“Ah… I wouldn’t say often. I’m not really part of this crowd, but I come along every now and then when Garrett is dragged along by his parents and needs some moral support.”
A hint of something—he’d have thought it was jealousy if he didn’t know better—flashed in Hunter’s eyes before he blinked and smiled again. “You’ve been friends since school, right?” At Aaron’s nod, he continued. “I’m surprised you two are so close.”
“Why not? We went to school together and have been friends ever since.”
“Yeah, but not exactly the same social circles.”
Aaron stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. Hunter was arrogant, but he’d never been outright elitist before.
“Whoa.” Hunter held up his palms. “Just stating the obvious. I didn’t mean to offend. Apparently Garrett has something I don’t.”
Aaron tilted his head in confusion. “What?”
Before Hunter could answer, Brooke and Garrett returned bearing glasses of red wine, followed by Paul, the waiter for the evening, offering canapés from a tray. Conversation centered on complimenting the food and praising the cabernet before they were joined by Freddy, Brendan, and Grace, the discussion drifting to the town’s annual Christmas Eve dance.
The Cavendish Crossing Christmas Eve Dance was the highlight of the town’s social calendar. Nearly everyone came along, either because they liked to grab the opportunity to socialize or just because the dance supported a good cause. Aaron fell into the good cause category—not that he didn’t enjoy a good party, he just preferred pizza and few beers around a fire pit over champagne and dancing. Plus, that dance didn’t hold the best memories for him.
It seemed Brendon was in his camp as well. “I hate the dance itself. I mean, it’s great for the town and all, but—”
Grace elbowed her brother. “Don’t be a party pooper. I like the dance. I don’t get many opportunities to dress up.”
“Personally, I could give the dresses a miss, but I love a good party,” Brooke said, obviously unaware of her mother’s approach.
“Darling, don’t be ridiculous. Every girl loves to dress up. There’s still time for us to go shopping if you don’t like the dress I picked out.”
Brooke turned at her mother’s words and gave a tense smile. “Mother, I’m perfectly fine to dress myself.”
“I know, darling, but do let me have some fun. You know how much I enjoy it.” Melody reached out and ran a perfectly manicured fingernail over the fabric of Brooke’s dress. “And didn’t I choose beautifully with this one, darling. So much nicer than anything you’d be able to buy around here.”
Ah, so that’s what the little exchange between Hunter and Brooke was about earlier.
“I’m happy with what I can buy in town. There are a couple of lovely little boutiques.”
Melody laughed, ignoring or oblivious to her daughter’s simmering anger. “You’ll have to trust me, Brooke. Just leave it to me, and I’ll make sure you’re the belle of the ball.”
“The dance isn’t about you, Mom. Nor is it about what Brooke is or isn’t wearing. The dance is about raising money for the community.”
Aaron hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by Hunter putting his mother in her place or his views about the function. The Hunter he’d known, even as a boy, had always been dressed to the nines when he’d attended the dance, hanging with the adults and schmoozing with the town’s top echelon.
“Hunter.” There was a warning in Melody’s tone. “Not here. Not in front of our guests.”
Hunter glared at his mother but didn’t say anything further.
Aaron looked between the two of them. Melody with her lips pressed tightly together and Hunter with his narrowed eyes.
Looks like there’s trouble in the castle.
4
It wasn’t even 7:00 a.m., but Hunter had been tossing and turning for the past hour and couldn’t fall back asleep. Damn his internal body clock that had him waking early every day. It obviously didn’t get the memo he was on vacation. He resigned himself to an early start and threw back the covers. Even with the central heating, there was a slight chill to the air, so he quickly pulled on sweats and socks before wrapping himself in the fluffy robe that was hanging on the back of the closet door.
The house was quiet as he crept down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen at the back of the house. He chuckled as he recalled taking this same path each morning as a kid. But then, instead of seeking coffee, he’d filled a bowl with sugary cereal that he’d taken to the family room, where he’d spent time watching cartoons, at least until his exploits had been discovered by his parents and he was encouraged to undertake more “productive” pursuits.
He stopped in surprise at the doorway.
His mom was seated at the kitchen table, sipping from a mug as she gazed at a notebook in front of her. She looked up as he made his way into the room, and he noticed the shadows under her eyes.
“You’re up early, darling.”
