by Marie Harte
She pushed it toward him. “No, go ahead.”
She watched him eat, remembering back when she could stuff herself on chips and sweets and not pay for it on the scale. “Are you upset you guys didn’t make the playoffs this year? I mean, you played varsity as a sophomore. That’s a big deal. Too bad the football team couldn’t carry Riverdown High further.”
“It’s okay we didn’t make playoffs. It’s a growing year, and Deacon said I should be prepared for college scouts my last two seasons at school. I’ve got time.”
“Not much.” She looked at him, feeling the minutes tick by. “I can’t believe you’re already in high school. I still remember the first time I held you, and you peed all over me.”
Simon flushed. “Come on, Nora. I was a baby. Do you have to keep bringing that up?”
She smirked. “Oh, yeah. Until you’re at least forty.”
He glared. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to share some of your embarrassing stories.”
“Oh please. My life is an open book.” In a lower voice, she added, “Probably why I’m dateless at thirty-four.”
“Thirty-five, you mean.”
She poked Simon in the shoulder. “Not quite. My birthday is a while away.”
“Um, isn’t it in on Christmas Eve?”
“Well, technically. I—”
Her father rushed toward them, his face wreathed in joy. “The baby’s here! It’s a girl, six pounds, eight ounces. Becca’s just fine.”
Nora’s vision blurred, and she wiped her cheek. “Oh man, I’m an aunt again!” She hugged Simon, who let out a loud whoop.
Self-pity, denial, and loneliness could wait. She had a niece to cuddle and a best friend to hug. Stat.
Chapter 2
Several hours later, Deacon stared at the pink, wrinkled blessing in his brother’s arms and grinned. “Man, she’s so soft and mushed. Looks just like you.”
Mitch chuckled. “Ass.” He kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Want to hold her?”
“Me?” Deacon had watched everyone fuss over the proud parents and baby, waiting impatiently for his turn. He’d never held a newborn before. Sadly, his time with Rhonda hadn’t produced anything but animosity and heartache. But this… Man, Mitch had outdone himself. “You did good, Bro.”
Mitch smiled. “I know.”
Deacon chuckled. “Okay, gimme.” He carefully held the little girl all wrapped up in a soft blue blanket, conscious of her frailty. “Man, she’s barely heavier than a ball. But don’t worry. I know not to throw her.”
Mitch sighed. “Not instilling any confidence here, moron.”
Deacon ignored him, in love with his brand-new niece. “What’s her name? Come on, tell me.”
Mitch glanced around. “Okay, but don’t let on that you know. We’re supposed to make an official announcement to everyone at the same time.” He paused. “We’ve named her Ava Honoria Flashman. Ava after Grandma.”
“And Honoria?”
“Hello. After her aunt? You know. Nora.”
Deacon felt a wicked grin break out. “Nora’s name is actually Honoria?”
“Crap. Forget I mentioned it.” But Mitch’s sly expression said he didn’t mean it. “At least hold onto the name until we let everyone know. Then use it to your heart’s content.”
And he would. Deacon had been bothered by Nora Nielsen for as long as he’d known her. Attracted, annoyed, and baffled. His relationship with the clever woman had gone from friendly and most definitely attracted to a man brushed aside, though he should have expected it. He still wondered if he’d made the right decision by avoiding her following their one and only date.
Nah, he’d been smart to dodge her. Considering even her snappish comebacks made him want to go caveman and drag her off to the nearest cave/bed/closet for some close-up and personal time, he knew it had been best to keep out of her way.
“Mom’s been pretty good about not being all over you guys,” he commented.
“Yeah, though she’s been super excited about being a grandma.” Mitch pursed his lips. “Well, actually, Simon gets the privilege of being the first grandkid. He was bragging about it when he met Ava for the first time, so of course Mom and Dad made sure he knows how special he is to them too. Then he winked at me. The conniver.”
“I love that kid.” Deacon chuckled. “He knows how to take advantage of doting old people. And if you tell Mom I called her old, I’ll deny it, so don’t bother.”
Mitch chuckled and shot Deacon a side-glance. After a pause, he said, “You were supposed to go first having babies, you know.”
“Imagine how awful that would have been with Rhonda. She’d hold a kid over my head for every damn thing.”
Mitch nodded. “That’s a good point. You’re so much better off without her.”
Deacon knew that. Still didn’t help him in the dark of night, when he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, all alone, riddled with his inadequacies. And man, am I a candidate for throwing the best pity-party of the decade. He shrugged off the negativity that didn’t belong here, in this place, and focused on the joy in his arms.
After some quiet time holding Ava, he cleared his throat, trying best to phrase what he wanted to know. “So, uh, Nora.”
“What about her?” Mitch watched him, but Deacon didn’t trust the innocent look in his brother’s eyes.
“She’s still a major pain in the ass. Got all sarcastic when I was bitching about how long it was taking for the kid to pop out.”
“I can’t blame you. I was kind of freaked out about it too. Sixteen hours in labor. Poor Becca, yet she looks like she’s glowing.” Mitch wore a dopey grin. “She’s my world, man.”
A twinge of envy hit Deacon before he shrugged it away. “Like I said, you did good.”
Mitch’s smile widened.
Deacon sighed. “You’re going to be super cheery for a long, long time, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Just…tone down that happy crap in the mornings, okay?”
“Maybe. But it’ll cost you.” Mitch reached out, and Deacon deposited the baby in his arms.
“I’m prepared to pay.” Not a morning person, Deacon usually warmed up to tolerable by ten, maybe eleven if he didn’t have coffee to jolt him back to humanity.
“Tell me again why you couldn’t make it to our originally scheduled Thanksgiving dinner. We had everybody here for once. Except you.”
Deacon had never mentioned his first and only date with Nora. But his brother had picked up on the tension between them. As had Becca and Simon. Fortunately, he and Nora had done their best to avoid each other for months. And everyone had been too polite or distracted to say anything over the holiday, what with the baby coming.
“I was planning to spend the time with my girlfriend. Unfortunately, we hit a rough patch.”
Mitch’s brows rose. “Sandra?”
“Meghan.” Deacon shrugged. “She’s now my ex-girlfriend, along with Sandra.”
“And Rachel, and Sue, and Michelle…” Mitch shook his head while he cradled his daughter and made gooey faces at her. “Hear that, Ava? Uncle Deacon bit the dust again.”
“I called it off, moron.”
Mitch gave him a pitying look. “Bro, you need to relax with all the women. Meghan is like the eighth woman you’ve dated and broken up with in the past two weeks.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
Mitch just looked at him.
Deacon flushed. “She and I dated for the two months, you know. It’s just… Look, leaving the game was tough. But hey, injuries happen. Then Rhonda sucker punched me and took everything. It took a while for me to get my feet under me.”
“A good two years and change,” Mitch muttered. “I sincerely hope karma bites Rhonda’s big ass.”
Deacon appreciated the sentiment. “We both know I wasn’t in a good place.” Deacon hated remembering how close he’d come to just saying to hell with it all and ending things. For good. “It makes sense I was gun
-shy to date again. I was kind of freaked out by it.”
“Yeah, because all the sexy women in town fawning all over you is scary.”
Deacon felt his face heat. “Shut up. Women are scary.”
Mitch smirked. “Especially Nora.”
“Anyway” —no way was Deacon touching that one— “At first, dating again was unsettling. Then I started having fun. Getting to know women, not being in the spotlight anymore, being a regular guy, it felt good.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re a lot less than normal.” Mitch looked him over, from head to toe. “First of all, you’re six-four and still built like a linebacker.”
“Hey, I was a quarterback.” Deacon scowled.
“And a big QB at that.” Mitch grinned at the finger Deacon shot him. “But everyone in town knows you spent a solid seven years in the NFL. They might not know the state of your finances, but they know you were big league. And now you co-own a brewery. The notion that you have money has to be there.”
“I know. I just wish I was as rich as everyone thinks I am.”
Mitch frowned. “Do you need money? Becca and I have plenty to—”
“No.” Deacon lowered his voice when the baby stirred. “No, Midas, I do not. I’m actually pretty good right now.” Rhonda had taken him for everything she could get, leaving a once-million-dollar star athlete at a mid-six figure reality. Not such a hardship, except he’d also been stuck with her debts, taking on a lot more he couldn’t afford to lose.
Mitch and his parents had offered Deacon help, but he’d been too proud to accept a handout, ashamed at how he’d gone from hero to zero thanks to a torn rotator cuff ending his career and a greedy wife ending his shot at a happily-ever-after.
Then a lifeline in the form of Roy Thompson, his best friend, had given Deacon purpose.
Now he co-owned a successful brewpub with expansion on the horizon. But it had taken nearly all his savings to get the brewery where it needed to be. With Roy’s knowledge and contacts, along with Deacon’s money and networking, they had finally started to show a major profit, allowing Deacon to take a paycheck again.
“Good to know you’re not broke,” Mitch said. “Then maybe you’ll be hosting our next major holiday after Christmas?”
“Please. No one can compete with your mansion in the mountains.” Deacon scoffed. “My tiny bungalow is way too small for family.”
“You’re such a liar. Bungalow? More like a mini-mansion of your own in town.”
“My house is maybe a third the size of yours.”
Mitch raised a brow. “Whatever. Your place still ain’t small. Be honest. You have plenty of space in that home of yours. You just choose to keep it a bachelor pad.”
“Yep. Complete with bras and thongs all over the place,” Deacon deadpanned. “Your house has an indoor pool, media room, and a state-of-the-art weight room. That’s in addition to all the other crap you have. Dude, a reading room? You have enough space to designate rooms for reading and games. And movies! My place can’t compete with that.” Mitch also had the most important thing of all, something Deacon sorely wanted but didn’t think he’d ever have.
A family.
After a moment, Mitch asked, “Has Nora seen it?”
“No. I—what?” That had come out of nowhere.
“I just think it’s interesting that you and Nora seemed pretty tight at the beginning of the year. And then it’s like you two are barely ever in the same room together. If you are, you’re either ignoring each other or snapping at each other.”
“We don’t get along.” But he sure wished they did. Lately, whenever out with a woman, Deacon mentally compared her to Nora. Inevitably, his date would come up lacking.
“Uh-huh.” Mitch watched him. “So why did you and Sandra—sorry, Meghan—break up?”
“She was a little too interested in my finances. Rhonda started out like that.”
“You probably made a good call to end things. But do you ever wonder if maybe everyone you date is going to come up short? You got hammered by your ex. It’s only natural you—”
“Don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Deacon forced a smile. “Let’s just enjoy the baby and your family. Okay?”
Mitch’s face softened. “Okay, Deac. Then, since you’re obviously not doing Thanksgiving with your new lady, maybe you can help Mom and Dad do it at our place in a few days.”
“You sure you want everyone there with a new baby?”
“Yeah.” Mitch’s eyes started to shine, and his voice sounded gruff when he said, “Family is everything, man.”
Deacon pulled him in for a gentle hug, careful not to smush Ava. “I feel you. And I swear I’ll be nice to Nora. Just for you.”
“Aw, now I really feel bad for pantsing you in fifth grade.”
“Still such an ass.” Deacon pulled back. “Fatherhood hasn’t made a difference, has it?”
Mitch snickered. “Nope. Not a bit. Just remember this conversation when you’re expecting your own.”
Chapter 3
Nora didn’t know what she’d been thinking by offering to help with late Thanksgiving this year. It should have been Mitch and Becca’s responsibility. Mitch was supposed to hire the best caterer for the meal, and Becca would handle dessert because she insisted only she could make a decent pumpkin pie. Becca still had a tough time accepting the fact she’d married a rich man. Just letting him cater the meal had been a huge deal.
But because of the baby, Mitch had been scattered and forgot to confirm the caterer, and the last thing on Becca’s mind was pie. Mitch’s parents had gladly stepped in. Then Nora’s parents offered to help. Everything should have been taken care of, yet somehow, Nora had been volunteered to work alongside Deacon while they set the table and ran errands for the experts in the kitchen.
“I could cook,” she muttered, wishing she’d gotten turkey detail instead of being relegated to resident fetch girl.
“I could totally cook,” Deacon seconded, though from what Mitch had once said, the man could barely boil water. “Better than having to decorate every damn thing.” He placed a ceramic pumpkin in the middle of the table.
“Where’s Simon?” Her teenage buffer had disappeared over an hour ago, leaving her in awkward silences with Deacon.
“The slacker is using the sister excuse.” Deacon frowned. “According to my mother, Simon needs bonding time with Ava, so he can’t possibly help set the table, run errands for the grandparents, or take the dog out for walks.”
Funny, because Nora could have sworn she’d seen the boy laughing with his girlfriend in the game room half an hour ago. But she was no narc. “Speaking of the dog, where is she? I haven’t seen Oreo for a while.”
“No idea, and I don’t want to know. She’s cute but a menace. I swear, that thing poops more than a herd of elephants, and on an hourly basis.”
Nora tried to bite back a smile, but he saw it.
“Laugh it up until it’s your turn. I’m telling you, that thirty-five pound dog craps fifty-pound loads.”
“Gross. Stop.” She bit her lip and turned away, fiddling with the glassware. Wow. They were having an actual conversation, and she hadn’t gone for his throat yet. Perhaps the holiday had brought more than one miracle.
The silence settled between them once more.
They finished with place settings until Nora realized they were short one butter knife. She fetched it from the buffet and looked for anything else she might have missed.
“Deacon,” his mother called.
With a sigh, Deacon left, only to return carrying a large platter of deviled eggs and an olive tray, both covered in plastic wrap. He set them on the buffet. Then he moved more chairs into the room around the extra-large dining table. She straightened the place settings, wondering how to break away without looking as if she were afraid of being in the same room with him. Which she totally wasn’t.
Nora didn’t fear Deacon. But she did fear saying or doing something to ruin the family f
un. Babies, couples, together time. She should have been reveling in all the happiness. Instead, she wanted to run far from it all.
She stared at the table, her mind blanking before a familiar phrase came to mind that fit the occasion—Bah, humbug.
Muffling pathetic laughter at herself, she wondered what excuse to use to leave early. Feeling so out of sorts around everyone, Nora didn’t want her odd mood to affect the others.
Deacon cleared his throat.
She glanced up to see him standing with his hands in his jean pockets, staring at her. She wished his navy sweater didn’t make his eyes appear so dang blue. Looking into those dark peepers was like daring to swim in shark-infested waters. Nope. Time to find something else to occupy her. Just as she readied to make a break for the study, he spoke.
“So, ah, how’s it feel to be an aunt again?”
Talking about kiddos seemed safe enough. Congenial, even. She forced a smile. “It’s great. I already love Simon. The addition of Baby Ava’s going to be a treat.” Thinking about how beautiful Becca’s baby was, this time when she smiled it came naturally. “I bet she won’t throw a fit when she’s older and I’m taking her clothes shopping.”
“I take it Simon wasn’t a fan of trying on pants a few weeks ago?” Deacon smirked. “I might have heard a thing or two about it at football practice.”
“The kid’s been wearing floods because he’s growing so fast.” She made a face. “I should have made Mitch take him, but I was trying to be nice. With Becca as big as a house and crabby, I thought I’d save them all some hassle and help my nephew get decent clothes for school. Man, was I wrong.” She glanced at him. “Were you and Mitch a pain with your parents?”
“Not me.” He gave a disingenuous smile. “Mitch was a handful. I was the good son.”
His mother entered the dining room and snorted, apparently having overheard. “You wish. Mitch listened. Not you. Too cool to obey Mom until Dad walked in carrying his belt.”
Nora studied the big man dwarfing his mom trying to act innocent. “Did your dad hit you?” She couldn’t imagine quiet and kind Lee Flashman, the same man who had chastised Mitch for talking too harshly to the dog and who blushed when his wife called him cute, doing anything mean to his kids.