Cupcakes and Killer Heels by Heidi Rice

eyes. And there was no way to solve it. To make it better.’
    ‘What happened to Nick?’
    ‘He became a different person. He used to be so sensitive. So open. But after Mum died, he started to stay out late, hang out with the worst kids in the neighbourhood, bunked off school, got into fights. He wouldn’t talk to me. And him and Dad argued all the time—I suppose he was trying to test if my dad really loved him or not. And then when he was sixteen, they had this massive row one night and he left. My dad tried to find him. But he was just gone.’
    ‘So you never saw your brother again?’
    If only it could have been that simple.
    ‘I contacted him three years ago when my dad had a massive heart attack. Dad had to stop working and we sold the restaurant. I knew he was dying. He knew it too. And he asked me to find Nick. He wanted to see him one more time. So I hired an agency.’ To think even then, she’d still held out some hope that she could fix things. ‘Turns out he lives in San Francisco. He’s a scriptwriter. In Hollywood,’ she added, pride thickening her voice despite everything. ‘It took me three weeks of phone calls to his agent and then his PA before he called me back.’ She shook her head, the agony and devastation still far too real. ‘He didn’t want to know.’ She blinked, the sheen of tears turning the motorway’s grass verges to a misty green. ‘I rang him twice more, when Dad started to deteriorate, and he took the calls, but I couldn’t make him budge.’
    ‘What did he say?’
    ‘That he didn’t want to see Dad again.’ She gulped down the silly sting of pain. ‘That was the worst bit, he kept referring to him as “your dad” like they weren’t even related. I lost my temper with him. I shouted, I pleaded, I argued and begged. But he wouldn’t listen. Dad died a few weeks later. I sent Nick an invite to the funeral and he didn’t show.’ She turned to Cal, saw the sharp frown of concentration on his brow. ‘So there you have it. The long and boringly anecdotal reason why I made such an idiot of myself this afternoon when your sister rang. I heard you talking to her and it was like all those feelings came back—of pain and frustration and helplessness—and I transferred all my unhappiness with Nick onto you.’
    Looking at the rigid line of Cal’s jaw, the muscle twitching as he kept his eyes on the road ahead, she wondered again at the idiotic impulse, but still felt relieved that she finally had a decent explanation. Her volatile reaction had never had anything to do with her and Cal. It had always been about her and Nick.
    ‘I expect you’re probably questioning the state of my mental health at the moment.’ She gave a strained laugh. ‘And I wouldn’t blame you in the least. But, honestly, I don’t usually make such a complete twit of myself. Especially not on such short acquaintance.’
    ‘There’s no need to apologise again,’ he murmured. ‘Given the context, your reaction makes sense.’ His eyes drifted over her face and figure before returning to the road ahead. ‘You’re a passionate person.’ His lips turned up at the corner. ‘I’ve got several reasons to be grateful for that.’
    Turning towards the console, Ruby drew her knees up, settled her cheek against the deep bucket seat and gazed at the man beside her. ‘You know, you’re an exceptionally good listener,’ she murmured, knowing he’d been much more than that. With his straightforward questions and observations he’d helped her see the breakdown of her family in a new light. She could see now she’d tried, she’d done her best and she had to stop blaming herself for something that had never been in her power to fix.
    His brow lifted. ‘It’s part of my job to listen,’ he said, but she detected a note of caution that made her smile. He sounded taken aback, wary and even a little embarrassed. Who would have suspected that her Scottish Warlord would be flummoxed by a simple