The Family Feud: The Family Feud / Stop The Wedding?!

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said sharply. “Just because I like your dad and hired him when he had so much idle time on his hands, and no one to share it with, doesn’t make me the villain here. Your mother is so wrapped up in her la-di-da clothing store that she isn’t giving John’s transition in lifestyle the slightest consideration. She’s too self-involved, inconsiderate and uncompromising, if you ask me.”

“No one asked you,” she sassed him.

He smirked derisively then shot her a critical glance. “I’m sure you can relate to self-involvement. You’ve been away for years, and suddenly you’ve come buzzing back to peanut country from the big city, expecting to snap your fingers and resolve this crisis overnight. Well, I’ve got a news flash for you, sugarbritches, it won’t work that way. Your dad has some legitimate beefs that need to be addressed. Until you’ve heard both sides with an open mind, don’t pass judgment on me or anyone else.”

“Who are you to tell me how to deal with my parents, Mr. Nuts and Bolts?” she retaliated hotly. “You’re an outsider!”

His thick brows flattened threateningly over his silver-blue eyes. “I’m the guy who can help or hamper your attempt to settle the family feud. So you don’t want to make me angry. Got it, sugarbritches?”

“Just what, exactly, is your interest in this feud? Aren’t you too old to be looking for a new daddy?” Jan asked sarcastically.

He bared his teeth and growled, “You’re annoying the hell out of me, so if John’s interested in my mother, then maybe that’s fine by me. You’re right, I never had the luxury of a father, just a string of men coming and going through the swinging door at my mother’s house. Just about the time I adjusted to her latest boyfriend or husband she went hunting for a new one. Why do you think I spent all my time in the gym shooting hoops? My home life wasn’t fun, but you probably took family stability for granted. Maybe you deserve to find out what I’ve put up with every day of my life!”

Jan stepped back a pace, surprised by the ferocity behind Morgan’s words. Obviously, he was sensitive about the subject of his fickle mother. Jan hadn’t given much thought to the upheaval and frustration he’d endured because of his mother’s reputation in town. But still, she didn’t want him stealing her father out from under her nose and more or less taking her place since she’d become the absentee sibling.

Morgan retreated a step, let out his breath in a whoosh, and then raked his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Janna, I don’t usually fly off the handle, but you managed to tick me off. The plain and simple facts are that, like it or not, I’ve become your dad’s confidant and friend. If he won’t open up to you about this rift with Sylvia or discuss his need to recapture his lost youth, then you can come see me and I’ll give you John’s perspective.”

“Thanks, but I’ll muddle through by myself,” she insisted, tilting her chin stubbornly. “This is my family problem, after all.”

He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders. “Have it your way, Janna, but don’t expect me to stop listening when John needs to blow off steam and discuss his problems with Sylvia.”

With a curt nod, Jan turned on her heel and exited the store. It rankled that her father confided in Morgan and refused to talk to her—his oldest daughter who’d dropped her important project at work in her assistant’s lap and had come running to solve the Mitchell clan’s problems.

She supposed she was partly to blame for her parents’ separation. She’d moved away to establish her own life and career and didn’t get home as often as she should to ensure things ran smoothly. But she’d come home the instant she learned there was trouble because family was family, and they should stick together, stick up for one another, not confide in outsiders.

Composing herself, Jan stepped onto the sidewalk to inhale a breath of fresh air. Her encounter with Morgan hadn’t gone as she’d hoped. She’d overreacted to seeing him again. She’d become spiteful and defensive and yes, damn it, a little juvenile. She supposed years of suppressed resentment had finally erupted. Now that she had the nerve to lambaste him, she’d let him have it with both barrels blazing. But she shouldn’t have allowed Morgan to affect her because he was ancient history and she wasn’t the teeniest bit attracted to him. She hadn’t given Morgan a thought in years.

Right, Jan, since when did you become a pathological liar? said that taunting voice inside her head. Okay, so maybe she’d given him a thought on occasion, but it didn’t mean a thing. She’d just take a wide berth around Morgan and focus on reconciling her parents. The first order of business was to get her parents to speak to one another.

MORGAN HAD major difficulty concentrating while he waited on the three customers that arrived shortly after Janna stormed off. He hadn’t been prepared for her hostility toward him. The moment he saw her up close all he could do was marvel at how attractive and assertive she’d become. He hadn’t expected to feel an immediate flash of awareness and interest, but he had. Watching her pearlescent skin glow in the florescent light, staring at her petal-soft lips, and appraising the sculpted features of her oval face had drawn his undivided attention and inspired a few fantasies.

He hadn’t expected her to walk in and flay him alive, as if he were responsible for the change in her father’s appearance and behavior. Her verbal jabs had set fuse to his temper. Morgan rarely lost his temper. He’d learned to take life in stride and roll with the punches. But Janna had provoked him and he’d reflexively lashed out at her.

Some reunion that had turned out to be. She had her heart set on disliking him because of that kiss at Home-coming. True, he’d suffered a severe case of the guilts when the incident swelled out of proportion and she got her feelings trounced on. He’d tried to apologize about a half dozen times, but she had avoided him and wouldn’t answer his phone calls.

Everyone in school had known plain-Jane Janna had a flaming crush on him. It was the worst-kept secret in Oz. Like a fool, Morgan had let his friends dare him into planting a juicy French kiss on Janna’s lips that night after he’d shot the lights out of the gymnasium in a game against Oz’s biggest rival. He’d been riding an emotional high after the victory, after his coronation as Homecoming King. Since his ornery teammates teased him about Janna constantly he’d decided to kiss her and appease his curiosity.

Truth was, there’d been something about Janna’s shy demeanor and those wide-eyed innocent stares that appealed to him way back when. Even though she was two years younger and didn’t run with his circle of friends, he’d kinda liked her. Even a dozen years ago, those enormous, deep-set, thick-lashed hazel eyes that were flecked with chips of gold had fascinated him. They were hypnotist’s eyes and he’d been drawn to Janna on some level that an eighteen-year-old kid failed to comprehend.

And so Morgan had kissed her soundly that night, not just because of that idiotic dare, but because he’d wanted to. She’d been soft, incredibly sweet, yielding and giving in his arms. But by the time his knucklehead friends spread the word that they’d dared Morgan to kiss the skinny little self-conscious sophomore his potential friendship with Janna shattered in a zillion pieces. He’d made a stupid adolescent mistake and it looked as if Janna planned to hold it over his head for the rest of his life.

Ah well, no sense worrying about something that happened over a decade ago, he told himself realistically. Janna wouldn’t be in town long enough for him to mend fences with her. She didn’t want his input in the feud, didn’t want his friendship…But damn, she looked sensational. The entire time he’d been arguing with her he’d had to resist the wild urge to reach over and unwind that sleek hairstyle that made her appear stuffy and unapproachable. He’d wanted to crack that cool, sophisticated exterior, hoping he’d find that sweet, moon-eyed teenager who’d idolized him.

Morgan smiled ruefully as he sacked up his customer’s purchases and nodded his thanks. He hadn’t meant to burst Janna’s idealistic bubble all those years ago, but he had. Now she regarded him as an antagonist who had a vested interest in breaking up her parents’ marriage. Chances were he’d only see her at a distance during her stay, which was probably for the best anyway. She wouldn’t be around long enough for either of them to have an impact on each other’s lives. And that was a damn shame because Morgan was definitely interested in getting to know her better.

Ironic, wasn’t it? He was intrigued and attracted to the woman Janna had become and she wasn’t interested in giving him the time of day. Who said there wasn’t justice in the world?

2

WHILE LORNA MASON—Sylvia’s assistant—dealt with the customers in the clothing store, Jan settled into the back office for an in-depth discussion with her mother. Through a steady stream of tears Sylvia confided the problems that arose after John retired. All his grand plans of going wherever the wind blew didn’t appeal to Sylvia. After years of raising children, she’d purchased the clothing store—where she’d worked as a clerk for five years—and now enjoyed her success and a sense of accomplishment.

According to Sylvia, she and John wanted different things from life-after-fifty. He had a fanatical desire to see the world from behind the steering wheel of the new Winnebago motor home, living in RV parks on the American byways. Sylvia wanted to stay in hotels and dine out, not take her household duties on the road. While Sylvia listed her goals and aspirations Jan kept remembering what Morgan had said about hearing both sides of the story before she passed judgment in the feud.

A commotion erupted in the front of the shop. Jan recognized her younger sister’s hysterical shriek immediately. She’d often heard that earsplitting wail during adolescence. Damn, Jan mused as she dashed from the office. She didn’t need Kendra’s theatrics right now.

Jan stumbled to a halt when she saw her sister standing in the middle of the floor, dressed in a baggy, banana-yellow sweat suit that Kendra usually wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in public. But there was Kendra—her eyes puffy and red, her long blond hair in a wild tangle around her pale face—waving her arms in expansive gestures while she ranted and railed at Lorna who was having no luck whatsoever calming her down.

“Kendra, what’s wrong?” Jan yelled to be heard over the wails.

Kendra whirled around and exploded in another fit of hysterics. “What’s wrong, you ask? Only everything! My life is ruined! He humiliated me. Do you know what that snake did to me?”

The snake, Jan presumed, was Kendra’s fiancé who usually went by the name Richard Samson. Apparently Rich had been demoted from the love of Kendra’s life to the lowest life form to slither the earth. Jan never cared much for Richard because he’d been the first one to show up and taunt her after Morgan’s mind-boggling, body-tingling kiss at the Homecoming dance. These days, the upstart lawyer couldn’t carry on a conversation that didn’t revolve around making money and the right connections. Jan had always suspected Richard dated Kendra because of her popularity and her stunning good looks. She’d been the trophy that complemented his prestigious position in the community.

“What did Richard do?” Jan asked as calmly as she knew how.

“He cheated on me!” Kendra screeched. “A month before our wedding he decided to have himself a little fling and I caught him doing it! I’ve already ordered the flowers, sent out invitations and hired the caterer.”

“Oh, Kendra, honey,” Sylvia groaned in dismay. “We’ve already made the alterations in your wedding gown and I can’t send it back!”

Jan rolled her eyes and sighed when her mother blurted that out. The careless comment added fuel to Kendra’s fit-in-progress. Kendra wilted onto the carpeted floor and proceeded to bawl her head off.

“Please lock the door, Lorna,” Jan requested as she knelt beside her blubbering sister. “This isn’t a good time for customers to be arriving.”

Lorna darted over to post the Closed sign and secure the door.

“Not a word about this, Lorna,” Kendra wailed between gasping sobs. “Don’t you dare tell a soul until I’m ready to publicly cancel the wedding…and I’m going to have to return all the gifts. Oh, my gawd!”

Jan did what she could to console her sister—which wasn’t much because Sylvia plopped on the floor. Mother and youngest daughter wailed in chorus, cursed the male gender and sentenced all men everywhere to the furthermost regions of blazing hell.

Well, one good thing had come of this, Jan mused. The problem of John and Sylvia remaining civil to one another during the wedding and reception wouldn’t be a concern. As for Richard Samson, good riddance. He was too full of himself and he didn’t deserve Kendra.

“I’ll show him, I swear I will,” Kendra seethed as she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her banana-yellow sweatshirt. “Two can play his cheating games. It would serve him right to find me with someone else!”

“That sounds a little rash,” Jan cautioned. “I don’t think rebounding to another man is a wise solution.”

“Daddy’s on the rebound. It worked for him. Why not for me?”

Jan could’ve clobbered her sister for the thoughtless remark that set off Sylvia. They cried in each other’s arms while Jan watched helplessly. In the midst of the most recent fiasco that was tearing the Mitchell clan asunder Jan’s cell phone rang. She bounded up to fetch the phone from her purse.

“Hello?” she answered, distracted.

“Jan? It’s Diane.”

Jan sighed. Her assistant had called twice during the four-hour drive from Tulsa. Diane hesitated to make a decision without consulting Jan. She’d hoped this emergency leave would force Diane to become less dependent, but apparently Diane couldn’t deal with her temporary position of authority.

“Diane, I’ll call you back. I’m in the middle of a duel crisis here.”

“But this is important,” Diane whined.

“So were your first two phone calls, but I really have to hang up.”

“Is someone crying? I think I hear crying. What’s going on?”

“Yes, there’s a lot of crying going on here, but I can handle it.”

Jan switched off the phone to prevent another interruption. When she strode from the back office, mother and younger daughter were still sprawled in the middle of the shop, clutching at each other like the last two survivors of a catastrophic disaster.

“Men are pond scum,” Kendra said on a shuddering sob. “Lower than pond scum, in fact. They’re the bottom feeders in the cesspool of life.”

“You can say that again,” Sylvia howled. “You devote your life to your children and your husband and then he bails out on you, refuses to support your career and your dreams. I gave that man the best years of my life and this is the thanks I get! He leaves me for a floozy!”

Jan glanced at Lorna who was all eyes and ears. “Lorna, why don’t you go on home. You’ll receive full pay, of course.”

“My, you Mitchells sure are having a run of bad luck, aren’t you?” Lorna murmured. She cast one last pitying glance over her shoulder at the twosome huddled together on the floor. “First your dad walks out and ends up in Georgina Price’s open arms. Now Kendra’s fiancé fools around on her. Good thing you showed up when you did, Janna. Everyone knows you’re the anchor of the family and they always call on you for help.”

She was the anchor all right…on a sinking ship. She was beginning to think Morgan Price was right. She couldn’t waltz into Oz, wave her wand and work magic overnight. She definitely had her work cut out for her.

DESPITE THE King Kong-size headache hammering at her skull, Jan closed the boutique and transported her hysterical mother and sister home for a rousing pep talk—that had no effect whatsoever. Sylvia and Kendra broke open a bottle of wine and began another self-pitying tissue-fest that would probably last all night.

Jan’s pounding headache couldn’t tolerate another round of shrill, high-pitched wails so she piled into her car and headed to Morgan Price’s farm where her father had parked his Winnebago camper during the separation. Driving past the wide expanse of peanut fields eased the tension roiling through Jan. The countryside was peaceful and serene, unlike the turmoil at home that triggered her high-level stress.

Jan parked beside the motor home that was hooked to an electrical extension cord running from Morgan Price’s garage. Mr. Nuts and Bolts had apparently done well for himself, she mused as she surveyed the spacious ranch-style brick home. Obviously his ability to manage the hardware store and tractor supply shop in Oz gained him financial success.

Her gaze drifted to the older compact brick home that sat two hundred yards farther down the graveled road. According to Sylvia, Georgina Price lived near her son, and it was there that John Mitchell was working part-time to renovate the kitchen. Also according to Sylvia, there was a little hanky-panky going on. The mere thought of her father having sex with anyone, even her mother, was enough to make Jan shudder. Her headache intensified and she absently massaged her throbbing temples. She didn’t want to consider the physical aspect of her parents’ relationship.

Jan dragged in a steadying breath, noted her dad’s truck and headed toward the Winnebago. Although her dad informed her that he had a date, Jan hoped to catch him before he trotted over to Georgina’s to do whatever it was that a fifty-eight-year-old man did when he was on the make and purposely tormenting his estranged wife—who was at home, consuming wine like it was going out of style and bawling in unison with their youngest daughter.

While Jan rapped on the door she asked herself why she didn’t grab a bottle of booze and get soused. Certainly, this fiasco with her family was enough to drive a teetotaler like herself to drink.

When no one answered the knock, Jan hammered on the door again, then waited another impatient moment. “Be here, damn it.”

“He’s not there.”

Startled by the husky baritone voice, Jan wheeled around on the narrow metal landing. The heel of her navy blue pump dropped off the edge, hurtling her off balance. She flapped her arms like a duck going airborne in an attempt to upright herself, but it was a wasted effort. Shrieking in alarm, she tumbled, pellmell, down the steps, scraped her leg against the metal and landed in an undignified heap in the grass.

“Janna, are you all right?” Morgan asked as he sprinted toward her.

“No, I’m not all right,” she muttered as she levered herself into a sitting position to survey the damage. What could be worse than coming off looking like a world-class klutz in front of a man you wanted to impress for only God knew what insane reason? “I’ve got a Godzilla-size headache from listening to my mother and sister bawling for three steady hours. I snagged my hose, ripped the heel off one shoe and twisted my wrist.” She heaved a defeated sigh. “My family’s falling apart right in front of my eyes and I can’t seem to do anything about it.”

Morgan hunkered down in front of her and flashed her a compassionate smile. “Definitely a rough day out here in peanut country.” Effortlessly, he hoisted her to her feet. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”

“What? A bottle of wine like the one Mother and Kendra are sharing? I don’t drink. Or at least I usually don’t drink,” she amended as she took inventory of the gaping hole in the knee of her panty hose, her scraped shin and her aching wrist. “I’m thinking of making an exception.”

Morgan chuckled as he plucked up Jan’s de-heeled shoe. “I have wine in the house, but I had another kind of tension-reliever in mind.”

Jan eyed him dubiously. “What? Forget-all-your-troubles sex? I’m not interested in that, either, thanks all the same.”

Morgan snickered again, then scooped her effortlessly into his arms and carried her across the driveway. “Not sex, either,” he assured her. “I’m not so egotistical to believe you like me enough for that.”

Jan was surprised by his modesty. She’d pegged him as the Don Juan of Oz because women had fallen all over themselves to capture his interest since high school. If anything, Morgan’s darkly handsome good looks had enhanced with age. A woman would have to be dead at least two weeks not to react to his masculine charm and sex appeal.

Even so, she scolded herself for finding comfort in his muscular arms. She wasn’t accustomed to leaning on a man. She, after all, was the anchor for her family, the troubleshooter for her associates at work. People looked to her for solutions and encouragement. But, after the day she’d had, leaning on Morgan—even if he was the enemy—felt good, necessary even.

To Jan’s surprise, Morgan deposited her on the seat of his hunter-green pickup, then strode around to the driver’s side. “Where are we going?” she questioned. “I need to talk to Dad.”

“John hitched a ride with me when I helped him secure the upper and lower cabinets in Mom’s kitchen. She invited him to supper.”

“Great, and you didn’t stay to chaperone them?” she muttered, trying very hard not to notice how sexy Morgan looked in a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans that hugged his muscled thighs and lean hips like gloves.

He tossed her a wry smile. “I wasn’t invited.”

Jan sighed in frustration, but her gaze instinctively slid back to Morgan. She wondered if she’d ever get past the fact that she’d been wildly attracted to him as a teenager and was unwillingly attracted to him now. Damn, that’s the last thing she needed, while in the middle of the family feud. Morgan was quartered out here in the enemy camp. Hell, he owned the enemy camp. Mr. Nuts and Bolts of the hardware world was aiding and abetting her father and making it easy for Daddy to dally with Georgina who had a reputation as a femme fatale.

Her headache roared back in full force.

Her sullen thoughts evaporated when Morgan drove over the metal cattle guard that led to a scenic pasture, complete with a tree-lined creek and herd of Black Angus cattle.

“This is where I come to escape the hassles and frustrations of the world,” he confided as he climbed down from the truck. “Sit tight while I lower the tail-gate and scatter the range cubes. Then we’ll sit back and enjoy the peace and quiet of our surroundings.”

Jan watched Morgan grab two three-gallon buckets from the truck bed. He ambled forward, whistled loudly, and then scattered cubes across the grass. In the distance, the cattle raised their heads, then trotted eagerly toward him. Jan smiled in spite of herself while Morgan gabbed conversationally with two dozen cows and their young calves. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to do with his leisure time, but it certainly wasn’t this. Having been raised in town, Jan hadn’t had the chance to appreciate the wide-open spaces. Communing with nature, she decided, was good for the troubled soul.

Jan forgot to protest when Morgan swung her up in his arms and settled her on the tailgate. Being pampered had its advantages, especially when she was one shoe short of a pair. “I see what you mean about easing the tension,” she murmured as she surveyed the herd then breathed in a deep gulp of country air.

Morgan leaned over to gently massage the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders. Ah, the man had wonderful hands. She could only imagine how she’d feel if those magical hands were skimming over her naked body…What was she thinking? Damn it, the soft spot she’d developed years ago seemed to be spreading rapidly. That was not a good thing.

“So tell me what else went wrong today that has you knotted up like a rope,” he murmured as he kneaded her stiff shoulders.

Jan hesitated, unsure she wanted to confide Kendra’s fiasco. Then she decided Morgan would hear it through the grapevine because, no way, could Lorna Mason keep her trap shut. Likable and competent though Lorna was, her favorite hobby was gossiping and she was quite proficient at it.