Smith Surprise (Smith Pact Duo Book 3) Page 4

“I need to think about it.” I stand. A space like this at the last minute. And for nothing. I estimate the sticker price is near ten thousand dollars, easily.

  “Ronnie—” His voice cuts through my calculating thoughts.

  “Jaxon, I don’t live my life owing people. Agreeing to dating you is fine. But this is too much.” I gesture at the expansive banquet hall. I lived on a man’s leash once and I drowned. Lost myself under the waves of his wants and needs.

  “Not even for Juanita’s Casa?”

  “No.” My heart is swimming near my ears. “I need time to think about it. If they need to give it to someone else, it’s not meant for me.” I walk towards the doorway in search of Candace with Jaxon hot on my heels.

  I find Candace talking with a man in the hallway.

  “Thank you for showing us the banquet hall. Do you have a card? I’ll need a day or so to consider your offer.”

  “It’s inside the front flap of the folder. I can only hold it for twenty-four hours.” Her eyes are bouncing between Jaxon and I. I don’t look over at him.

  “I understand and I’ll be in touch.” I extend a hand. “Thank you again.” We shake and I turn leaving them to talk.

  I pull out my phone and dial Yuki as I exit the banquet area retracing my steps back to the lobby. I tried without success to locate a venue on such short notice. But Yuki planned to do some searching. Please come through Yuki.

  I sit on a bench near the glass doors listening to the phone ring.

  “Hey hot Momma.”

  “Got a second.” I whisper down into my phone, I glance over my shoulder looking for Jaxon.

  “Yeah, whatcha got.” Her tone matches mine.

  I turn to the glass windows looking at the valets move cars in and out of the circle drive. “I’m at a conference hall on the UT campus looking at their banquet hall.”

  “Score.” Her voice echoed on her end.

  “No, not a score.”

  “Oh-kay. I’m confused.”

  “Jaxon wants to give it as donation. And I am against it. How did your search go?”

  She chuckled. “Let me get this straight. He is offering a free hall and my frugal mother said no.”

  “No. I mean yes.” I still don’t see Jaxon. “He offered it and I want to decline. Did you find a place for us?”

  “What’s better than free?”

  “Yuki…find me another place.” I feel his presence before I look up to see him crossing in my direction. “I’ll call you back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so. And stop asking so many questions child and find me another room. ASAP.” I spit in rapid fire, disconnecting before she can respond. She always had a smart mouth. I stand.

  Jaxon opens the door leading outside, turning his cool gaze on me. I walk through. He talks with the valet and within minutes we’re in the car and back at S&J.

  I want to talk about canned goods, slumber parties, anything to hear him laugh. I reach for the handle of the door glad to escape the deafening silence of the car. Jaxon places a hand on my forearm. “I got it.”

  I twist in the seat. The heat is instant, I squirm to ignore the ache. He rounds the front of the car opening my door. We walk inside and stand back at the very bar where I kissed him. I sucked the life out of our evening and his kind gesture. I turn to face him.

  “Jax—”

  He kissed my cheek. “Good night Ronnie.”

  5

  “You got here quick.” Yuki is at my side as I stand at the bar watching Jaxon’s retreating back.

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on, let’s go to my office.” Yuki wraps an arm around my shoulder and ushers me to your office.

  We pass a cove of intimate booths, through the hall with three large private rooms, and end in the executive suite. The suite are in the back of S&J on the other side of the wall behind the bar. Yuki enters a code then holds the door open for me the glass door for me.

  “The guys are gone for the day.”

  “And Jazz?”

  “Asher took her home, she wasn’t feeling well. You almost missed me too.”

  We enter her executive office. I seat in my favorite of the two side chairs. Yuki carried the dark wood and black to her private space. The color from the white and sky blue Korean porcelain vases pair with African influenced pillows. An odd pairing that represented her culture and decorative touch well.

  I gather the pillow to my stomach, crossing my leg. I bounce my foot in a constant rhythm to process my thoughts about tonight and Jaxon. We went from sizzling to cold. I could feel Cleo’s shadow lurking. My died over twenty years ago. When would I finally move on with my life. Asher has moved on. Yuki moved on. It’s time I do too.

  “What happened?” Her soft hands gather mine, when had the tables turned?

  “I overreacted.” The new addition to her office captures my attention. “That is absolutely exquisite.”

  “Dylan brought it back from a recent business trip.”

  The creme canvas covered the wall behind her desk. The hillside sketch with a flowing stream and lazy trees. Its tranquility leaps off the painting.

  “He’s good for you.” I glance at Yuki and her smile tells it all. Love suits her. Her eyes brighten, a slow smile erases the concern etched on her beautiful face.

  “I hate I waited so long.” A delicate hand rests on her chest, brushing the neckline of her blouse.

  “So, does this mean you’re finally ready to set a date?” She stalls and anticipation creeps up my spine. I want my children in happy marriages. I don’t want my failed marriage to tarnish their views on love. “And don’t elope like Asher. Can I please get the privilege of seeing you walk down the aisle in this lifetime?”

  Her recent willingness to embrace her Korean heritage warms my heart. It’s like she’s blossoming before my eyes. My cautious, ambitious daughter now has an air of peace.

  “I will not elope. And I will not tell you the date until you fulfill your five dates with Jaxon. I know this will be different for you.”

  “I can’t do this.” I fold at the waist searching the swirl pattern in the wood beneath my feet.

  “Do what?”

  “Jaxon.” His face floats through my mind. I cover my eye, rubbing my lids with the heels of my hands. Think Ronnie. “How about we revisit this conversation after I plan the gala?”

  “We don’t break pacts.” I need to add stubborn to Yuki’s killer traits. “Listen Momma, I know our father wasn’t an accurate depiction of love or monogamy or....”

  “Marriage.”

  “I predict…” Her hand waves through the air like a rainbow.

  “No Yuki…”

  “Listen, Asher brought up our average. We are close to fifty percent accurate.”

  “Those are the worse odds ever.” I groan, big girls don’t cry, but this child will be the death of me.

  “Momma, I predict you completing your five dates. And you’ll have your groove back.” She shimmies her shoulders. I’m willing my face to remain blank. Devoid of all emotions and feelings. Maybe then she’ll move on.

  “Don’t give me that look Momma. Did you see him? And you just grabbed him and tongued him down.”

  “What did I do to deserve this conversation?” I chuckle folding at the waist searching the swirl pattern in the wood beneath my feet.

  “You made a pact. Don’t chicken out now. Listen.” She grabs my hands and I sit up. Today, her hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail. “You said I erect a perfect, pristine wall, in my ivory tower. Asher guarded his heart with a bulletproof vest.”

  I recall the conversation. As a mother, I creatively encouraged my children to see things my way. This conversation feels like a sting in my butt, my words coming back to bite me.

  “I’ve managed to climb out of my tower and Asher is in love.” The dreamy tone of her voice makes me smile. Asher is in love. “Now, it’s your turn. Break this crazy hold Cleo Smith has over this family. You can do this Momma.”


  We will open our hearts to love.

  “The Smith Pact remains intact.” Yuki starts clapping and bouncing around in her chair. Uncertainty twists and turns in my stomach. The pull on my emotions in one night is unreal. I won’t let my baby girl down. “You need to stop spending so much time with Jazz.”

  We laugh and for a moment I’m not scared. Not of rejection, but of getting my heart broken again. My awareness of him alone tells me this man could crush the fragments Cleo left behind.

  “Momma you are the strongest woman I know.” Yuki passes my cellphone. “Call Jaxon, schedule the first date and get that ballroom. And not in that order.”

  I called. And thank God, he didn’t answer. Yuki and I reviewed the brochure, her calculating mind worked overtime. She sketched out the setting, the menu, and I’m left with deciding on a theme. I plan to call Jazz in the morning. I drop to my bed and stare at my phone.

  It is possible for a heart to exist in fragments.

  Bits of joy. Snippets of peace. And void of agape love.

  I wanted love so bad that I shared Cleo. And with each indiscretion he robbed me.

  Robbed my dream. Robbed me of sweet whispers between a man and woman, moans between soft sheets, sacred cries between husband and wife. And I couldn’t see myself a man outside the unity of I do.

  It’s a piece of paper for most. To me it meant a family of my own.

  But his love mocked my heart. A heart made to love and be love. A heart hesitant to get back on the bike and try again.

  You can do this Momma.

  I reach for my phone opening the Messenges app. Woman up, Ronnie. My finger hovers over his last text message.

  Just do it!

  Me: As my coach, are you available after hours? I seem to be having man problems.

  I wait for the triple bubbles to appear. Will he text back?

  Jaxon: I’m listening.

  I let out a deep breath. Crawling into bed, beneath the covers.

  Me: Truth?

  Jaxon: Always.

  I peck out I’m scared. Erase. I scan my room, pulling my cover over my body. A chill shivers up my spine. I recall a few dates. Prominent men. But know of them were special. Enough to make me want to open my heart. To risk shattering my cozy existence.

  I wake and go to Juanita’s Casa. I work until dinner and return home. Can a summer change my life? To disrupt my cozy existence.

  I’m going to find out.

  A flash of heat stops me.

  I can do this. Change my life. Welcome Jaxon into my life, if only for a summer. Then I’ll find another someone, a real someone to share my life.

  My training wheels.

  I fan my face with my hands. If I’m going to do this, and I promised to do this, I’m keeping it real. I can’t play it safe. It’s apparent my rules leave me safe…and alone. I rub my clammy down my feather comforter.

  “Get on the bike Ronnie. Get on and ride.”

  My phone rings.

  “Hey.”

  “Hello gorgeous.” The gruff grumble of his voice flips a switch. “I saw the bubbles but no response.”

  “Yeah.” I twist the silk of my night gown around my finger. My mouth dry, my knees would knock if I wasn’t in the bed. Even in his silence I want to stretch out and tell him my life story. This man truth serum for my torn soul. I just want to… “spill it.”

  “Spill what?”

  I smack my head, and the echo tumbles through the room. I search the known darkness. Walls with paintings, custom furniture, pictures documenting our life. Except the fireplace.

  I have a choice. Play it safe. Or live a little. It’s time to be blunt. You only live once.

  “Jaxon, can I share my truth?”

  “Always.”

  I sit upright in the bed, not wanting to be alone anymore.

  “How soon can you get here?”

  He’s stolen her heart, it’ll take luck to get it back.

  Just her luck, one evening after too many shots, Yuki wakes naked tangled in Dylan’s expensive sheets. Yuki Smith doubts her mother’s judgment on men, life, and definitely on naming her “lucky.”

  Dylan Jameson is her twin’s best friend and all the things she’s not. Filthy rich, focused, and drop-dead gorgeous. And beneath it all he is a really great guy. Then he messed it all up by asking for what she could not give, commitment.

  Dylan heads to Ireland, somehow he took her luck with him. Now Yuki must board a plane to god-knows-where, to encounter god-knows-what, hoping for a chance to tell Dylan the truth. Because he’s captured her heart and something tells Yuki she’ll need luck to get him back.

  1

  “Put up your mugs.”

  I reach for the heavy crystal tankard mug, extending it across the table towards my twin brother, Asher Smith, careful not to let my eyes slide to his left. He sent a cryptic text message.

  It’s on!!! Meet me at the spot in an hour.

  I finalized the email I was typing, told my assistant to forward my calls to my cellphone, and now here I am in a bar at three pm with Asher, his wife Jazz, short for Jasmine, and his best friend and business partner Dylan Jameson—the one I’m avoiding in public. It’s complicated.

  “What are we celebrating? And hurry cause I’m hungry.” I ask as my heart warms, pride does not start to explain the feelings tumbling in my chest. The smile on his face tells me it’s good, really good. But I use this moment to give him a hard time. I mean, isn’t that what sisters are for?

  “Patience is a virtue.” Asher says over his glass.

  “Bite me, kid brother.” I kick him. That’ll wipe that smug look off his face.

  “Ouch! And you’re wearing those god-awful pointy heels.” The gang laughs. I lift my legs to avoid the sweeping motion of his foot as he tries to return my sisterly love tap.

  “Children, children,” Dylan chimes in, “stop teasing. Get to it. I have plans.” And I break my rule as my eyes meet his. Always the mediator. His strawberry blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and his wicked smile. He winks, and my heart skips a beat. Everything about him reads off limits. But like a child fascinated by the fire, I reach for the flames praying I don’t get burned. Not my smartest move.

  The waiter returns with our standard order of spicy wings, seasoned fries, and Dylan’s insisted upon house salad on the table. And we’re still waiting on the reason for this gathering in the middle of the day.

  Jazz sits her mug down places her elbows on the table turning towards Dylan. “It must be a woman. For you to pass on wings and beer—”

  “And the salad—” He adds.

  “We all know ain’t nobody touching that tired salad but you. Who goes to a sports bar for salad?” Asher looks throughly confused.

  “Asher, focus.” I cut through their banter. “What happened to the toast? Y’all are the worst.” I reach for a wing and Jazz, my hopeless romantic sister-in-law, smacks my hand and the slippery chicken tumbles to the table. “Ouch.”

  “That’s for kicking my husband.” She winks and has the nerve to laugh.

  “Thanks, babe.” Asher leans over the table and kisses her dismissing the raised mugs in the air, our food getting cold, and the ticking clock.

  “Get a room. Make the toast already cause this mug is heavy.” I retrieve my wing praying the five-second rule applies. Dylan drops his head chuckling.

  “Okay, okay. We closed on a space for Smith & Jameson.”

  “What?” I spring to my feet, and my wing flies across the room. “Sorry," I say to no one in particular as I round the table, pulling Asher into a hug. “I knew it. I knew you would get it.”

  Asher and Dylan were finding it difficult to secure a location for their international beer garden and eatery. They wanted a space near downtown but roomy enough for at least six truck vendors to park and offer food. But finding adequate space stalled their brilliant plan.

  “Your call did it.” Asher said.

  I pull back placing my hands on his cheeks. “No, your
business plan did it. I’m just doing my part.”

  “My good luck charm.” He whispers under his breath for only us to hear. I hate when he calls me that, and he knows it. “Don’t give me that look.” He holds up a finger. “Let me have this moment. Please.”

  “Okay.” I reluctantly agree.

  “Thank you.” He kisses my cheek, the joy dancing in his eyes is infectious. I feel a silly grin matching his spread across my face.

  “You’re welcome.” I go back to my seat, we lift our mugs with more vigor this time.

  From struggling to this. I’m Vice President at BrandShare and up for a major promotion to partner. He’s independently wealthy from his business ventures, and he’s on course to build a legacy with the Smith name on it. I look over at Asher, certain it will only get better.

  “In the words of William Shakespeare, ‘It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves’. My destiny is connected to each of you and I’m a blessed man.” He smiles at Jazz as she brushes away a tear. “This toast is to my beautiful wife, talented and uber-wealthy best friend, and my twin.”

  “And Momma,” I add. “Don’t forget Momma.”

  “Never.” Asher’s head drops for a brief second and when he looks up again, his eyes are glistening with unshed tears. “I will not fail with odds stacked so perfectly in my favor. We have a prime location in downtown Austin, the vendors, forty-nine of the fifty craft breweries on board, and in three days we’re off to Ireland to secure a deal with one final brewery.”

  Dylan places a hand on Asher’s shoulder. “Man we got this.”

  He nods. “Let’s toast to Smith & Jameson Beer Garden. That we get the final contract with Impose Brew and we open our doors to the public by the summer. To Smith & Jameson.”

  We repeat as our mugs chime reflecting the excitement swirling around our table. I tap Asher’s glass. Then Jazz. Then Dylan, and our eyes hold longer than they should. I’m frozen. The sounds in the bar and of Asher and Jazz talking cease to exist. He mouths, Don’t be late. I look back and forth to ensure no one saw it but me. He smiles and I find the strength to pull from his vortex.