Caught Between a Lie and True Love (Caught Between series Book 1) Read online

  A grimness firmed the sensual curve of his lips. Had she really been daydreaming about kissing him? “In some families, those are one and the same.”

  “Ha ha.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and his gaze dipped briefly. And when he looked back, and met her gaze, there was interest there, which caught her off guard. Because Brody had always regarded her as the annoyance next door, too young for his attention, too irritating to be allowed in his presence.

  Except when he’d take time to help her fix the old truck in Gram’s garage.

  Heat spiraled low in her belly. Ignoring it, ignoring him, she turned to her grandma. “May we come in?”

  As Gram pushed the screen door open wider, Brody's departure redrew her attention. He loped down the steps and retraced his path across the driveway to the house next door, pausing once to turn back and call out, “I’ll be back tomorrow to fix the kitchen faucet, Olivia.”

  Paige followed him with her gaze, taking in his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long sure strides. It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to get physical with a man. A long time since she’d wanted to. But Brody Jackson was definitely off limits. He had heartbreak written all over him.

  Gram’s voice interrupted her lustful thoughts. “Too much like your mother, you are, liking men too much.”

  Paige tore her gaze from Brody's backside to the judgement on her grandma’s face, and felt her cheeks heat. “That’s not true.”

  Beside her, Starr muttered, “Seriously not true. A boyfriend might get her off my back.”

  Gram shook her finger. “I saw the way you ogled Brody and the way he ogled you back. You stay away from that boy. He has enough trouble on his plate without adding you to the mix.”

  “Gram, believe me, I’m not here to get involved—”

  “Darn tootin’ rights you’re not.” Gram pushed open the screen door wider and waved them inside. “Hurry up now, before people see you. You look like a couple of starving hobos looking for a handout.”

  Relief swept through Paige. As she passed the older woman, she bent to give her granny a hug. “I missed you, Gram.”

  The older woman’s back stiffened. She didn’t hug Paige back. “Sure couldn’t tell so by the amount of visits you made to me over the years.”

  Paige released her and stepped back. “I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.”

  “The jury’s still out on that.” Gram eyeballed Starr as the teen schlepped past her into the house. “You don’t have any diseases, do you, girl?”

  Starr smirked and reached out, wiggling her fingers at the grouchy old lady. “Touch me and find out for yourself.”

  Paige pushed Starr the rest of the way into the house. While Gram closed the front door behind them, Paige took off her shoes, saw Starr do the same, then followed Gram through the narrow hallway to the back of the house and into the kitchen.

  The familiar scent of homemade bread made her mouth water. Gram grabbed oven mitts off the countertop, pulled open the oven door, and waved as a blast of heat hit her face. As she bent to pull the loaf out of the oven, Starr’s stomach rumbled noisily.

  Gram straightened and fixed Starr with a beady look. “You hungry, girl?”

  Starr nodded once, the practiced teenage cool gone for a few blissful moments while her attention fixed on the food.

  And any food would do. It seemed her daughter was a bottomless pit these days.

  “Bathroom’s up the stairs, at the end of the hall.” Gram turned her back on them, pulled three glasses and three small saucers out of the cupboard, and shuffled across the room to set them on the table. When she turned back, her gaze landed on Starr and her voice turned sharp. “Get going, girl. You’re not sitting at my table till you’ve washed those filthy hands.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Starr dropped her backpack on one of the kitchen chairs and took off like a shot. The moment she was out of earshot, Gram’s mouth turned pinched and hard.

  “How much money do you want?”

  Straightforward and blunt, reminding Paige of why they’d disagreed all those years before. She crossed the room to wash her hands in the sink. “I’m not here for your money.”

  Gram reached into the cupboard, grabbed a jar, and holding it against her bosom, unscrewed the lid. “You’re too much like your daddy, always looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

  Paige turned on the tap to rinse the soap off her hands, and swallowed her annoyance, but a bit got loose. “That’s not true, Gram.”

  “Too much like your mama, too. Liking men too much, you always did.”

  “I believe you already pointed that out,” Paige said dryly.

  Gram snapped the towel off the oven handle and handed it to Paige, then pulled out a fistful of bills from the jar and shoved it toward her. “Here, take it. Then be gone.”

  Paige stared at the bills stuffed into the jar. “Gram, why isn’t this money in the bank?”

  “Don’t trust no thieving banks. Robbers, all of them. Take my money. Do what you want with it. But never come back here again.”

  Behind her, the kitchen door squeaked open. Paige turned and met Starr’s curious gaze.

  The teen crossed the room to her side. “What’s going on?”

  Gram grabbed one of Starr’s wrists and tucked the bills into the palm of her hand. “Take this money and be on your way. I washed my hands of your mother years ago. I don’t need more trouble in my life now.”

  Paige gave a half-hearted attempt to defend herself. “Gram—”

  “You don’t write. You don’t call. Suddenly, you have the urge to see your old granny?” With an angry mutter, Gram dumped everything in the jar onto the countertop and a few coins tinkled against the hard surface. “Do you need more? In a day or two, my social security check will be here. You can have that, too. Take it all and then be gone. I don’t need your kind of trouble in my life.”

  Paige looked down into Starr’s upturned face. The teen’s eyes were wide with curiosity and something else.

  Greed as she clutched the bills to her chest.

  Somehow she had to convince Gram to deposit that money into the bank before it disappeared. And disappear it would. If she knew one thing about her father, it was that nobody’s money was safe in his presence.

  She nudged Starr on the shoulder. “Put the money back in the jar. We don’t take money from other people.”

  For a moment, the teen resisted. Then she shoved her fist into the jar, opened her hand wide, and let got of the bills. While Starr glared at her great-grandma in defiance and Gram glared back at her great-granddaughter in disappointment, Paige picked up the bills and coins off the countertop, and dropped them into the jar.

  She twisted the lid back on and set the jar in the cupboard. “I’m not here for your money.”

  Gram’s mouth flatlined. “Then why are you here? Don’t lie to me. What kind of trouble are you in now?”

  “No trouble.”

  Olivia turned her back on them, shook the loaf out of the pan, and cut a half dozen slices. She stacked them on the serving plate, her once nimble fingers bent with arthritis and old age. “I ain’t so old that I’ve forgotten what a lie looks like when it’s staring me in the face.”

  Gram stomped away to slap the plate on the table, then sat down at her usual spot. Back straight. Expression like stone.

  Paige eased onto the chair across from her.

  The old lady glared at Starr and pointed to one of the chairs. “Sit.”

  Starr slid onto the chair like she was sliding into first base, plunked her elbows on the table, and grabbed a slice off the tray. “I’m famished.”

  The stiff upper lip on Gram’s face grew stiffer. “Ungrateful child. We give thanks in this house before we eat.”

  Paige took the bread before Starr could cram it into her mouth, and set it on the plate in front of her daughter. “Elbows off the table.”

  Giving Starr a narrow eyed look, she bent her head and
put her hands together. While Gram said a prayer, Paige snuck a look at her grandma.

  It seemed that nothing about the old lady had changed. She was still outspoken, determined to be right, and righteous as only the eternally right could be.

  Outside the window, the roar of a motorbike drew her attention. She saw Brody steer the bike down the driveway and onto the street, and she envied his freedom.

  The wind blowing through his hair.

  And if he was lucky, no family responsibilities, no lies and secrets to protect the people he loved.

  As Gram unfolded her hands, her sharp gaze fixed on her houseguests and Paige steeled herself for what was coming next.

  “Bedtime in this house is at 8:30—”

  Starr nearly choked on the bread she’d crammed into her mouth. “Are you kidding?”

  “No lollygagging in front of the drugstore or pestering the neighbors.” Gram pointed a boney finger at her great-granddaughter. “And no sneaking out your bedroom window or I’ll nail it shut.”

  Starr turned to Paige, all snarky, annoyed, independent teen. “Seriously? This is how you want me to spend my vacation? I’m gonna rot here.”

  Paige reached out to grab Starr’s hand. “I’m sorry, baby. Gram’s house. Gram’s rules.”

  The teen shoved back her chair, jumped up from the table, and without excusing herself, rushed from the room.

  Gram covered her mouth with one hand and snickered. “One down, two to go.”

  “Two?” Paige narrowed her eyes at her grandmother. This is why she’d returned to Serendipity Island. “Where is he?”

  “When people ask if I have a family, I tell them no family that I ever care to see or cares to see me back.” Gram leaned forward, the cloudiness of her faded blue eyes now clear, and fixed Paige with a beady glare. “Your dad is trouble, girl. I’ve told you a thousand times to stay away from him.”

  She’d be more than happy to stay away from him.

  Unfortunately, Jeb Calhoun had the uncanny ability to sniff out the weakness in people, and Gram would be the perfect target for his nefarious schemes.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Delores Peabody heard the sound of Brody's motorbike leave his yard and a hum of excitement flowed through her.

  Soon you’ll be mine, she thought as the roar of the bike drifted down the street, but as it quickly disappeared into the distance, boredom returned.

  She fiddled with the charm bracelet around her wrist, squinted at the cobweb in the corner of her hostess’s living room, and wondered if the spider was dead. Or maybe just waiting to pounce on one of the eleven other women seated around the widow’s otherwise neat and tidy room.

  Come on, Spidey, show yourself. This is borrr—

  A sharp elbow jabbed her in the side.

  She jolted upright, her back ramrod straight, and dragged her attention back to the Serendipity Island’s Ladies Society meeting. Everyone was looking at her and she blinked back at them, uncertain if she’d missed something important.

  She slumped back against the chair.

  Probably not.

  Nothing important ever happened at these meetings. They were boring, boring, boring. She needed to get off this island before she went crazy.

  She pushed the threat of insanity down deep and glanced to her left where Matilda Hannibal, the current Madame President, resided over the closely knit group.

  Right now, the older woman was tapping the crystal on her watch, and her blue on blue eyes stared back at her. “Delores, are you daydreaming again?”

  Old cow, she wanted to snarl. Instead, Delores forced an apologetic smile and sucked up. “Sorry. Thank you for keeping me on task. What did I miss?”

  Matilda tilted her gaze downward, leaned just a smidgen toward her, and pointed at the pad of paper on her lap. “What’s next on the agenda?”

  Delores stared at the multitude of blue-gray hairs mingling with the black on the older woman’s head, wondered why she didn’t color it, then turned her focus to the pad of paper. “Dearest Olivia. She has a request for the group and asked me to pass it on.”

  Matilda discreetly glanced at her watch, making Delores wonder what she had to rush off to, then nodded once. “Go ahead, Delores, you have the floor. Of course we’ll do anything for one of our own.”

  And indeed, that was the truth.

  At eighty-seven, Olivia was the sweet old lady who lived across the alley from Delores’s house. They’d spent many an evening seated on Olivia’s back porch, exchanging recipes and gardening tips and watching the seasons change.

  Although since Brody Jackson had returned to the island, Delores hadn’t had much time to spend on anything but plotting and planning ways to get him to pop the marriage question.

  And while he still hadn’t asked her to be his bride forever, he was currently her best chance to escape the boredom of this island and become somebody other than a crazy thirty-three-year-old florist destined for spinsterhood.

  Olivia was also the last of the founding members, although it had been Matilda’s grandmother who had originally suggested and implemented the Society meetings, despite the general discontent of the island’s men. Which is how the old cow had become Madame President. The other women revered her, but Delores didn’t.

  Another poke in the ribs brought Delores back to attention and she was ready to jab Matilda back, maybe with the pencil in her hand.

  Maybe in the eye.

  Maybe she’d close her eyes, take a jab, and surprise herself.

  “Delores?”

  She focused her thoughts, lifted her head—she didn’t need to check her notes—and glanced around the room. “Olivia’s son just returned to the island and she’d like everyone to make him feel welcome.”

  “Of course we will,” Matilda said with a warm smile, then with a glance at her watch—again—turned her smile on the other women in the room, deliberately meeting the gaze of each one, ensuring each woman would comply with the request. “We’ll welcome her son as if he was a member of our own family, right ladies?”

  Everyone around the room nodded, including Delores.

  She checked her notes and continued. “She says her son is an excellent handyman, but due to the downturn in the economy, he’s been out of work for quite some time now. So if everyone could find it in their hearts to hire him for a job or two, she would appreciate it.”

  “Of course. Of course.” Matilda peered down at her watch, making Delores wonder exactly what the older woman was up to, and why it was important enough to keep watching the clock. As the owner of the sole real estate office on the island, Matilda had free reign over her schedule, and she never booked appointments to show houses on Tuesdays or Thursdays.

  Something that Delores had always found oddly suspicious.

  Beside her, Matilda addressed the members of the Society. “I’m worried about Olivia living all alone in that big old house. If her son doesn’t stay, maybe we need to take some action of our own.”

  Delores thrust her arm into the air and waved her hand to get Madame President’s attention.

  Matilda nodded her head in that regal fashion that made Delores want to smack her and smack her hard. Because she hated when the older woman looked down her nose at her subjects.

  “You have the floor, Delores.”

  Everyone’s focus shifted her way, and for a moment she felt the thrill of being at the center of their attention. It turned her stomach in a deliciously wicked way, like those roller coaster rides that were on the east end of the island. Up and down, around and around, until she thought for certain that she was going to throw up.

  She swallowed the nausea down, lowered her arm, snapped the elastic band on her wrist, and smiled at the women in the room. Strangely, they all gasped and leaned back. “It would kill Olivia to leave her garden and the longer she’s able to stay in her own home, the better. I volunteer to check on her every day to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Morning, noon, and night,” Matilda interrupted,
regaining the room’s attention. “Wonderful idea, Delores. If you need assistance, you can draw up a schedule and send out reminders each day so no one forgets.”

  Delores did a mental eye roll.

  Blah, blah, blah. How the woman went on. Oh, where was a shovel when she needed one?

  Matilda smiled at the women around the room. “It’s unanimous then. We’ll check on Olivia three times a day and help her stay in her house as long as possible.”

  Delores bent over the pad of paper on her lap and scribbled a note before the old bat could heckle her some more. Like she needed help to take care of her dear elderly neighbor. Olivia was her favorite person on Serendipity Island.

  Well, except for Brody…and when it came to Brody, there was no doubt in Delores’s mind that Olivia had her back.

  A ping of something desperate zapped Delores hard in the back of her neck. Gripping the pencil in her hand, the wood snapped in half. She stared down at it in surprise.

  An age spotted hand covered her own, extracting the broken pencil from her grip. “Is everything all right?”

  “Hunky dory,” she lied.

  Matilda squeezed her hand. “Good.”

  Delores wanted to squeeze back until she broke a finger or three.

  “We’ll make Olivia’s son welcome. That’s part of being a member of the Ladies Society. When newcomers come to the island, we treat them as if they were our own family. Right, Delores?”

  “Family,” she repeated and met Matilda’s gaze with a smile of her own. “I can do that, treat them like my family.”

  It had been so easy. A shovel to the back of her mother’s head. A little e-coli in her dad’s meatloaf.

  No one had suspected a thing.

  If Olivia’s son didn’t treat her right, Delores would make him regret it, like she’d made her own family wish they’d treated her better.

  She pulled another pencil out of her purse, wet the tip against her tongue, and poised it above the paper, ready to write.

  Matilda checked the notes on her lap. “Before we adjourn this meeting, I have one last order of new business. As you all know, our Mayor is unable to fulfill his term, and he handed in his resignation last night.”