Family Trees by Kerstin March Page B

added Pete as he gave the steaks one last flip. The heavy aroma of charcoal smoke and seared beef billowed around them. “I agree with Ryan. Think of it this way—what’s honest about some of the things people say about him? What’s honest about people who want to meet him just because they recognized him from the media? Or because of his money?”
    â€œThat’s true, and believe me, Ryan, we know what you’ve gone through.” Brad reached his hand over and gripped Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan still wasn’t accustomed to the sensitive side of Brad that had come out after he married Holly. Previously known as a man of few words, the guy now loved to talk. “We know how you’ve been burned by women in the past. But if she really thinks of you as an ordinary guy, you’re being dishonest.”
    â€œI hear you. But I can’t tell you how . . .” Ryan searched for the right word. “How freeing it is to talk to a woman without being loaded down with all of the baggage that comes along with being a Chambers.”
    â€œSo let’s say she shows up tonight. And let’s say you see her again. What happens when we head back to Chicago?” Brad asked before finishing off his beer.
    â€œNothing happens. We go home.” Ryan flicked the paper ball into the center of Pete’s grill and watched as it disappeared into the coals. Although he trusted them implicitly, he wasn’t ready to admit how intrigued he was by this woman and the notion of breaking away from his family ties. Even if just for a while. He needed time to think it through.
    â€œTime to eat!” Pete announced, loading the charred steaks onto a plate and shutting down the grill.
    Brad shook his head at Ryan and stood up. “One of these days, you’re going to finish what you start.”
    â€œIt’s just drinks.” Ryan rose from the steps and held the door open for the men to go inside to dish up.
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    As best as he could tell, Ryan sat unnoticed at a corner table of The Inn’s rooftop venue, tucked behind a bar awning that was draped in strands of lights that resembled miniature red chili peppers. If anyone recognized him, they were politely keeping it to themselves. Just as he was preparing to abandon his hopes for the evening, he looked toward the entrance once more. Then Shelby appeared at the top of stairs. She paused, one hand placed atop the wood banister while the other fidgeted with the folds in her gray linen skirt. Ryan watched as she scanned the faces of those on the deck. He didn’t move. The glow from a streetlight backlit her hair and the silhouette of her body, which he could faintly make out through the light fabric. Her hair was pulled up casually with a single clip. A few strands of hair curled down upon her bare shoulders, which were a golden tan against the crisp white of her camisole.
    Once Shelby spotted Ryan, she offered the hint of a smile and a discreet nod of her head, gesturing for him to follow. Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared back down the stairs. He had invited her out for the evening, but she clearly had the upper hand.
    The flimsy plastic chair that Ryan was sitting on caught on the deck flooring and nearly tipped over as he hastily pulled away from the table. He left a generous tip beside his glass of melting ice before rushing after her.
    â€œI didn’t think you’d join me,” he said with quickened breath once he joined her under the streetlight on Main.
    â€œThat makes two of us.” Standing next to The Inn, they could hear an Eagles melody stream from the bar. Shelby glanced up toward the sound of the music and then stepped into the darkness. “Come on, let’s walk.”
    Walking away from The Inn and toward the lake, Don Henley’s voice became an inaudible muffle backed by the hum of his band and a low bass beat. With the sun nearly set, the sky turned twilight blue with a