Lip Service

Izzy might be too self-absorbed to understand anyone else’s point of view, but she’d gotten one thing right. Skye did do what Daddy said. She was the good mother, the good sister, the good daughter. The good girl. Although if she had sex in the dirt with Mitch a second time, she just might be on her way to blowing her reputation.

And that would be okay with her.

“WHAT AN INTERESTING musical choice,” the congressman’s wife said, staring at the four college kids Skye had hired for the evening. “That kind of music is…”

“Hip-hop,” Skye told her. “I read about the group. They’re attending Texas A&M and supplementing their scholarships by performing. I went to hear them last month and was impressed.”

She’d dropped into a frat party to hear them, but the congressman’s wife wouldn’t want to know that. Three different guys had hit on Skye in the twenty minutes she’d been in the house. The fact that they were barely out of high school and completely drunk had pretty much diluted any possible compliment.

“Interesting,” the other woman said.

Skye was pretty sure she actually meant something more along the lines of “horrifying” but was too polite to say that. Skye didn’t care. She liked the guys and their music. She could go the rest of her life without hearing another tasteful quartet.

She excused herself to circulate. There were two hundred people to greet and make feel welcome. The evening seemed more stressful than usual, probably because of her fight with Izzy. She hated arguing with either of her sisters. With their mother gone and Jed being, well, Jed, they only had one another to depend on.

They would talk later, she promised herself. Make things right.

“So far, so good,” Jed said as he moved past her.

Skye shook her head. She knew what her father implied—that things were fine now, but the evening wasn’t over. There could still be a disaster.

“Have you noticed that every party I’ve given has been perfect?” she muttered.

“I’m not sure talking to yourself gives a good first impression.”

Skye turned toward the speaker and saw T.J. next to her. “Maybe not, but it ensures I have plenty of personal space. How are you? If you’re looking for Izzy, this isn’t her thing. Or is talking to me going to work, too?”

T.J. winced. “So you did hear.”

“News travels fast. Titanville is a small town.”

“And the doors at Glory’s Gate need to be thicker.” He put his hand on her back and guided her to a corner. “I’m sorry. I doubt me saying that makes a difference, but I really am. I was making a point with your father.”

He sounded sincere, which meant exactly nothing. “The point being?”

“That when he says jump, I’m not going to ask how high. You’re beautiful, Skye. I hope you believe me because I’m telling the truth. You’re lovely and intriguing and if I had let Jed know I was the least bit interested in you, he’d have all the power. I can’t give that away.”

Words she could understand. But could she trust them? Or him? “Not to worry, T.J. We’re fine.”

One eyebrow lifted. “But you’re dismissing me?”

“I’m letting you off the hook.”

“We could have dinner together instead. Or have I blown it with you? The fact that your father’s pushing us to be together isn’t my fault.”

She smiled. “I know that. Not dating you because my father would like it is the same as dating someone he wouldn’t like just to annoy him.”

“Now I’m confused.”

“I don’t know you well enough to have an opinion of you.”

“Let’s change that.”

His eyes were deep blue and he wore his custom suit with style and ease. He should have been everything she ever wanted.

“Did you come on to Izzy?” she asked.

His gaze never wavered. “We talked last night. Mostly about how she wanted to kick my ass for what I’d said. Did I mention I was sorry?”

“More than once. But you also didn’t answer the question. Did you come on to my sister?”

“It’s a trick question. If I say yes, I’m a jerk. If I say no, you’ll think I don’t like her.”

She smiled. “Maybe.”

He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “You’re the one I’m asking out, Skye. Say yes.”

He didn’t make her heart beat faster, but that wasn’t a bad thing. It meant he would probably never break it.

“Please?” he murmured.

She hesitated, then nodded. “Dinner would be nice.”

MITCH PULLED the sock over his stump, only to wince as the soft fabric came into contact with the raw and bleeding flesh. He’d been doing too much, too soon, and he was paying the price. His therapist had warned him about pacing himself, not that Mitch had listened.

Ignoring the pain shooting through his leg, he eased it into the prosthesis, then tentatively pushed into a standing position. While it hurt, the soreness was bearable. As the alternative was crutches and an empty pant leg, he told himself he was fine.

He left the makeshift bedroom and walked into the kitchen. He wasn’t hungry, but knew if he didn’t make an appearance, Fidela would come looking for him. He’d escaped her last night by turning out the lights in his room, guessing she would think he was asleep. But that wasn’t going to work for long. Fidela was stubborn and wily. He would rather face her directly. Besides, she was a whole lot easier than the dark.

When it was dark, the past returned, haunting him like a ghost. He remembered what it had been like to be in love with Skye. How happy they’d been. He remembered his pain and disbelief when she’d told him it was over.

In the dark, he remembered the explosion and how Pete had saved him, dragging him, not even slowing when he’d gotten shot himself. Pete had recovered in a couple of weeks and was already back in Afghanistan. Mitch knew the loss of his leg was just one of those things and the sooner he got over it, the sooner the dark would lose its power.

He stepped into the bright, sunny kitchen. Fidela stood at the counter, mixing something in a bowl.

“Morning,” he said, then frowned when he saw a young girl sitting at the table. “Who are you?”

She had red hair and big blue eyes. She looked familiar even though he knew he’d never seen her before. Her spoon dropped into her cereal as she sprang to her feet and beamed at him.

“You’re here! You’re really here. Fiddle said you were coming home and I’ve been waiting forever.” She moved close and reached out a hand, touching his arm as if to make sure he was real. “I’ve been hoping and praying. Fiddle and I prayed for you every day. And I talked about you in school and we sent cards to the soldiers. Did you get mine? I put your name on the envelope. It was pink. I know that’s a girl color, but it’s pretty. And you’re a hero and I thought you’d like something pretty and Fiddle said you’d come home and you’re here!”

“Who the…” He caught himself. “Who are you?”

She grinned. “I’m Erin. Fiddle and Arturo missed you so much. Arturo didn’t say anything, but I could tell. He was sad in his eyes. And Fiddle talked about you all the time, so it’s like I knew you and then I missed you, too. Are you hungry? Fiddle’s making pancakes. I really wanted some, but I waited for you because you’re back and it’s polite. So do you want pancakes?”

Fidela wiped her hands on a towel. “Good morning,” she said, moving behind the girl and putting her hands on Erin’s shoulders. “This is Erin.”

“I told him that,” the girl said happily as she smiled at him.