The Usual Family Mayhem

Chapter Forty-One

I drove straight to Gram’s house. Bolted in the door then slammed to a halt. Gram and Celia sat at the kitchen table. They’d been smiling and talking when I burst in. Now they stared at me in charged silence.

I wasn’t sure how to start but Celia saved me the trouble. “Are you wearing a robe?”

“Am I . . .”

I looked down. Oh, shit.

“Why in the world are you running about town half dressed?”

Gram, always one to get right to the point, threw that out.

The last fifteen minutes played in my head. I’d read the report then found the second one and left Jackson in bed. Alone. Without an explanation for my absence and grabbed the robe. That’s all I wore. Really, that was it. Nothing underneath. No underwear or shoes.

No, this wasn’t embarrassing at all.

Push through. That was the answer. “What I’m wearing doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

Gram nodded in the direction of the empty chair across from her. “You can’t just flit around like that. You’ll get sick.”

She was worried about my catching a cold. Interesting. If they’d put together my near-naked state this morning and my leaving with Jackson last night, and what that meant, they hadn’t spit it out yet.

I needed to take control of the conversation and direct it away from the robe question. “We have an emergency.”

Gram snorted. “Clearly.”

Do not take the bait. Do not take the bait.

“Would you like a scone?”

Celia didn’t wait for an answer. She got up and brought back another plate.

“I’m not . . .”

When she put the scone in front of me my hunger surged. “Well, yes, but that’s not why I hustled over here.”

I didn’t run but I came close to a jog, which was way faster than my usual speed. I sure sprinted from the driveway to the porch. Also “borrowed”

Jackson’s car, which might not go over well. That’s how serious this mess was.

“Please tell me you didn’t jump around on the streets wearing that.”

Gram shifted in her seat, looking under the table. “Where are your shoes?”

Excellent question. Why didn’t I slip them on?

That stupid report. Actually, reports. I saw the words. Panic swamped me when I realized how grave the situation could get. The need to protect overwhelmed my need for clothes.

Celia guided me to an open chair. Even stopped to pull the lapels of Jackson’s robe closer together and halt the unintended peep show. “Let’s get you some coffee. That will help.”

She said the magic word—coffee.

“Why does she need help?”

Gram looked toward the door. “And where is Jackson?”

“He’s in bed.”

Too much information. “I mean, I assume he is. He’s a grown-up. He can do what he wants in the morning.”

Why couldn’t I stop talking?

Gram frowned. “Are you okay?”

No. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be okay again. It probably wasn’t possible to die of embarrassment. At least I hoped not.

“We know you were with him last night, honey.”

Celia returned to the table. “That’s his robe.”

Admit it? Don’t admit it? I wasn’t a kid, but I still didn’t know how to maneuver through this situation. “I don’t—”

“I bought it for his birthday.”

Celia dropped that bit of information then grabbed a scone for herself.

“Ah.”

Of course she did.

“Did Jackson do something to you?”

Gram asked.

Wow. How did I answer that?

Celia let out a little gasp. “He would never.”

Depends on what we were talking about because Jackson absolutely did, and it was great. I felt pretty lucky today as a result.

“Maybe that’s how she looks after . . .”

Celia waved her hand in the air. “Sexual relations.”

Oh my God. “Please, stop.”

“Kasey!”

I jumped at the sound of Jackson’s stern voice. He sounded angry but looked adorable. His hair went every which way. He’d thrown on a T-shirt and pants but looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a night of hot sex to find his car missing.

He stormed his way across the room and stood by the table. Frustration thrummed off him.

“Oh, dear,”

Celia mumbled under her breath.

All of his attention was on me, and his tone wasn’t sexy or sweet. “What the hell is going on? Why did you leave?”

Gram snorted. “At least he put clothes on.”

“The way young people court these days is confusing.”

Celia shook her head. “What exactly happened last night?”

Jackson’s expression was priceless. “I’m not giving you a play-by-play.”

“You need this.”

Celia put a scone in front of Jackson even though he hadn’t bothered to sit down yet. “And I wasn’t referring to the sex. I can guess about that part.”

Maybe I could walk back to DC. “I’d like this conversation to be over.”

Gram didn’t make one of her usual warning sounds but she did smile. “I’m sure you would.”

“Kasey, I’m serious.”

Jackson sounded like his patience had finally run out. “I thought you were making coffee then I couldn’t find you. Then I couldn’t find my keys. I had to call a rideshare to come over here.”

That was a lot of information and none of it made me look good. “Your coffeemaker is confusing.”

His mouth dropped open.

“So, you drove over here to use this one? Wearing only that?”

Celia asked.

I gave in and split open the scone. This conversation didn’t show any signs of winding down and I still hadn’t eaten. “No, of course not. That would be ridiculous, as opposed to this discussion, which is totally normal.”

“I didn’t know about the report.”

Jackson blurted that out.

He stared at me, like he was willing me to believe him. What a waste of energy. I already knew.

“What report?”

Gram asked.

Celia started to get up. “Maybe we should give them some privacy.”

I wasn’t falling for that. “Oh, please. You don’t mean it.”

“It looks like Dad had a private investigator throw together a report on Kasey.”

The words rushed out of Jackson as if he needed to make his argument before he lost the floor again. “She clearly read it and panicked without talking to me.”

“Harlan caused all of this?”

Gram sounded less than impressed. “That man is a—”

“That’s not quite what happened.”

I put an end to whatever she was going to say because it wasn’t going to be good, and Jackson still had to be related to the guy.

Jackson kept talking, refusing to get sucked into the hurricane of weirdness swirling around him. “You left the report open to the recommendations page. I know you read it.”

“Kasey.”

Celia sighed. “We’ve talked about this. You need to leave a space exactly how you found it or people will know you were snooping.”

Yes, that was the important lesson here.

“I was skeptical before but it’s good advice,”

Gram added.

Time to end this so I could eat the scone instead of just holding it. “I wasn’t . . . okay, everyone listen to me for a second. I wasn’t snooping. I knocked over the papers and then, yes, read them but only because I saw my picture on the first page.”

Gram made a noise that sounded like huh. “How do you define ‘snooping’?”

A fair question. “I didn’t actively go looking for inflammatory documents. I wanted coffee, as we’ve already established.”

Celia looked ready to respond but Jackson beat her to it. “I don’t care that you read the report. I care that you think I asked Dad to hire a private investigator.”

Now I felt bad. Poor Jackson rushed over here thinking I suspected the worst. I’d pushed him over this edge.

The scone would have to wait. “Then we don’t have a problem. I don’t think you had anything to do with the report.”

“But you . . .”

He stood there for a second without talking. “Okay, good.”

“You two should work on your communication.”

True but not helpful. “Gram.”

Another snort. “I’m not wrong.”

Jackson sat down next to me. I almost held his hand. Only the presence of our nosy and overly involved audience stopped me. “The report looked like a Harlan-created invasion of privacy. He ordered it, or whatever you do when you hire an investigator, to prove that I’m ruining your life and your political aspirations.”

Jackson frowned. “I don’t have political aspirations.”

“Ruining his life?”

Gram sounded offended. “He’d be lucky to be with you.”

The tension eased from Jackson’s face and body. He almost smiled. “I agree.”

Did he just say . . . “Back up for a second.”

“If you know the report was my dad’s doing and nothing I care about, why run?”

Yeah, that. A new mess I created. “The second report.”

“Two reports?”

Gram made a sound I couldn’t even identify. “Harlan has been a busy little toad.”

Jackson put his hand on my knee and pulled my attention right back to him. “Are you serious? I only saw the one then bolted over here.”

“Your dad is very enterprising. A second report was on the stack he left for you. He had one done on Gram and Celia and the business.”

I took the rolled-up summary I’d ripped out of the report and put in my robe pocket. “Here.”

“Have you been holding that since you came in?”

Celia asked.

“His nonsense is out of control,”

Gram said at the same time.

Jackson took the pages and started reading.

I broke the contents down for Gram and Celia, which was the point of my partially clothed, completely spontaneous visit in the first place. “There are sections about sales and deliveries. A list of the items you offer. There’s also a reference to the ‘special’ gift boxes and pie recipe cards.”

Jackson read the beginning of that section out loud. “An undetermined amount of money is spent on packages that are off the menu, including information on a raisin pie that is not for sale otherwise.”

“Does it talk about poison?”

Gram asked.

Oh. My. God. “Should it?”

Jackson finished reading. “This doesn’t connect the pies to the customers with dead husbands. The line I read is under the financial section, which makes me think the point is about spending habits and nothing else.”

“How we spend our money isn’t Harlan’s business.”

Gram’s grumbling echoed throughout the room.

Jackson lowered the offensive report summary and set it on the table. “You left my condo to warn Gram and Celia? Not for any other reason.”

“Like what?”

Celia asked.

“Don’t interrupt when it’s getting good.”

Gram thumped her finger on the table. “Answer the man, Kasey.”

The mood flipped. Chaos gave way to a tingling that felt like excitement. I blocked out Celia and Gram and gave all my attention to Jackson. “I didn’t intend to leave you. I didn’t want to go.”

He smiled this time. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Okay, now we really should give them some privacy.”

The chair skidded across the floor as Celia got up. She motioned for Gran to join her.

Gram answered with a snort. “It’s our kitchen.”

“We have to get ready to go anyway,”

Celia pointed out.

Gram continued to grumble and snort and aim all kinds of grumpy noises in my direction. “You’re lucky we have church, or I’d stay in that chair all morning.”

Yeah, I felt lucky. “Enjoy the service.”

It took another few minutes for Gram to stand and move some dishes around. Her stalling was not subtle. Finally, Celia guided Gram out of the room, leaving me with Jackson and a heap of energy pinging between us.

“This is a uniquely embarrassing situation.”

He shrugged. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Of course not. You’ve got clothes on.”

He looked great without them. Just saying. “Who would have guessed you owned lounge pants.”

He took my hand and leaned in closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you woke up and regretted what happened between us last night.”

Every woman’s magazine I’d ever paged through suggested to go slow and play coy in this situation. Don’t be the first one to make commitment-like noises and risk scaring him away.

I ignored every syllable of the lame advice. “I don’t. You?”

He played with my fingers. Lacing his through mine. “I regret we didn’t continue this morning.”

He got more adorable each day. “Sweet talker.”

“You look cute in my robe.”

He touched the space where the lapels met.

His fingertip brushed against my skin, making my breath hiccup in my chest. “Let’s keep this G-rated. I’d bet the house Celia and Mags are spying on us right now.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking all sexy and playful. “You could come over tonight and return the robe.”

“Should I be wearing it?”

He winked. “Definitely.”

“Gram was wrong. We’re communicating just fine.”