The Mitchell Brothers Collection: A Feel-Good Romance Box Set

by Jasmin Miller

  Rebecca joins in and pats her hips. “You don’t need to tell me. I know exactly where these few extra pounds come from. To be honest though, every ounce was worth it. I just have to get my butt in gear and work out more. Even though I have to say that Thomas has been enjoying the extra curves.” She whispers the last part but to no avail.

  We both know Gabe heard what she said when he whines like a little child. “Eww, Mom. I do not want to hear about you and Dad.”

  “Oh, stop it already.” She walks past Gabe and gets some plates from one of the cabinets to hand to us. “Well, dig in. I’m going to check on Dahlia quick, and see if she needs any help. She wanted to take a shower before you guys got here, but everything takes a little longer now with her cast.”

  Just then, Dahlia comes around the corner, her long, wet hair falling down her back in big waves. “A little would be good, Mom. Everything takes forever and is annoying as heck.”

  She’s dressed in yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt, a simple ensemble I haven’t seen on her before. Usually, she wears flowy skirts and colorful dresses, always reminding me of her artsy nature.

  As if she can read my mind, she scoffs and points at her clothes. “I didn’t think I was going to say that, but even though these clothes don’t feel like me, they’re dang comfortable. Not to mention, they make a lot more sense than sitting at home with a cast and one of my pretty flower dresses.”

  I’m not sure if I should laugh or groan because that’s pretty much exactly what I was living in for the past year.

  Rebecca doesn’t look the least bit perturbed. “Well, maybe that will be a lesson for you to wait for help next time instead of climbing up a tall, unsteady ladder by yourself.”

  Dahlia shoots an annoyed look at her mom and presses her lips together, not saying another word. Instead, she grabs some pastries, and we all settle down at the big dining room table.

  Rebecca brings over a carafe of coffee and some mugs before picking up her purse from the kitchen counter. “I’d much rather catch up with you guys, but I have a town meeting I have to attend. You kids have fun, okay? Love you.” She gives a big wave and after saying our goodbyes, the door to the garage closes behind her with a click.

  Dahlia blows out a big puff of air, holding up her arm that’s in a cast from her wrist all the way up to her upper arm. “Sorry for being so grumpy, but I really hate this thing.”

  I hold up my hands. “I’m the last person to judge you and the first to empathize. I was a grumpy butt too when I had the cast on my leg. I’m sure Gabe remembers that vividly, especially since my mood lasted longer than my cast.”

  “Painfully so.” The words are barely audible as he mutters them around a piece of chocolate croissant, grinning at his sister. “Monica was such a grouch.”

  Turning to him, I gently slap his arm but am unable to hold back my own grin. “Whatever.”

  He rubs his arm like I actually hurt him, complete with a pout that makes me want to kiss the cute expression off his face. “Hey, what was that for? It’s the truth, and you know it.”

  My thoughts are momentarily distracted when the last year, along with my recent realization of how badly I let myself and my life go, flashes in my mind like a bad five-second movie. “I know, Charming. I’m not exactly proud of my behavior, so I’d much rather forget about it. I’m ready to move on.”

  An awkward silence falls over all of us before I cast my gaze away and focus very hard on finishing the cream cheese danish in my hand.

  Talking about my weaknesses isn’t something I enjoy doing. Apparently, “denial and ignorance” are my jam.

  Thankfully, Dahlia clears her throat after a moment, giving me a warm smile when I look up at her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mo.”

  I nod, trying to let go of any negative thoughts. The knot in my throat has mostly gone away, but I swallow once more before speaking. “Thank you.” After a pause, I feel more centered again. “So, do you want to tell us a bit more about what you had in mind? What do you want us to do at the academy?”

  The telltale smile she often wears when she talks about her business spreads across her face. “Of course, sorry. I almost forgot why you two are here. Let’s see. The guys in the office will be able to handle all the paperwork while Rose manages the front desk, hopefully without creating too much chaos. My class instructors will help out with as many other classes as they can. At this point, we have pretty much everything covered between them, except the little ones—the bambini.”

  Gabe brushes his hands together, the last crumbs of his pastry falling on the now empty plate. “Bambini, huh? Is that where we come into play?”

  Dahlia nods. “If that’s okay with you guys. I’ve learned it takes a certain kind of personality to handle a group of little kids, but I think you’d be great with them. I’d email you everything you need to know, and we could meet up at the academy sometime this week. Thankfully, we’re still on our summer break, but that way, I can show you where all the material is so you can be prepared for your class.”

  I raise my hand like I’m back in school, but don’t actually wait to be called upon to talk. “Well, count me in. I’ve had so much fun just watching the little group of dancers up in Tahoe, I’m ready for some action. I’m actually excited. This will be fun.”

  “Thank you, Mo.” She smiles at me before touching my arm with her good hand. Then she pulls back suddenly and snaps her fingers. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell you something else. Please know you’re more than welcome to come and practice at the academy whenever you want. The renovations are still not fully done, but the mirror room is all finished. Since we don’t have anything planned with it yet, it’s all yours. If you want. No pressure.”

  For a moment, I’m awestruck, even though I shouldn’t be surprised. If you looked up synonyms for kindness in a thesaurus, the Mitchell family would be right at the top. “Thanks so much. I really appreciate it.”

  “It’s nothing.” Dahlia waves me off before turning to her brother. “What about you? You think you can handle it?”

  “You want me to dance in the mirror room too?” The corners of Gabe’s mouth twitch while Dahlia rolls her eyes.

  Such a family trait.

  “No, you smart-ass. I wanted to know if you can handle the kids, obviously.” She picks off a piece of her danish and throws it at him.

  Gabe chuckles, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back in his chair, like he doesn’t have a single worry. “You bet I can. I mean, they’re just a bunch of little kids. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Eighteen

  Gabe

  Once we got back home after meeting with Dahlia, Monica and I fell into our normal lazy evening routine. We picked up takeout on the way, fought over which movie to watch, and settled in on the couch. I got snacks ready halfway through the movie while Monica took a bathroom break before we finished the blockbuster we picked.

  There’s one big difference about this movie night though, compared to our previous ones.

  Normally, Monica sits next to me, a visible space between us while our gazes mostly stay locked on the TV in front of us.

  Tonight, we started out next to each other, our bodies pressed together from shoulder to hip, stealing glances at each other, before Monica somehow ended up sitting between my legs. We didn’t really talk about it.

  Somehow, it just happened.

  Like sitting next to each other just wasn’t enough.

  We both needed more, a closer connection, and it felt right. So damn right with her so close to me, only a breath away, my arms enveloping her like a cocoon. It actually feels so natural, I’m starting to wonder why we didn’t do this before. There’s absolutely no denying how much I’ve enjoyed having her this close, how much I craved having her warm body settled against mine.

  And, like most times before, she didn’t make it all the way through the movie. I, on the other hand, am alert, taking in everything about her—from her head nestled into the crook of my n
eck, to her steady breathing as her chest keeps rising and lowering, and her hair tickling my face.

  No complaints from me though, since she smells good enough to eat.

  Like strawberries and mint. Like summer.

  Always so tough on the outside, but incredibly soft and gentle on the inside. Often even without realizing it.

  Resting my head on the back of the couch, I listen to her soft breaths when I’m suddenly hit with an idea for my story.

  I can’t believe it.

  Shit.

  After all this time. Finally.

  This is huge.

  Exactly what I’ve been waiting for after all these months of struggling to manage a few words on paper that were mediocre at best. Of course it happens while I’m sniffing Monica’s hair.

  Go figure.

  I inwardly curse, not wanting to leave this cozy situation with her, but at the same time, unable not to follow the strong urge to go and explore this crazy idea. Get it out of my head and watch the magic unravel.

  Slipping out from beneath her as carefully as I can, I gently lay her down on one of the soft cushions on the couch. She’s already wrapped in a blanket, so I don’t have to worry about her being cold.

  My fingers are on autopilot, pushing the buttons on my phone, knowing exactly where to find my agent’s contact info in my favorites. With the phone pressed to my ear, I tiptoe out of the room and into my office.

  “Come on, Vicky, pick up.”

  When I walk into my office, the laptop on the large brown desk suddenly doesn’t look as intimidating anymore. On the contrary, the sight of it actually makes me a little giddy. I open it and log in to get started, the cursor on the blank page greeting me like an old friend.

  “Gabe? It’s late. What’s going on? Everything okay?” Victoria’s voice sounds a little tired, but that’s how our relationship has always been. We’re both workaholics, at least when we’re in the zone, working at the weirdest hours at times.

  “Vicky, I just had an idea.” My foot taps impatiently on the rug while I blow out a big puff of air. This sudden mind spark has got me excited to the point of feeling both hyper and exhausted at the same time. My mind racing so fast, I can barely keep up with it.

  “I’m listening.” The tone in her voice changed the moment she realized it’s writing-related. She has this special no-nonsense tone that’s reserved for all things business, making her sound exactly like the professional she is—and one of the best agents in the industry at that.

  Some people think she’s a bit cold and sometimes seems too fixated on her clients and their projects, but in reality, she’s a very nice person. Being determined and focused is definitely a plus in this kind of business, and it has worked well for us as a team.

  I let out another breath before saying the words out loud for the first time, wondering how they sound outside of my head. “What do you think about turning our male hero into a feisty, female heroine?”

  A moment of silence follows, something very untypical of Victoria.

  “No broody guy anymore?” Her voice gives nothing away.

  I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “Nope. Not as the main character, at least. He might come in handy later on as the male counterpart though. What do you think?”

  Another pause from her end, long enough to send little trickles of worry down my spine. I know from experience that not everything I deem as good works in this business, and I’ve come to trust Vicky explicitly since she knows the market like it’s hers alone.

  “I think...I like the sound of it, I’m definitely intrigued. We’d have to tweak the marketing a bit, but as a matter of fact, it might open up a few more doors for us. When can I read about this new mystery woman?”

  I detect the slightest hint of excitement in her voice, which spurs me on even more.

  “I’m going to get started right away and will send some over as soon as I have a few chapters written.” The cursor still blinks at me on the bright screen, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this inspired to write.

  “Sounds perfect. This could be it, Gabe. Do it. Can’t wait to get my fingers on it. You know where to find me.”

  “Thank you. Talk to you later.”

  Her goodbye barely registers as I hang up the call and get started on my new manuscript.

  A quiet rustle comes from the doorway, and I peel my gaze away from my laptop. My eyes blink furiously, trying to adjust to the dimly lit room, the only light spilling in from the hallway.

  Monica leans against the doorframe, looking at me with sleepy eyes, and I realize I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting in this same position, my fingers furiously typing away on the keyboard. Now that I’ve actually stopped, I notice my hands are only seconds, maybe minutes away from cramping up, already stiff and slightly achy.

  After saving my document in several places—can’t ever be careful enough when it comes to a manuscript—I turn my attention back to Monica.

  The oversized T-shirt she put on after we got home is slightly rumpled from sleeping on the couch. A loud yawn escapes her mouth, and I look at the clock on my laptop.

  Wow. It’s almost morning. I’ve been writing for a good five or six hours straight, not stopping once.

  I haven’t had a writing spell like this in a very long time, not that I’m complaining in any way. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m ecstatic, my body humming with an energy that only the excitement of a successful session like this can bring.

  “Have you been in here all night long?” She yawns again and crosses her arms over her chest, slowly starting to look more alert.

  I nod and grin at her, quite possibly looking like a lunatic, before focusing back on the laptop for a moment. After double-checking the work is saved, I catch a quick look of the word count in the lower corner. When I see the high number, I can’t help but feel another wave of excitement rush through me.

  “Wow. This must have been a really good night for you. You look like a kid at the candy store that was just told to pick whatever he wants.” She walks over to me, an amused smile on her face. Despite not being able to see a clear outline of her body in the unshapely clothes, I can’t help but feel my heart taking an extra beat at the sight of her.

  Has it always been this way?

  My brain jumps back and forth between thoughts of my writing and thoughts about Monica, like it’s on crack.

  Monica’s comment is the PG version of that, I suppose. Thinking about my writing session again, I chuckle and barely refrain from rubbing my hands together in pure glee. “I feel like one. Inspiration for my new project finally hit, and it’s been going well. Like, really well. There aren’t enough words to tell you how awesome this feels.”

  The irony of that doesn’t get lost on me either.

  “I think I have a pretty good idea from just looking at you.” A lazy grin spreads across her face as she stops next to the desk. “That’s awesome though. I’m very happy for you.”

  Her voice is free of any expectation, and I appreciate that more than I could ever tell her. Almost every other person I’ve talked to about this series project has some form of presumption of me, my writing process, or the success of my books. Oftentimes, that leads to disappointment—not to mention, extreme pressure—when things aren’t going the way they were planned.

  With Monica, I’ve never had that feeling. Maybe the reason is because she hasn’t ever read any of my books, but somehow, I have a feeling she’d be the same even if she read them all. Contrary to Charlie, Monica has never been much of a reader. I still remember the awestruck moment when she first saw all the bookshelves everywhere in my house.

  “Come here.” A sudden urge to have her close overcomes me, and I kick the big office chair back so I can invite her into my arms.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t hesitate for even a moment, her footsteps quiet as she closes the gap between us. Rather than sitting down on my lap sideways though, she somehow straddles me instead. We’ve only exchang
ed a few kisses since our make-out session in the hot tub, but my hands move to her butt almost of their own accord, pulling her even closer and loving the warmth underneath my palms.

  “Hey there.” Her hands circle around my neck, her body pushing into mine while her fingers press deeply into my skin and tense muscles.

  Pure bliss.

  “Hey yourself.” I have no control over my body’s reaction to having her so close. It’s an absolute loss. My senses go on a treasure hunt at the close proximity—my heart beating loudly in my chest while my lungs feel like they just got a little tighter, unable to dispel the same amount of air as before.

  She touches my nose once with hers before pulling back. “Thanks so much for tucking me in on the couch earlier.”

  I shrug my shoulders since it wasn’t a big deal. “I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful.”

  “Well, now I’m awake. And you look really awake too.” Her words come out in a low murmur as she scoots up even further on my lap. There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and I’m pretty sure mine display something similar.

  The second I saw her standing in the doorway, a can of need opened up inside of me that might as well take us both down. I’m impatient, one of my hands moving away from her butt and all the way up to her neck so I can close the distance between us. A small sigh escapes her lips, as if she’s just as relieved as I am to not waste any more time. I should’ve known she’s as impatient as I am, if not more.

  As if our bodies communicated secretly, our mouths finally meet. Even though we’re both starving for the other, the movement is a lot softer than I expected, turning this into one of the slowest and sweetest kisses I’ve ever had.

  Sexy as hell too.

  Spurred on by this torturous moment, my hands have a mind of their own, slowly descending over the soft material of her T-shirt and down her back. I tug at the bottom of it, needing more, wanting more, only to realize it’s so long she’s sitting on it. She chuckles into my mouth while I consider ripping it off her some other way, or taking some scissors to it.