date? I didn’t bring anyone with me.”
“That’s because no one wants to put up with his workaholic self,” Jack laughed.
The familiar argument, back again. From the day he’d gotten his first job at eleven, his brothers had teased him about working too much, playing too little. Mac just hadn’t seen the need for video games or skateboarding on sidewalks. Not when there were things that could be accomplished, goals to be met. “I’m not a workaholic.”
Jack arched a brow. “So you came to town just for my wedding? Not for anything work related?”
“Well—”
“Exactly.” Jack shook his head. “One of these days, big brother, you’ll slow down long enough to live your life.”
“Mac’s living his life. Up there in the city far from all of us. Doesn’t slow down long enough to call and say how-do-you-do,” Bobby said.
“Dad, I’ve just been busy.”
“Living the big corporate life. Sucking up the little guys and slapping them down like ants.”
And that right there was the crux of everything wrong between his father and him. Bobby didn’t understand Mac’s approach to business, didn’t see that sometimes buying a company and shutting it down was a good thing. “Dad, we’ve been over—”
His mother popped to her feet, cutting off the sentence. “Let me get you a plate and dish you up some food. That way your brothers won’t eat your helping.”
For a moment, Mac wanted to stay at this table, surrounded by the family he’d seen too little of since he’d left for college. But that itch to complete the To Do list, to move on to the next thing, the bigger thing, like some mountain just out of reach, nagged at him. He’d been chasing that feeling for years and had yet to find anything that tamed the quest for more.
He took one look at his father’s face, still impassable and cold, and got to his feet.
If Mac stayed a second longer he was bound to say something he shouldn’t. Something such as, Where do you get off judging me for how I run my business, Dad, when you were screwing up your own life? Yeah, probably not appropriate Sunday-dinner talk. “Sorry, Mama, but I can’t stay. Just popped in to say hello. I have a meeting to get to.”
“On a Sunday?” His mother shook her head. “Why are you working on the Lord’s day? Even He took a break, you know.”
“That’s because His work was done, Mama. Mine never is.” Mac pressed a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek, then grabbed his helmet off the sideboard, swung it back onto his head and buckled the chin strap. “I’ll be around, staying at the Stone Gap Hotel, and here through Saturday for Jack’s wedding.”
“Then gone again.” The cold statement from his father wasn’t even a question.
“My life is back in Boston, Dad. Not here.”
“Your life is where you make it, son.” Bobby shook his head. Clearly disappointed. “And there’s nothing wrong with making a life right here. You don’t have to conquer the world and trample the little people to have a life.”
Mac bit back his frustration. No matter how far he rose in his career, how many milestones he achieved, his father never looked at him the way he looked at his other two boys. Maybe Bobby couldn’t understand why Mac would leave Stone Gap, why he’d want something more than what this tiny little speck of a town had to offer. Mac had long ago given up trying to argue the point. His father was never going to see him as anything other than the one who’d let him down, let the town down. One business deal and Bobby refused to forgive or understand.
And now Mac had his own reasons for not forgiving or understanding his father, who came across as the great family man, the pillar of Stone Gap. When the truth was something else entirely.
“I’ll be back,” Mac promised. Then he headed out the door, got on his bike and started the engine, letting the roar of the Harley drown out the tension he was leaving behind.
Before heading to the address Savannah had given him, Mac stopped over at the Stone Gap Hotel to check in and get his room key, because chances were good if he got back late tonight, the eighteen-year-old front-desk clerk would be asleep when he returned. He stowed his small bag of belongings in the room, then grabbed his laptop and a notepad before heading back down to the bike. That was all he’d need for his evening with Savannah Hillstrand. Eat, conduct a little business and leave.
No lingering to get to know her, to see if he could make her laugh or coax that dazzling smile from her again. This was all work and no play, and the sooner he could get back to his room to tackle the long list of emails and reports he needed to read, the better. Then, hopefully, this knot of stress in his chest would ease.
He was just latching his helmet when a car carrying familiar occupants pulled into the hotel parking lot. His little brothers, here to check up on him. Mac tucked the helmet under his arm and waited while they got out of Luke’s car.
“What are you two doing here?”
The younger Barlows leaned against the hood, their arms crossed over their chests. “We’re on a fact-finding mission,” Jack said. “As in finding out why the hell you ran out on dinner?”
“I told you. I had a meeting.”
“At dinnertime. On a Sunday.” Jack rolled his eyes. “The only day you know Mama’s going to expect us all around the table.”
“You missed a hell of a pot roast, too,” Luke added.
“And don’t forget the apple crumble for dessert,” Jack said. “That was amazing.”
“Had myself two helpings since I didn’t have to share with Mac.” Luke patted his belly. “Too bad you missed it for a meeting, big brother.”
Mac scowled. He was back in town for barely a few hours and already they were giving him a hard time. “For one, the time for Sunday dinner is more like late afternoon—”
“So we have time to watch the game. Priorities, Mac.” Jack grinned.
“For another, I don’t think Dad really cared if I was there or not.” Mac shrugged as if it didn’t bother him at all, and as if there wasn’t other untouched issues between him and his father. Issues he didn’t want to share with his brothers, not until he figured out how to drop this secret sibling bomb with as little collateral damage as possible. “So I figured I might as well get some work done.”
“What is up with you and Dad anyway?” Luke asked. “It seemed like you were trying your damnedest to avoid him.”
“More than you usually do,” Jack added. “Dad’s mellowed over the years, Mac. You could try cutting him some slack—”
“I’m not having this conversation. I told you. I have a meeting—”
“No, you have a serious itch to avoid your family today. Which is what I bet you plan on doing all week. We had some very fun family activities planned for the week, too.” Jack grinned. “You know, group trips to the zoo, maybe grabbing some funnel cakes at the fair, a little brotherly
