It was the two men his own age who made Nick lose a step. Both were tall. One guy was built like an Olympic swimmer—all long arms and broad shoulders—which was intimidating enough, but the other was…shit. Scary as fuck. He could probably bend a car bumper with his bare hands. He had a military haircut, but wore jeans and a perfectly pressed button-up shirt that probably came in really handy when he yanked the sides apart to let the Incredible Hulk loose.
Both men stood on either side of the porch steps, arms folded, watching Nick approach.
He reached the bottom step and put his hand on the post. Clearing his throat, he said, “Hello.”
“Hey!” Allie, God bless her, had jumped up and come forward. Pulling his hand, she led him up the steps, past Sergeant Grumpy and Michael Not-Phelps, and said, “Come meet everyone.”
“You know my mom, Lorena, of course.”
Lorena nodded and smiled tightly.
She quickly introduced him to the Morgans, who were very polite, and Lesa Ruiz, Brandon’s girlfriend.
“And this is Brandon.”
“Hey.” The tall rangy guy shook Nick’s hand, but didn’t do any kind of death grip thing in order to assert his dominance, which Nick appreciated.
“And this,” Allie said, “is my husband, Justin.”
“How you doin’?” Nick was a little hesitant to shove his fingers toward the lion, but did it anyway, and was rewarded with a half smile.
Okay, not so bad.
“You’re a brave motherfucker,” Justin murmured, flicking his eyes toward Lorena. “There aren’t many of us willing to take on Cruella De Vil in order to spend time with a McGrath girl.” And then he straightened and slapped Nick on the shoulder. “You’ll be glad you did.”
“Eve said she’d be ready in a minute,” Allie told him. “Do you want a beer while you wait?”
“Oh, uh, no. Thanks.”
“Stayin’ sharp for the big cornhole tournament, huh?” asked Brandon. “Good, because Justin needs a partner.”
“You don’t play?” Nick asked.
Justin burst out laughing.
“Hey!” Brandon punched his brother in the arm. To Nick, he said, “I can play. I just choose not to.”
“Because he can’t hit the broad side of a barn.”
And Brandon went after his brother again, this time with a well-aimed smack to the head. Followed by Justin grabbing Brandon around the waist and driving him toward the edge of the porch.
“Damn it, boys!” Mrs. Morgan began to stand.
Nick was spared having to watch two grown men get dressed down by their mother, because Lorena gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
There came Eve. Wearing a very…little dress. It was made of some sort of flowered floaty material, barely held up at the shoulders by a couple of thin straps, and damn. A good breeze was all it would take—
“Damn, Evie. Where you been hiding that?” Justin called, and Brandon backed him up with a “Shoooeeeee.”
Both men stopped and turned to Nick.
“Sorry,” Justin said. “Just, you know. We like to tease her.”
“She’s kind of like a sister, you know. Except not.”
Nick would have responded appropriately, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Eve glided over to Nick and put her hand in his. “Hi.”
“Hi.” It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and run his hands all over that dress—and everywhere it wasn’t. He managed to keep his outward reaction limited to a hand squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.
“I guess you met everyone you didn’t already know,” she said.
“Yep,” Nick agreed. He was a little tongue-tied.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Um, no. I mean, yes,” Nick said after Eve frowned at him.
“Do you want to ride with Justin and Allie?” she asked as everyone began to gather their keys and purses and such.
“Yep. Wait. No.” He shook his head. “I left Raleigh home alone. Maybe we should drive separately, in case I have to leave early.”
“Are you sure you’re up to it? You look a little off.”
“I’ll be okay. If you go put on a sweater or something. Maybe a trench coat.” He couldn’t help it; he ran his eyes over her, because he couldn’t use his hands, not out here in front of the family.
“Oh.” She looked down, almost shyly.
“You look really pretty,” he told her.
“So do you.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Here’s the invitation, in case you need the address for your GPS,” Lorena told Eve, shoving a postcard into her hand as she stomped past them down the steps. She barely glanced at Nick. “Allegra, Justin, I’ll ride with you.”
Cocktail hour was in full swing when the Blue Mountain crew arrived at the party.
“Damn,” Nick murmured to her as they followed the Morgans up the driveway and into the backyard.
“I know.” Eve suddenly had second thoughts about the wisdom of bringing Nick. Not because she didn’t think he’d fit in. No, he definitely looked the part. Those dark jeans fit him like they were made for him, and it didn’t matter if that shirt came from the Lacoste store or Walmart—he did things to the knit fabric that would make grown-ass women weep.
And he’d shaved. His jaw was so clean and sharp right now that it was all she could do to keep from dragging him down to her level so she could bite him.
No, it was that their hosts, the Blanchards, had the most ridiculous parties in the Western Hemisphere, and Eve would have preferred to do almost anything but spend the next four hours or so following Mimi’s complicated instructions for whatever tournament she’d worked up.
Cornhole was an easy game. You got a pile of corn-filled square bags and took turns trying to throw them through a hole in a board a few yards away. Like horseshoes without the stakes. Or the horseshoes. It was as much a part of summer in this area as watermelon and fireworks.
But Mimi Blanchard took a simple competition and made it…annoying.
“Come on over here and sign up for teams. We’re playing mixed doubles, but no couples, and no blood relations on the same team.”
Nick looked at Eve and mimed terror.
“You two came together, so you can’t be on the same team,” Mimi told Eve. “My nephew Leo is here, though, so maybe you should pair up with him.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not sure…”
What about Nick? He didn’t know anyone here, and Justin and Allie had already swapped partners with Brandon and Lesa. Maybe Eve could get out of playing and just hang out with him, though he’d be bored as hell.
But Leo had already seen Mimi waving at him and was on his way around the crowd.
“It’s okay,” Nick said, though he watched Leo’s approach with something Eve would have described as distaste. And a vaguely menacing air. “I really wish you’d have gotten that trench coat, though.”
“Now. Who will we get for you to play with, hmm?” Mimi eyed Nick as though she wanted to play with him, herself.
Before Eve could help him find someone safe, she was accosted by her teammate.
“Eve! It’s so good to see you!” Leo, who had been trying to convince Eve to put out for him since the eighth grade, grabbed her upper arms and dragged her toward him. She tightened her lips and tucked them in before he went in for his trademark soggy kiss. Blech. She turned her head toward Nick and surreptitiously wiped her mouth with her thumb.
His lips barely twitched, but she had the impression that he was laughing at her.
“I’ll just go find a seat in the spectators’ area,” Lorena announced before Mimi could try to fix her up with Great Uncle Marcus or Cousin Kevin.
Nick did something then that endeared him to Eve more than she could have imagined.
“Lorena— Mrs. McGrath,” he called as she turned to walk away, “Would you be my partner? It seems my date is about to ditch me.”
The shock on Lorena’s
face was worth every minute of the next several hours Eve would have to endure fending off Leo’s advances. What was even better was the blush her mother produced when Nick held out his arm to her. She had no choice. She might be completely opposed to Eve spending any time with Nick—inside or outside of work—but she was the consummate party guest and wouldn’t snub him in front of the Blanchards for all the bourbon in Kentucky.
When he pulled out his wallet and insisted on paying her mother’s entrance fee and then buying her a giant red plastic cup full of whatever fancy punch drink was being served at the cash bar, Eve turned to her sister Allie, who was watching with an open mouth.
“Oh my God,” Allie said. “Do you think he’ll come back alive?”
…
Eve would have expected that she and Leo would be eliminated fairly early in the tournament—she really sucked at cornhole, and for all his bragging, Leo wasn’t much better—he claimed he was suffering from a golf injury—but an overzealous last toss by Brandon onto a highly polished game board gave Eve and Leo entry into the next round. Which pitted them against Nick and her mother.
Her mother, who was actually smiling and didn’t appear to be straining muscles in the process.
Eve stood next to one of the boards a few feet from Nick while her mother and Leo each took a side of the other board.
“Are you having fun?” Nick asked her.
“I am,” she said, sipping the bourbon punch that she’d been working on all night.
He opened the bottle of water he carried and swallowed about half of it. Eve admired his throat muscles working in the spot-lit twilight.
“Can I buy you a beer, buddy?” Leo asked, coming forward to retrieve the corn bags from their end of the field.
“No, thanks, I’m good,” Nick said.
“Oh.” He nodded, in that sage way buzzed people do. “You’re the D.D., huh?”
“Something like that.”
“So where did you two meet?” Leo asked, waving his drink back and forth between them.
“At work,” Eve said at the same time as Nick said, “I’m doing some work around Blue Mountain.”
Leo smirked. “You’re like, the pool boy, eh?”
And again, Eve said, “Not even close” at the same time Nick said, “Something like that.”
“Well, that’s nice. Eve’s always been able to be friends with anyone.”
What did that even mean?
Eve snapped her focus to Nick’s face, which was as genial as ever, except for the slight tic at the back edge of that square jaw of his. No one else would realize he was pissed off.
As Leo left to take the pile of bags to the other end, Eve muttered, “Asshole.”
“Everybody’s got at least one,” Nick responded.
“I think this party has more than its fair share.”
He shrugged and finished the water.
She said, “If you want to drink, I don’t mind driving. I’ve only had half of this, and I’m not likely to finish it.”
Expressionless, Nick shook his head. “No, you go ahead. I’m fine.”
It occurred to her that she’d never seen him drink. Interesting. Maybe he’d been turned off by going through life with his unpredictable father. That was one reason Eve was a one-drink-a-night girl, herself. “Okay, here we go!” Leo called. “Lorena, you’re up.”
Eve’s mother took one of the blue bags and swung her arm up and back a couple of times, a determined set to her mouth. She let it go with a smooth movement, and it sailed across the stretch of grass and landed with a thunk right on the edge of the hole in the board between Nick and her.
“Whoo hoo, Mom!”
Lorena raised her chin and tilted her head slightly, but didn’t comment, only picked up the next bag and waited for Leo to take his turn.
Aaaaand Leo’s throw knocked Lorena’s into the hole, but his own bag slid off the end, giving Nick and Lorena three points; Eve and Leo, zero.
So it went for the next four turns until Eve finally scored one, and Leo got three. They lost 21-4, instead of 21-0, which meant that they didn’t get the booby prize for the worst scoring team.
Nick and Lorena, however, did take home prizes. Each received a bottle of a competitor’s top-shelf brand of bourbon, to much laughter and applause. Nick accepted his gift and, nodding graciously to their hostess, made his way to Eve, who had managed, finally, to evade Leo.
“Here,” he said, shoving the gift back toward her. “Donate this or something.”
“You don’t want it?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “It would be wasted on me, to say the least. I’ve never been known to appreciate a good bourbon for its taste.”
Eve had never, ever told anyone else, but she didn’t, either. Appreciate the taste of bourbon. On tasting nights, it was all she could do to get the stuff down, and tonight she’d only managed half a drink because it was mostly fruit punch. The one time she’d gotten drunk—on her family’s own bourbon—she’d had a headache for three days.
“I should check in on Raleigh,” he said. “Do you want to stay, or…”
“Or. Definitely, or.” She tucked the bottle under her arm and grabbed his hand, leading the way to the truck.
Chapter Fifteen
“Damn.” Nick put the phone down on the center console of the truck and ran his free hand through his hair while he steered them off the grounds. “He’s not answering.”
Eve clucked sympathetically. “I’m sure he’s fine, but we should go check on him before you take me home.”
He was still rankled from the interaction with Eve’s wanna-be beau, Leo, and taking her to see the inside of the house where he grew up didn’t feel good. “I can drop you off at home first. It’s not that far out of the way.”
“No, take me with you. If something’s wrong, you might need help. Besides…” She trailed off, so Nick took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at her.
She had her mouth twisted up like she wasn’t sure if she could say what was on her mind, and she met his gaze, but looked down immediately.
Huh. He returned his focus to the road.
“Besides, what?” he asked.
“Besides, I was kind of hoping…”
Oh. He had been, too, but the evening had gone off the rails early tonight and stayed that way, so he didn’t figure he had a chance. “Besides…you were hoping I’d take you home and teach you all my cornhole tricks?”
She burst out laughing. “I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that. But I guess I was hoping that maybe you’d be interested in a nightcap.”
Yes. That’s exactly what he was hoping. Assuming that “nightcap” really meant “Do me baby.”
“I can’t thank you enough for dragging my mother out to play tonight,” she went on. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I saw her actually participate in anything.”
“Really? She was a total ringer when it came to throwing bags of corn.”
“I know! She loved to play when we were little—we used to have these big family picnics and the Morgans and McGraths and all the aunts and uncles and cousins would come over and play. But then she stopped.”
“Why?”
She was quiet for a minute, then mused, “I think it was because she was so busy chasing around after my dad.”
“Ah.”
“She used to be really fun. She was the mom who always had art projects to do and who would let us paint the driveway or perform our own plays. I didn’t get it then, but now I understand—my dad had started drinking heavily, and she spent more and more time trying to keep him from getting into trouble and trying to keep the peace. It wore her down and she lost her joy, or something. That sounds stupid, but she wasn’t always so crabby.”
“I get it.” And he did, in a different way. “My dad was a pain in the ass. He was a binge drinker. He’d go for weeks without a drop, getting all kinds of things done, working like crazy, making all these plans. And then he’d fall off the wagon and
not follow through on anything.”
“That sucks.”
“My mom didn’t try to keep him on track, though. She just let him have it.” He laughed bitterly. “It’s amazing there were any intact dishes for her to take when she finally moved out.”
“I’m sorry your parents split up,” she said.
“I’m not. Best thing that could have happened for my mom. As for my dad…well, he made his bed.”
“Mmm.”
“You disagree?”
“No. I just don’t imagine my mother going through with something like that. She was so worried about appearances and what effect a divorce would have on us, she never could have left.”
“I was an adult,” Nick pointed out. “It wasn’t like I didn’t know what was going on.”
“I wonder, if she’d put her foot down—and kept it down—if I might have grown up with more backbone.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Why?”
“You’ve got more chutzpah than any woman I know,” Nick told her. And he meant it. She was something, his little Eve. “You came out to Raleigh’s house with your damned notebook and whipped me right into what you wanted.” From anyone else, her steamroller approach would have been a total turn-off. Eve had somehow managed to wrangle him into place and made him want to thank her for it.
“Well, if I’ve got my notebook, I can write down the next thing to do, and the next thing after that, and then I can do whatever I need to do, but if I have to come up with it on the fly? I’m a puddle of nothing.”
“What difference does it make if you have to write it all down? Everybody processes shit differently. You get where you need to be.”
“I never thought of it that way,” she said. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be a little spontaneous now and then,” he hedged. God, what if she had to write down “get naked with Nick,” before they could do it? He’d freaking hand her the pen and hold the notebook for her, he knew.
She patted his thigh, leaving a trail of heat where she touched him. As though she could read his mind, she said, “Don’t worry. There are a few things I can manage on my own.” Then, “Oh, hey. We’re here!”
A Taste of You (Bourbon Brothers) Page 13