You Were Meant For Me Page 2

  “What is it you think you could’ve done that Ethan didn’t already do?” Liam asked. “Do you blame him for what happened to her?”

  “No.” Mitch wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that if he’d been home his sister never would have been taken in the first place or that she’d have been found any faster. Ethan had taken a bullet for her. It was hard to think that while they’d both been suffering, he’d been with Anna. Cheerfully oblivious.

  “Then what is your deal?” Judd demanded.

  If they’d told him, if he’d come home on his normal schedule, he never would have met Anna, and he wouldn’t have this damned crater in his heart. Because the Bard was a hundred percent wrong. Loving and losing sucked ass.

  “I don’t appreciate being cut out.” How could she have just left?

  “Are you seriously going to be a drama queen about this? Because the decision wasn’t about you,” Judd said.

  Not talking about Anna. Pull your head out of your ass.

  “I know. Intellectually, I get that. But all of you were here, you went through it, and you processed it. I’m just still working my way through all of that. I’m her brother. I’ve spent my whole life protecting her. I can’t just shake it off.” The sense of failure was too great.

  Liam nudged him with an elbow. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know that, too. I’ll get past it.” And he knew he would get past the complicated snarl of emotional shit with his sister, at least. “I’m just…not feeling like any of the things I cared about before matter anymore, and I don’t want to just go through the motions.”

  His friends were silent for a long moment, watching him. Mitch wondered what they saw. Did they really buy that this was all about Miranda?

  Judd blew out a breath. “Okay then. Take the time.”

  “We’re here if you need us.”

  A little of the pressure to perform, to rise to expectations, slid off Mitch’s shoulders. He let the corner of his mouth curve. “Are we done with the touchy feely shit now? Because I really just want to finish my pie.”

  Chapter 2

  “We’re so glad you’re here!” Sandy wrapped Tess in a warm hug.

  After a long moment, Tess lifted her own arms to awkwardly return the embrace. A part of her wanted to be reserved, out of loyalty to her mother. She didn’t know what to do with this open affection from a woman she barely knew. But her mom and her grandmother had instilled manners, no matter what. “Thank you for having me.”

  As Sandy stepped back, she seemed to flow toward Tess’s father and he toward her, until they were linked, arms around each other’s waist. A unit. The gesture was so natural, so seemingly in sync. She’d never seen her parents act like that. It was disconcerting and set up some kind of ache inside, as if her inner child was finally having to let go of the idea that they’d ever be a real family again. Which was ridiculous. Her parents had been divorced for more than a decade.

  “Almost everybody’s here,” Sandy said. “My niece, Miranda, and her boyfriend, Ethan, couldn’t make it. And my nephew is running late, but everyone else is out back. They’re so excited to meet you.”

  Tess couldn’t claim the same level of enthusiasm, but more than a fair chunk of that was the jet lag. She forced a tired smile. “Then let’s get to introductions.”

  The moment they stepped out onto the wide back patio, her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, there are so many of you.”

  They laughed and a petite brunette stepped forward, beaming. “It’s a little overwhelming at first, but I promise we’re all housebroken. I’m Norah Crawford, Sandy’s daughter-in-law.”

  Norah Crawford, formerly Burke, the city planner who’d convinced her father to invest in Wishful in the first place. A woman Tess knew he considered something of a second daughter. Uncertain exactly how she felt about that, Tess extended her hand, taking the other woman’s measure. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Norah shook, her grasp warm as she covered it with her free hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She looped her arm through Tess’s and began the introductions, starting with a lanky man, whose thick blond hair was about two weeks past needing a cut. “This is my husband, Cam.”

  “Sandy’s son, the city councilman and owner of the nursery,” Tess reeled off.

  Cam stepped forward and grinned. “And I guess technically your step-brother now.”

  For a moment, Tess could only stare. Not only because the idea of acquiring a step-brother when she was twenty-six seemed ludicrous, but because something in his smile, in the shape of his hazel eyes was shockingly familiar. For two heartbeats, three, she was back in Scotland seeing a different smile, hearing a different laugh. And that just twisted the knife in the ache that hadn’t faded over these past weeks.

  Tess blinked and realized she’d been staring a bit too long. Offering a rueful smile, she took Cam’s extended hand. “Sorry. It’s coming on midnight according to my body clock. I’m a little muzzy headed.”

  “We’ll get this show on the road so you can eat and get some rest,” Sandy promised. “Trey, why don’t you go ahead and put the steaks on?”

  “You got it.” Her father disappeared into the kitchen. The kitchen. He was going to actually grill? And Trey. That was another change she hadn’t gotten used to. But Tess realized the nickname suited him more than the formality of Gerald ever had, especially in this more relaxed setting.

  Norah’s voice pulled her back to the introductions and a studious looking guy in horn rim glasses, who leaned, hip-to-hip, with another brunette. Was everybody in this family paired off? The idea of it made her feel even more alone and isolated than she already had.

  “This is Reed—he’d be the youngest Campbell. And this is his fiancée, Cecily Dixon.”

  Tess shook more hands as she flipped through the mental notes from the descriptions her father had tried to give on the hour-long drive from Lawley—at least the ones before she’d pleaded mental fatigue after the fifth name. In typical Peyton fashion, the only part that had stuck were the business details. “Inglenook Books and Whistlestop Marketing.” They nodded. Cecily, Tess remembered, had been Norah’s intern in Chicago and followed her down south to relocate, despite her blue-blooded roots in Greenwich.

  “This is Jimmy and Anita, Reed’s parents. Jimmy is Sandy’s middle brother,” Norah explained. “And this is Pete, her oldest brother, and his wife Liz.”

  Tess endured more handshakes and friendly greetings and names that more or less flew right back out of the sieve that was her brain.

  “And this is Helen, but everybody calls her Grammy.”

  The silver-haired sprite, who was the only one present shorter than Norah, stepped forward to wrap Tess in an affectionate squeeze, as if they’d known each other forever and she was just one of the kids. “Welcome, young lady. I’m delighted to have another grandchild to spoil.”

  Tess faltered. “I…thank you.”

  How could these people be so open and accepting of a total stranger? Were they really granting her full status in the family just because her dad had married in? The Peyton family certainly didn’t operate that way. Tess couldn’t imagine Grandmother Peyton doing such a thing without a full check of pedigree.

  “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

  “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Wine?” Cam asked.

  “Actually, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, coffee. If I don’t get some caffeine, I’m not sure I’ll make it through dinner.”

  “On it.”

  The group broke into some form of controlled chaos, everybody pitching in to do something to ready the meal.

  Exhaustion nipped at Tess with insistent puppy teeth, the strain of having to be “on” for a while longer making her almost want to weep. She just needed a few minutes to herself away from everybody to collect her thoughts and reset. “Which way is the restroom?”

  One of the other women—Liz maybe?—directed her back into the house and down the hall.

&nbs
p; In the powder room, Tess dropped the lid of the toilet and sat, expelling a breath. She could do this. She could get through the next hour or so, make conversation, and not pass out in her plate. She could get through it without obsessing about him. But even as she thought it, echoes of his smile, his laugh, mocked her, and the reflection in the mirror showed her the truth she’d been trying to deny. She regretted walking away.

  For half a minute, she let herself dream. Maybe she could track him down. She had wealth on her side. She could hire a private detective. Surely with a list of the places they’d stayed as they toured the Highlands, someone could find out who he really was. The innkeepers and hoteliers would’ve kept record of his passport. Hell, she could probably get that information herself without the detective. But then what? She’d snuck out of their bed in the dead of night, leaving nothing but a paltry note that didn’t begin to convey what their time together had meant to her. Because they’d agreed to no strings. He hadn’t signed on for more. So she’d left before she’d embarrassed herself by making foolish, heartfelt confessions. Before she had to watch his expression go from affection to apology—or worse, pity.

  For the love of God, it’s over. You ended it. You’re never seeing him again. Let it go.

  Impatient with herself, Tess rose and washed her hands.

  This. This was why she never deviated from the plan. Because the first time she did, she fell more than halfway in love with a complete stranger.

  Except he’d never felt like a stranger. From that first moment she’d seen him in the pub, he’d been familiar. Like an old friend her heart had simply been waiting to see again.

  Someday this ache of loss would fade. Tess had to believe that. She’d chalk the whole thing up to a life lesson proving she simply wasn’t wired for casual affairs.

  Everybody was back outside. She could hear the hum of conversation through the open patio doors. Then someone laughed, and she froze, reaching for her necklace as the sound rolled over her, warming her, like a shot of honeyed whiskey.

  For a few wild beats of her heart, hope flared in her chest. But she squashed it just as fast. There was no rational, reasonable way he could be here.

  You are hallucinating from jet lag.

  Shaking off the sensation, Tess stepped onto the patio, registering that someone else had arrived. The air began to back up in her lungs even as broad shoulders and a blond head turned in her direction and familiar, beloved hazel eyes met hers.

  Mitch’s heart simply stopped. Because Anna—his Anna—was standing in the doorway, looking pale with fatigue and maybe a little shock.

  Impossible. How could she have found him? This had to be some kind of waking dream. He hadn’t been sleeping for shit since he got home.

  The vision opened her mouth and took a single step toward him before her body jerked and she pitched forward on a yelp. Mitch didn’t think. He simply leapt, scooping her up before she could tumble to the flagstones. Her body—the long, slim lines of it, settled against his, warm and real.

  Not a dream. She was really, truly here.

  His heart exploded with fireworks and angel song and all the other ridiculous expressions of joy he’d heard people talk about and considered hyperbole. He didn’t know how she was here and didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that she was here, and he wasn’t letting this second chance pass them by.

  Her hands, those perfectly-manicured hands that had explored every inch of his body, pressed against his chest. A flush crawled across her cheeks and those gorgeous brown eyes dilated as she stared up at him, breathless. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he realized it was twisted in pain. Mitch clutched her tighter. “You okay?”

  “I—Jet lag and heels don’t mix. I think I twisted my ankle.”

  Mitch tore his gaze away long enough to see what she’d tripped over. “Actually, looks like it was the sliding door track.”

  “Oh.” She was shaking, a plea in her eyes. For what? Did she think he wouldn’t forgive her for slipping out on him? Was she worried about her reception? Give him five minutes—or five hours—without an audience and he’d allay those fears.

  The noise of the family all talking over each other was a roar in his ears. He didn’t register much until Trey appeared at his shoulder.

  “Tess, baby, are you okay?”

  A flash of…something crossed her face. For anybody just glancing, they might have taken it as a wince. “I’ll be fine, Dad.”

  Dad? Tess?

  “Mitch, go set Tess down on the sofa. I’ll get some ice,” Aunt Sandy ordered.

  Tess. As in Trey’s daughter, Tess. The one this whole dinner was for.

  Holy. Shit.

  Apparently no last names had also meant no real name for her at all. As he absorbed that, Mitch registered something else. She hadn’t expected to see him. She was here to visit her father. Which meant…she wasn’t here for him at all. Suddenly the plea made sense. She didn’t want to reveal they knew each other.

  Mitch sucked in a breath, riding the wave of disappointment. Well, that was fine. He wasn’t keen on explaining how he’d been intimate with the only daughter of his very protective, very connected new uncle. Shit. If Trey found out, Mitch might end up in a body bag, family or not.

  On autopilot, he moved into the living room, his brain cycling through every moment he’d spent with this woman, analyzing and questioning everything he’d believed for the last month and change. What else hadn’t been real?

  Mitch settled Anna—shit—Tess on the sofa. Though her face had gone carefully neutral, she skimmed a hand over his arm as he pulled away. Gooseflesh rippled along his skin in its wake. He cut a glance at her, absorbing the apology of her touch and nodding once. They sure as hell needed to talk, but he’d table his assumptions and the temper that had snapped to a simmer until he had answers.

  “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He gently slipped off the heels. She hadn’t worn power heels during their week together. “Which foot?”

  “Left. Thanks. I’m sure playing doctor isn’t quite the meeting you imagined.”

  Well damn if that thought didn’t shoot straight to his groin. Mitch shifted to hide the erection and picked up her foot. He didn’t miss the faint shiver that ran up her leg at his touch. At least she was still affected by him. “Not so much, no.” As he probed the ankle, he figured two could play at this game of crosstalk. “So you mentioned jet lag. Where are you flying in from?”

  “London. I’ve been over there the past five months.”

  “She’s been managing some of our European concerns,” Trey explained. “And doing a helluva job.” Pride dripped in his tone. “She was a fifth year MBA from Yale.”

  Tess jerked a shoulder, looking uncomfortable. At the reveal of something real about her? Or was it something else?

  “Get a chance to travel much while you were over there?”

  Her gaze came back to his. “Not a lot. There wasn’t much time to play.”

  Is that what he’d been? Just a diversion?

  Mitch rotated her foot. “Does this hurt?”

  “Only a little.”

  That made one of them.

  “Probably not sprained, then.” He accepted the ice pack from his aunt and draped it over Tess’s ankle, holding it in place on his knee because, fool that he was, he needed to touch her, to maintain whatever tenuous thread of connection they had.

  Norah came in with a tray of coffee stuff. “Better late than never. How do you take it?”

  “Cream, no sugar.” The answer tripped off Mitch’s tongue before he could stop it. Crap.

  Tess shot him a facsimile of her real smile. “Good guess.”

  “Cream, no sugar, it is then.” Norah fixed the coffee and passed over the heavy stoneware mug, along with a couple of painkillers.

  “Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be fine with just a little ice.”

  Norah smiled and tugged at Mitch’s arm. “Why don’t you take a few minutes to absorb everything? The Campbel
l clan is a lot to take in all in one fell swoop, even when you’re not exhausted. We’ll get you when dinner is ready.”

  He didn’t see any choice. There was no reason he could give them why he ought to stay with her, and the family would sure as shit frown at him flirting in his usual fashion. He stood to shift Tess’s foot, dislodging the ice pack. They both lunged for it and Tess’s hand ended up over his. For just a moment, Mitch closed his eyes, absorbing the feel of it. How many nights had he lain awake dreaming of just this?

  She squeezed gently. “Would you mind keeping me company? If someone doesn’t keep talking to me, I’m going to pass out, and then you won’t be able to wake me for dinner.”

  They could hardly have the conversation they needed to have here. Not with the endless parade of his family. But he’d take any excuse he could to be near her. “Sure.”

  Because Mitch didn’t trust himself not to give their connection away, he settled her foot on a pillow and took the next chair. A hundred questions clogged his throat, creating a logjam in the suddenly awkward silence between them. Not once had they been awkward together in Scotland. Behind them, various family members went in and out of the kitchen. He’d never really had cause before to hate that there were so damned many of them.

  “So, what does a fifth year MBA from Yale do for fun? Hiking? Go to the theater? Sing karaoke?” Pick up random men for a week long affair?

  Trey caught the tail end of the question and laughed. “Tess do karaoke? That’ll be the day.”

  It certainly was.

  Her expression was totally neutral, but he could see the discomfort beneath. “It wouldn’t be my go to, no. Karaoke isn’t what you call dignified, and a Peyton must always be dignified.”

  “So your grandmother always says,” Trey agreed.

  “That doesn’t sound like much fun,” Mitch observed.

  “We have to be careful with our fun, lest it wind up in the media and reflect poorly on the company,” Tess intoned.