Chapter Four
HAL BRADEN’S CROWDED driveway told Treat that the rest of his siblings, or at least most of them, had come to see him. He stepped from the SUV as Savannah parked her car. She had peppered him with questions when they’d had coffee, and he’d tried to downplay his feelings about Max and simply said she’d worked with Scarlet to help organize their cousin’s wedding. He thought he’d seen a hint of disbelief in Savannah’s eyes, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was more questions—especially in front of his siblings.
“This was supposed to be a relaxing getaway, not a party,” Treat said as Savannah looped her arm through his.
“It’s not a party. Everyone’s schedule was clear, so we thought…”
Treat sighed at the thought of a chaotic visit, but it would be good to see his family all in one place again. They each had built successful careers that had made them very wealthy—but kept them too busy for regular get-togethers.
They climbed the porch steps of his childhood home, and the familiar scents of fresh-cut wood, steak on the grill, and too much testosterone wrapped around him like a warm embrace. It was good to be home.
“There’s my boy,” his father called from the living room. He stood from his favorite leather recliner and hugged Treat. At six foot six, Hal Braden stood shoulder to shoulder with his eldest son, his broad chest and arms still solid and strong from years of toiling on the family ranch. His thick black hair now had patches of gray around his temples, hints of his age Treat liked to ignore.
“Hi, Dad.”
“It’s good to see you, son.” His father drew Savannah into his arms. “Sweetie, did you have a nice afternoon with your big brother?”
“Yes. I always do.”
The way Savannah’s eyes lit up when they walked out to the backyard to greet three of their brothers told Treat of her adoration for each of them. He hoped that never changed, but had Savannah known how he’d looked at Max that morning at the resort that adoration would have quickly withered away.
Savannah headed for Josh, who was grilling at the other end of the yard, a few feet from where Dane was busy texting. Rex was walking toward Treat. Rex worked on the ranch with his father, and his muscular physique was proof of the rigorous physical labor he endured. Like their brother Dane, who spent his days trying to save the lives of sharks, Rex sported a year-round tan.
Rex hesitated for just a second before saying, “Treat, glad to have you back, man.”
“How’s he holding up?” Treat shifted his eyes to his father. His father was sixty-five years old and still strong as an ox, but that didn’t keep Treat from worrying about him. Since their mother had died when Treat was at an age when every kid believes their parents will live forever, he counted every day with his father as a blessing.
“He’s good.” Rex ran an assessing eye over Treat. “You okay?”
Treat was close to all his siblings, but each relationship was different. Rex was three years Treat’s junior, and as such, the competitiveness Treat felt with Dane, who was just a year and a half younger, had never been present in his relationship with Rex. But Rex carried a chip on his shoulder about the family business and was careful not to get too close to Treat.
“Yeah. I needed a break. Got a little burnt out.” Treat watched Rex’s eyes narrow. He knew his brother wasn’t buying his excuse, but he wasn’t ready to expose his feelings for Max just yet. He’d come here thinking he’d escape his feelings, but now they were in full force. He should be focusing on his family, when all he wanted to do was call her.
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Of course,” Treat assured him. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Can we have him back now, Rex?” Dane asked with a grin. He was three inches shorter than Treat and every bit as dark and handsome, the only difference being Dane’s eyes always seemed to dance with optimism, while Treat’s often appeared more serious, contemplative.
Rex feigned a punch to Dane’s gut as he walked past.
Dane embraced Treat and said, “You should have seen the girl I was with last night.”
Treat laughed at their running joke. In reality, Dane was more likely to be chasing big fish than bedding women. “I already had her mother,” Treat joked, but this time their old joke tasted wrong as it rolled off his tongue. He glanced at his father, whose dark eyes had harbored the pain of missing his wife for countless years, and he once again felt the draw of wanting to experience the love his parents had shared—the draw that he’d begun to recognize when he’d met Max.
Dane pulled away, laughing. “You always were the king.”
Treat went to the stone barbecue pit, where Josh was tending to steaks and baked potatoes, and put an arm around his shoulder. He was the leanest and least aggressive of the Braden crew. With a love of fashion since the day he could pick out his own clothes, Josh lived in New York City, was a designer to the stars, and owned several high-end fashion boutiques.
“I hear you’re wiping Vera Wang off the map.” Treat was proud of his brother’s accomplishments.
He shook his head. “One day.”
“One day you’ll let that humble nonsense go and boast about your success. Got a girlfriend yet?” Josh had always been tight-lipped about his female conquests, even about the heart-quaking crush he’d had on their childhood friend Riley Banks when he was younger—the crush that everyone knew about but that Josh thought he’d hidden.
“Haven’t you read the gossip magazines? Apparently I’m going out with three different women.”
“Sounds like you’re having fun, then. Where’s Hugh?” Hugh was their youngest brother and the biggest risk taker of them all. He was supremely self-centered, which at times rubbed Treat the wrong way, and his career as a race-car driver was a testament to the way he lived his life, indulging in fast cars and even faster women.
Josh shrugged. “Race, maybe? Steaks are ready.”
Treat took off his jacket and carried the platter of steaks Josh handed him to the table. His father had one arm around Savannah and the other around Dane as they went to sit down. Man, he’d missed these guys. Treat spent most of his time traveling and living out of a suitcase. He didn’t usually mind his lifestyle. In fact, there had been a time when it was all he wanted. But lately he’d found himself contemplating a more settled life.
He set the platter of steaks in the center of the table alongside the salad, wine, beer, vegetables, and three types of sliced bread—typical Braden fare. Most family gatherings were centered around a barbecue of some sort.
“You started without me?” Hugh barged into the yard with his arms open and a grin on his face. His thick, wind-tossed hair gave him a youthful appearance. “Treat, you’ve graced us with your presence after all.”
“Good to see you too, Hugh.” Treat stood and wrapped an arm around him.
Hugh sat down and was the first to help himself to a steak from the platter, snagging the largest one.
Treat shook his head. “So, Dad, are you ever going to let me pay for that stone patio you keep talking about?”
“He doesn’t need your money, Treat,” Rex said roughly. “He needs my time.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Treat said.
“We’ve been busy running the ranch,” Rex said with a hefty amount of attitude. “I haven’t had time to get started. But I’ll take care of it.”
“I could bring in a crew to help you out,” Treat offered.
“Are you the crew?” Rex asked pointedly.
Treat stared him down.
“Boys, settle down. I need a patio like I need a hole in my head,” their father snapped. “Tell me about your latest acquisitions, Treat. What did you decide about Thailand?”
Treat had been negotiating for a resort in Thailand when he’d first met Max. The justice of the peace who was supposed to preside over Blake’s wedding in Nassau had fallen ill, and Treat had canceled his trip to Thailand and stepped in to officiate. He’d put the acquisition on hold after that weekend. But two days ago he’d received an email from his long-time friend Bill Harkness, the owner of the resort, advising him they had received another offer and honoring their verbal agreement of first right of refusal. Treat was best when he had a challenge, and Thailand would be just that. Taking over the resort would consume all his time and energy for at least three months.
“It’s a solid resort and the numbers work,” he explained. “I told them I’d submit an offer within two weeks.” Unable to stop thinking about Max, he’d figured, after this trip home, three months away might be just what he needed. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“He’s in Max mode,” Savannah added.
Treat glared at her.
“Who’s Max?” Josh asked.
“Some hot girl who works at the festival and has Treat all googly-eyed,” Savannah said.
“Hm. Max is a woman?” Josh arched a brow and grinned.
“Yes, she’s a woman, and no, I’m not in Max mode.” Treat bit into a hunk of steak, wishing Savannah had never seen her. Max’s number had been burning a hole in his pocket ever since she’d given it to him, and it was all he could do not to get up and call her right that second.
“Treat, googly-eyed? You gotta be kidding me. The man eats women for breakfast,” Hugh said with a deep laugh. He was always quick to throw a barb and just as quick to return to whatever he was doing for himself beforehand—in this instance, he turned his attention back to his plate of food and speared a forkful of potato.
Treat threw his napkin on the table. “Cut the crap, okay?”
He knew he was overreacting, and he knew Hugh was only stating what had once been the truth. Bile rose in his throat just thinking of himself in that player role. Yeah, he’d been with a lot of women, but he’d never found anyone who made him want more.
Hugh shrugged off his roar. “I won today. First place.”
“Good job, son.” His father raised his beer bottle. “To Hugh.”
“To Huge!” the boys said in unison.
Savannah shook her head. “Idiots.”
AFTER DINNER TREAT, Dane, and Rex cleared the table and did the dishes while Savannah visited with her father and Josh and Hugh talked about Hugh’s race.
“Something you want to tell us?” Dane asked once they were safely in the kitchen, away from the others.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Treat busied himself digging in a drawer for a dish towel.
“Is that the same Max from Blake’s wedding?” Dane asked.
“How would you know Max from Blake’s wedding? You never even met her.” Dane had shown up for the wedding, but he had been called away for an emergency before the ceremony.
Dane cringed under his scrutiny.
“You’re seeing Lacy, aren’t you?” Lacy was Blake’s wife’s half sister. He had met her at the wedding. Treat had almost forgotten that Dane had given him a message to pass on to Lacy after he’d been called away.
“Nope.” Dane focused on scrubbing a plate.
“Then how do you know Max?” Treat briefly wondered if Dane had somehow met and hit on her. Dane had slept with one of Treat’s girlfriends when he was visiting Treat at college, and it had taken them months to move past what they now called the Mary Jane incident and get on solid ground again. Mary Jane had tried to reconcile with Treat, but any girlfriend who would sleep with his brother was not a girlfriend he needed. He’d gone out and hooked up with the most beautiful girl on campus the next night—right after sending Dane back home. He trusted Dane now, but even still, thinking about that incident brought it all to the forefront of Treat’s mind.
“Dane?” he asked with a fisted hand. He and his brothers had come to blows many times over the years, but it had been forever since Treat had felt the urge to punch anyone. Max wasn’t even his to claim, but he couldn’t stop his protective claws from coming out.
“Leave him alone, Treat.” Rex planted himself between them.
Treat stared at Dane until he relented and said, “I talked to Lacy a few days later, to apologize for not being at the wedding. She told me about Max coordinating the event, and that you two left together one evening, and…I know she hooked up with Justin, and I just assumed…” Dane shrugged.
Fire exploded inside Treat. He grabbed Dane, but Rex batted his arm away. Treat wasn’t about to stand down. He drew his shoulders back, eyes locked on Rex, and stepped closer.
Rex crossed his arms, a formidable barrier.
Vaguely aware of his sister entering the kitchen, Treat spoke through gritted teeth. “Step aside, Rex.”
“What are you doing?” Savannah looked from one brother to the other.
“Dude’s out of control,” Dane said, taking a step back. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this jealous since Mary Jane.”
“Dane! Rex, get him out of here,” Savannah ordered.
Treat held Dane’s glower. It wasn’t Dane’s fault he was frustrated over Max. “Sorry, Dane. I don’t know what’s got into me.” He straightened his shirt and cleared his throat as Rex and Dane left the room. “Sorry, Savannah. I’m just on edge.”
“Why did he bring up Mary Jane?” she asked.
The worried look in Savannah’s eyes pulled Treat from his angst. She was particularly sensitive to her brothers being at odds, and even though it had been years since they’d fought over a woman, he knew she worried about him and Dane falling right back into that awful place and time.
“I’m fine. He was just egging me on,” Treat answered.
“Yeah, well, you all can be jerks at one time or another,” Savannah said, fixing his collar.
Dane and Rex came back into the kitchen carrying more dishes.
“Is it safe?” Rex asked.
Treat locked eyes with Dane in a silent warning not to talk about Max and Justin in the same breath again.
“Yes, it’s safe,” Savannah insisted, glaring at Treat. “Treat, you have to go out with me and Hugh tonight.”
“What are we, second rate?” Rex asked.
Savannah rolled her eyes. “You’re anything but second rate. That’s the problem. I don’t want to spend the evening beating women away with a stick because you two look at them like you want to devour them. Treat has more couth. It’s the festival after-party. Hugh has a date and two extra tickets.” She raised her brows and said, “Max might be there.”
The mention of Justin and Max had made his blood boil, and he wasn’t sure he could even look at Max without feeling it rip through him again. “I’m beat,” he lied.
“Yeah? Well, wake up,” Savannah said. “You’re going.”
“She made it pretty clear that she wants distance from me. I can’t push myself on her.”
“Treat, you’re such a fool. All men are. No matter what we women say, we want the knight in shining armor. We want Richard Gere riding up in his white limousine. We want Leonardo DiCaprio to tell us that he’ll never let us go.”
“I don’t know about that,” Treat said. “Don’t they want us to respect their space when they make it clear they want it?” Savannah’s energy was finding its way into his body, and he was actually wondering if he was wrong and should go after Max.
“Nope,” she said. “We want you to read between the lines.”
“She didn’t leave much for interpretation.”
“Trust me, big brother,” Savannah said. “Every woman wants her man to read between the lines, and because of that, she leaves a bread-crumb trail for you to find her.”
“I’m a pretty wise man. If there were a bread-crumb trail, I’d have seen it before she even realized she left it.” He had dissected every word Max had said, and beyond the way she looked at him—like she wanted to kiss him as she had that night—there wasn’t a hint of an open door. Was that the trail? Or had he conjured it in his mind with wishful thinking?
“Don’t fool yourself. You’re wise when it comes to business, but maybe not so much when it comes to the mysterious ways of women. Be ready for the party at seven. You’re going with me.”