The Only Thing Page 3

  Instead she had nightmares—sexy dreams about J.T. and all the things she really shouldn’t be doing with the man.

  * * *

  Saturday passed without incident. Hope took refuge in keeping busy—doing chores, working out at the gym, and forcing herself to watch yet another foreign film, this one about a talking horse in Spain who found his soul mate in a starfish on the beach. Weird, but she liked the animals and the concept of a happily-ever-after, even though she decided to take a long break from indie films for a while. Keeping busy had perked up her mood, so she felt ready to tackle Sunday brunch at her parents’. She could do it, could get through a meal with her mother without wanting to stab the woman with a fork.

  It helped that golden boy Landon and happily in love Gavin weren’t able to attend. She loved her brothers deeply, but she felt lacking next to them. She’d at least kept a job longer than Theo, though, so she had that going for her. Goofy, lovable Theo would turn twenty-one in another month, and if she had issues with her life, he had them in spades. She felt for him. Trying to figure out what to do with life after high school wasn’t easy.

  Her father opened the door on her first knock, then took her in his arms and hugged her off the floor. Van Donnigan had a laid-back, almost hippie-like attitude about life. He was all about being Zen and stress-free and doing what felt right, living the dream. Hard to believe he’d retired from the Navy as a corpsman, or that he now worked for a major pharmaceutical company making big money. He looked and acted decades younger than his sixty-three years.

  Van had a head of dark hair just starting to go silver, gray eyes, and glowing, sun-kissed skin due to a healthy regimen of eating right and daily runs.

  “Hope, my baby girl. I missed you.” He kissed her cheek.

  Man, she loved her dad. “I missed you too. Even if it’s only been two weeks.”

  “Two weeks too many.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and tugged her inside. In a lower voice, he confided, “Your mother’s in a mood. She lost the Hosterly listing to Trina Blackwell, and she’s not happy.”

  Hope groaned. Linda Donnigan sold million-dollar houses. She had skill, panache, and a web of contacts throughout the city that fed her information night and day. Hell, Linda made Google pale by comparison. She knew everything about everyone, and she took losing as a personal affront.

  Vacillating between love and irritation with her mother, Hope settled instead on pity. She could lose with dignity and a smile. Linda didn’t know how to handle second place.

  “Should I go?” Hope asked. “I don’t want to set her off.”

  Her father sighed. “No. She needs your support. And I need you to act as a buffer for me when she starts throwing knives,” he teased. Then he cleared his throat and changed the subject as they entered the kitchen.

  While her dad chatted about what his work friends were up to, Hope absorbed the wonderful smells coming from the oven. For as long as she could remember, her father had been a genius in the kitchen. Linda had no problem ceding him the task of feeding the family, and he enjoyed experimenting with food, so their system worked.

  Her parents truly complemented each other, for all that they were opposites in so many ways. Her mother had often shaken her father back to life when he’d get too introspective, and Van could charm Linda out of a bad mood with his killer smile.

  She found her mother finishing with the place settings at the dining table. Linda’s disappointment vanished when she saw Hope looking at her. Her mother, so good at masking the bad with forced good.

  “Hi, sweetie. So glad you could make it today.”

  Determined to be nice no matter what, Hope donned a mantle of fake cheer. “Wouldn’t miss Dad’s famous French toast casserole.” Truth.

  Linda grinned, and Hope wondered if she’d look as good as her mother in thirty years. Her mother’s white streaks only made the blond of her hair look lighter, more golden. Daily workouts kept her trim, and Hope had the uneasy feeling that if they actually raced, her mother might win.

  Her father stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Oh, and I stole the recipe from the Food Network. Don’t tell anyone.” He winked.

  Linda sighed. “I’ll feel guilty eating all this, but I don’t care.” She sat with Hope and waited for Van to join them. As usual, her father got the head of the table, and Linda sat to one side, Hope on the other.

  “Is Theo coming?”

  “No.” Her father placed the casserole on the table, joining the carafe of coffee and a jug of juice already there. “He’s working.”

  “Still at the coffee shop?” Every day that Theo kept a job counted as a win. Her little brother—not so little really, since he towered over her—had to deal with Van’s grilling the same way Hope normally dealt with her mother’s. Hope still didn’t understand how Landon and Gavin had managed to avoid the wrath of their parents.

  “Yes, he’s doing well there,” her mother answered. “Better than me with that screwed-up listing.”

  Since her mother had brought it up, Hope found it a safe topic to broach. She fortified herself with caffeine before asking, “So you learned you’d lost the listing this morning?”

  “I had a bad feeling yesterday. It was confirmed today. Trina’s double-talk and connections to the mayor won the Hosterlys over.” Linda huffed. “She used her looks too. Jeff Hosterly is a total lecher. That cosmetic surgery really worked to bring out Trina’s assets.” Linda seemed less upset about Jeff being a creep than that Trina’s enhancements had scored her the listing. “I wonder if I—”

  “No.” Van shook his head. “You’re beautiful and smart, and if the Hosterlys couldn’t see that, then they deserve what they get with Trina.”

  “A four-point-two-million-dollar house,” Linda griped. “I could have gotten it for them for four-point-one-three.” She sniffed. “But live and learn. Next time I’ll make sure to hire a trustworthy assistant.”

  “Assistant?” Hope asked, confused. “What does that have to do with Trina?”

  Van winced. “Oh boy. So it was Cathy feeding her information, then.”

  Linda nodded. “Yes, so I’m once again without someone I can trust at my side. I mean, Kelly’s good to step in while I’m searching, but he’s not Cathy. She was so good at keeping me organized.” Linda turned to Hope, her gaze a little too intent for Hope’s peace of mind. “Would you like to—”

  “No, Mom.”

  “But honey, you don’t know what I’m going to say.” Linda gave a light laugh that didn’t fool anyone.

  Hope’s father made a mad dash to the kitchen to grab everyone more water. Coward.

  As much as Hope felt for her mother’s loss, she had her own sanity to protect. Be nice. Mom’s having a bad day. Smile to take the sting out of no. “You want me to step into Cathy’s role. Sorry, Mom. Been there, done that two years ago.” And got the migraines to prove it. Hope shook her head. “I love you, but we can’t work together. We’re not a good fit.”

  “Well, that’s true.” Her mother looked her over. “You know, I stopped by Cam’s last week and saw you typing madly behind your desk.” Linda paused. “He doesn’t mind what you wear to work?”

  Hope counted to ten in her head before answering. “I always dress professionally. Cam likes us to be business casual. I’m pretty sure I wore skirts all last week.” Which day had her mother been in? She couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered, because Hope had never had issues with her appearance at work.

  “You had one on.” Linda nodded. “But it seemed short to me.”

  Riiiggght. And you saw that from your position on the other side of the desk while I was sitting? Count to ten, count to ten…

  Van stuck his head out from the kitchen, looked at both of them, then ducked back inside. “Forgot my glass. Be right out.”

  Hope gritted her teeth, then forced herself to relax. “I don’t wear min
iskirts to work, Mom. And since Cam didn’t complain, he obviously thought it was fine.” Though, what if he hadn’t liked it but didn’t know how to tell her? Or he was trying to decide how to tell her? Or if—Argh. He didn’t care. Hope wore business clothes, nothing revealing or inappropriate. Linda strikes again.

  “He has no taste.” Her mother sighed. “I would have thought marriage to Vanessa would have helped him. Now there’s a girl who has it all.” Her mother pointed a spoon at her. “Top of her accounting firm, a partner even. She has a beautiful baby girl and a decent-enough husband to boot.” She chuckled. “I’m kidding. I love Cam. He’s the smartest of Beth’s kids, you know.”

  “I know.” Linda had only said that a million times.

  “Graduated college early and is already making a mint with his own firm. I realize it’s just temporary work for you.” Or so her mother continued to remind her, because in Linda’s mind, if there was no room for advancement, the job didn’t signify as worthy.

  Hope heard her father’s sigh from the kitchen.

  “I’m good, Mom. I love my job.” Hope forced herself to drink her juice and not respond to her mother’s clucking. She cleared her throat and in a loud voice said, “Man, Dad, this French toast is awesome.”

  Linda frowned. “You’ve never been one for numbers, despite that degree.”

  So much for dear old Dad coming to the rescue. “And you want me to work for you?”

  Linda talked over her. “You know, when you were younger, I thought maybe you’d be good in fashion. Not retail, but design. You do have an eye for it. I still think you’d be amazing selling houses. I can teach you so much more than that brief bit you learned a while ago. You’re beautiful and smart and fast on your feet when it comes to conversation. I really think you should give being a real estate agent another shot.”

  “No thanks. I’m good where I am.”

  Linda blew out a breath at the same time Van returned with a pitcher of water and three glasses balanced in his hand. He gave Hope a big smile and nod, and she refrained from arguing with her mother.

  “Well, then, if I can’t convince you to look elsewhere for satisfying work you can grow and advance in, tell us what else is going on with you. Are you dating again?”

  “No.” Jesus, kill me now.

  “Why not?”

  “Linda…” Van gave her the first warning, which she ignored.

  “What? I’m interested in my daughter’s life. With the boys all set and Theo finally talking to the recruiters about boot camp, we’ve only got Hope to worry about.”

  “Why does Theo get a pass?” Hope asked, though she knew she shouldn’t have. No point in throwing her younger brother under the bus just because she’d been targeted.

  “He can’t commit himself before going away,” her father answered. “I mean, I got lucky with your mother. But there were a lot of hard times for us back then. Distance is no way to start a relationship.”

  “Which is why I think you and Steven would hit it off,” Linda segued with a smile at Hope. “He’s a doctor. Alice Cooper’s son.”

  Hope blinked, familiar with the name. “Isn’t Alice Cooper some rock star?”

  Van snorted. “Some rock star? You’re so young. Alice Cooper is the godfather of shock rock.”

  “He’s a guy? With a name like Alice?”

  Linda frowned. “Obviously it’s not that Alice Cooper. Van, honestly.”

  Hope smothered a grin. Her father laughed outright.

  “Alice is Steven’s mother,” Linda explained. “Steven moved here two months ago. I sold him a house, that nice one on Taylor Avenue.”

  “Oh, right. The stonework with the red door.” Her father nodded.

  Linda beamed. “Yes. It’s a beautiful house. He’s a very nice man. Hope, I think the two of you would hit it off.”

  Her mother’s matchmaking had been disastrous in the past. Hope preferred her own awful exes to her mother’s snobby missteps. “No thanks. I can find my own dates, Mom.” Take a breath; she’s had a bad day.

  “What would it hurt to meet him?” Linda sighed. The put-upon mother. “He’s a nice man, has a great job, and clearly has money. Take me out of the equation, and you’d date him in a heartbeat.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. There’s more to a man than money and a good job.”

  Van focused on his plate. “Man, am I a great cook or what?” he asked in an über-cheery voice.

  Her mother was on a roll and didn’t notice. “Well, it sure wouldn’t hurt for your future boyfriend to be respectable. The last man you dated was awful. Didn’t Greg fix heaters and air conditioners?”

  Hope gritted her teeth. Granted, Greg had been a jerk. But she hated her mother’s prejudices. If a date didn’t fit Linda’s preconceived ideal of the perfect man with the perfect job and perfect bank account, he didn’t rate. When younger, Hope had broken up with many a boyfriend instead of dealing with her mother’s disapproval. That she’d been weak enough to allow Linda’s influence still bothered her.

  “It doesn’t matter what Greg did. He’s gone now.” Hope paused, recalling Greg’s odd complaint that her brothers had messed with him last week. “Did you ask Landon and Gavin to talk to him?” She wouldn’t put it past her mother to interfere.

  “What?”

  Sensing genuine confusion, Hope shook her head. “Never mind. Mom, I’m sorry you had bad news about your listing. But I’m good. I’m happy being single, focusing on my career.”

  “A career with no possibility for advancement. No way to move up or even laterally in the company. But at least you dropped that idea about making dreams come true.” Linda huffed. “I’m sorry, honey, but you sounded like you were opening a prostitution ring. And I never understood how Greta Hampton ran her business without being arrested.”

  “Mom.” Hope flushed. “Greta still runs a successful business, you know. Even if the woman is psycho.” When Hope had tried to start her own fantasy firm, the woman had gone nutty, threatening her with lawsuits and even bodily harm. “Wanting to make people’s dreams come true, for me, meant arranging perfect dates and outings. There was nothing illegal about it.” Though she’d petered out on the concept, tired of trying to think of ways to make everyone else’s lives better while being envious on the sidelines.

  “Yes, well, running your own business takes time, energy, money, and know-how. You told me you had no interest in going back to school for your master’s, so it was a smart move to forget about that dreamer thing.”

  “Nope. I’m done with school for sure.”

  Linda sighed. “Hope, can’t you see that this job is going nowhere for you too?”

  Broken record, meet Linda. “I’m happy where I’m at.”

  “Where you are,” Linda corrected.

  Annoyed and desperately trying to hold on to her patience, Hope counted to fifteen in her head. Ten obviously hadn’t done the job.

  “You know,” her mother continued, “if Steven won’t suit, I have another friend. Evan’s an English professor. He’s single, maybe ten years older than you are, and a lovely man.”

  “No.”

  “You’d like him. I know your taste, and he’s someone you’d find handsome. He’s a teacher, so he’s not too rich for you,” Linda said with a bite. “God forbid you like someone who can rub two nickels together.”

  “Seriously, I’m fine. I don’t need help finding a man.” For some reason, J.T. Webster and his sexy smile popped into her mind’s eye.

  “Really? Honey, you’re nearly thirty. If you don’t find a man soon, you’ll turn into Sophie. Don’t get me wrong. I love my sister. But don’t you think she’d redo her life if she could? No children and no husband and she’s fifty-two already. Way too late for babies.”

  At mention of her aunt, who’d only ever been supportive, Hope lost her cool. “You know what? I am dating some
one.” The words started coming, and she could do nothing to stop them. “I didn’t mention him, because he’s someone you’d hate. He’s blue collar, an ex-con, and he comes from a broken home,” she said sweetly. “No pedigree to impress you, for sure.”

  “Oh?” The arched brow did it.

  “Yeah. Did I mention he tattoos people for a living?” Her mother’s passionate disdain for body art was a known fact. “You should see the crowd he hangs out with, Mom.” Hope gave a pretty shrug. “Not one of them has a nickel to rub, let alone two. Just think, if you’re lucky, you can have a poor son-in-law who’s got baby mommas all over town.”

  God, stop. You can’t go there. Not with him. But her mouth continued to ignore her. Hope would have brought up the mixed-race angle, except the one thing about Linda Donnigan Hope had always admired was that Linda was color-blind. A true woman of the people, Linda didn’t care about race, sexuality, or religion. Hell, she’d have done cartwheels of joy to have a gay daughter, so long as Hope dated a rich lesbian.

  Linda narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying. You’re gun-shy since Greg, and you should be. Talk about a poor choice.”

  Hope fumed. She knew she’d made a mistake, especially with her mother always there to remind her.

  “I’ll call Steven. Let me fix this for you, since we both know you can’t see fit to fix yourself,” her mother added with a grumble. “He’s a doctor, for God’s sake. You can’t get much better than that.”

  “What you mean is I can’t get much better than that.”

  Linda frowned. “That’s what I said.”

  “No, you meant—Forget it. I don’t need you to fix me, Mom. I’m good the way I am.” With or without a man.

  Hope gripped her fork and focused on not jumping over the table and stabbing her mother with it.

  “Linda.” Hope’s father, ever the eternal peacemaker, covered Hope’s hand and squeezed. “Let’s just have a nice meal and forget about all this.” He turned to Hope and smiled. “Hope’s just fine the way she is.”