Sweet Heart (The Hearts of Sawyers Bend Book 2) Read online

  No, I wanted to shout. He’s never taken care of me. Grams took care of me and now the three of us have screwed her over.

  I didn't yell. Not just because it would draw Grams and J.T.'s attention. I didn't yell because this was all my fault and yelling at my mother wouldn't fix a thing. Her lower lip would start to tremble and her soft eyes would fill with tears.

  She wasn't manipulative. Not really. It had taken me a long time to understand that she truly believed my father would make everything right despite the fact that he almost never did.

  And honestly, who was the fool here? The woman who’d been happily married to him for over thirty years or the one who'd handed over her dreams and somehow expected this one time her dad wouldn't let her down?

  Yeah, I knew the answer to that question. Sheree had chosen her delusion and lived happily inside it. I'd stepped out of my comfort zone for mine and reality had torn it away.

  Still, I had a little hope. If Sheree was here, then my dad would probably show up eventually. I might go easy on my mom, but with my dad, I could take a more direct approach. There was always a chance he was going to come through.

  Later that night, J.T. and I lay in the double bed in my small apartment over the bakery, my head on his T-shirt-covered shoulder, his fingers in my hair, tugging at my curls.

  “What was up with you and your mom?” he asked. “She seemed extra squirrelly.”

  For just a second I was tempted to tell him everything, but I couldn't bring myself to admit how stupid I'd been, even to J.T.

  “Nothing, I was just annoyed that she wouldn't tell me where Dad was.”

  “I thought they were in Charlotte.”

  “Apparently not. Mom decided she wanted to winter in Florida.”

  J.T. laughed, the rumble familiar under my ear. “Why didn't we think of that?”

  “Right? Silly us working our asses off going to school and running a business when we could've been hanging out on the beach. Too bad we have all those bills to pay.”

  J.T. tugged a curl, drawing my eyes up to his. “You gonna tell me why you've been working so hard?”

  I rolled into him, wrapping my arm around his chest as I tried to think of an answer he'd accept. I had nothing, so I went with option two—a counterattack. “Are you going to tell me where you're staying when you don't come home during the week?”

  As expected, J.T. didn't answer. It hurt my heart that he didn't trust me enough to say. That after all these years he didn't know deep down that I loved him no matter what. I'd always loved him and I always would. There was nothing he could say or do that would change that. But I couldn't make him believe. I had to hope he’d tell me when he was ready.

  At a stalemate, J.T. changed the subject. He tugged another curl before he said, “You should go out with Royal.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I pulled away and rose up on my elbows. “Going out with Royal is the last thing I should do. First of all, he’s not serious. I don’t have time to waste on some guy who just wants to get laid.”

  “Getting laid wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, Daze. I've heard it's nice.”

  “Like you don't know,” I muttered under my breath.

  “I'm starting to think you don't remember. It's been so long I think you've got cobwebs in your vag.”

  I poked him in the ribs right in his tickle spot, and he flinched away, laughing. “I'll have you know my vag is in excellent shape. I'm just taking a break from sex.”

  “Is that what you're calling it? A break? When was the last time you slept with anyone who wasn't me?”

  I flopped on my back and stared at the ceiling. “I'm not going out with Royal,” I repeated.

  “Why not? Every single woman in town—and half the married ones—would kill for the chance to get a date with Royal Sawyer. He’ll ask you again. Why not just say yes? What harm could it do?”

  “He reminds me of my father,” I admitted, turning my head to look at J.T. He looked back at me in confusion.

  “What? How the hell does Royal remind you of your father?”

  “It's all that charm. I bet he flashes that smile and gets whatever he wants. I don't have time for a man like that. One in my life is more than enough.”

  J.T. stared up at me, his eyes sad and serious. “Daze, I love you. You're the best woman I know aside from Grams, but sister, you have got some issues. Every charming man is not your dad. And if you look at Royal and see Darren Hutchins, I don't even know where to start with how wrong you are.”

  “You're one to talk about issues,” I said lamely, feeling like we were thirteen again. “You don't even know Royal.”

  “I know he's not your father. And I know you should give him a chance. I also know you're not gonna listen because you're a stubborn bonehead.”

  I poked him in the ribs again, and when he was done giggling I settled back in, my head on his chest and my arm across his waist, the way we’d fallen asleep so many times over the years.

  “I'm not the only stubborn bonehead around here,” I murmured as I let my eyes slip shut.

  J.T. didn't answer, just trailed his fingertips up and down my arm, keeping his secrets and holding me close as we both fell asleep.

  Chapter Six

  royal

  So, we're agreed.” Tenn tapped his pen on the resume between us.

  I sat back, staring down at the cream linen page with the name Forrest Powell printed at the top. “I like him. He's got the experience, and he seems ready for a new challenge.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “The real question is do you like him? Are you sure you're okay with this?”

  Tenn dropped his pen on top of Forrest’s resume and sat back. “I told you I'm good with it. You've been restless for a while. I get why you didn't want to work with Dad. Fuck, Ford was the only one who could put up with him.”

  “Griffen is different. He's not Dad.”

  Tenn barked out a laugh. “No shit. For one thing, he's not a raging asshole. He did skip out on us for fifteen years—”

  “He didn’t exactly ‘skip out’ on us.”

  I’d never forget the sight of my oldest brother walking down the long drive from Heartstone Manor, a worn backpack slung over his shoulder. It was the last we’d seen of him until the day we buried our father.

  “I know Dad threw him out,” Tenn said with a jerk of his shoulder. “But he could have come back.”

  “Maybe we should have tried to stop him from going in the first place.”

  There was no maybe about it. We should have stopped it. It was easy to forget that I’d been only seventeen at the time, Tenn and Avery barely fifteen, and the others just children. Except Ford. He’d already been working with Griffen and our father.

  None of us had expected Ford to be the architect of Griffen’s exile. Growing up, they’d been closer than brothers. The idea that one would betray the other was unthinkable.

  Ford had done it. In one afternoon, Ford had gone from the second son to our father’s right-hand man, complete with his ring on the finger of Griffen’s fiancée. And Griffen had disappeared.

  “It’s ancient history,” Tenn said, “and there’s nothing we can do to change it. Griffen’s home now. If he’s willing to bring you into Sawyer Enterprises, you should do it. It’s what you want. Anyway, we’re better off with someone on the inside keeping an eye on him. Just in case he’s looting the company or running it into the ground.”

  “Griffen isn’t going to loot Sawyer Enterprises.” I shifted in my seat, not liking the idea of spying on Griffen.

  Tenn jerked his shoulder again and looked out the window. “You don’t know that. And we don’t really know him.”

  Tenn was right. We didn’t really know him. But Griffen had been more than fair to all of us since he’d been back. We didn’t have any reason to think he was up to no good.

&n
bsp; Tenn knew me better than anyone on earth. We’d taken over The Inn at Sawyers Bend as a team and had spent the last decade making it the thriving resort it was today. I’d loved every minute of it, but lately, I’d found myself looking for more, for something new. I just didn't want to lose a brother in the process.

  I should have known better. Tenn always had my back. “You'd have to pry me out of this place with a crowbar,” he said, “but that doesn't mean you have to stay here with me. I like your plan. We’ll hire this Forrest guy to take over for you, and you can split your time between The Inn and learning the ropes of Sawyer Enterprises with Griffen. If you like the way it's going we can always ease you out of The Inn completely if that's what you want. Or you can keep doing part-time on both. And if this guy doesn't work out, we’ll find somebody else.”

  “I'm planning on mornings at The Inn and afternoons with Griffen and Hope, but I may need more flexibility, depending.”

  Tenn waved his hand, dismissing the problem. “We'll work it out, man. Seriously, we have enough to worry about without you stressing over the schedule.”

  He wasn't wrong. “Did West have anything to say about cockroach guy?”

  “Nothing useful. It was exactly like the guy who shot at Griffen. He was paid, doesn't know who sent the money, yada yada.”

  Dumping cockroaches in our HVAC system was only the latest attempt at sabotage. So far, the problems had been more annoyance than catastrophes. Missing luggage, guest rooms broken into, room service orders diverted.

  A few hundred cockroaches set loose in The Inn? That was far more than an annoyance. We had to figure out who was behind it before things got any worse.

  A quick double-knock sounded on the door to my office. Tenn and I looked up to see our assistant hovering. This couldn't be good. Penny didn't hover. Penny threw problems at us like fastballs, usually followed by solutions of her own devising.

  I wasn't surprised when she said apologetically, “The front desk called. Your aunt Ophelia has a… Complaint.”

  Tenn and I shared a look. He called, “Tails,” pulling a quarter out of his pocket. I nodded in agreement. The quarter came up heads. Fuck. I guess that meant I was the lucky one who got to deal with Aunt Ophelia and our cousin, Bryce.

  “Sorry, man.” Tenn clapped me on the back with a grin. “We can table the rest of this until you get back.”

  Whatever it was, I was determined that it wouldn't take long. Ophelia and Bryce had been a time-suck since they'd shown up in Sawyers Bend fresh on the heels of my father's murder.

  It might have been a simple matter to get rid of them, but nothing about my father's death was simple. He'd changed his will constantly, so often that none of us bothered to keep up with his latest machinations. Still, we'd all been shocked as hell when the family lawyer had proclaimed my oldest brother Griffen the sole heir of everything.

  While he’d lived, my father had retained ownership of the various Sawyer businesses, The Inn at Sawyers Bend included. Tenn and I had been running the place for over a decade, but the company itself had been owned by our father. Despite our birth, Tenn and I were no more than salaried employees. That hadn't changed with our father’s death.

  No, that’s not right. Everything had changed when Prentice died.

  According to the terms of the will, my siblings and I had to move back into the family home, Heartstone Manor, and live there full-time for five years. If we did and Griffen was satisfied with our behavior, he’d release the contents of our trust funds at the end of the five years. Assuming there was anything left to release.

  The will gave Griffen complete control over every penny we might inherit.

  Griffen was as stuck as we were for the next five years. Only time would tell if he’d walk away at the end, free of his family, his pockets flush with the cash our father had left us.

  If we didn't follow the terms set out in the will, our cousin Bryce would inherit everything, and we’d all be out on our asses.

  It was an effective threat. Generations of Sawyers had made this corner of North Carolina their home, amassing vast wealth and standing in the community.

  Bryce would drain the coffers dry in less than a year.

  He was exactly the kind of asshole who’d buy a mega-yacht and a fleet of exotic cars. Who’d attract hangers-on and throw lavish parties until there wasn't a penny left.

  I don't think a single one of us felt any loyalty to our father. He sure as hell hadn't shown any to us. The town was a different matter.

  Sawyer Enterprises owned most of the real estate and businesses in the town of Sawyers Bend. If Bryce got his hands on the company, he’d take the town down with him. We weren’t going to let that happen.

  The family attorney claimed Bryce and Ophelia didn’t know the details of the will or what they stood to gain from it. I wasn’t sure I believed that. They’d missed the funeral but had shown up not long ago with a letter from our father, mailed days after his death, inviting them to move into Heartstone Manor. The letter didn’t explicitly promise them anything beyond a roof over their heads, but it implied there would be a reward for sticking around.

  For reasons no one understood, my father had let Heartstone Manor fall into a state of benign neglect over the last few years. While it made living there a pain in the ass until renovations were complete, it also gave us a solid excuse to keep Ophelia and Bryce from moving in. We’d stuck them in a suite at The Inn, deciding it was worth the cost if it meant they weren't at the breakfast table every morning.

  It had seemed like a simple solution. In reality, it had proven anything but.

  I left the elevator on the top floor and knocked on the door of their suite. Bryce swung it open and stood back, gesturing for me to enter. His mouth was twisted in a sulk, reminding me vividly of the toddler he'd been. If memory served, Bryce had two expressions in his arsenal, a smugly satisfied grin and an annoyed sulk. I’d take the sulk any day.

  Bryce didn't say a word, just closed the door behind me and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring, his lower lip pooched out in an almost feminine pout.

  He looked a lot like my younger siblings, Sterling and Braxton. Spun-gold hair and the Sawyer blue eyes, an athletic build and chiseled cheekbones. If Bryce had had any kind of work ethic he could have made a living as a model or a B-movie star.

  As it was, he was a professional mooch. Considering the designer labels on his back and his current circumstances, he was doing a good job at it.

  Aunt Ophelia fluttered into the room wrapped in a pink organza dressing gown even though it was close to noon, her frosted blonde hair in an elaborate twist and her makeup perfect. Diamonds winked at her ears and glittered on her fingers and wrists. She always had liked her diamonds.

  “Royal, darling,” she gushed, “I'm so glad you're here to straighten out this little mess.”

  “What can I do for you, Aunt Ophelia?” I asked, adding a flash of the grin that always seemed to work when I needed to get out of trouble.

  “You can tell your staff that we have an open tab. So far, they haven't given us any trouble about ordering in meals, but when I tried to order a bottle of champagne, they told me we hadn’t been approved for alcohol over a hundred dollars a day. And you must fire that girl working in the gift shop. She insisted we provide payment when I tried to pick up a few things. I thought this was a family company. We are family, aren't we?”

  “Of course, we’re family,” I assured her. “It didn't occur to me that you wouldn't know the company policy. No freebies. I'm afraid with a family as big as ours, that was the only sensible approach.”

  “I don't understand,” Ophelia said, her perfectly manicured hand fluttering to cover her chest.

  “I can see how you'd be confused,” I said smoothly, “considering that you're staying here for free. But given my father's invitation for you to reside at Heartstone Manor and the lack of
guest rooms there right now, it only seemed fair that we cover your room and board. But retail and the bar…” I gave a helpless shrug and another flash of my most persuasive smile. “It's not as if we have a bar or a gift shop at the Manor.”

  Considering some of the vintages available in the restaurant and bar as well as the designer gear we stocked in the gift shop, Ophelia could have run up thousands of dollars in room charges in minutes if we'd let her. I had no doubt that's exactly what she'd been planning to do.

  “So, you're just going to starve us out?” Bryce challenged. Ophelia liked to play the ditzy ingénue, but Bryce was more demanding in his entitlement.

  “I think I just specified that you wouldn't be starved. Room and board, as guaranteed by Prentice. The rest of your upkeep is on you.”

  I didn’t bother with charm for Bryce. I had a small reserve of patience for Aunt Ophelia. I suspected she was far more intelligent than she pretended to be—after all, she’d lived in luxury for decades without a day of work—but she was mostly harmless as long as it wasn’t your bank account she was draining dry. And she’d always been kind to me when I was a kid.

  Bryce, on the other hand, had been a little asshole.

  Not much had changed.

  Chapter Seven

  royal

  This is bullshit.” Bryce shoved his hands in his pockets and strode to the window, taking in the view of the gardens and the mountains beyond. “I don't see why you all should get everything, and we have to beg for scraps.”

  I took a deep breath, reminding myself that losing my temper wouldn't get me anywhere. My goal was to extract myself from the situation until the next time when, hopefully, Tenn would lose the coin toss and he’d have to deal with Bryce and Ophelia.

  “I know this has been explained to you,” I said dryly, “but let me try again. Technically, no one has inherited anything yet, except for Griffen. I don't own The Inn. I just work here. That's how I pay my bills. Actually, for the time being, I got the exact same thing from my father that you did. Room and board. If that's not enough I suggest you do what the rest of us have done and get a job.”