Yesterday's Scandal (The Wild McBrides 3)

Sharon was beginning to resent this line of interrogation from her brother, especially so soon after Jerry’s cross-examination. “This really isn’t any of your business.”

“I heard you took him with you when you went looking at cars today.”

“How in the world—”

“Why did you do that? Didn’t you know everyone would talk about it?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with taking a friend shopping with me.”

“It makes you look like you’re chasing the guy.”

“Brad!”

“Jimbo says you can’t trust a guy like that. Traveling from place to place, never sticking around. Hitting on women wherever he goes, looking for an easy—”

“Jimbo doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” she snapped. “And, frankly, neither do you.”

“I know the guys are all making fun of you. They think you’re stupid to fall for a jerk like that. They told me if I don’t talk some sense into you, he’s going to make a fool of you. You’ll end up like Connie Moser if somebody doesn’t stop you.”

Sharon had to roll her eyes at that. Connie Moser was a sixteen-year-old single mother who’d become pregnant after a summer fling with a boy her own age who’d come to Honoria from Saint Louis to visit his grandparents. She hardly saw a correlation. “Give me credit for a little more sense than that, will you, Brad? You’re being ridiculous. Mac and I are both adults. Why shouldn’t we go out if we want?”

“You already have a boyfriend. Jerry.”

“Jerry is not my boyfriend.” She found herself raising her voice in frustration, and realized she was coming close to getting into an undignified shouting match with her maddening younger brother. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m not asking your permission to date Mac.”

“So how come I have to ask your permission to do anything?”

“Because, whether you like it or not, I’m the adult in charge in this household, at least until Mom comes home. I’ve tried to be fair and I’ve tried to cut you a great deal of slack, but when it comes down to it, the final decisions—and the responsibility—are mine. Frankly, I don’t consider it an ideal situation, either, but Mom asked us this favor and we both agreed to it, so we’re going to uphold our end of the deal.”

“But—”

“You have neither the right nor the responsibility to ‘talk sense into me’ about anything I do. I don’t have to seek your approval, and I have no interest whatever in Jimbo’s opinion. Have I made myself very clear?”

Sullenly refusing to answer, Brad only nodded, looking down at his feet.

“Go upstairs and wash up. Dinner will be ready in half an hour, and then we’ll need to leave for church. I’m sure you remember that you have youth group tonight.”

He looked as though he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. For one thing, he probably knew he’d pushed her too far. And for another, she knew he enjoyed his youth group meetings, though he wasn’t in the mood to admit that—or anything else—to her now. He swiveled and left the room, his steps much heavier than they needed to be.

She waited until he was out of sight and then sagged against the counter, her anger dissipating and leaving her shaky. How on earth had she ended up in this situation? What had made her think she could handle this? Her mother had made it sound so simple—just keep an eye out for Brad for a few weeks, make sure he didn’t get into trouble and take care of the house until Lucy returned. No problem, right?

Wrong. Sharon could feel the whole arrangement beginning to crumble around her and she wasn’t at all sure what to do about it. Brad was changing. Openly challenging her in a way he’d never done before. Maybe it was only natural for a boy his age, or maybe it was something more serious than that—how was she to know?

She wished again that Bobbie and Caleb McBride were in town.

Maybe she could talk to Wade Davenport. His son was a teenager and seemed so well adjusted. Maybe the police chief could offer some suggestion. Or what about one of the other men in Brad’s life? His baseball coach. His tennis instructor. Officer Dodson, who seemed to have the boys’ respect even though he kept a close eye on them. Would any of them know what to do?

For some reason, she found herself wanting to talk to Mac, though he didn’t have a teenager and didn’t even know Brad, really. She thought just hearing his voice would make her feel better—and that realization worried her almost as much as Brad’s tantrum had.

MAC WAS GETTING into the habit of eating dinner at Cora’s Café. He wasn’t the only regular, and it wasn’t hard to understand why the place was so popular. The food was good. There was a different blue plate special every day, so he didn’t get bored with the menu. And then there were Cora’s pies…

Loneliness wasn’t a problem during his meals, either. Cora’s longtime employee, Mindy Hooper, was jovial, dry-witted and naturally talkative. She made a point to stop by his table and visit whenever she had a few moments. Her manner toward him wasn’t flirtatious. Though she couldn’t have been more than forty, she treated him in an almost maternal fashion—the same way she behaved toward most of the other customers.

Although Mac had only been in town for a couple of weeks, she already seemed to consider him a local, having learned his choice of dinner beverage, his favorite salad dressing, the way he drank his coffee, and that he liked every flavor of pie except strawberry. It was nice to be so easily accepted by someone who took what she knew about him at face value without being overwhelmed by curiosity to learn more.

Other diners occasionally stopped by Mac’s table to greet him—people he’d met through the renovation project, some he’d encountered in other places such as the post office and hardware store, and a few friendly folks who just wanted to stop and introduce themselves. Although he wasn’t particularly interested in making friends in Honoria—he had no plan to return once he’d accomplished his personal and professional goals—he made a point to respond to the greetings pleasantly enough. There was no reason to be impolite, he figured.

Pleasantly full and in a pretty good mood Thursday evening, he left the café and headed for his truck, which he had parked nearby. He would rather have spent the evening with Sharon, of course, but he figured they both needed some time apart. The hours they’d spent car shopping the day before had been very pleasant—almost too nice, as far as he was concerned. He hadn’t learned anything new about the McBrides—in fact, he’d hardly given them a passing thought. And it bothered him that his growing desire for Sharon was beginning to interfere with his purpose for being in this town.