by Autumn Reed
“Don't be mad, Haley.” Theo wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “We just wanted to make sure you had your dream telescope.”
When he put it that way, I couldn't be too upset. Or maybe I was willing to justify their warped logic because it benefited me. I decided not to overthink it and, instead, graciously accepted the gift.
“It’s incredible, thank you. I can't wait to use it.”
When all of the gifts had been unwrapped and several of the guys started playing a new video game, I snuck away to clean the kitchen. Though I knew it wouldn’t hurt anything to leave dirty dishes sitting out for a few hours, I preferred getting it done and out of the way. Any one of the guys would have helped if I asked, but I didn’t mind the task. It was oddly satisfying, especially in a kitchen as beautiful as Patrick’s.
I had just started the dishwasher and was getting ready to hand wash the rest when Patrick showed up. “There you are.” He opened a drawer and withdrew a dish towel. “Why don’t I dry?”
“Oh, you don’t have to. There’s not much left to do.”
“I insist. It’s not something I have to do often.”
I rinsed a glass mixing bowl before handing it to him. “You don’t cook?”
He gave me a surprisingly sheepish smile. “Not really. You’d think a bachelor of my advanced age would have learned to cook by now, but I’ve never taken the time.”
“What do you eat, then?” Realizing how personal that question sounded only after the fact, I said, “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”
Patrick chuckled. “Don’t apologize. It’s a valid question. I have a housekeeper who works three days a week. She cleans, stocks the fridge, and prepares meals that taste good reheated. And, like everyone I know who works too much, I eat out more than I should.”
“That makes sense.” I handed him a platter that was likely sterling silver. How much did one of those even cost? “It would be nice to come home to tasty, pre-made meals once in a while.”
“I’m rather spoiled, I admit. It’s unfortunate for you that Liam hasn’t moved into the loft as well. I’m sure he would cook dinner for you every night, at least when he wasn’t away on assignment.”
I hoped my cheeks didn’t flush at his comment. Even though Jackson assured me his adoptive father was “totally supportive” of our relationship, I couldn’t help feeling awkward. How could he not judge me, at least a little bit, for being with all five of the men he treated like sons?
“The loft is getting rather crowded. I can’t imagine Liam would be willing to share a bedroom.” Unless he shared one with me—something I had no intention of saying aloud to Patrick.
“True. I can’t picture him in a bunk bed.”
I laughed then lowered my voice. “Liam might be more spoiled than you, but don’t tell him I said so.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” He winked before returning to his small pile of dishes.
After I finished washing the few remaining glasses and wiped down the counters, I took inventory of the kitchen. It looked as pristine as ever. Mission accomplished.
I reached for a tin of Christmas cookies and grabbed some of Liam’s delicious s’mores popcorn for myself. “I better not return to the guys empty-handed. It’s been over an hour since breakfast.”
Patrick smiled but held out a hand, as if to stop me. “Actually, I asked them to give us some time alone. Would you mind joining me in the living room for a few minutes?”
“Of course not.”
Even though he was as friendly as ever, I felt like I was being summoned to the principal’s office. Not that I’d ever been to the principal’s office . . . or had a principal. Was this about my relationship with the guys?
I sat in one of the plush cream chairs, suddenly wishing I’d taken the time to get dressed after opening gifts. I had a feeling this would be a discussion better suited to nice jeans and a sweater rather than my pajama pants and shrunken sheep tee.
“Has Jax ever told you about how I was jilted by my fiancée many years ago?”
Not having expected the statement in the slightest, I could only shake my head.
“It was before I adopted Jax. She was beautiful and charming. She knew how to make me have fun, which has always been a struggle for me.”
I smiled in response, imagining the affable but serious Patrick with the woman he described. His tone was level, but the tense way he held himself told me the subject was a difficult one for him.
He stared at his hands. “We hadn’t developed such strict confidentiality rules at Zenith yet, so she knew all about the covert side of my job. She always assured me she could handle it, but as time passed, she became increasingly discontented. Three weeks before our wedding, she called it off. Told me she couldn’t marry a man who was already married to his job.” He finally looked up at me, his expression resigned. “And I let her go. I made the decision right then and there to put Zenith first.”
My heart hurt for him, and I wanted to smack the woman who left him. If she loved Patrick, why couldn’t she have learned to accept his demanding job?
“Do you ever regret your decision?”
“Sometimes. I love my life and Jax, but it can be a lonely existence. I always hoped I’d find the right woman someday, but I haven’t even attempted to have a relationship in so long . . .” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I thought explaining my story might help provide some perspective on your own situation.”
Nerves hit my system as my suspicions were confirmed as to why he’d wanted to speak to me alone. At the same time, I was almost relieved. Maybe I would feel better once we got this conversation over with.
“Jax told me that you know about the, uh, plan the guys came up with. He said you approve, but I’m having trouble believing that.”
His mouth lifted into a comforting smile. “I know from my own experience how difficult it is to balance Zenith and a romantic relationship. I don’t want Jax, or any of the others, to reach my age and regret all the years lost to their jobs. This solution is outside of the box, but that doesn’t mean it can’t work.”
I nodded, understanding where he was coming from, but doubt still plagued me. “You wouldn’t be . . . embarrassed if people find out about us?”
He chuckled. “It would never cross my mind to be embarrassed. The question is, how do you feel about it? I know this is a conversation you should be having with your father, but since he’s not here, I’m willing to step in. Just because I approve doesn’t mean I believe it’s the best decision for you. Honestly, you’re the only one who can know whether it’s right or not. You need to be selfish when it comes to this choice and focus on what you want, what you need.”
“That’s part of my problem. Saying yes feels too selfish. Like I’m depriving each of the guys from finding who they should be with.”
“You have to trust them to know their own minds and hearts—they didn’t make this choice on a whim.” He reached across the space between us and patted my hand. It was such a fatherly gesture, I couldn’t help but smile in response. “Remember, Haley, they may be relatively young, but they’ve all survived too much hardship and loss already. As have you. Maybe fate was at work to bring you all together.”
Fate. There was a weight to that word that made me edgy. Was it really that simple? The six of us seemed to fit together in a way that sometimes felt otherworldly. Was it possible that we were meant to be?
Patrick stood. “I apologize for bringing up something so serious on Christmas, but I didn’t want to wait any longer before speaking with you. Kenneth James and I are trading offices while he’s leading the strategy training session, so I’ll be in D.C. for a few weeks. Please know that you can always come to me, though. You have my phone number. I am available to you twenty-four seven.”
“Thank you, Patrick. And thank you for making it possible for me to speak to my dad. I can’t tell you how much that meant to me.”
“You’re welcome.” He clapped his hands once and gave m
e a wide smile. “Now, why don’t we take those cookies to the boys? I’m sure they’ve gotten grumpy while impatiently awaiting your return.”
I followed him back to the kitchen, feeling suddenly lighter. Patrick had given me a lot to think about. Maybe saying yes to the guys wasn’t as selfish as I’d believed. Maybe our unconventional relationship was actually the best thing for all of us after all. Maybe.
10
Under My Skin
Haley
“Perfect. Stay right there,” I called to Theo.
He smiled at me from across the courtyard of the Carmel Mission—an ancient stone structure framed by beautiful gardens. With his hands tucked in his pockets and the mission at his back, he looked ready for the cover of a magazine.
I cradled the digital SLR in my hands, peering through the viewfinder before taking a few shots. A peek at the screen told me that photographing in manual was going to be more difficult than I imagined. I was quickly coming to appreciate how much time and talent it had taken Theo to capture the stunning shots that hung throughout the loft.
When I scowled at the screen, he jogged to my side and flipped through the images before giving me a few pointers. “See how it's grainy and washed out?” I nodded. “Try dialing down the ISO, or the camera's sensitivity to light,” he said as he walked me through the controls. “Then, slow the shutter speed. That will allow more light to come in with less noise. Make sense?”
“Yes, or at least it does when you're standing here showing me.”
He chuckled. “You'll get the hang of it, snickerdoodle, of that I have no doubt.”
After a kiss, I waved him back into place. I took a few more shots, loving the way the late afternoon sun bounced off of his russet hair, his wooden Wayfarer sunglasses shielding his eyes as he smiled brilliantly at me. When I scrolled through the images this time, I was almost pleased with the results.
“Wait,” I said before he could move and ruin the shot. “Will you take off your sunglasses?”
“Anything else you'd like me to remove?” he asked with a smirk as he slipped them in his pocket.
I hid my blush behind the camera. The guys had been out of town for the past few days on a last-minute assignment, and to say that I'd missed them would be an understatement, especially since they were away over New Year’s. When Theo was the first to return, I'd nearly mauled him in my enthusiasm.
Returning my attention to our photography lesson, I lined up my subject in the right third of the screen and zoomed in on his head and shoulders. I snapped picture after picture, watching the subtle change of his expressions, noticing the way the light affected the color of his hazel eyes. Finally, I let the camera strap rest around my neck, confident I'd gotten the perfect shot.
Theo held my hand as we walked down the breezeway, tugging me into a recessed doorway, where he backed me against the wall. He took one last glance down the walkway before covering my mouth with his. Our tongues sparred while his hands roamed my hips and rib cage, leaving me breathless. I was so lost to the world around us, it wasn't until he withdrew with a satisfied grin that I heard footsteps echoing on the tile.
“Come on, let's check out the inside.”
Following him into the basilica, I hoped I didn't look as flustered as I felt. Theo, on the other hand, appeared unfazed. “When you're shooting indoors, or in other lower light situations, you'll want to slow the shutter speed and increase the ISO.”
“I thought a higher ISO made it grainy?”
“It can, but when you have less light to work with, you have to use every available resource.”
“What about the flash?”
“I only rely on it as a last resort.” He came to stand behind me, wrapping his hands around mine so we were holding the camera together. “I'd suggest something like this,” he said, but my body focused on the way he was pressed against me instead of what his hands were doing with the camera.
It was only when he stepped back that I realized I’d completely missed his instructions. I took a few photos of the curved ceiling and the ornate altar, telling myself to get it together. We were in a church, for crying out loud.
We left the quiet peacefulness of the basilica for the interior courtyard. Steeped in history, the grounds were a beautiful sanctuary of fountains, native plants, and statues. As always, my personal tour guide gave me the highlights, detailing the mission's history, from its construction by Franciscan missionaries in the late eighteenth century to its eventual restoration. I snapped pictures along the way but mostly soaked in the scenery.
“Your turn.” He held out his hand, waiting for me to relinquish the camera. Instead, I slapped his palm.
“Haley.” He glared, but I turned my back to him, consumed with the need to capture some nearby flowers. “Are you ignoring me?”
“Not ignoring, per se. Rather, I'm refusing to accede to your request.”
“Oh my . . . gardens,” he finished in a hushed voice, glancing around as if he was going to be struck by lightning for nearly cursing on sacred ground. “You did not just say that.”
“What?” I shrugged.
“You've been hanging out with Knox so much that you're beginning to sound like him.”
Attempting to imitate Knox, I lowered my voice and spoke in as gruff a tone as I could manage. “Theo, are you ready yet?” I barely made it to the end of my question before we started laughing, drawing the stares of several people walking nearby.
“Shh.” I placed a finger over my lips, still trying to quell my own laughter.
“You started it,” he whispered back. “Now, hand over the camera or else.”
“Ohh, I'm shaking in my riding boots.”
“You should be.” He leaned closer, invading my space and weakening my resolve. “If you don't hand over the camera in the next five seconds, I'm going to start belting out Journey's greatest hits. I'm pretty sure you don't want that.”
“I'm pretty sure neither of us wants that.”
“Don't say I didn't warn you.” He drew a deep breath and started singing the lyrics to “Don't Stop Believin'” before I clamped my hand over his mouth and glared at him. He had the audacity to lick me, and I immediately pulled away and wiped my palm on my jeans.
“Ready to hand over the camera now?”
When I hesitated, he opened his mouth, poised to start singing again, and I hastily lifted the strap over my head.
“Is my singing really that atrocious?”
“I happen to love your voice. But I'd rather not get kicked out, if that's all right with you.”
“Fair enough. Now,” he said, steering me by the shoulders, “please stand here.”
With a gentle touch, he brushed my hair away from my face only to pause briefly in his movements. His eyes swept over me, his expression full of adoration. “Perfect.”
Before I could protest, he stepped back and snapped a handful of shots. He peered down at the screen and switched off the camera, apparently pleased with the result.
“Moving on.” He linked our hands and led me to his Outback.
“You're already done torturing me?”
“I can take more if you want. This is the perfect time of day for portraits.” He removed the lens cap. “Or we can grab the tripod and watch the sunset. Your choice.”
“I vote for the second option.”
I grabbed my jacket from the car, wrapping it around me before throwing a beanie on for good measure. The day had been warm, at least for January, but I had a feeling my leggings and knit tunic paired with a chunky scarf wouldn't be enough once the sun set.
We strolled through the grounds until we found the perfect spot, even if it was a bit windy. I tightened my jacket around my neck to ward off the chill.
“Are you warm enough?” His brows pinched with concern.
“I'll be fine.”
“Here,” he said, handing me the camera. “Why don’t you decide what settings to use while I assemble the tripod? Then, I’ll keep you warm.”
I toggled through the options, contemplating the best mix of aperture, shutter speed, and ISO. Finally, when I was relatively confident about my selection, I returned the camera to him. I studied his face as he attached it to the tripod then took a few shots. It was moments like this, when Theo was lost in concentration, that he looked most like Knox. It still baffled me, my love for two brothers who were so different, and yet, the same.
“What do you think?”
“I think it's going to be a beautiful sunset,” I said, surveying the scene before me.
The sky was awash with colors, the wispy winter clouds providing a thin layer of dimension in a darkening sky. Orange and yellow backlit the silhouette of the Mission, highlighting the bell tower and roofline of the ancient building.
Theo made a few adjustments before sitting on a nearby stone wall, camera remote in hand. He pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms around me, making me warmer already.
“I want a New Year’s redo. Let’s pretend it’s December thirty-first.”
“At midnight?”
He nodded. “Ten, nine, eight,” Theo counted down until he reached one. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year.” I smiled back at him.
He placed a hand on my cheek and pressed his lips to mine briefly. “Sorry I had to miss New Year's Eve.”
“It's okay. I understand.” I shivered, hoping the wind would die down.
“It's not okay, but thanks for being so cool about it. Did you make any resolutions?”
“Maybe.”
“That's a yes.” He pinched my side, and I shifted on his lap.
“I resolve to cherish every moment. What about you?”
“Good one! I resolve to kiss you more.” He kissed my forehead, my cheek, my lips. “And I resolve to learn how to cook.”
“Without burning down the house?” I asked, garnering a scowl from Theo.
“You owe me cooking lessons, remember?”
“I do?” I feigned ignorance.