Beauty's Kiss(9)
“He got up once, needing to use the bathroom, and I helped him get there, but the rest of the time, he pretty much slept.”
Dillon leaned against one of the columns of the four poster bed. “He does that a lot.”
“He thought I was Trey,” Troy added.
“Understandable, you’re twins and Trey used to live here with him.”
“He insisted I was Trey.”
Dillon grinned. “So what did you do?”
“Act like I was Trey, and let him lecture me on how I needed to make things right with McKenna and step up and take responsibility for my son.”
Dillon’s smile faded. “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen.”
“Trey loves his son, and McKenna.”
“Kind of hard to be a good partner and father in jail.”
“He’ll get out and he’ll get his act together.”
“Yeah, but it’ll be too late by then, at least, for him and McKenna.”
Troy’s brows pulled. “You think so?”
Dillon grimaced. “She’s getting married again.”
“What?”
Dillon nodded. “Lawrence proposed last week, after asking Rory and Quinn for permission to marry their sister. Of course, Rory and Quinn, who both hate Trey, said yes.”
“If McKenna was our sister we’d hate Trey, too,” Troy said quietly, tiredly, aware that Trey would not take the news well. It was a good thing Trey was in jail. Because if Trey weren’t locked up, there’s no way in hell he’d let McKenna, his first and only love, and the mother of his boy, marry another man.
“Who’s going to tell Trey?”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Not until Fall.”
“Then there’s no point saying anything now. Something could happen. The engagement could get called off. Why work Trey up when it could be nothing?” Troy nodded at the bed. “I’m going to grab my stuff from the truck and crash. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter Three
Troy had gone to his truck without his coat and it was cold, seriously cold. His breath clouded in the air as he quickly scooped his bags from the backseat of the big Escalade. He was just about to slam the door shut when he heard a buzzing sound from beneath the passenger seat in front of him.
It sounded an awful lot like a phone.
His heart sank, thinking it was either the little librarian’s phone, or the person who’d rented the car before him. Either way it meant that someone, somewhere was without a phone—modern society’s lifeline--and probably frustrated as all hell.
Troy opened the passenger door, felt beneath the seat and then the side of the seat by the center console. Found it.
He glanced at the screen with the photo of a young Taylor Harris with a blonde teenage boy wearing a high school graduation cap and gown.
Must be Taylor’s brother, even as he noted the five missed calls, and text after text.
Not doing so good.
Need to talk to you.
Call me.
Why won’t you answer?
Troy’s brow creased, concerned. This didn’t sound good at all.
He glanced at the time on the phone’s display. It was quarter past eleven. If he drove the phone back to Marietta, he wouldn’t arrive until close to midnight. How could he knock on the Jones’ front door at midnight?
But then, reading the desperate texts, how could he not?
Troy returned to the house for his coat and wallet. He told Dillon he’d found a phone in the car and had to return it to town. Dillon suggested Troy just stay in town at the hotel. No reason to drive all the way back so late.
Troy thought it made sense and said goodnight, letting his brother know he’d be back before noon to spend the afternoon with Dad.
Taylor woke up to Kara clicking the light on in Taylor’s bedroom. “You’ve got a visitor,” Kara said, covering her yawn.
“What time is it?” Taylor asked,
“Eleven forty-five.”
Taylor’s mind cleared, and she sat up abruptly, immediately thinking of Doug as she groped for her glasses on the nightstand. “My brother?” she asked, settling her glasses onto the bridge of her nose.
“No.” Kara pushed a tangle of dark blonde hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Your knight in shining armor. Troy Sheenan.” She saw Taylor’s baffled expression and added. “You didn’t even have to track him down in the morning. He found your phone in his car and has brought it back.”
Relief flooded Taylor. She’d discovered she’d lost her phone minutes after Troy had left and didn’t know how to reach him, or track down Jane for Troy’s number, without her phone. “It’s awfully late to return it, though,” she said, pushing back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.