by Amy Olle
“I found it when I stuck my hand into a muddy, mucky pit.”
“What exactly is it?”
“I’m not sure, but it appears to be some kind of treasure hoard. Maybe someone hid all this stuff during a raid or stowed it here for lack of a better storage place.” Shadow cut across his face but couldn’t dim the light in his eyes. “Or maybe the rumors are true, and Thief Island was, in fact, a pirate hideout with a booming criminal underground.”
“This is a joke, right?” Laughter started low in her belly. “Pirates? In Michigan? On the island?”
Noah shrugged. “Why not? It’s isolated. Remote. Surrounded by water. Not a bad spot if you want to disappear for a while.”
“And don’t forget the arctic winters. What’s not to love?” Mina wiped a tear of mirth from her eye. “Who comes to northern Michigan and finds pirate booty? Professor Nolan, you are one lucky bastard.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, technically, it’s all yours.”
The laughter died on her lips.
The line of his mouth tightened a fraction. “You’re the property owner. It’s your call what happens to anything we find out here. Within the bounds of the law.”
She heard his words, but they refused to fall into order inside her head. “I don’t understand.”
“After we’re done, we’ll need to find a permanent home for all the artifacts.”
“Won’t they go to a museum?”
“Only if you decide to sell or donate them to one.”
Mina dragged her gaze from Noah to the muddied hodgepodge of treasure. “What would I do with them?”
“You could sell to a private collector.”
“Oh, sure. I must know a half-dozen people looking to buy an old shoe and—what is that?—a jar of red... gunk.”
“Makeup. And you don’t need to know anyone. They’ll find you.” An edge crept into his tone.
“Who buys something like this?”
“History junkies. Treasure hunters. Hawkers might sell it in parts and pieces on the black market. The market for artifacts like this is large, active, and difficult to regulate.”
“So all this would what? Disappear?”
“Some pieces might end up in a museum. Eventually.”
She studied his expression. “But probably not.”
A heavy sigh rattled through him. “Things often get lost, broken, or stolen.” He shut the lid. “There’s time to think about it. It’ll take me a month or two to figure out what all this is. When you decide what you want to do, I can help you find the right people to talk to.”
“I don’t need to think about it. It should go to a museum where people can see it. One in Michigan, if possible.” She touched the wooden box, feeling its warmth and stability, and tried to imagine how something so old and ordinary-looking could be so significant.
She looked up to find him watching her, a soft smile on his face.
“I think that can be arranged,” he said softly.
She got the sense that she’d pleased him, though she didn’t understand how. A blush of pleasure warmed her cheeks. She walked down the row, looking over the range of artifacts.
“I meant to bring you out here before now.”
“Why didn’t you?”
His brow creased. “I’ll get back to you on that one.”
She bent over a small object.
He moved to stand behind her. “Pick it up.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he said.
The black stone was cool beneath her fingers. Little more than the size of a silver dollar, the figurine fit into her palm.
“It’s made of obsidian. Most likely French.”
The carving of a man, his arms outstretched, palms facing upward, made him instantly recognizable.
“He came with the first settlers,” Noah said at her side. “Together, they survived harsh winters, war with the Indians, the Brits. Bears, too, I imagine.”
Mina smiled.
“He was the source of their resolve.” He reached past her and filched another artifact from the table. “Here, check out this one.”
She watched him as he spoke, explaining interesting tidbits about the piece, and the next one, too. She noted the way his expression changed, softened. Heard how his accent thickened with his passion.
Dumbfounded, she gaped at him.
A soft smile touched his lips. “What?”
“You’re a dork.” It was a statement.
A grin, wide and unrestrained, lit his face. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said. “You’ll ruin my street cred.”
His dark eyes melted with warmth, and his laughter tickled a spot beneath her breastbone.
How could she not fall in love with him again?
The warm fuzzies vanished like a popped balloon.
“Have dinner with me,” he said.
She reeled back. “Absolutely not.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “Ouch.”
Mina cringed. “Sorry. That was emphatic. But, really, I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
His eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“I made plans. So I can’t. Not tonight.” He appeared unconvinced, so she pressed on. “Even if I could, I shouldn’t.”
He moved a fraction closer. “Shouldn’t is not the same as wouldn’t. Why shouldn’t you have dinner with me?”
She lifted her chin. “Probably the same reason you haven’t brought me out here before now. Why is that again?”
His gaze tracked to the V of her sweater. “Because if you thrust those beautiful tits in my face one more time, I’m going to throw you to the ground and bury myself inside you.”
Heat rushed over her skin. “Oh, that’s a d-different reason than I was thinking.”
His fingertips swept across her cheekbone to push back a lock of her hair. “Cancel your plans. Come with me instead.”
“I can’t.”
The warm molasses in his eyes turned cool. “Do I know him?”
“She’s my cousin, visiting from out of state.”
His expression cleared. “Excellent. Family reunions are the best. Shall we ride together or meet up?”
“Oh, no—”
“Your cousin won’t mind, will she? What’s her name?”
“Emily, and it doesn’t matter if she’ll mind. I will.”
He sighed heavily. “Listen, I didn’t want to do this, but you left me no choice. I insist you come to dinner with me. I need backup.”
“Backup?”
“I’ll settle for a buffer.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Leo’s in town. Shea wants to kick my ass and Luke—did you know he’s a cop? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
“You want me to have dinner with you and your brothers?”
She might’ve thought he was bullshitting her if she hadn’t seen the flash of vulnerability in his dark eyes.
“I don’t know them anymore,” he said. “We’ve talked a couple times, emailed here and there, but we haven’t all been in the same room together in fifteen years.”
“Oh, Noah.”
“Come with me. You’re all I have. I need you.”
She released a sigh of defeat. How could she possibly say no to that?
Chapter Fourteen
It’d taken a saint’s patience and a Nolan’s stubbornness, but he’d gotten his way.
Noah placed a hand at the small of Mina’s back and guided her to a booth at the back of the pub. Satisfaction turned up the corners of his mouth.
After stopping by his apartment to shower, he’d picked Mina up, and they had headed to Lucky’s together. Her light scent wafted over him while heat from her body seeped into his skin. He fought the urge to let his hand roam and explore the interesting curve of her hip or, better yet, her luscious, heart-shaped ass. He balled his hand into a tight fist and pulled it away
from her body.
The dinner rush was in full swing, and the occasional clink of glasses rose above the constant hum of voices and Irish music playing overhead. They found an empty booth near the fireplace and slid in on opposite sides. Mina’s movements caused her green sweater to pull tight across her ample breasts, and he struggled to keep his gaze from riveting to her glorious cleavage.
She gave the room a thorough scan. “I don’t see Emily. Any sign of your brothers?”
Only Shea, who tended the bar, under siege by a crush of bodies.
“I think Shea will be busy for a while.” He checked his cell phone. “Nothing from the others yet, but I imagine they’ll be here soon.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Nervous about what?” He slid his phone back into this pocket.
“About dinner.”
He shot her a dead-eyed stare. “I’m a man. We don’t get nervous.”
“Sorry.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Are you, uh, excited? Happy? Worried? Angry? What feelings can a man have?”
“I’m ready.”
“You’re ready? That’s not a feeling.”
“Exactly.”
She turned all soft and sweet. “They’ve missed you.”
A small flicker of hope sparked in his chest, which his battered heart quickly snuffed out. “Your head’s not quite healed up yet?”
“I’m serious. Every time I run into one of your brothers, they find a way to work you into the conversation. It used to freak me out. I was convinced they knew I had a crush on you.”
She’d had a crush on him? He sat stunned, trying to digest that piece of information when she hurled another grenade at him.
“Then I realized they talked about you to anyone who would listen.”
Her words conjured the memories. Of Leo, not yet five years old, perched on Noah’s hip while Jack engaged him in a game of peek-a-boo. A ploy to distract them all from their growling bellies.
Of a seven-year-old Luke standing on a chair at the stove, trying to scrounge something edible from the meager, stale foodstuffs scavenged from the kitchen cupboards. No matter how little they had, Luke always managed to get a meal out of it.
Daniel was either passed out, hungover, or chasing the intoxication that would lead to both, while Shea worked whatever shit job a thirteen-year-old kid could find.
It was a common enough evening.
“They love to tell stories about you growing up. Funny stories.”
“I didn’t know that,” he said softly.
“Of course, not once did any of them bother to mention you were a famous archaeologist.”
He shifted in his seat.
Her eyes narrowed. “They do know, don’t they?” Her look turned incredulous. “Noah!”
“What?”
“You haven’t told them?”
He rubbed the tension-filled spot at his nape. “It’s too much to try to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. We all knew you’d be wildly successful.”
He gaped at her. “That’s not true.”
“You’re a genius.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You never came to class, but somehow you got straight As. How?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I cheated.”
“From who? You were smarter than everyone else. Even some of the teachers. Remember how you used to freak out Sister Margaret?”
He remembered. It hadn’t been the first time his thinking had overtaken one of the nuns’. Indeed, the only adults not threatened by Noah’s sharp mind had been his mother, before she died, and Father John.
About the time Noah had showed his penchant for finding trouble, John had started bringing him books. Books on religion and philosophy, geography and science. History, art, and mathematics, too. Noah had devoured them all. For a while, he’d even forgotten about booze and petty crime.
The man had saved his life. In more ways than one.
A server appeared at the table, red-faced and breathless. “Hi, guys. Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?”
They placed their order, a Guinness for Noah and a light beer for Mina, and the waitress shuffled away.
Mina leaned forward. “So, tell me this: why archaeology? Was it the money? The glory?”
Her teasing smile tugged at his groin. “There is no money, and I was unaware there’d be any glory.” He stretched his legs out beneath the table. “You’re not going to believe this, but I liked the discipline.”
One of her arched eyebrows inched upward.
“It’s the truth, I swear,” he said. “It was a new experience for me, and a welcome change.”
“And now?”
“Hell, if I know.” Caught in the web spun by her smile, the confession slipped out. “The work is tedious and solitary. It’s downright boring most of the time.”
Her eyes, the color of deepest sapphire, sparkled in the soft lighting. “But you love it anyway.”
“I do.” He nudged her foot. “How about you? Why an old house?”
A twinge of unease stole into her eyes. “It’s a great house.”
“It is, but it’s also a huge risk and a ton of work.”
She folded her napkin into a tight, tiny square. “I guess... I had a rough year. A rough decade and I needed a change. A challenge.” Big blue eyes caressed his face. “I needed something all my own, if that makes any sense.”
The animation of her face was enchanting.
“Makes perfect sense.”
Her brow puckered. “I think, too, the house makes me feel closer to my dad.”
“I don’t remember your dad.”
“He died when I was five.”
Noah’s heart pinched. “I’m sorry. How did he die?”
“He drowned in a boating accident on Lake Michigan.” She tortured the napkin some more. “I don’t remember much about him. My mom never talked about him. I wonder what he was like. Was he was kind or wild or serious or goofy?” She abandoned the shredded napkin. “He grew up in that house.”
Her pained expression kicked him in the nuts, but then a sudden smile lit her face.
“I like to think he’s haunting it,” she said.
His startled laughter hung over the table as the waitress reappeared with their drinks.
“You guys are swamped tonight,” Mina said to the dark-haired woman.
The waitress exhaled a long breath. “We’re getting slammed. Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re waiting for some others to join us,” Noah said.
“I’ll come back in a bit.”
Alone once more, Noah leaned in. “A rough decade, huh? Tell me more about that.”
Mina fell back in the booth. “Why? Did you want to ruin your appetite?”
“Married? Divorced? Secret babies, boyfriends? Girlfriends?”
“That’s, like, eight questions. Besides, I just went. It’s your turn.”
He feigned insult. “I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been keeping score since day one.”
He didn’t deny it. “Fine. What’s your question?”
She sat up straighter. “Why did you come back?”
He took a moment to choose his words. “I think it’s safe to say I have daddy issues. I thought seeing him buried would close the book. For good.”
“Did it?”
He scratched a phantom itch on his jawline. “Get back to me on that one.”
“Why did you stay?”
His heart started to pound in his chest. “To do the excavation.”
Her eyes narrowed. “There were no other archaeologists who could excavate my property?”
He shifted his weight on the hard bench. “None as good as me.”
“Why did you take the job at ESU?”
“I was on sabbatical and bored out of my freaking skull. I needed something to do for a few months.”
She let his words hang over the table for a moment. “Is that al
l?”
Was it? He studied the liquid in his glass, as though the answer might be floating in his beer. At one time in his life, he’d searched for answers at the bottom of every liquor bottle he could get his hands on. The answers weren’t there then, and they weren’t there now.
He met her knowing gaze. “You’re good at this.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
One corner of her mouth lifted. “You’re not going to answer, are you?”
He fended off the enchantment of the deep blue sea in her eyes. “We’re here to celebrate. How about we skip the sad stories?”
She searched his face, and for one unguarded moment, he let her glimpse what lay there.
“Fair enough.” She raised the beer bottle to her lips.
Relief flooded him. He took a long pull on his pint and settled back. “Okay, out with it, Winslow. I showed you mine, now show me yours.”
Her soft laughter knocked his own smile loose. “Well, sorry to disappoint, but no girlfriends.”
“A man can dream, can’t he?”
“No marriage and no babies, either.”
“Boyfriends?”
She groaned.
“Too painful to talk about?”
“Too pathetic,” she said. “I’ll spare you the details of my pitiful relationships.”
“A hot chick with self-esteem issues. My favorite type of woman.”
“You’re shameless,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
A swirl of emotions chased across her face, and Noah found himself begrudging Shea his decorating sense, for the dark woods and dim lighting obscured his study of her.
She leaned forward in the booth. “Truth?”
He leaned in. “Truth.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever loved any of them. I think... I’m incapable or something.”
Her words stilled him. “Incapable?”
“I’m thirty-three years old and I’ve never been in love. That’s weird, right?”
He’d asked himself that same question countless times, always assuming his fucked-up relationship with his dad or his mom’s untimely death had somehow damaged him, leaving scars too deep to ever heal over. “I don’t think it’s weird.”
“You don’t?” She worried her plump bottom lip.
Noah’s gaze lingered on her mouth. “No, I don’t. I can’t say I’ve ever been in love, either.”