Her first reaction was to adamantly shake her head, even though he couldn’t see her. “No. I really want you to be there. You’ll meet my friends—the ones you haven’t already met, of course. As for Brad, he needs to spend more time with you to get over his initial antagonism. And frankly, I think you need to be around him for the same reason.”
“You think we’ve got a testosterone tussle going on, do you?” he asked, sounding amused now.
She smiled. “I hadn’t thought of it quite that way, but it’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what it is,” he surprised her by admitting. “A new male has moved into the area and the young studs are peeing all over the place to mark their territory.”
She was startled into a quick laugh. “I definitely wouldn’t have phrased it in those terms.”
“That’s because you’re not a guy.” He sounded almost cheerful all of a sudden.
Bemused by his rapidly changing moods, Sharon decided to encourage this one. “I’m glad you’ve noticed.”
“I noticed that right off.”
“So you’ll be there tomorrow?”
“If you’re sure you know what you’re doing.”
“I’m very sure. I want you there.”
“And I want you—anywhere I can get you.”
The murmured comment made her blush. “Mac—”
“Weren’t you the one who said you want me to be honest?” Without giving her a chance to respond, he added, “See you tomorrow, Sharon.”
He hung up without further comment.
Sharon replaced her own receiver slowly. She thought about going straight up to Brad’s room to talk to him about this irksome feud he had going with Mac, and to confront him once and for all about whether he’d damaged Mac’s truck. But something held her back, just as it had during dinner. She found herself oddly afraid to challenge him—maybe because she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answer.
Just the possibility that Brad had been involved was overwhelming to her. She felt totally unqualified to deal with anything of this magnitude. Property damage that extensive was a matter for the police to handle, not an older sister. It should more likely result in someone being sent to jail, not sent to his room. Maybe she didn’t want to admit the culprit could be Brad because she just didn’t know what she would do if it had been.
Mac had assured her he’d taken care of the problem. Was she being totally cowardly and irresponsible to leave it at that?
She just couldn’t handle this tonight. Too much had happened today. She couldn’t process any more. Her whole life had changed that afternoon and she needed some quiet time alone to deal with that. There would be time tomorrow to figure out what to do with Brad.
She had fallen in love. Surely she deserved at least a few hours to savor the feeling before dealing with the inevitable ramifications.
EVEN AS HE PARKED his truck in the Davenports’ crowded driveway, Mac was half convinced he was making a mistake. His relationship with Sharon was complex enough in private; taking it public this way could only complicate everything. Add to that his secret connection to the McBride family and this afternoon was likely to prove very awkward for him. He wasn’t crazy about parties, anyway—and he definitely had no experience with family gatherings. So what the hell was he doing here?
Okay, so he already knew the answer to that question. He was here partly to discover more about the McBrides—but mostly because Sharon was here.
An aging pickup Mac recognized as Trent McBride’s pulled into the long driveway and parked behind Mac’s truck. Trent climbed out of the driver’s-side door, then turned to assist his fiancée out. “Hey, Mac,” Trent said, showing no surprise at seeing him there.
“Hello, Trent.”
“You remember my fiancée, Annie Stewart?”
“Of course. It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Stewart.”
Petite and deceptively delicate-looking, she smiled up at him. “Please call me Annie.”
“Only if you’ll call me Mac.”
“Of course. Trent’s been keeping me informed about the progress of your renovation project. He said the house is going to be spectacular when it’s finished. I know the cabinetwork will be beautiful,” she added with a proud look at Trent. “Have you seen any of the furniture Trent makes, Mac? He’s very talented. He’s made some of the most beautiful rocking chairs I’ve ever seen.”
“Annie,” Trent murmured, looking abashed by her bragging.