“Mother.” Maude sighed. “I told you—”
“Yeah, yeah. They only work together,” Mother echoed, her sarcasm dripping like molasses. “Shows how perceptive you are.”
Only because he didn’t want to embarrass Reese did Brantley not clarify that, yes, they were, in fact, in a relationship. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but it wasn’t something Reese was comfortable discussing. Considering the man was still wrapping his head around the fact that he’d gone from believing he was straight as an arrow to learning he had the hots for a man, Brantley figured it would take some time.
“Tell her it’s not true,” Maude pleaded, wiping the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
“It’s not anything to be ashamed of,” Mother said, her attention on the glass of orange juice she was working to pick up with her gnarled hand. “My third husband was gay.”
“Mother!” Maude huffed at her.
Brantley couldn’t help but grin.
“What? It’s true.” Mother looked at him. “I didn’t learn that until we were married. Back then, it wasn’t appropriate to fornicate before the I do’s.”
She sure had a colorful way of explaining herself.
“Of course, I went against the rules after that,” Mother continued. “No sense wasting anyone’s time if my fertilizer wasn’t gonna make the tree grow.”
Brantley barked a laugh. He saw that Maxine was grinning but trying to hide it, while Maude was shaking her head. Clearly she was used to Mother being so illustrative.
“How many times were you married?” he asked, taking a sip of what he’d learned was coffee with something called chicory added to it. Not his favorite, but it was palatable.
“Six,” Mother said proudly. “Married for money.”
“Really?” He picked up his fork, poked at his eggs.
“My money.” Mother grinned. “When you have it, they line up. Found love a couple of times even. I learned it was fun to make ’em work for it.”
They came from old money, that was what Maude had said. It explained the enormous historical home, the elaborate grounds, and the framed photos of ancestors.
“It’s more fun, Mother, without the marriage,” Maude announced, this time laughing. “Either of you boys ever been married?”
“No, ma’am.” Brantley glanced at Reese, who still wasn’t looking at him but was politely paying attention to their hosts.
“Ever come close?” Maude was directing the question at Reese.
Reese met her eyes, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He remained like that, on the spot as the silence became thicker. Brantley probably should’ve saved him, but he was curious as to the delay. How hard was it to say—
“Once, ma’am,” Reese said softly.
Brantley’s hand paused halfway to his mouth, his fork suspended, his breath suddenly lodged somewhere in his sternum.
He hadn’t known that. Reese had never mentioned it before.
“What stopped you?” Mother inquired.
Yeah, Brantley thought. What stopped you?
“She did,” Reese said, his attention diverted back to his plate.
There was a strange sensation filling his chest, one Brantley wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. Jealousy? Fear? Could’ve been either because he wasn’t used to feeling such emotions. Until Reese, he’d never really known love, never taken a chance on it after his one and only serious relationship when he was a teenager.
Realizing he was staring at Reese, Brantley forced his gaze away. He noticed Maude was watching him, those light blue eyes fixed on him, and Brantley could feel the scrutiny. But like a true southern woman, Maude kept the question to herself.
As they said in the south, bless her heart.
Two hours later, once he was settled on the private jet that would deliver them home, Brantley was still battling the strange emotions churning in his gut. They hadn’t abated, but they’d almost been drowned out by an overwhelming curiosity. He wanted Reese to explain, to elaborate, to tell him that his almost marriage hadn’t really been anything, that he’d said it just to appease the women.
“First stop is to pick up Tesha, right?” Reese asked when he eased into the seat across from Brantley.
He answered with a nod, staring out the window as they taxied to the runway.
“I figured I’d run to the grocery store,” Reese continued.
Another nod, his imagination threatening to run away from him with thoughts of Reese waiting for some woman at the altar, preparing to pledge his life and love to her.
“Thought I’d make lasagna for dinner.”
He didn’t even bother to nod this time, surprised that he’d been able to keep his thoughts to himself for this long. And he damn sure wasn’t going to sit here and talk about what they were having for dinner when what he wanted to know was why the fuck he hadn’t known Reese had almost been married.
Brantley turned his attention to Reese, cocked an eyebrow. “Engaged?”
“What?” Reese cleared his throat as though he was shocked by the change in subject. “No, uh… No, I wasn’t engaged.”
Patiently waiting for Reese to elaborate, Brantley continued to hold his gaze.
“Never made it that far,” Reese added. “I asked. She turned me down.”
Brantley swallowed the hot ball of emotion lodged in his throat, letting it sink in, hating that there was a gnawing jealousy in the pit of his stomach.
“It was a long time ago, Brantley.”
Sure it was. “How long?”
Reese’s gaze lowered. “Two years. Almost.”
“Two—?” They’d been seeing each other for a little more than four months now, living together for the past two. And it had been almost two years?
“How almost is almost?”
Reese’s attention remained on his lap. “Sixteen months or so.”
Sixteen months? Sixteen. Freaking. Months. That meant—
Brantley swallowed hard. “A year before—? You were engaged a year before I met you?”
“A little more than,” Reese countered, then sighed and added a subdued, “But no, I wasn’t engaged.”
Right. Because she’d turned him down. Otherwise…
“And you didn’t think this was somethin’ I should know?”
Reese’s head snapped back like Brantley had slapped him, his eyebrows slamming down. “I don’t remember you askin’.”
Touché. “Who is she?”
“You don’t know her.”
Brantley waited for Reese to look at him, then hardened his stare. “Who?”
Reese sighed heavily, obviously resigned to answering. “Her name’s Madison Adorite. We dated for a while. Long-distance. She lives in Dallas.”
“How’d you meet her?”
“Through Travis.”
Fucking figured. “And it got serious enough that you asked her to marry you?”
“No. It didn’t.”
Okay, now he was confused.
“That was the problem,” Reese continued, his voice rougher. “She was breakin’ it off because she needed to focus on … the family business.” Reese stared at him for several long seconds before finally saying, “She’s an Adorite. As in the Adorite crime family, also known as the Southern Boy Mafia.”