.s.s him off to find you here. I didn't think he'd actually show up."

"G.o.d save me from idiot brothers and their stupid sibling rivalry," she muttered.

"You want to avoid idiot brothers and sibling rivalry," Kane said in a slow drawl, "you'd best keep away from any and all members of the Bartasavich family."

Ivy sighed. Patted her stomach. "Hard to do that now." She stood and met C.J.'s gaze. "Did you need something?"

You.

He frowned, hoped like h.e.l.l the word that had popped into his head hadn't also popped out of his mouth. But neither Ivy's nor Kane's expression changed, so he guessed it hadn't.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated. "With him?"

"He," she said with a nod at Kane, "is doing me a favor."

C.J. stepped toward her. "Anything you want from Kane," he said, his voice a low growl, "you can get from me instead."

She raised her eyebrows, her expression cunning. "I doubt that," she purred. She trailed her hand up his chest. Gave his cheek a pat. "What I want from him is a job."

C.J. blinked. Shook his head. "What?"

"He advertised for a bartender. I applied for the job, and you-" she gave him another pat, this one harder than the first "-are interrupting my job interview." She turned to Kane. "Do you want me to come back?"

"I don't mind finis.h.i.+ng up now, if you don't." Kane stretched his arm across the back of his seat. "You can head on over to the bar, Junior. I'll join you as soon as we're done."

Ivy sent C.J. a glance, but as he was still standing there like an idiot, she just lifted a shoulder. "Okay." She retook her seat. "As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, I have a bit of experience behind the bar, enough to cover the basics, but I've mostly waited on tables."

Kane nodded. "I've already got enough waitresses. My future sister-in-law worked behind the bar but decided during her maternity leave she'd rather take interior design cla.s.ses in Pittsburgh than come back to O'Riley's."

"I'm a quick learner," Ivy told him, sounding desperate to work at Kane's dive bar. "And I'm good with people."

"Wait a minute. Wait a minute," C.J. said, shoving Kane over so he could slide into the booth next to him. "I won't stand here and listen to you beg this moron to hire you."

"Then leave," Ivy told him in a tone so sweet, it had to be fake. "Because I need this job."

"You already have two jobs," C.J. pointed out. "At Bradford House and King's Crossing."

"Yes, I do. But since I'm no longer employed at the River View-"

"What's a River View?"

"The River View is a very nice family restaurant over on Rockland Avenue, where I used to waitress a few nights a week until I told the owners I was pregnant."

"You work three jobs?" Why hadn't he known that? Was this information in the private investigator's report? What else would he have learned if he'd read it?

"I used to work three jobs," she corrected. "Like I said, Mr. and Mrs. Mongillo didn't like the idea of having an unwed, pregnant woman working for them, so they let me go."

C.J.'s hands fisted. "They fired you? That can't be legal."

"Probably not," she said as if it didn't matter that her civil rights had been violated, "but it's what happened."

"You should sue them." He took his phone out. "I'll call Oakes-my brother. He's an attorney. He can-"

"Simmer down there, cowboy," she said, her tone amused, a smile playing on her lips. "I can't afford an attorney and, honestly, have no desire to fight a legal battle. I'd much rather just find another job. Which is why I'm here."

He didn't know what to do with his phone. Settled for holding on to it. "But you already have two jobs."

"Yes," she said slowly as if he wasn't all there, "that's right. One job plus one job equals two jobs. Math's not your strong suit, is it?"

"He would have failed it freshman year," Kane said, feeling the need to put his two worthless cents in, "but our father stepped in. Donated a new gymnasium to the school and Junior here suddenly got a pa.s.sing grade."

"Junior," C.J. repeated, his jaw tight, "studied his a.s.s off for the final." The seventy-five he'd gotten had been enough to save his a.s.s. Though his father liked to take credit for it.

"I guess maybe adding isn't something those Texas schools focus on?" Ivy said. "To make it crystal clear, yes, I work two jobs and will hopefully be adding another to that. As soon as I find a third one."

"Why?" C.J. asked.

"Why what?"

"Why do you need a third job?"

"How else could I afford to buy all the pretty, sparkling things I love?" she asked.

Something wasn't adding up-and it wasn't because of his less-than-stellar math skills. "I gave you money. Fifty thousand dollars."

Had she spent it already?

"I remember the amount." Her shoulders stiff, her voice sharp, she glanced at Kane. "You really want to discuss how you paid me to take my pregnancy claims and get out of your life in front of your brother?"

He realized his mistake immediately, but it was too late.

Kane leaned back, a mean grin on his face. "Junior's a chip off the ol' block. That's for sure." He turned to Ivy. "If you still want the position, it's yours."

"She doesn't," C.J. ground out.