“Yeah, that place hasn’t changed,” Hunter said. “They still do the best wings I’ve ever tasted.”
“That may well be, but surely there are better options than spending time in that smelly old tavern, reeking of beer and… and…”
“And what, Mom?” Brooke asked, then took a bite of fruit as she waited for the answer. From the look on her face, Hunter knew she was itching for some sort of confrontation, never being one to avoid tackling their parents’ ideals.
Melody sipped delicately from her porcelain teacup, gaze boring into Brooke’s. Then, supremely practiced at not engaging in discussions she deemed unacceptable, she addressed Hunter. “There’s a new bistro on Main Street. You really must try it.”
“It was only meant to be a drink, Mom. But if I’m in the mood for a proper meal then I’ll be sure to look it up.”
“I’d prefer you to drink at the club, Hunter,” his dad interjected, folding his newspaper in half and placing it on the table.
Hunter hated the club—the stiffness, the formality, the being on show. “I’m not a member.”
“Of course you are. I’ve kept up your membership dues. You won’t have any trouble entering. In fact, we should probably head over there this afternoon. It’s about time you showed your face.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Who were your drinking with at the tavern anyway?” Melody asked. “I’m sure none of our friends go there.”
“Lucky I wasn’t meeting any of your friends then, isn’t it?” Hunter snapped. His mother’s eyes widened and darted to the kids. He briefly felt bad for raising his voice at the table, but he was sick to death of being pushed around. He lowered his voice. “I thank you for your concern. I understand it’s not your thing, but I’m comfortable there, more so than at the club. And anyway, Mom, I was meeting with Aaron to discuss the Christmas dance, so you should be pleased.”
She pursed her lips and raised an immaculate brow. “I appreciate your help with the dance, but there’s no need for socializing, surely?”
“Can I go to the dance?” Gabby asked, lips glistening. “Please.”
Brooke turned to her daughter. “It’s for adults, sweetheart. But you and Cameron can have your own special party, okay?”
Gabby nodded and went back to stuffing chunks of pancake in her mouth.
“Speaking of socializing,” his dad said, ignoring the children and returning to the topic, “You should spend some more time with Richard Johnson. I know you saw him at the cocktail party when you arrived home, but perhaps a more… intimate setting? He’s doing very well for himself in his field of law and is making a name for himself. Definitely someone going places.”
Richard Johnson?Hunter cringed inwardly at the thought of spending time with the stuck-up man. He hadn’t liked him much during their high school years and didn’t find much to like about him when they briefly chatted earlier in the week. But instead of telling his dad to shove it, he kept the peace. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing well for himself. I’m sure there’ll be time to catch up while I’m here.”But no way is it going to be anything intimate.
“Excellent.” His dad’s smile was broad. “Now, have you given any more thought to the contract for the resort remodel? I’d like to get moving as soon as possible.”
Hunter held back a groan, but before he could speak, his mom interjected. “Finish your breakfast first, darling.”
“Start it, you mean,” Brooke muttered under her breath, obviously noting he was yet to take a bite, too busy being lectured.
Hunter kicked her under the table, but gratefully took a swig of coffee before picking up his knife and fork.
* * *
“Here you go, little brother,”Brooke said, handing him another mug of coffee. “Get that into you.”
She plonked down onto the sofa next to him with a big sigh, tucking her feet under her. The kids were distracted by the cartoons playing on the television, sitting cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in Disney. The huge heavily decorated Christmas tree added a festive flair to the room, tiny fairy lights blinking to remind them all of the season.
“You doing okay?” Hunter asked. He hated seeing her anything but happy, especially at Christmas.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just hate the crap that spews from our parents’ mouths. I can hardly believe they birthed us—”
“Eww.”
Brooke chuckled. “You know what I mean. I thought the saying was ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’ but in the case of our family, it’s like the apple isn’t even the same variety.”
“It’s pretty much a miracle we’re sane and reasonably normal people.”
He sipped his coffee and waited for a snarky comeback about how he wasn’t normal. When it didn’t come, he glanced her way. Brooke had a look he recognized. “What?”
