Black Roses (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) Read online

  “I offered to carry it, Piper.” I shake my head. “Are you always this stubborn?”

  I think back to the conversations Griffin and Gavin have had about that very same Mitchell-sister trait. When she ignores my question, I ask another. “You didn’t answer me. Why do you travel around the world? And why don’t you ever come home? I know your sisters miss you. They talk about you all the time.”

  She opens her eyes and looks at me purposefully. “What are you, writing a book about me or something?”

  My fingers come up to rub the bridge of my nose. This is going to be a long drive. “Okay. Well then, do you want to know anything about me?”

  “Not particularly,” she says, her eyes back to focusing out her window.

  Maybe her sisters haven’t told her about me. Maybe she’s not into American football after living abroad for almost four years. Or maybe she knows who I am but simply doesn’t care.

  “How come your boyfriend didn’t come with you?” I ask.

  Her head whips around and her face contorts as if I’d asked her why the moon was green. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Why would you even ask that? I’m not going to fuck you if that’s what you’re after.”

  I almost run my car off the road from the shock of her words. “Believe me, Piper, fucking you is the last thing on my mind right now. I think I’d rather throw you out the window, but then your sisters would kill me.” I try to compose myself before I say anything I’ll regret. “I was talking about Charlie. How come he didn’t come with you?”

  She looks away, but I could swear I see the hint of a smile curve her lips. It makes me wonder what she would look like if she actually smiled. I’ll bet she has one of those smiles that lights up a room. One of those smiles that makes men weak in the knees and incapable of rational thought. She doesn’t look like much of a smiler, though. She has a sad, vulnerable look about her. And damn it, even though she’s probably the biggest bitch I’ve ever met, something about her draws out my protective instincts.

  “Charlie isn’t my boyfriend. She’s my best friend.” She plays with a small leather bracelet on her wrist, twisting it back and forth and fumbling with the charm on it. I wonder if it’s from Charlie. One of those friendship bracelets that girls give each other.

  “Oh.” I laugh, thinking about bits and pieces of girl-talk I’ve overheard from her sisters. “That does make more sense now that I think about it. So, why didn’t she come with you?”

  Frustration spills out of her in a fiery sigh. She turns her whole body in my direction, straining the seat belt taut across her body. I try not to notice the way it tugs on the v-neck of her shirt, accentuating her ample cleavage. “You want to talk? Let’s talk. So, what about you? Do you have a girl in your life?” Her beautifully bitchy eyes burn into me while she awaits my answer. She’s obviously deflecting the conversation back to me so she doesn’t have to talk about herself. Or Charlie.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.” I can’t hold in my smile. Every time I think about Hailey, I’m positive my face lights up with pride.

  I can feel Piper studying me. “Huh, you must really love her then.” She says it like it’s such a foreign concept, one person being madly in love with another. It makes me wonder just what happened to her—or who happened to her.

  “I do.” I nod my head. “I love her more than I ever thought one human being could love another.”

  She straightens herself into her seat and I wonder if I caught just a hint of disappointment cross her face. She reaches for the radio, but hesitates, looking at me first. “Do you mind?”

  I shake my head and she proceeds to scan through my presets to find a station that suits her. We drive in silence, with her occasionally singing quietly to a song until she realizes what she’s doing and stops. When my favorite song comes on, a song Hailey and I sing together—well she mumbles, I sing—I glance over to catch Piper doing it again and she blushes. The brief wave of embarrassment that crosses her face is just another indication that there might in fact be a decent person underneath her tough, standoffish exterior. The woman is a spicy mix of contradictions.

  The music turns off as my phone rings. I push the button on my steering wheel to answer it. “What’s up, G?”

  “Did you get the package?” Griffin asks.

  “The package is sitting right here,” Piper says, snidely.

  “You could have warned me I was on speaker, Dix,” Griffin says. “And, hi, Piper, this is Griffin. I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Piper says, obligingly.

  “Sorry, G.” I shrug my shoulders at Piper. “But, yeah, I’ll drop her off and then meet you and Gavin at the gym, right?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be there around four o’clock after my shoot. Thanks for picking her up, Dix.”

  “Not a problem. See you then.” I click off the call and the music comes back on.

  Piper turns the volume down. “Your friends call you ‘Dicks’?” she asks, wide-eyed.

  “Dix,” I say and then spell it out for her, “D-I-X. You know, because my name is Mason.”

  She draws her brows in confusion.

  “Mason Dixon,” I explain. “As in the line that was the northern limit of the slave-owning states before the abolition of slavery?”

  She chokes on a laugh. “Your last name is Dixon?”

  She really doesn’t know about me, does she? “No. My last name is Lawrence. It’s just what my friends call me.”

  “Oh, right.” She rolls her eyes. “I forgot. Men always need to have stupid nicknames for each other.” She turns the music back up and stares out the window again.

  As we make our way into the city, she’s oblivious to my frequent glances. I wonder how this girl came from the same womb as Baylor and Skylar. Aside from the obvious stubborn streak, she’s nothing like them. They are kind and selfless. They would give their right arm for strangers. They love their tight-knit family and Sunday brunches.

  So why in the hell, then, do I feel like this one person—this exotic bitch of a woman with her damn sparkly nose—has gotten under every single layer of my thick and callused skin?

  chapter three

  piper

  “Sorry,” Skylar says, laughing as she hugs me for the umpteenth time. “I’ve just missed you so much. And I know you wanted to stay with Mom and Dad, but I think their pipes bursting was fate. You get to stay with me now. It’ll make wedding planning so much easier.”

  I look over her shoulder at Aaron, her two-week-old baby who’s sleeping next to Jordan, Baylor’s five-month-old daughter. I close my eyes and try not to think about my sisters’ charmed lives. Okay, so maybe they’ve had bumps and bruises along the way, I mean what happened to each of them was awful, but right now, in this moment—I’ve never seen them happier. Even Skylar, who never even wanted a husband or kids, is positively glowing. And I’ve just been sentenced to live in the middle of it for six weeks.

  I silently curse my parents, who decided at the last second to do a major remodel since half their house flooded a few days ago. But that left me with a choice. Stay with Skylar in the city, or Baylor in Maple Creek, Connecticut. Since I have no desire to stay in my childhood home with its bad memories, Skylar got me by default.

  I break free from the crushing hug and go sit on the couch, watching my oldest sister pour champagne into three glasses.

  “Skylar, did you get the church re-booked for the 15th?” Baylor joins us in the living room with a plate of cheese and the champagne. She hands one to each of us. “Only one drink for Skylar and me since we’re nursing. But you can have the rest, Piper. I’m sure you need it after your long day.”

  I nod and take the glass from her. “Thanks.” I don’t bother telling her it’s not the long day—it’s the destination.

  I look around Skylar’s townhouse. It’s amazing. Tasteful. Safe.

  Then Baylor’s words sink in and I snap my eyes to Skylar. “The 15th? I hope you mean the 15th of April.”r />
  She shakes her head and laughs. “Apparently you have a lot to learn about wedding planning, little sister. There is no way we could pull it off in a month. I have my doubts about being able to organize it in two.”

  “Two?” I place my glass down so forcefully, champagne sloshes out the top of it and all over the coffee table. “You said six weeks, Skylar. Six. Not eight. I have to get back. I can’t be away that long.”

  “It’s only a few more weeks, Piper.” Baylor grabs a burp cloth from her bag and wipes up my mess. “It’s not like you have a job to get back to or anything.”

  I give my oldest sister a punishing stare. “Oh, right. Like writing books is a real job, Bay.”

  I feel bad as soon as the words leave my mouth. I know her books have done very well. I even read one once. But I just can’t get into all that mushy-love crap. Give me a good mystery or thriller. I close my eyes and blow out a deep breath.

  A hand comes up to touch my shoulder. “It’s okay, Pipes,” Baylor says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just wish you would come back home. Why do you insist on traveling all the time? What happens when your college fund runs dry? You’ll need to work. Come back here, be my assistant.”

  “Or work in one of the restaurants,” Skylar adds. “There is so much for you here.”

  I’m exhausted. I don’t want to have this argument with them again. For the sake of peace, I say, “I’ll think about it. When the money runs out.”

  This seems to appease them for the moment. They don’t need to know the money will never run out. They don’t need to know my college fund was depleted long ago and Mom and Dad send me a small stipend to live on each month. They don’t need to know I’m never coming back.

  They don’t need to know.

  “So, other than wedding planning, what should we do while you’re here?” Skylar looks lovingly over at little Aaron. “I’m on maternity leave until after the wedding, so we can hang out. It’ll be just like high school. Well, before you bailed on me and did a semester abroad your junior year.”

  High school. I cringe thinking back on it. I wonder if everyone hates it as much as Charlie and I did. She and my sisters were the only things that kept me sane my senior year. I couldn’t wait to graduate and travel the world.

  I need to talk to Charlie. I glance at my watch and realize it’s the middle of the night in Barcelona—no wonder I’m so tired. It’ll have to wait until morning.

  “I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do. I was thinking about training for the Boston Marathon. And maybe I’ll help the folks out at the new place for some extra cash.”

  “Oh, they would love that.” Skylar walks over to get her stirring baby. “You could always waitress at Mitchell’s NYC, too. We’re always looking for good—”

  “Marathon?” Baylor interrupts. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Don’t you keep up with Piper’s Facebook page?” Skylar asks. “It’s practically the only way to get information on where she is and what she’s doing.”

  “Oh, come on, you guys know I’ve never been on Facebook.” Baylor raises a snarky brow.

  “Right.” Skylar laughs. “I almost forgot about the infamous Facebook sabotage.” She unsnaps her shirt and settles Aaron against her breast for a feeding.

  I roll my eyes at how my sister is simply flopping her boob around without a care in the world. “Really, Skylar?” I ask, walking away so I don’t have to witness it.

  “Wait, Pipes.” Baylor follows me into the kitchen. “Tell me more about the marathon. I know you’ve been running, but a marathon? Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme? Anyway, don’t you have to register for those things well in advance? It’s next month, isn’t it?”

  “It is. April 20th, in fact.” I pull out my phone and scroll down to find a few pictures that were taken last year. I show her the photos Charlie snapped of me in the marathons I ran in Berlin and Amsterdam. “I know it’s too late to register, but they always reserve a few thousand spots for charities and contributors. I thought maybe Gavin, with his ties to the movie business and all, could pull some strings and get me in.”

  Baylor scrolls through the pictures of me, sweat-drenched and practically limping across the finish line. I look at them over her shoulder, proud of the one thing in my life that gives it meaning. Clarity. Purpose.

  She hands me the phone and wraps me into an all-encompassing hug. “I’m so glad to see you doing something you love. I’ve been so worried about you, Piper. I’ll ask Gavin about it.”

  The doorbell rings. Jordan is fussing, garnering Baylor’s attention, and Skylar is still busy nursing so I walk over to answer it. I look through the sidelight to see a young man, probably my age, carrying a large bag. He’s got dark-brown hair that’s short and manicured—a contradiction to the sleeves of tattoos on his arms and the gauges in his ears. He’s hot. European-guy hot. I wonder who the hell he is and why he’s coming to my sister’s house.

  For a moment, I freeze. My stomach forms a large knot and my head feels light. Oh, God, they aren’t trying to set me up, are they? I knew this would happen. It was one of my fears coming back home. I just can’t believe they didn’t even give me a single goddamn day to get over the jet lag before they started.

  “That’ll be Jarod from Mitchell’s.” Baylor fidgets with a baby chair, trying to attach it to the dining room table. “Let him in, Pipes. He’s got our dinner.”

  A breath of relief escapes me as I open the door and let him through. And even though he’s only the delivery boy and not some kind of surprise blind date, I still wonder if my sisters have an ulterior motive.

  “Hi.” He walks by and the smell of delicious American food permeates the room, causing me to forget about everything else in the world except the dinner this guy is carrying.

  Oh, how I’ve missed it. I think I’ve missed the food here more than anything else. I can smell the barbeque sauce and I can only hope it’s Mitchell’s famous pulled pork. There are just some things you can’t get abroad, and good barbeque is one of them.

  Jarod does a double take after he walks past me. “Wow,” he says, looking back and eyeing me up and down. “You could be Baylor, only a little younger and with some um . . . eccentricities.”

  I nod to his many tats and the gauges in his ears. “I have eccentricities?” I say flatly.

  He laughs, putting the bag on the table and pulling out several boxes of food that, no matter how tired I am, have my mouth fully waking up and ready for a feast. “I heard you’ll be in town for a while. If you need anybody to show you around, I’m your guy.”

  I grab a fork and dig in, not waiting for the others and not caring what a pig I must look like. “No, you’re not my guy,” I mumble through my mouthful of delicious pork. “And I basically grew up around here. I don’t need the dime-store tour.”

  He looks slightly taken aback. I see him question my sisters with his eyes. They shrug their shoulders and then Skylar thanks him for the delivery. “You’re a doll, Jarod. I really appreciate this.”

  “No problem.” He turns away, not bothering to give me another look. “Let Griffin know I said hi, and tell him I’ll see him at the gym sometime.”

  Skylar nods and they say their goodbyes as I scarf down the meal like a starving rat eating a prized piece of cheese.

  “So, there’s a gym nearby?” I ask. As long as I’m stuck living at Skylar’s, I can at least spend part of every day at the gym. And if I work at the restaurant, that will afford me as little time here as possible. I look over at Skylar, who’s now nursing Aaron from her other flagrantly exposed boob.

  Baylor feeds Jordan a spoonful of pureed baby food. “Yes, just down the street. The best in New York.” She turns to give Skylar a wink.

  I swallow a bite of pork, licking the delectable sauce from my lips. “Well, do you think they’d let me join for just a couple of months while I’m here?”

  “Probably,” Skylar shouts over her shoulder. “Considering Griffin
, Gavin and Mason own it. Well, most of it anyway. Some corporation still owns forty percent, but the guys are buying them out over the next few years.”

  My brows come together as I try to understand this. “They own a gym? Why would a movie producer and a photographer want to own a gym?”

  “And a football player,” Baylor adds.

  “Football player?” I take a bite of the creamy mashed potatoes.

  Skylar shakes her head. “Do you not listen in at all when we Skype you on girls’ nights? Mason always comes up one way or another.”

  “Mason plays football?” I tilt my head and study her. “Oh, yeah, maybe I did hear something you said about that.” I shrug my unimpressed shoulders. “I try not to listen when you and your friends get all hot and heavy over guys.”

  Skylar and Baylor share a look. Baylor lets out an audible sigh and goes back to feeding her daughter.

  “Not only does he play football,” Skylar says, buttoning up her shirt, “he plays for the Giants.” She stands up and puts Aaron on her shoulder, walking towards the kitchen as she burps him. “Well, not every game. Not most games, in fact. He’s their backup quarterback. Actually, he was supposed to be their quarterback until he got screwed over by the guy who didn’t retire. Johnny something—I can’t even remember his name. I don’t really follow football, but I will start when Mason—”

  “Skylar?” I interrupt. “Is there a point to your rambling?”

  “Oh . . . uh, I just thought you might be interested in who your best man is.”

  “You mean your best man, Skylar.” I get up from the table, not even finishing my dinner. There are entirely too many babies making too many disgusting little noises to keep eating. “Anyway, I don’t care about who he is. And now that I know he’s a famous football player, I want to know even less about him. It does explain the flashy car, however. I’m sure he has it just to impress the ladies. What a dick.” I spell it out for them, “D-I-C-K, not D-I-X. So, don’t you dare try to set me up with him—or anyone else for that matter.”