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  Fiancé. Well, now. Wasn’t Batman one smart son of a bitch?

  Davis held out his hand to Mr. Evans as Mrs. DuVal released him and went to seat herself. Batman’s grip was firm and his expression was welcoming.

  “Good to have you with us,” Hale said. “How is it you know Lolly?” he asked cordially as he indicated the chair Davis should take.

  Davis shrugged off the question and redirected the subject by complimenting Batman on the beautiful landscape as he sat down. Then he watched as Bruce Wayne popped a cork out of a bottle of champagne and poured it liberally on top of Davis’ orange juice.

  “It’s a big day around here,” Hale said. “I insist everyone help me celebrate.”

  “Well, if you’re gonna twist my arm.” Davis shrugged.

  “Indeed,” Lolly’s mother said with a smile as Batman winked at her and added a mere dollop to her glass.

  It should have felt odd. Davis was a total stranger to the two beautiful people sitting down at the table with him. Yet, he observed again how comfortable he felt in their company. Completely relaxed, as if he’d known them all his life. And, just as he started sinking into that comfort, he felt two large hands land hard on his shoulders as a growl hit the air.

  “I thought I told you to wait over there.” Vance had arrived shower fresh and mean as a pit bull. “What the fuck? Excuse me, Genevra,” he said, nodding across the table at Miss North Carolina.

  “My bad,” Genevra said brightly, passing a large platter of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage to Davis. “I dragged him over. I like company at breakfast.”

  “Hmm. You don’t even know this guy.” Vance sat down next to Davis and pulled the cloth napkin down to his lap. “I don’t even know this guy,” he added taking a warm blueberry muffin from the basket in front of him and lifting a knife to cut off a pat of butter.

  “He knows The Dynamite,” Hale said absently as he dished himself a scoop of grits from a heavy ceramic bowl.

  Whatever that meant had Vance’s knife stopping in mid-air. He twisted his neck and blinked directly at Davis. Vance’s lips thinned as he carefully laid his knife on the side of his plate. Then he sat back in his seat, placed his elbows on the arms of his chair, and carefully folded his fingers together over his torso.

  “How, exactly, do you know Lolly?”

  So…that meant…Lolly—Dynamite—got it. Okay then.

  Looking back, Davis would find humor in the immediate situation. Sitting there, the unerring point of focus of Lolly’s mother, Bruce Wayne, and a man who was about as happy to hear this bit of news as he would be to learn someone ran over his dog. Uh-oh. The last thing he wanted to do was piss Vance off. Because, if all went according to plan, Vance Evans was the guy who was going to help him win Lolly back.

  Chapter Three

  Vance was well aware that his voice had an edge to it. That the muscles in his arms were flexing inadvertently with an energy he was actually trying to conceal. If Genevra and his father hadn't been seated across the table, he probably would have tossed Preppy-Wan Kenobi into the pool first and asked questions later. This was far more civilized, he assured himself, given the fact that The Dynamite—as his father so cleverly referred to Lolly—had recently exploded his entire fucking life. And now it seemed she was the gift that just kept on giving.

  Davis’ eyes drifted first to Genevra, then to Vance’s father, and then back to Vance—who hoped he looked like he was waiting patiently for an answer.

  “Lolly and I used to date,” he said. As if that answer wasn’t going to get his preppy ass thrown into the pool.

  Vance did his best to maintain an outward calm. He cleared his throat and then smoothed the side of his hand over his lips, holding himself back from leaning forward and getting into the guy’s face.

  “Date,” Vance repeated. “When was this?” he asked, all calm and neighborly like.

  “Recently,” Davis said, turning his attention to his plate of food.

  “How recently?” Vance asked, wondering what the fuck he was doing. Lolly wasn’t his girl. Lolly was Brooks’ girl. And if anybody should have a problem with this guy it was—

  But then the sky opened and the angels started singing. “Holy shit,” Vance exclaimed. “Pardon me, Genevra,” he added in her direction before he burst out laughing. “You are Milquetoast,” he accused Davis with a pointed finger. “You are Nice, Safe, and Boring.”

  Davis’ expression deflated.

  “Aw, sorry man.” Vance slapped Davis on the back, feeling renewed vigor for his muffin. He picked up his knife and started buttering the sucker heavily. He shook his head, having some empathy for the poor bastard, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his damn face. “It’s just that your unfortunate reputation has translated into a world of good for me and my buddy Brooks over the last couple of months. I don’t think I’m spilling any secrets saying that because of you, Brooks has been able to sidestep the land mines of Nice, Safe, and Boring to finally capture the heart of the love of his life.”

  “Lolly?” Davis groaned.

  “Uh, yeah, sorry man. She’s picked him. And you…and I,” Vance acknowledged out loud, looking directly at his father, “are going to have to live with that.”

  “But, gentlemen, do not despair,” Hale said as he took the champagne bottle and filled the flute in front of his son’s plate. He set the bottle down and took Genevra’s hand, looking at her like she was all he’d ever wanted. “In most cases, the woman who turns out to be the love of your life is not the first one you fall for.” He leaned over and kissed Genevra’s hand. “So have heart,” he encouraged. “And eat up. The love of my life is a very good cook.”

  “Well, you’re right about that,” Davis said around a mouth full of food.

  The poor guy was eating like he’d been living on gruel and stale bread for a couple of years. “Davis,” Vance inquired, “are you still at State?”

  “Just graduated in May,” Davis said helping himself to two muffins from the basket. “Five-year program. A double major in finance and economics. Came out with my undergraduate degree and my MBA all at the same time.”

  “So you’re not an idiot,” Vance concluded.

  “Except when it comes to women, apparently.”

  Vance laughed as his father held up his champagne flute and said, “Welcome to the club.”

  Vance noticed Davis start to say something and then catch himself, glancing over at Genevra.

  “You looking for a job?” Vance asked.

  Davis shook his head. “I start in September with a firm in Baltimore, my hometown. But I’d like for you to hire me as a summer intern.”

  “I’m a cop. We don’t do interns.”

  “You’re not much of a cop,” Davis said, reaching for the grits, “but you’re a hell of an entrepreneur.”

  “I’m a damn good cop,” Vance said defensively. “What the hell do you know about me anyway?”

  Davis turned his head and gave Vance a look that seemed to hold up two framed diplomas and a whole lot of common sense. “I know everything there is to know about you, Vance Evans.”

  “Bullshit,” Vance said, going back to his eggs.

  “I was part of the Phi Delt pledge class when you handed over a million dollars to have the house gutted and renovated.”

  The cacophony of silverware clattering onto everyone’s plates ended in a stunned silence. Genevra and Hale stared at Vance like they’d never seen him before.

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  Vance combed his napkin over his mouth before he said with deadly calm, “That donation was anonymous.”

  “Yeah.” Davis glanced around, understanding the faux pas he’d just committed. “Sorry about that. It’s just that with the whole finance and economics thing, I was brought in as the accountant on the project. So I knew. That it was you. And then I sort of, you know…”

  “What? Stuck your nose into my private business?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did,” Davis said with growing en
thusiasm and not the least bit of apology. “Can you blame me? A twenty-five-year-old fraternity brother who majored in English donates a million dollars. All I kept asking myself is how did he do that? ’Cause I want to do that. So I Googled you and saw that you are on Lewis Kampmueller’s KampsApps’ Board of Directors. And with just a little digging, I found out that you were Mr. Kampmueller’s primary investor. And since his company shot to the moon like a freaking rocket, you made yourself look like a genius and have probably made your initial investment back a hundred times over by now.”

  “Two hundred fifty,” Vance said quietly. “Two hundred fifty times over.” The cat was out of the fucking bag, so why not put it out there? He felt his dad lay a hand on his arm.

  “What was your initial investment?”

  “Twenty-five thousand.”

  “That was seven years ago,” Hale said in surprise. “How the hell did you have that much money, and how the hell did I not know about it?”

  “Because your head was stuck up your ass,” came the heavily Spanish-accented voice of his grandmother as she approached the table.

  All three men stood, but Davis moved to pull out the chair next to him for Vance’s exquisitely dressed grandmother who looked just like Sophia Loren. And damn if Vance didn’t watch his grandmother give Davis a long assessing look up and down and then a subtle smile and quick wink like she was a cougar on the prowl.

  Vance rolled his eyes. Emelina Flores was nothing if not obvious. And she’d accused Vance of…what did she call it? Tomcatting around. Well, apparently that apple didn’t fall far from the damn tree.

  “Abuela, this is Davis Williams. Davis, my grandmother, Emelina Flores.”

  Davis looked at Emelina, then at Hale, and then back to Emelina. He said quietly to Vance as all the men sat back down, “There are some seriously good genes running in this family.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Vance agreed.

  “Madre, I beg your pardon,” Hale said as he filled her flute with champagne. “You were saying…about my head?”

  “Ah. Yes. Thank you,” she said, taking the champagne and toasting the table briefly. “How could you have possibly known about your son’s accumulation of wealth when you were constantly gallivanting about the country gathering your own?” she said before taking a sip. “And then had your head up your ass during your brief respites at home.” The sound of Emelina talking was melodious, to the extent that anything that came out of her mouth sounded couth and refined. Most of the time, her words were far from it, and Genevra seemed to continuously find humor in that. She spit her orange juice back into her glass. Hale passed her his napkin without blinking an eye.

  “Davis, it seems you are getting more Evans history than you bargained for this morning. I apologize,” Vance’s father said.

  “Frankly I’m enjoying the fact that even families who are rich, beautiful, and eternally young have issues. Please, pretend I’m not here.”

  Genevra choked up another laugh, causing her orange juice to tip precariously. Hale reached over and steadied her hand while keeping his eyes on his mother.

  Vance chimed in as if his painful family history was no big deal. “Long story, short, my father’s equity investment business has kept him out of town most weekdays—”

  “Up until now,” his father tossed in.

  “Right,” Vance agreed. “Up until Lolly’s mother caught his eye. Then he managed to find investment opportunities right here in Henderson, where I had already been finding money-making opportunities since I was ten years old. Ever since my mother waltzed herself out of town with another man and his daughter, and Abuela moved here from Spain, rescuing my father and me from certain starvation.”

  “What opportunities did you pursue when you were ten?” his father asked.

  “Evans’ Mobile Bar and Grille,” Vance and his grandmother said in unison.

  “That lemonade stand?” His father gaped. “The one you pulled on a wagon behind our tractor?”

  “That lemonade stand made me over ten thousand dollars during the three years I was in business. After that it was delivering papers, washing cars, dancing with ugly girls—”

  “Wait.” Hale held up one hand. “Who paid you to dance with ugly girls?”

  “Their fathers, who do you think? I’d hand them their paper, make a hint or two about an upcoming social at the middle school, and bam. Ten bucks a dance. I could rake in three hundred dollars in one night if I marketed my services hard enough. Toward the end of middle school, I didn’t have to market anymore. Checks would arrive in the mail to cover the whole damn year. Easiest money ever.”

  “Except you had to dance with ugly girls,” Davis said.

  “They all looked like dollar signs to me,” Vance insisted. “Besides, with your eyes closed you don’t know if you’re kissing an ugly girl or a cute one. And face it, not all cute girls know how to kiss.”

  Genevra’s tinkling laughter caused Hale to grin with boyish joy as he clearly forgot what they were talking about and focused all of his attention on her. God, his father was in deep. Which was a good thing. A damn good thing.

  The man had changed on so many levels, Vance couldn’t begin to add them all up. Gone was the Type A, high-strung, demanding father who was never around when Vance had needed him. In his place stood a loving father, a doting son, and a very indulgent fiancé—a man who had found a way to claw back into his life after having emotionally evacuated it for some twenty years.

  Yeah, his mother had pulled a number on the both of them, hadn’t she? Well, Vance was glad at least one of them had found his way back.

  “So,” his father said, interrupting Vance’s plummeting train of thought. “After the lemonade stand and the rest of it, you had money to invest when Lewis had his bright idea.”

  Vance nodded his head and smiled, happy he was there for Lewis. And happier still it had been working out so well for all of them.

  “Then why are you still driving that beat-up old pickup and living in my pool house? Don’t get me wrong—I love having you here. You are welcome to stay forever. But why haven’t you and I discussed going into business together before last night?”

  Emelina started to speak, but Hale cut her off. “I know, don’t say it. I’ve had my head up my ass.” Everyone laughed, including Hale. But then he got serious.

  “I’m sorry, son. I truly am. I have wasted valuable time that I cannot get back. More importantly, I’ve wasted your time. I was not the father that you needed or deserved. And for that, I’m even sorrier.” He took a deep breath then, glancing around the table. He held up his glass of champagne. “To Evans & Evans Investments, Inc. And no more wasted time.”

  “Hear, hear,” they said, everyone clinking glasses.

  “So, about that internship?” Davis asked. “I can only give you about six weeks, and you wouldn’t have to pay me much. I’m happy to be a gofer as long as I get to pick your brain about business, investing and…”

  “And what?”

  “And, you know, other stuff in general.”

  Vance and Hale looked at each other, tilting their heads in the exact same way. “Lolly’s not the boss of me,” Vance stated, “but she’s probably going to hate this.”

  “Probably so,” Hale agreed as a slow, mischievous grin spread across his handsome face.

  “But you think it’s a good idea anyway,” Vance said, “because Davis is crazy qualified.”

  “Davis is crazy qualified, but, in truth, that’s not why I like this idea.”

  Vance sat back, waiting for an explanation.

  Hale looked between his son and his fiancée and then threw his hands up as if he were surrendering. “I admit it. It amuses me to see The Dynamite self-combust.” He looked over at Davis. “You don’t mind being hired for my amusement, do you?”

  “No, sir,” Davis laughed. “Happy to have the job. And I will do my best to provoke Lolly, or uh, The Dynamite, into exploding whenever you are around.”

  “Gene
vra?” Vance asked.

  She held up her hands as Hale had done. “I’m an innocent bystander. I am not getting involved.”

  “Okay, then,” Vance said looking at Davis. “You’re hired. Now your rate of pay depends on how well you handle our first order of business.” Vance pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Davis. “A pool party.” Vance looked over at his dad who nodded and smiled. “This afternoon—to celebrate EEI, Inc. Call everyone listed under favorites. Then call around and see if you can get a keg of beer delivered here by 1:00. If not, we’ll go pick it up in my truck.”

  “Done.” Davis touched a few keys on Vance’s cell. “Okay, listed alphabetically…let’s see who we have. First up…well, of course,” he said with a slight grudge, “Brooks Bennett. Henderson’s Golden Boy. Baseball superstar in high school and college, and…uh, Lolly’s latest victim.”

  Laughter erupted. Even Davis cracked a smile.

  “Huh,” Davis said, looking at the phone. “Darcy Bennett. Brooks’ sister?” He glanced up at the nodding heads. “I knew she was Lolly’s best friend, but I never made the connection between her and Brooks.”

  “She also happens to be Lewis Kampmueller’s fiancée,” Vance said, “so don’t bother calling her directly. Just call Lewis.”

  “Check that. Definitely looking forward to meeting the illustrious owner of KampsApps. I wonder how much he gave his fraternity.”

  “Lewis isn’t exactly the fraternity type,” Vance said.

  “Really?” Davis lifted one brow. “Because he seemed to thoroughly enjoy being Contest King during the wet T-shirt contest the other night.”

  “Right. Might not want bring that up in front of Darcy.”

  “Okay, then. Next on the list is…Annabelle Devine. Totally hot redhead I tried to hit on Saturday night.”

  Vance busted out a laugh. “Oh, man. You sure know how to pick ‘em. Annabelle—The Keeper of the Debutantes—is the sole property of Duncan James.”

  “There was no ring on her finger,” Davis insisted.

  “Which Duncan is trying to rectify as quickly as possible,” Vance said. “But I’ll give you credit, Dude, you’ve got some balls. Excuse me, Genevra.”