Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (53 page)

After the meetings ended for the day, Savannah and Mac went down to the production floor. Several of the employees greeted Mac by name, pausing to talk to him from time to time. He kept the conversations brief, and mostly work related, but a few personal topics snuck in.

“You seem to know an awful lot about the employees,” she said as they headed for the staircase doors, and then up the stairs toward the fifth floor. “You asked Jeremy about his new puppy and even looked at Betty's latest grandchild photos.”

Mac shrugged. “What can I say? You rubbed off on me a little.”

“I did? But I thought you said that wasting time talking to the employees was a waste of resources and money.”

He stopped on the landing and looked over at her. “I did. But then I realized I was a little envious.”

“Envious? Of what?”

“These employees love you, like you're part of their family. I didn't realize how much I missed feeling that way until I saw it here.”

“You used to feel that way? At your company?”

“No,” he said softly. “When I worked at the car lot. Charlie and his son treated me like one of their own. They were like my extended family.”

“But you bought that lot, sold it off.”

“Because Charlie wanted to retire and his son didn't want to run the business. Charlie was about as good with his retirement planning as he was with bookkeeping and other business tasks, so when I bought it from him, it gave him a nice sum to start his golden years.” Mac shrugged. “I thought he'd be happy, and he was, for a long time. But then he called me one day and said he missed the old lot. Missed being able to go there and see his customers. He was too old to go back to work, but he wanted a purpose.”

“So you bought it back.” All the things she'd read in her research on him began to make sense. She could see now why he had bought back one company and sold the others. The car lot had meaning, and was a tie to people he cared about. Maybe, like the car lot, Hillstrand Solar meant more to Mac Barlow than even he realized. Maybe it had that personal connection that he tried so hard to avoid.

“I did buy the lot back,” Mac said. “And hired a friend of mine from high school to run it. He lets Charlie come in and putter away, talk to the customers, sell a car or two, all he wants. Charlie's happy, just busy enough to give his days meaning, and the car lot goes on, bringing someone else a little money.”

“That was a good thing to do, Mac.”

“It's something I don't do enough of.” He shook his head. “Not nearly enough.”

“Well, maybe once you get back to Boston, you can do things differently.” Though just thinking about him leaving and being hundreds of miles away made her heart ache. Every time she thought she had Mac Barlow figured out, he added a new dimension, a new question. What he'd done for Charlie with his car lot...

That spoke of a man with a heart. A man who had relationships and maintained them. Not the cold, callous businessman he kept pretending he was.

She put a hand on his arm. “I think that was a really nice thing for you to do, Mac. And I'm glad you found a little of that here at Hillstrand Solar.”

He gave her a bittersweet smile. “I'm going to miss this place.”

This place.
Not miss her. The words stung so much that she had to look away for a second. Every time she thought she had him figured out, he changed the equation. “I should probably go,” she said, because it was easier to leave then ask the questions in her heart. “It's late and I have some work I want to get done before I go to sleep.”

A moment later, she left. The briefcase beside her was full of reports and tasks, and for a second she debated leaving it all behind and heading to the beach house. But in the end, Savannah did what she had promised her father she would do, and went home to keep working. And pretend she wasn't in love with Mac Barlow.

Chapter Twelve

T
he three Barlow boys stood in the front parlor of the Barlow family home, dressed in shirts and ties and khakis, looking as nervous and uncomfortable as they had when they were kids and their mother dressed them up for Easter church services. Bobby sat on the sofa, a little pale and about as relaxed as a steel rod. Della stood in the doorway, worrying her hands in her apron.

The doorbell rang. Mac started to head into the hall to answer it, when Bobby waved him off. “I'll get it, Mac.”

The boys hung back with their mother while Bobby stepped into the hall and pulled open the front door. There was a long moment, a murmur of conversation, and then Bobby entered the room with a tall man beside him.

Colton Barlow had the same blue eyes as the other Barlow men, but his hair was a few shades lighter and a little longer. He was maybe an inch taller than Mac, and looked, for all intents and purposes, like the kind of guy who would drop what he was doing to play a game of pickup with his friends. In other words, he looked like a hell of a nice guy. The kind of man Mac would be friends with under different circumstances.

Mac stepped forward. “Colton, I'm Mac. Nice to meet you finally.”

Colton shook with him, a firm, friendly grip. A nervous smile wavered on his lips. “Same here.”

Bobby watched his sons interact, a mixture of worry and panic on his face. He glanced at Della from time to time, but she remained silent.

Jack was next to welcome his half brother. “I'm Jack. The nicer one.”

Colton laughed. “Nice to meet you.”

Luke ambled over and stuck out a hand. “Don't believe anything the others tell you. I'm Luke, the charming and smart one.”

Colton grinned. “I don't know. My mother might debate that with you.” The room stilled. Colton shook his head. “Damn it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned her. I know this is all...complicated and difficult, and I just made it more so.”

“It's okay,” Della said, pushing off from the doorway. She stood before Colton, her gaze skipping over his face as if she was making sure he had the familiar Barlow features. The entire room waited, silent, breathless. Then she gave a nod and a small smile.

“You're part of this family now,” she said. “It's a messy family. We make mistakes, we forgive each other and then we move forward.” Then she put out her arms and gave Colton a hug. “So let's move forward, Colton Barlow.”

It was as if someone had deflated the tension with a giant pin. Within seconds, Luke and Jack were kidding with Colton, while Bobby asked him about his favorite sports teams. The conversation went in fits and starts, like a car having trouble going down the road, but after a while it began to smooth, and Colton settled in to the Barlow home as if he'd always been there.

Mac headed into the kitchen, ostensibly for a glass of water, but really for a moment to process everything that had happened, and to take a moment for gratitude that something that could have destroyed the family he loved had merely caused a hiccup. Not that every day going forward would be smooth and trouble-free, but it was off to a promising start.

Mac leaned against the counter, watching squirrels run around the yard. There was a sound behind him and he turned to see his father standing in the kitchen.

“We got any soda in the fridge?” Bobby asked.

Mac didn't understand why his father would ask him, since Bobby was the one who lived here, but then he realized it was his father's way of making small talk. Mac pulled open the fridge, then handed his dad a bottle of cola. “Big day today.”

“Understatement of the year.” Bobby screwed off the cap, but didn't drink. Instead, he let out a long breath and leaned against the counter beside Mac. “I should apologize to you.”

“You don't need to apologize, Dad.”

“Yeah, I do. To you, your mother, your brothers. I should have told you all a long time ago about Colton.”

Mac rolled the glass between his palms. It had been a long time since he'd stood this close to his father, and he didn't realize until just now how much he'd missed that. “How long have you known?”

“About ten years. Katherine had him and never said a word. Then one day she leaves me a voice mail at the shop, telling me she'd had my son, raised him herself with the man she married a year later. She gave me Colton's information in case I wanted to make contact.” Bobby shook his head. “I called Tank, asked him to be sure she had money and whatever she needed for him. I'd send money to Tank, and he'd deliver it. Tank was mad as hell at me, because I dumped that on him and tried to forget she ever called. I was just so damned afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing all of you.” Tears welled in Bobby's eyes. His big, strong father looked as weak as a new blade of grass. “Of all of you hating me. Especially you, Mac.”

The words surprised Mac. Of everything his father could have said right now, that would have been last on the list. Their relationship had never been smooth, never as easy as the one Bobby had with Luke and Jack. A part of Mac had always envied that. “Why me especially?”

“You were the firstborn. I always made a big deal out of that. My oldest son, the one who's made me so proud. The leader of the pack, you know?” A watery smile crossed Bobby's face. “And I felt like I let you down as a dad.”

“You didn't let me down, Dad.” Mac's heart softened. All the years of arguments with his father, all the times they'd gone without speaking no longer mattered. He made a silent vow to get back to Stone Gap a lot more often. He saw the struggle in Bobby's face, the love and concern for his sons, his wife, and his determination to do the right thing by all of them. Mac's brothers were right. Their father had made a mistake, but not one that couldn't be forgiven or understood. “I'm the one who let
you
down.”

“You? You've made me damned proud, Maxwell. You've gone a hundred times further than I ever dreamed.”

Mac stood beside his father, a little taller than Bobby now, and decided it was past time they talked about the hard stuff. “Then why have you been so angry with me all these years?”

“Because I was selfish.” Bobby picked at the label on the soda, tossing the pieces into the sink. “I wanted you to stay here, with me, and run that garage. I always imagined it would be me and all my boys working there. Then y'all went off and did your own things. Jack with the military, Luke with whatever made Luke happy at the time and you with your business, all the way up there in Boston.”

“I never loved the garage like you did, Dad.” Mac had hated the grease under his nails, the constant smell of motor oil, the endless tedium of replacing brake pads and rotating tires. To him there had been no challenge in that, nothing that had made him want to charge out of bed and get started on his day. In fact, now that Mac thought about it, he'd lost track of that challenge in the past couple years. He was caught in the same thing he'd tried to escape by leaving the garage—an endless tedium of buying and selling. This past week, when he'd taken the Hillstrand Solar problem and configured a new solution, had been one of the most exciting weeks he'd had in a long time.

“Not to mention we butted heads like two battering rams every day we worked together,” his father added.

Mac chuckled. “That we did.”

“We're a lot alike, you and me.” Bobby took a sip of the soda, then put it on the counter between them. “We both like to run our own ships. Cast our own destinies. I never was much for working for someone else, which is why I opened the garage. Made my own hours, answered to no one but myself.”

“That's me, too.” Mac shook his head. The two of them, more alike than either of them had ever realized. No wonder they'd argued so much.

“I was wrong for giving you such a hard time about selling Charlie's car lot,” Bobby said. “I always thought you did it just to make the bucks to get you out of town, away from here. Away from me.”

Mac shook his head. “Dad, I—”

Bobby put up a hand. “But then I talked to Charlie the other day. I was down at the garage, helping Luke diagnose a sputtering Chevy, and Charlie walked on in. Haven't seen him in forever. I knew he worked in town, back at his old lot. I thought it was because he was so heartbroken about selling that he took a job for the new owner. Then he told me who owned it now.” Bobby laughed wryly. “I never in a million years would have thought you'd do what you did.”

Mac shrugged. “I was just trying to help him out.”

“You didn't help him out. You gave him a purpose.” Bobby studied the floor for a moment. “You know, I was mad at you for years. After Charlie sold the business to you and retired, he walked around this town like a broken man. He had nothing to occupy his days, nothing to do. I blamed you, told you that you ruined his life.”

Mac sighed. He put the water glass beside his father's soda bottle, both drinks still virtually untouched. “I didn't know it would impact him that much when he sold. He was the one who offered the business to me, Dad. His son didn't want it, and Charlie wanted more time to spend with his wife.”

“Did you know she died six months after he sold the business?”

Mac nodded. “Hell of a tragedy.”

“But Charlie told me that in the end he was glad you bought it from him. He had six months with her, day in and day out, before she died. If he'd still owned the lot, he would have spent every day there and had to leave her alone. It gave him the money, but most of all, the time he needed.”

“I'm glad.” Neither of them had had a crystal ball at the time Mac bought that lot, but in the end, it had been a way of giving Charlie something he hadn't even known he needed. It wasn't a happy ending, but it wasn't as sad an ending as it could have been.

“You did a good thing, Mac,” his father said, unwittingly echoing Savannah's words. Bobby put his hands on both of Mac's shoulders, and met his son's gaze. “A good thing.”

“I just did what was right, Dad.” He covered one of his father's hands with his own. “I learned that from you. You were always fair in business, always treated your customers right. And you ran it like family. Sometimes I get so caught up in the dollars and cents that I forget that.”

Someone else he knew treated a business like a family. Savannah had insisted on that, made him promise not to let anyone go. The people who worked for her father loved her, welcomed her as one of their own. And welcomed him simply because he was with her. It had been a new feeling, Mac realized, walking through the doors of a shop and being seen as a friend, a helper, not a marauder out to make off with the spoils of his new purchase.

“Let me give you a piece of advice. Something I wish I'd learned a long time ago.” Bobby glanced toward the front room, where his other sons and his wife were all laughing at something Colton had said. “There's no amount of money that can replace family. No mountain you can climb that will ever be more important than what you have at home. If you find a job that satisfies your soul and lets you take care of the people you care about, then that is enough.”

“And that's something I think I lost along the way.” Mac let out a long breath. Taking his father's advice would mean a lot of changes in Mac's life. Was he ready for that? “Anyway, it's about time we joined everyone else, don't you think?”

Bobby draped an arm around his oldest son's shoulders. “Yes, it is. Long past time.”

The two of them went into the other room. Mac joined the circle of brothers, who were asking Colton about his work as a firefighter. Out of the corner of his eye, Mac saw his mother cross to his father.

She put out her hand, offering it in the space between them. He glanced down, his eyes welling again. She gave him a nod, and he slipped his hand into hers. Her knuckles whitened for a second when she gave his fingers a squeeze, but then the world righted itself again and the Barlow family healed.

* * *

Savannah tried on so many dresses, her bedroom looked like a dressing room at Macy's during prom season, with clothes piled on the bed, the floor, the chair. Finally, she settled on a pale yellow silk sundress that had a trail of white flowers running along the hem. She paired it with white wedge-heeled sandals, then curled her hair, leaving the tendrils down along her bare shoulders.

Precisely at one—not that she was surprised he was on time—Mac rang her doorbell. She grabbed a clutch, checked her reflection one final time, then took a deep breath and opened the door. “I'm ready.”

But was she? For one last date with Mac? And then a goodbye?

“You look...amazing,” he said. “Breathtaking.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “Thank you.” He looked good, too, wearing khakis and a white button-down shirt he'd paired with a dark pink tie. Desire surged within her, but she tamped it down. This was just a date, nothing more. One afternoon together.

Mac took her hand as they headed down the stairs. She curled her fingers around his, the feeling bittersweet. He was leaving after this and she was clearly a masochist for agreeing to go to this wedding. Seeing him all day, knowing he was going to be gone in the morning, and that she was going to be left behind with a broken heart to run a business she didn't want to run—

Yes, masochist described her perfectly.

He strode down her walkway, then pulled open the passenger's side door of a restored crimson-red Thunderbird. The car glistened in the sunlight, as perfect as the day it had rolled off the assembly line. “I thought this would be better than my motorcycle.”

“It's a gorgeous car.” She settled into the leather seat and buckled her seat belt. “It's in perfect condition, too.”

“It's my brother Luke's latest project. Like he doesn't have his hands full already, raising a kid and planning a wedding.” Mac shook his head, then turned to her with a grin on his face. “So do me a favor when we get to the wedding and tell him I bumped it in a parking lot.”