She was used to her mother’s disregard, but recently, the distance between them was growing painful. They should have been bonding over the wedding, but Jacquelyn was more detached than ever.
Brittney had never felt a connection to the woman. There had never been the least maternal spark to make it seem as if they were related.
They didn’t even look alike. Jacquelyn was very thin, almost dangerously so, but it was the only trait they shared. They had no similar features. Jacquelyn’s face was bleak angles and sharp lines, while Brittney’s was more rounded and soft. Her mother had the same dark hair and blue eyes that Brittney’s father had had, that her brothers had.
Brittney—with her golden blond hair and green eyes—was so different in appearance, size, and stature from the rest of the Merriweathers that she’d often jokingly wondered if she hadn’t been switched at birth.
“I’m serious, Mother. I’m flying to New York as soon as I can get a reservation.”
Her firm assertion garnered her mother’s attention. Jacquelyn ripped off her reading glasses and glared at Brittney.
“How do you intend to have everything ready by July?”
“I’ll finalize it in New York. I’ve heard they have phones and internet there. I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Don’t be smart.”
“I’m not being smart. I’m simply telling you that I’ve had enough.”
“What is wrong with you?” Jacquelyn snapped. “Isn’t it sufficient that you’ve insisted on having a rushed ceremony? Why must you make the preparations even more difficult?”
“I thought we could plan the wedding together—like a mother and daughter should—but it’s impossible. I’ll handle it on my own. You need to return to Santa Fe.”
“I most certainly will not,” her mother huffed. “I have appointments scheduled all day.”
“Cancel them.”
“No. We have to pick the florist.”
As if Brittney hadn’t spoken, her mother went back to reading her papers and jotting down notes.
Brittney studied her, and suddenly, she was consumed by the most powerful wave of animosity. She had never understood her mother and really didn’t like her very much. But she hadn’t realized that she harbored such potent hostility.
That old and shameful memory swamped her again, of being five years old and waiting so pathetically to be noticed. She kept banging her head on the Merriweather wall, wanting to feel that someone—anyone!—was glad to be related to her.
She was so alone and always had been. As a girl, she’d moved around like a military brat, sent to a different school every semester, so she’d developed no long-term friendships. College had been no better. She’d been wary of other students and suspicious of unexpected overtures.
Whenever her wealth and status became known, people glommed onto her for all the wrong reasons. She was the worst judge of character, unable to decide whose interest was sincere and whose was fueled by what that person could gain from an acquaintance.
She’d mentioned to Matt Monroe that inappropriate men, with bad motives, occasionally threw themselves into her path, and she hadn’t been lying. After she’d first started living on her own as a young adult, her father had paid off two unsavory boyfriends to make them go away.
Yet here she was, desperate to be liked and accepted, bending over backward to please her mother, pretending Jacquelyn could behave normally. But Jacquelyn’s antipathy was too ingrained.
Brittney’s fury waned, and it was replaced by an overwhelming sadness.
Why am I getting married?
The question rang through her mind again.
Why proceed with a wedding where she wasn’t allowed to arrange the type of event she desired? Why proceed when her brothers would never attend?
Jacquelyn had been adamant that she wouldn’t socialize with Dustin’s and Lucas’s wives. If Brittney insisted on inviting her brothers,
they
would insist on bringing Amy and Faith, and Jacquelyn would have a fit.
Brittney didn’t want her life to be like this.
She wanted to know her brothers. She wanted to meet their new families and be part of what they were building with those they loved. What she
didn’t
want was to be trapped in this room with her caustic, insensitive mother who seemed to loathe Brittney.
“You can hire a thousand florists,” Brittney quietly said, “but I won’t use any of them.”
Brittney had finally managed to ignite Jacquelyn’s notorious temper. Her mother whipped around. “Honestly, Brittney, you’re acting like a baby, and I’ve had enough of your antics.”
“I’m going to New York. Andrew and I will figure something out. Maybe we’ll elope. I’m thinking that would be easier.”
“Elope!” Jacquelyn gasped. “Like a…common person? Don’t be stupid.”
Footsteps sounded, and Brittney glanced over as Matt Monroe entered. After the way he’d enraged her the previous afternoon, she’d thought she never wanted to see him again. But just then, with her being crushed under the weight of all that was wrong in her world, she felt as if her hero had arrived.
He must have heard the awful exchange with her mother, and she blushed. She was embarrassed that he’d been privy to another private quarrel.
“Excuse me,” he said to Jacquelyn, “but I have to speak with Ms. Merriweather.”
“What is it?” Brittney inquired.
“I’d like to ask you a question.”
“She’s busy,” her mother curtly informed him. “You can talk to her later.”
“I’m afraid it has to be now,” he sternly replied, his tone brooking no argument.
He glared at Jacquelyn, his forbidding expression vividly telling her that he didn’t like her and wouldn’t put up with her. It was clear that he was rescuing Brittney from Jacquelyn’s barbed tongue, and to Brittney’s stunned surprise, Jacquelyn was cowed into submission.
Matt gestured to the hall, and Brittney rose and followed him out.
She’d assumed he would halt outside the door, but he kept on to the back of the house, stopping in the mudroom.
“What did you need?” she asked.
“Nothing. I just had to drag you out of there.”
“You overheard?”
“Yes, and while I’m here, she’s not treating you like that.”
Brittney had never had a champion before, and she was incredibly flattered.
“I’m used to it,” she claimed.
“I’m not, and it’s not happening while I’m around to prevent it.”
Brittney sighed, feeling trapped between him and her mother. They were both so strong-willed. Why was she—Brittney—the only one who couldn’t stand up for herself?
She hated discord and liked everyone to get along; she’d always been that way.
“You’ll make things worse for me,” she said.
“How could they be worse?”
“I’ve known my mother a long time. If you call her out on her behavior, she becomes more entrenched. You can’t win against her.”
At least I can’t,
Brittney thought.
“Your mother is a bully,” he baldly stated, “and she deserved a good smack-down.”
Was Jacquelyn a bully? Was the term accurate? Now that Matt had given a name to the conduct, it certainly seemed to fit.
“So she’s a bully,” Brittney agreed. “Do you think you can whip her into shape for me?”
“No, but when I’m with you, she’s simply going to shut the hell up. Aren’t you sick of listening to her?”
“Well…yes.”
“I’ve only been hanging around for three days, and I’ve had her up to my eyeballs.”
He opened the door. It was another beautiful spring morning in Denver, the sky so blue, the temperatures balmy. His red Mustang was parked in the driveway.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“And go where?”
“Wherever you want. We’ll just drive.”
“I don’t know if I should. I need to make reservations to fly to New York.”
He grinned his wicked grin. “Are you antsy for your dearest Andrew?”
He had a knack for rattling her, for igniting her temper, so she almost replied with a caustic retort, but didn’t.
“I’d like to leave Denver, and New York seemed the best direction.”
“Is that where you live?”
“No.”
“Where
do
you live?”
“Nowhere, really.”
“What? You don’t have any roots? You just travel from place to place?”
“Pretty much. I land myself in a nice spot, and I stay until I’m tired of it.”
“But then you don’t ever belong anywhere.”
“No, you don’t,” she confessed, oddly shamed by the admission.
He scowled. “That’s the saddest thing I ever heard.”
He studied her, a thousand emotions crossing his handsome face, then he clasped her wrist and led her outside. She could have protested, but instead, she trotted after him like a puppet on a string.
“We’re heading up into the high country,” he told her.
“When will we be back?”
“Maybe tonight.” He shrugged. “Maybe never. We’ll see how it goes.”
He stopped at his car and opened the passenger door. He held it for her, and they both paused, perched on the edge of something more than a ride to pass the time.
Brittney gazed up at him, then over at the house that offered only a boring, spiteful day with her mother. He was smiling, full of mischief and determined to provide her with an adventure.
Given the two choices—him or her mother—it was a simple decision.
“Can I get my purse?”
“Already got it for you.” He pointed to the floorboard. “I snagged it out of your bedroom a bit ago.”
“Why were you in my bedroom?”
“I’m a petty thief,” he mockingly retorted. “Why do you think?”
“I don’t want you in there touching my stuff.”
“Hey, when your mother started in on you, I had to get you out of there. I’m not letting you go inside where you can dick around and change your mind. I grabbed your purse for you. Sue me.”
“Why were you so sure you could convince me to play hooky, Monroe?”
“You’re easy. Manipulating you is a piece of cake.”
He pushed her into the car, went to the driver’s seat, and they raced away.
CHAPTER FOUR
“We’re going over there.”
“We are not.”
“We’re going—if I have to toss you over my shoulder and carry you in like a bag of flour.”
Matt glared at Brittney, figuring he could gain her compliance with a bossy attitude and his larger size.
He’d never met a woman who was so willing to do what she was told—except maybe for Ken’s daughter, Emily. She’d always wanted everybody to be happy and get along.
Ken had shared many horror stories about Brittney’s parents, so Matt had a fairly good idea of what her childhood must have been like.
Early on, she’d have learned to appease her tormentors, to smile during any unpleasantness. For someone so rich and sophisticated, she was too dang nice, incapable of sticking up for herself, speaking her mind, or fighting back. So he could definitely teach her a few life lessons. She was lucky they’d crossed paths; she’d be a much tougher person when he was through with her.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she complained.
“You look fine.”
“I’m in shorts and a tank top, and it’s snowing outside.”
“Sleeting.”
“Same difference.”
Down in Denver, the temperature had been appropriate for the shorts she had on. But he’d whisked her away without a thought as to what the weather would be like in the high country where winter was never completely over. It was cold and blustery with just enough snow spitting on the roads to make them treacherous.
They’d spent several companionable hours, driving up into the Rockies. She’d been amazed by the scenery, had enjoyed the narrow highways that took them up into central Colorado.
She’d been skiing in Aspen before, but had flown in and out on jets, so she’d never had the pleasure of the slow, spectacular trip, of oohing and aahing over the views.
The scenery had lulled her into complacency, so she hadn’t realized he was heading for the town of Gold Creek where her two brothers had gathered to celebrate Dustin Merriweather’s wedding.
As they’d passed the sign for the town, as he’d turned into the narrow canyon that led up to it, she was fuming.
“You tricked me,” she’d correctly charged.
“Sure did.”
“Get us out of here. Right now!” she’d demanded in that haughty manner she had, but he’d ignored her and kept on.
Gold Creek was nestled in a rocky valley, and humans had tried their best to tame the wild geography. Old buildings clung to the sides of the ravine. Old houses were precariously balanced on the steep slopes of the jagged hills.
The mines that had once generated economic prosperity, and that had provided the basis of the Merriweather’s fortune, had been shut down for ages. Yet the family still owned most of the community. The area was too rugged for skiing and too stark for tourism, so it had sat—untended and unimproved—for decades.
It was a sad, rundown place, but he’d managed to stumble on a classy bed and breakfast located on the main street. It had been remodeled to resemble the prior century of gamblers, gunslingers, and prospectors.
It was the only hotel and—to Matt’s delight—it had had only one room available. They’d taken it, with Brittney protesting every step of the way.
“I’m not staying here,” she fussed. “I want to head back to Denver.”
He glanced out the window, thrilled to see that the lousy weather continued to cooperate. “We couldn’t go even if I’d agree.”
“I hate you!” She went over to the bed and flopped down, an arm flung dramatically over her eyes.
They’d missed the wedding ceremony, but he’d phoned the front desk to ask what else might be happening. Dustin’s bride, Amy Dane, had grown up in Gold Creek, so everyone knew the details.
There was to be a wedding supper at the family’s gaudy, neglected mansion at the top of the hill. It was a casual affair, with kids and neighbors invited, so it was the perfect environment for Brittney to make an entrance without a lot of stress.
“If you won’t go with me,” he taunted, “I’ll go by myself, and I’ll tell them you’re here, but you’re too bitchy to join them.”