CHAPTER THREE
Someone was knocking on Mason’s front door at a seriously ungodly time of the morning, and it was setting Cooper off. His Lab mix was downstairs barking at whatever crazy bastard was trying to break down the door. The knocking, combined with the barking, made it impossible for Mason to ignore the unwelcome caller.
“Yeah!” he yelled as he pushed himself out of his nice, warm bed and tugged on his sweatpants. He hissed when his feet hit the cold floor and let loose a stream of profanity that only grew more creative as he thumped his way downstairs.
“Coop, quiet,” he growled, and the dog immediately obeyed and sat on his rump, keeping his eyes trained on the front door. Mason yanked the door open and glared at Spencer, who was standing with his shoulders hunched against the rain, holding two giant paper cups of fragrant coffee.
His brother shoved one of the cups into Mason’s hands before pushing his way inside and heading straight for the kitchen. Mason glared at Spencer’s back, taking a sip of the coffee and slamming the front door pointedly before following the other man. Cooper was happily greeting Spencer, who had seated himself at the island in the center of the room. The guy was more than a little wet but didn’t seem to notice it.
“What the hell do you want, Spencer?” Mason asked impatiently, sitting down next to him. “It’s not even six yet. It’s freezing outside, and I’m hungover because you dragged me out last night.”
“Did Tanya ever hit on you?”
Whoa. Mason, who’d been about to say even more about his brother’s ill-timed visit, felt his mouth slam shut.
“Why are you asking me that?” he asked, monitoring Spencer’s reaction carefully.
“After you left last night, I ran into Graham Price, remember him?”
Mason vaguely recalled a guy about Spencer’s age, good with cars or something.
“Yeah?”
“Graham was drunk and congratulated me on my breakup with that treacherous skank, said she hit on everything with a dick. I mean, it wasn’t news to me, I know that she cheated on me. Saw it with my own eyes. But suddenly every guy I know has a story about how she hit on him and how lucky I am to be rid of her. And it got me thinking . . . every guy I know has a story. But not you. You never once said anything—good or bad—about her, and I was just wondering, you know. Did she ever hit on you?”
“What difference would it make if she did or didn’t?” Mason asked cautiously, hating that bitch for putting him in this position.
“Well, you’re my brother, and I reckon you would have warned me about her if she’d ever put the moves on you, right? You wouldn’t have let me just go on seeing that cheating bitch?”
Shit.
“Yeah, she hit on me, Spence,” Mason admitted, taking a deep sip of his now-lukewarm coffee, and watched his brother’s shoulders tense as he absorbed the blow.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, Mason?” Spencer asked, seething frustration in his voice.
“I was going to, I was trying to figure out how, but then you caught her with those guys and everything went to hell. Telling you at that time would just have poured salt on the wound and telling you afterward seemed unnecessary. You’d already heard about her from other guys, hearing it from me wouldn’t have made any difference. It would only have hurt you more. You get that, don’t you? I didn’t want to make it worse for you.”
Spencer didn’t say anything; he kept his gaze focused on his coffee.
“I feel like such an idiot,” he confessed after a long silence. “I thought she was the one, man.”
“I know.”
“So last night was a colossally stupid idea.” The abrupt change in subject threw Mason, and it took a moment for him to regroup.
“Things didn’t go too well with Daffodil McGregor, did they?” he asked with a slight grin, and Spencer huffed.
“I don’t know, man, at times she seemed to really enjoy dancing with me, but afterward it was like she didn’t even know I was there,” Spencer said.
“Pretty much like it’s always been, then?”
“Yeah, sorry again for saddling you with the other one.”
“Daisy,” Mason reminded, and Spencer nodded.
“Yes, her. I felt like a bit of an asshole when she overheard our conversation,” Spencer admitted, and Mason’s brow lifted.
“Only a bit? Spencer, the whole messed-up situation didn’t sit right with me from the beginning. She’s a nice lady; she didn’t deserve any of the shit we piled on her last night.”
“I said I was sorry,” Spencer grunted defensively, and Mason swallowed down a surge of irritation. His brother was a clueless idiot, but he was a hurting clueless idiot at the moment.
“To me. Not to her, and she’s the one who deserves the apology.”
“It’s not like I’ll see much of her again. Like you said last night, the McGregor sisters don’t run in our circles, and that one is the least sociable of the three, so we’re even less likely to see her.”
“About that.” Mason absently patted Cooper’s head, which was resting on his knee, while the dog stared up at him with slavish devotion. Having never had a dog of his own before, the last year with Coop had been eye opening. It was awesome having a buddy to hang out with during the day but also wholly uncomfortable being the animal’s whole world. For someone who had never had anyone or anything so defenseless depend on him before, Mason still felt somewhat awkward in his new role of sole caregiver to a dog.
“About what?” Spencer prompted, and Mason’s train of thought came back on track with a bump.
“You’ll likely be seeing a bit more of Daisy McGregor than usual over the next couple of weeks. I’ve agreed to be her date to her sister’s wedding.”
“Daisy McGregor’s date?”
“Yes.” Mason took another sip of his—now cold—coffee and grimaced before setting it aside. He got up and moved around his kitchen, getting a pot of coffee brewing, while keenly aware of his brother’s eyes boring into his back.
“Why?” Spencer asked, the word a study in perplexity.
“Because she asked me.”
“Even after overhearing the conversation between us? The chick must be more desperate than I thought.”
“She’s not desperate.” Mason found himself defending Daisy, even while admitting to himself that maybe she had been a little desperate to make the proposition in the first place. “She’s just . . . clever. This way she has a date for her sister’s wedding but without any commitment or emotional entanglements.”
“I’ll be damned.” Spencer’s voice sounded almost admiring. “She used your guilt against you, didn’t she?”
Mason turned to face his brother, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible.
“You want some breakfast? Bacon and scrambled eggs?”
“I could eat. So how will this whole wedding date business work? I mean, people will know right off the bat that it’s just a pity thing on your side.”
Mason didn’t respond to that, he grabbed the eggs and bacon from the fridge and got busy preparing breakfast.
“Unless she doesn’t care that people will see right through the charade?” Spencer speculated.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mason said, irritated with his brother’s persistence. “It’s not your concern.”
“I feel kind of responsible,” Spencer countered. “I mean, it’s my fault you got mixed up with her in the first place.”
“It is,” Mason agreed with equanimity, while vigorously beating the eggs before dumping the lot into a pan. “But I’m fully capable of taking care of myself, and I wasn’t coerced into doing this. So don’t worry about me; little Daisy McGregor is hardly a threat to me.”
“Little.” Spencer sniggered and Mason glared at him.
“Stop being such a shallow dick, dude. No more snide comments about her; she’s going to be my sort-of girlfriend for a couple of weeks, and I expect you to be on board with that. Got it?”
“Sometimes you’re still such a soldier,” Spencer groused, pouring two cups of coffee from the now-percolating machine and placing a mug on the counter closest to Mason. “Barking orders like a general.”
Mason thought about that before acknowledging to himself that he would always be a soldier. It was ingrained, and he had felt most useful and most alive when he was fighting side by side with his brothers-in-arms. That said, it wasn’t a lifestyle he could, or would, be able to maintain. It came with too much emotional baggage, and if Mason hadn’t left the service when he had, it would have claimed the entirety of his soul.
He divided the eggs and bacon between two plates and slapped one down in front of Spencer, before picking up his coffee and joining his brother at the island again. He casually tossed Cooper an extra piece of bacon, which the dog downed in one gulp before immediately looking up for more.
“That’s all you get,” Mason chastised. “And that’s only because we’re jogging it off later. Go lie down.”
The dog gave him a reproachful look before slinking off to the kitchen rug and lying down, keeping a hopeful eye on the eating men.
“You’re going jogging in this weather?” Spencer asked, and they both glanced out the kitchen window to the torrential downpour outside. It had been threatening to rain for days and had finally started sometime during the night.
“I’ve run in worse,” Mason responded succinctly.
“Seriously?” Spencer looked both impressed and horrified. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
Spencer cast him a curious sidelong look before shrugging and forking down more of his eggs and bacon. The men ate the rest of their meal in silence.
“Good morning, Thomas,” Daisy greeted the young boy with a huge smile. “How’s Sheba doing today?”
“Good, Dr. Daisy. See?” He pointed to a spot just above the small brown dog’s tail, indicating the healing patch of skin there. Just a week ago the patch had been crusty and seriously inflamed. Sheba, indeed, looked to be on the mend.
“Oh, you’ve been taking good care of her, Thomas. Well done.” The boy beamed at her praise, and she gave the little crossbreed dog a cursory once-over to ensure no other problems.
“Keep using the ointment until it’s finished and bring her back to me in a month, okay? And we’ll see if her fur grew back.” She was happy that the dog seemed to have overcome the mild case of mange that had been developing. “Don’t forget to keep her out of the sand and make sure her bed is clean and dry.”
“Yes, Dr. Daisy.” Thomas nodded, his thin shoulders squaring as he practically bristled with pride that the doctor trusted him with the task. He was only about eight and had showed up a week ago at the free animal clinic that Daisy and her father ran every Saturday at the Inkululeko informal settlement just outside of town. The boy had been distraught that his beloved pet was in distress and, while his mother waited outside, had carried Sheba in himself and explained the problem in the most adult way he could. Daisy had respected him enough to respond to his seriousness with equal gravity.
Patient after patient followed Thomas. They were always slammed at the clinic, and despite the bad weather, today was no different. The workload kept Daisy and her father busy the entire morning, with barely a word spoken between them as they administered vaccinations, took care of minor ailments, and caged a few of the more serious cases in their van for further treatment at her father’s veterinary practice in town. They treated everything from cats and dogs to cart horses, goats, chickens, and even a cow. By the time they closed shop they were exhausted, filthy, and smelly.
“You coming around for dinner tonight, Daisy?” her father asked as they climbed into their van.
“Uh, no,” she said, thinking about her “date” with Mason Carlisle. Something she had successfully managed to push to the back of her mind while she was working. She was still considering canceling it, but the later the day got, the less likely it seemed that she would do the sensible thing and save herself some embarrassment.
“All the wedding stuff getting to you?” her father asked with a grimace as he carefully navigated the muddy dirt road that led back into town. “Don’t blame you. If I have to hear one more conversation about bouquets and shoes, I think I’ll lose my mind.”
“I have an appointment,” Daisy mumbled, trying to keep her flush under control.
“A what?”
“A . . . a thing. An appointment,” she said. Grabbing her bottled water, she took a thirsty gulp and focused her attention on the passing scenery. The narrow dirt road was lined with thick forest on either side, but once they hit the tar road just outside of town, the view opened up to include ocean. It really was a gorgeous part of the world. It wasn’t called the Garden Route for nothing.
“An appointment? On a Saturday night?” Her father sounded confused, and she sighed.
“It’s a casual thing.”
“With Tilda?”
“No. I have more than one friend, you know?” she huffed, and he threw her a quick look, surprised by her curt response. Daisy avoided his gaze and dragged out her phone for the first time that day. She never had time to check it while she was at the clinic. Her eyebrows flew up as she registered the insane amount of messages and missed calls—most of them from Daff and Tilda.
The messages were all similar:
So what did you and hunkalicious Mason C get up to last night???? CALL ME. That one was from Daff.
Tilda: OMG!!! Did you REALLY leave with Mason Carlisle last night? Whaaaaat? Details ASAP!!!
Another one from Daff: Did you see him naked? Did you shag his brains out? You dirty, dirty girl!! I. Am. SHOCKED! Daisy snorted at that one. Daff knew that Daisy was awkward around men and that she was unlikely to even have kissed Mason Carlisle.
She shook her head and pocketed the phone again, not in the mood to read any more of the crazy messages.
Her father had gone quiet after she’d snapped at him, and feeling guilty, Daisy opened her mouth to apologize, but he spoke before she could.
“Do you have a date, by any chance?” Daisy nearly swallowed her tongue in shock.
“I . . . what? Why would you think . . . who told you that?” Her father threw her another one of those sharp, assessing glances that never seemed to miss much.
“Daff was very chatty at breakfast this morning. She said something about Mason Carlisle?”
“Daff was up for breakfast this morning?” Daisy asked, stalling and genuinely surprised. Her sister always took full advantage of the weekends and never missed the opportunity to sleep in, especially after a night out.
“She was just coming home, I think,” her father said with a shrug. Ah, well that made more sense. “So . . . Mason Carlisle?”
“We were just talking.”
“And he’s the one you’re seeing tonight?”
“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”
“The whole world has seen him in his underpants,” her father muttered, and Daisy’s lips twitched. Of course that would be the first thing on her father’s mind. “What kind of man parades around in his underwear in public?”
“He’s also a decorated soldier,” she reminded him.
“Then there was that nasty business with him and that drug addict pop star last year.”
“That was just rumors.” Daisy hoped. There had been speculation in a number of the gossip rags that a certain pop princess regularly did drugs with her bodyguard, after which they had depraved orgies.
“Hmm, Tim Richards still insists to this day that the Carlisle brothers were the ones who vandalized his store twenty years ago.” This town had a long and unforgiving memory.
“He never had any proof of that, Daddy,” Daisy said, and her father shrugged again.
“So do you like him?”
“Daddy, he’s a friend. Well, more like acquaintance really. Nothing more.”
“You know I only want what’s best for my girls.” So why was he okay with Lia marrying Clayton? She knew her father didn’t like the guy and she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t revealed that to Lia. She was about to ask him when he drew the van to a stop outside her house.
“Be careful around that man, sweetheart,” her father said. “He has seen and experienced things that you can’t even begin to comprehend. And all that war and death can do irreparable damage to a man’s psyche. I doubt he’d be great boyfriend material.”
His words made Daisy pause. Mason seemed as well adjusted as the next guy, but her father was right, the man had seen combat, and Daisy had to wonder how much of Mason Carlisle’s affability was just a front.
“Don’t worry, Daddy. Nothing’s going on between us.” It was sweet that her father would even think that a guy like Mason Carlisle would have any romantic intentions toward Daisy. She was vanilla and he was decadent fudge with roasted almonds, caramel swirls, chocolate sprinkles, and a cherry on top. But her father was her father, and he thought his daughters were all beautiful. The fact that Daisy was his not-so-secret favorite made him even more protective over her.
She leaned over and planted a kiss on his craggy cheek.
“Have fun with Mom and the girls tonight. I hear they’re fine-tuning the place settings. It’s going to be a big night.”
He grimaced comically.
“Why do you get to sit out of these things?” he groused, and she laughed.
“Because I have ‘nothing of value to contribute,’” she quoted good-naturedly. She had deliberately cultivated that image early on, knowing her sisters and mother would inevitably start leaving her out of any and all wedding planning. Suggesting pizzas for the menu and trifle for dessert had been the last straw as far as Lia was concerned.
“If you can’t be serious about this, then I don’t see how having you here is of any benefit at all.” Lia’s complaint after Pizza-gate. And that had been that. Daisy was included in the bridesmaids’ stuff but now thankfully managed to avoid anything else wedding related.
“If I resorted to your dirty tricks there’d be tears and hysteria.” Her father sighed, and Daisy grinned.
“Face it, old man, you’re in it for the duration. Have fun.” She grabbed her bag and left the car with a cheeky salute. She watched him drive off before turning back to her house. Immediately the situation with Mason Carlisle sprang to the forefront of her mind again. She wouldn’t call it off. She’d meet him and tell him face-to-face to forget about her stupid idea.
It seemed like the mature thing to do. Just a shame that her stomach was flipping around in crazy circles at the thought of seeing him again and this time without the comforting filter of a nice alcoholic buzz to bolster her courage. She couldn’t very well be tipsy every time she saw him, and without that little bit of so-called Dutch courage, she feared she would become a tongue-tied moron around him. Just her usual self, really.
She sighed as she let herself into the house, picking up her excited dog as she made her way to the living room.
“Did you miss me, Peachie Pie?” she asked her dog, in what she knew was an obnoxious high-pitched baby voice, but she was quite unable to help herself. “Did you miss me? Peachie Pie wants some walkies? You do, don’t you?”
Peaches was practically wriggling herself out of Daisy’s grip in her excitement, and Daisy put her down for fear of dropping the squirmy dog.
“I’ll grab a shower, and then we’ll go for a walk, okay?” The rain had let up for a bit, but judging by the gunmetal-gray clouds still brooding above the town, it was just a temporary reprieve. Luckily Peaches didn’t require much exercise, so a quick walk around the block would do the trick.
Daisy had a fast shower and changed into slouchy gray sweatpants, a pair of neon-pink Wellingtons, a fleecy hoody, and a raincoat to match the Wellies. She clipped on Peaches’s harness and leash, and they were good to go.
Sadly, Daisy’s idea of a quick walk around the block was immediately scuttled by Peaches, who stopped at every random bush, pillar, and post to have a sniff. It was an exercise in frustration, and her dog seemed completely oblivious to both the cold and the impending downpour.
“Come on, Peaches,” she implored for the umpteenth time when, approximately halfway around the block—about fifteen minutes from home—the first fat droplets of rain began to fall. Turning around would be pointless since it would take the same amount of time as just continuing on.
Peaches glanced up at Daisy before dawdling on, sniff-sniffing her way along at a snail’s pace. The rain was getting heavier and—horribly—some of the icy water had found its way down the top of one of her boots. The wind was starting to pick up too, and Peaches, finally realizing that she was wet, cold, and uncomfortable, stopped walking completely and trotted back to Daisy to be picked up.
Visibility was practically nonexistent as the rain began to sheet from the sky. Daisy remained on the grassy verge of the sidewalk, trying to stay well away from the street in case any cars came along. She wanted to avoid being splashed or run over. Both equally unpleasant prospects right now. But most people knew better than to be out in this weather, and only two cars had passed her since she had started on this rash endeavor.
She tucked the shivering Peaches closer to her chest and trudged on for another few minutes, when she heard the sound of an engine coming up behind her. The car didn’t slow down, and naturally there was a huge puddle right beside the road at the exact spot Daisy happened to be passing. The car was going at such a speed that it didn’t really matter how far away from the road she was, she was still completely soaked by the disgusting muddy water.
“Oh, come on!” she seethed and muttered a few choice words under her breath. She glared at the back of the car and frowned when the brake lights came on as it slowed down. When the reverse lights flashed on, she had a moment’s panic as she imagined a psychopath kidnapping her before the car got close enough for her to recognize it as Mason Carlisle’s Jeep.
The feeling of relief didn’t last long as she faced the reality of seeing him again. While looking like a drowned rat. Lovely.
The Jeep drew abreast of her. The passenger window lowered, and she stared into the adorable face of a yellow Labrador retriever mix. The lolling, grinning face distracted her for a brief moment before Mason’s voice drew her back to reality.
“Daisy?”
“Oh, Mason, hey.” She strove for casual, difficult when she knew she probably looked completely ridiculous.
“What the hell are you doing out here in this downpour?” He was incredulous.
“Just taking my dog for a walk. It wasn’t raining when we left.” She watched his eyes drop to her feet and then continue searching.
“What dog?”
“Uh . . . Peaches.” She drew her tiny dog out from beneath the protective cover of her coat, and the shivering animal immediately snarled at the bigger dog. The Lab’s reaction was comical; he yelped and dove to the floor in front of the seat and cowered beneath the dashboard.
“Jesus, Coop. Stop embarrassing me.” Mason sounded so completely disgruntled that Daisy couldn’t help grinning as she tucked Peaches back under her coat.
“Anyway . . . I’ll see you later,” she said with an insouciant little wave and started to wade off in the direction of her house.
“Daisy, get in the car,” Mason commanded.
“We’re nearly home.”
“Coop, in the back,” he ordered, and the Lab complied without hesitation. Daisy was impressed by the dog’s level of training.
“Daisy, get in the car,” he said again, in the exact same tone of voice that he had just used on his dog, and she immediately bristled.
“It’s not necessary.”
“Seriously? You’re going to be pointlessly stubborn? Why?”
Good question. Daisy heaved a sigh and acknowledged that she really had no reason not to get into the car other than her own pride and vanity, and Mason Carlisle cared about neither. He was just an acquaintance offering her a lift home, and she was turning this friendly, meaningless gesture into a thing.
“I didn’t want to inconvenience you,” she said as she opened the car door. He seemed to accept her half-truth.
“Nonsense, we’re headed that way anyway.” Daisy clambered into the seat gracelessly, and when her half-frozen fingers fumbled with the seat belt, he reached over to help, enveloping her in his warmth and masculine scent. As he fastened it for her, Peaches’s wet little head popped out from beneath Daisy’s coat, and she took a nip at Mason’s fingers while he clipped the belt in.
“No!” he growled at Peaches, and her dog reconsidered her attitude and licked his knuckles instead. He raised his startling green eyes to hers, eyebrows raised quizzically. “Is this thing really a dog? It looks like a half-drowned hamster to me.”
“Sh,” Daisy hissed. “You’ll hurt her feelings. She’s a toy Pom. Give her a break; she’s drenched and not looking her finest right now.” The same could be said for her owner, and his eyes seemed to warm with laughter as he acknowledged her unspoken words.
“Coop’s wet too,” he pointed out. “And he still looks like a dog.”
“Well, Coop has natural good looks; sadly it doesn’t come that easily to Peaches.”
“Well, she’s a feisty little thing, so hopefully she knows that a big personality is as attractive as all the other surface fluff.”
Daisy wasn’t at all sure they were discussing the dogs anymore, and she wasn’t comfortable with the perceived subtext. She loathed being told that she had a good personality, and that was what it felt like Mason was doing here. Girls with “good personalities” never got the guy. They were never the romantic leads. They were always just the comic relief and the best friend. Daisy was so sick of being that girl, and she would rather not hear that Mason Carlisle saw her in the exact same light as everyone else.
Then again, she could be reading too much into his words, and he could just be talking about Peaches.
“She’s cold,” she said, changing the subject abruptly. “We should get her home and dried off.”
“Of course,” he said after a weighty silence. “We’ll have you home in no time.” He pulled away from the curb, and the short drive to her house was conducted in silence. When he slid to a stop in front of her gate a couple of minutes later, she smiled at him.
“Thank you so much. In this weather, it would probably have taken us much longer to get back home.”
“Always a pleasure.”
“We’re lucky you came along.”
“I’m sorry about splashing you back there; I wasn’t expecting any pedestrians out in this downpour. I wouldn’t have seen you if not for all that pink.”
“Why were you out in this?” She couldn’t contain her curiosity anymore, and the question just slipped out.
“Cooper and I went for a run on the beach. We would have gone earlier, but I decided to wait until the rain let up a bit.” He went jogging in this weather? On the beach? Who did that? Even if it wasn’t raining, it was still cold and windy. Conditions weren’t ideal.
“Jogging on the beach? But it must have been pretty rough out there.”
“Yeah, there’s a helluva storm surge. I cut our run short because I was concerned Cooper would try to take a dip and be pulled out to sea.” Daisy shuddered at the thought. “He stayed well away from the water’s edge, though. I mean, he usually loves the ocean, but I think it freaked him out today. Still, I wasn’t going to take the risk, so we left just before this downpour started.”
“Well, Peaches and I both thank you for your timely rescue.”
“Coop and I are always happy to rescue pretty damsels.” She screwed up her nose at that.
“Cooper’s been hiding from Peaches since the moment we climbed into this car,” she pointed out, glancing back at the dog. He was pressed as far back as he could get and giving her some serious whale eye. As if sensing his fear, Peaches poked her tiny black nose out and kept up an unrelenting series of kittenish growls. Poor Cooper looked terrified.
“Peaches, behave,” Daisy admonished. “I’m sorry, she’s usually a lot friendlier than this. She loves other dogs and loves people, but she must be in a bad mood because of the weather or something. I’ve never seen her behave like this before.”
Mason looked skeptical but refrained from commenting.
“So, I’ll pick you up tonight at seven?” he suddenly said, and Daisy blinked at him for an uncomprehending moment.
“Uh . . .” She was aware of her mouth opening and closing and knew she probably looked like a fish out of water. “About that . . .”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he interrupted, his voice mild despite the profanity, and her mouth snapped shut. “No backing out, Daisy.”
“But it . . .”
“Seven. Let’s see how tonight goes and reevaluate after that, okay?”
“It was a stupid idea.”
“Maybe. But I’m still happy to do it and make it convincing. If nothing else, we’ll have a nice evening out and that’ll be the end of it.”
“Okay.” It was far from “okay,” but she’d set this whole stupid thing in motion, and now it felt like a runaway train that was building momentum as it headed toward a brick wall.
“Great.” He watched while she climbed out of his stupidly high car. “See you later.”
He continued to observe as she walked up the path and unlocked the door, and when she turned to wave at him, he drove off with a cheerful honk of the horn. It was only when she was inside that she realized that she should probably have insisted on driving herself tonight. That way she would be in control of what time she left.
Just another stupid mistake to add to the long list of colossal mistakes that she had made over the last twenty-four hours.
After blow-drying Peaches and taking another shower to warm herself up, Daisy finally succumbed to the inevitable and called Daff back. Her sister’s messages hadn’t let up at all, and having her phone buzz every five minutes was aggravating.
“Daisy?” Daff sounded out of breath when she answered her phone, and Daisy frowned.
“Are you jogging?” What was it with people running or walking in this weather today?
“What? In this, are you crazy?” Her sister was still puffing slightly.
“So why are you out of breath?”
“I was doing Pilates. Stop trying to distract me and tell me what happened between you and Mason Carlisle last night.”
“Nothing. We talked and he gave me a ride home. He’s a nice man. Very gentlemanly.”
“And that’s all?”
“What did you expect me to say? He brought me home and we . . . we did it like monkeys all night long?” Daisy blushed when, after pausing for a beat, her sister roared with laughter.
“Did you really just say ‘did it like monkeys’?” Daisy’s jaw lifted defensively. Daff could be so obnoxious sometimes.
“I said what I said,” she muttered, her voice brittle, and Daff, sensing her embarrassment, tried to tone down her amusement.
“You need to lighten up, Daisy Doodle,” she teased, using the family’s embarrassing nickname for Daisy.
“I would if I wasn’t the constant butt of your jokes.” Okay, Daisy knew she was being a bit unfair; Daff didn’t usually make fun of her. At least not maliciously. It was always just good-natured sibling ribbing.
“I was just teasing you,” Daff said, wounded.
“I know.” Daisy sighed. “I’m sorry, Daff. I’ve been a little oversensitive lately. PMS probably.”
“So what was all that with you and Mason Carlisle last night?”
“We chatted for a bit, I said I was going home, and he offered me a lift. That’s the extent of it . . .” She paused again, thinking she should embellish on that, especially since she was about to be seen in public with the man again in just a few hours’ time.
“Oh.” Daff—bless her heart—sounded disappointed. “He seemed really into you.”
“We are going out to dinner later,” she informed reluctantly and winced when Daff squealed.
“Oh my God! Seriously?”
Daisy shifted uncomfortably before reiterating, “It’s just dinner.”
“Dinner with Mason Carlisle! Shar is going to absolutely shit herself with envy.”
“I don’t care what Shar thinks.”
“What are you going to wear?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, but it does! Lia and I will be over in half an hour to help you get ready.”
“No!” Daisy snapped. “It’s not like that. It’s nothing romantic. It’s just dinner. Between friends. I don’t want you and Lia blowing this out of proportion. I’m wearing jeans, and that’s that.”
“Half an hour, Deedee.” Yet another nickname—an abbreviated, equally horrific version of “Daisy Doodle.”
“Daff, no!” She should have known her sister would make a big deal out of this. “I don’t need your help.”
“See you later,” Daff said cheerily and hung up before Daisy could protest any further.
“God.” Daisy squeezed her eyes shut and resisted the urge to throw her phone across the room. She settled on shaking it instead and screaming in frustration, surprising Peaches out of a snooze. Maybe if she changed out of her comfy sweats and into something dressier before her sisters got here it would dissuade them from once again trying to “pretty her up.”
The thought spurred her into action, and she leapt up from the sofa to dash into her bedroom and frantically throw something on.
When Daff, Lia, and their mother showed up exactly half an hour later, Daisy was hot and flushed but dressed and ready for her dinner.
“You all wasted your time,” she said by way of greeting. “I don’t need your help. I’m dressed already, see?”
“Darling, if there’s one thing I have told you time and time again, just because a woman is dressed does not mean that she is ready,” her mother admonished, leaving a trail of Joy in her wake as she swept past Daisy.
“What she said,” Daff said smugly, leaving her own expensive vapor trail to mingle with her mother’s as she also brushed past a bemused Daisy.
“Hi, Daisy,” Lia greeted with a warm hug. Her middle sister had always been the sweetest, most eager to please of the three daughters. She never saw the bad in manipulative people like Shar and Zinzi and allowed them to walk all over her. Lia’s sweet naïveté was also why Daff, and even Daisy, despite being the youngest, felt protective over her and had tried to curtail the whole Clayton thing back in its nascence.
“Hey, Lia,” Daisy greeted, returning the hug.
“Sorry about this,” Lia whispered. “I tried to stop them, but you know how they get.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you again for the boots. They were my favorite gift. I don’t think I’ll use any of the other stuff,” she confessed with a blush.
“Not even that gigantic green dildo?” Daisy asked, raising her voice slightly.
“Sh!” Lia covered Daisy’s laughing mouth with her hand as she darted a frantic glance around to see if their mother had overheard, but the older woman was busy fawning over Peaches. The dog was doing her crowd-pleasing, guaranteed-to-get-her-cuddles, two-legged jig. Daisy’s mother, Millicent, was eating it up with a spoon. The older woman adored animals. She didn’t even mind dogs and cats shedding all over her designer dresses.
“Oh, aren’t you too precious for words,” her mother enthused and played right into Peaches’s manipulative little paws by scooping her up and giving her a cuddle. She turned to Daisy, Peaches’s fluffy face squished up against her left cheek, and was immediately back on task.
“So, it’s probably too much to hope that you’ve bought yourself a dress or two recently,” the older woman said with a resigned little sigh.
“I have the dress I wore to Nana’s funeral, but I’m not changing. I think I look okay for dinner with a friend.”
“Daisy, don’t be difficult, and Nana’s funeral was five years ago; that dress will be both dated and too small.”
“Ouch, Mom,” Daisy retorted without much heat.
“I don’t see why I have to pull any punches; you’ve put on a few pounds since then.” Daisy wasn’t going to argue; she had gained a couple of inches around the thighs and bum, but she was pretty much the same weight she had been since high school. She had always been plumper than her sisters, and her mother tended to focus on that a little too much sometimes.
“Jeez, Mom, she still looks exactly the same,” Lia said, and Daisy could have hugged her.
“Which isn’t necessarily a good thing,” their mother stated, and both Lia and Daisy sighed. There was just no winning with her. “A woman’s look needs to evolve, become more refined and more mature.”
“Mom, I’m a vet. My clothes suit my way of life.”
“Sweetheart, you’re not a vet twenty-four seven, no matter what your father says. You’re allowed to have a life.”
“Look, save this intervention business for a worthier cause than dinner with Mason Carlisle. The guy’s just a friend. I promise, when I find someone I’m romantically interested in, you’ll have free rein”—she paused a beat as she thought about that and then added—“within limits. But this is really not the right occasion on which to waste all that makeover mojo.”
“At least run a comb through your hair.”
“A comb can’t get through this mess,” Daisy snorted, and both Lia and Daff giggled.
“Oh, for goodness sake!” Their mother handed Peaches over to Lia and forcibly grabbed hold of Daisy’s elbow.
“Ow! That hurts,” Daisy protested as her mother dragged her toward her bedroom. The older woman—despite being as thin as a rail—was at least four inches taller than Daisy’s five three, and she used that height difference to her advantage. Her other two daughters had inherited her height and her body, while Daisy took after her paternal grandmother.
“Sit down, Daisy,” her mother said as she pushed Daisy down toward the bed. She was using her no-nonsense “Mom voice,” and Daisy knew arguing would be futile. Her sisters had trailed them into the room and were both watching with interest as their mother picked up a brush and dragged it through Daisy’s thick curls.
“Ow!” Daisy winced again when the brush snagged in her hair. Her mother gentled her movements and began to soothingly stroke the brush through Daisy’s hair. Her mother had always known exactly how to handle Daisy’s uncontrollable curls, and the gentle tug of the brush brought her back to her childhood.
“You have such lovely hair,” her mother said softly. “But you never do anything with it. Braiding it or tying it up does it a disservice.”
Daisy shrugged. “It’s an uncontrollable mess. And it takes way too long to fix it, so it’s easier to just put it up. I need it out of my face for work anyway.”
“Yes, but you’re not going to work now, are you?” Daff piped up, and Daisy glared at her. As far as she was concerned, her oldest sister had committed the ultimate sin in calling their mother, and Daff knew it too. She returned Daisy’s glare with an unrepentant grin, and Daisy—refusing to be charmed—focused her attention on Lia, who at least looked sympathetic.
“So tell me more about this young man of yours,” Millicent McGregor said as she continued to brush Daisy’s hair with long, hypnotic strokes.
“Oh, for God’s sake. He’s not my young man,” Daisy muttered. Her mother tugged one of her curls sharply, and Daisy sucked in a pained breath.
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” the older woman reprimanded.
“Sorry.” The word was surly, and Daisy sighed inwardly, disgusted that she always allowed her mother and sisters to drag the latent teenage drama queen out of her.
“So what’s he like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only had one conversation with him. But he wanted to . . . to discuss his dog with me.” The lie tumbled over her lips without thought, and her mother’s brushing stopped for a millisecond before she continued on.
“But he can do that during office hours,” Lia pointed out.
“I got caught in the rain this afternoon, and he gave me a ride home. We were talking about his dog, and he suggested we continue the conversation over dinner.” Oh God, where were all these crazy half-truths coming from? Daisy wasn’t exactly a master of subterfuge, which made her plan with Mason even more insane. She would never be able to keep up the pretense.
“So you see, it’s more like a business dinner or something. No need to get all dolled up.”
“Daffodil, hand over your hair clip,” her mother commanded, ignoring Daisy’s words, and Daff reached up and tugged a pretty, ultra-feminine floral crocodile clip from her hair. Her sleek hair, which had been held out of her face by the clip, slid forward like a silk curtain, and Daisy sighed in envy. Her sisters both had perfect hair. Naturally.
“There,” her mother announced happily as she stepped back. “Lovely.”
Daisy glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and her jaw dropped. How did her mother always do that? It hardly seemed fair that no matter what Daisy tried, she couldn’t work the same magic on her own hair. It looked like such a simple fix too: her mother had dragged back the hair that usually just hung on either side of her face and pinned it back, while at the same time twisting it into an exotic, slightly off-center loose knot. The rest of her hair feathered down in soft, dreamy little curls that made her round face look a little less plain.
“Now we can see your pretty face,” her mother said fondly, her expression softening as she gently stroked one of Daisy’s cheeks before stepping back.
“Next we need to do something about this top,” she said, immediately back to business. She took a step back and perused Daisy from head to toe before gasping in horror. “Oh, good grief, Daisy! Are you wearing one of your father’s shirts?”
“Men’s shirts are all the rage now,” Daisy said, pretending indifference, when really she was mortified. She had grabbed the first thing she could find, and she now saw that it was one of her dad’s shirts. She often borrowed his shirts if she went to her parents’ place for dinner after work. God knows she couldn’t fit into her mother or sisters’ clothes.
“It’s an old flannel shirt,” her mother said. “And it would probably have been repurposed into a dust rag by now if you hadn’t taken it.”
Daff was riffling through her wardrobe and making disgusted sounds as she went through Daisy’s clothes.
“These are all awful,” she said, and Lia and their mother both went over to have a look.
Humiliated and getting more than a little pissed off, Daisy had finally had enough.
“I know you all have good intentions, but I’d like you to leave now,” she said sternly, but they ignored her and just continued to mutter among themselves as they went through her personal things.
“Hey, enough!” Daisy’s eyes widened in surprise when she heard the unfamiliar voice bellow in fury. Wow, was that really her? She sounded awesome. No-nonsense and a little scary in a cool take-charge kind of way. It definitely got everyone’s attention, and their heads—even Peaches’s—all swiveled toward her in unison.
“Please leave. I’m sorry that I’m not pretty enough or skinny enough or well-dressed enough to pass your exacting standards. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you all.” She sucked in a deep breath and softened her voice but was unable to keep the wobble out of it. “Look, I love you guys, and I know you mean well, but I’d appreciate it if you were all gone by the time Mason gets here.”
It was entirely against Daisy’s nature to speak out against her sisters and mother. It was easier to just let them have their way and then quietly go back to doing things her own way . . . This—whatever this was—felt liberating and terrifying.
Her sisters and mother hadn’t deliberately set out to make her feel inadequate, and their advice and criticism over the years had always been well intended. But none of them ever considered how hurtful they were being, and Daisy had simply allowed them to treat her that way, to make her feel that way, and she knew that was on her. But she was twenty-seven years old, a partner in her father’s veterinary practice, independent, and self-sufficient, and it was time she stood up for herself.
But her sisters and mother all looked so shocked and distressed by her uncharacteristic outburst that Daisy immediately forgot her resolve to stand up for herself and fled to the en suite. She locked herself in like the little coward she was and sank down on the commode while she listened to the other three women quietly murmur among themselves.
“Daisy, we’re leaving,” she finally heard her mother say through the closed door. “I hope you have an enjoyable evening . . .” There was a long pause, and she heard her mother sigh through the thin wood of the door. “I—I love you sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”
Daisy screwed her eyes shut and swallowed back a sob. She felt awful and was about to call out when she heard her bedroom door click shut. Peaches’s mournful little howl a few moments later confirmed that they had left the house. Daisy crept out of the bathroom slowly, half expecting Daff or Lia to be waiting for her in the bedroom. But they weren’t, and Daisy had never felt lonelier.
She unbuttoned the stupid shirt and tore it off before sinking to the edge of the bed and dropping her face into her hands as she considered the repercussions of her little meltdown.