by Cecy Robson
“I assure you that’s never happened,” I say chuckling. “The success of my company means everything to me. With the hours I keep and the work I do, it’s a rarity to meet women like you.”
“Loud women like me?” she offers.
“I mean mesmerizing,” I tell her, because it’s true. “And unique and kind.”
She groans. “There you go again,” she says. “Making it too easy to like you.”
“I like you, too,” I remind her.
I don’t want that strain between us to return, but I want to know where I stand. “What about you? How long has it been since you spent the night with a man?”
She places the empty bottle aside and reaches for another one beneath the sink. It’s a casual response, but I can’t help thinking it’s an excuse to turn away from me. “Over a year.”
“You can’t be serious.”
She squeezes my arm playfully. “I’m not as easy as you think I am.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” She turns around, applying lotion to my back in long, careful strokes.
“That you’ve had opportunities to meet men and that only a fool would ignore you.”
In the quiet that follows her thoughts appear to drift. Her hands move to my lower back, continuing her massage of my skin. “I’m going to give you a little TMI about me,” she says, after a long moment. “Are you ready?”
“Go on.”
Her fingers tense along my muscles. “The last relationship I had was bullshit,” she says. “I wasn’t exactly ready or willing to go through that again. I was asked out a few times, but it was by the same idiots I’ve been trying to avoid. I was tired of the attitudes and expectations so instead of giving in, I’ve spent the last year alone.” She presses a kiss between my shoulder blades. “What about you? When was your last relationship?”
I want to probe more about her last experience. But I’m not insensitive. It’s clear she’s still troubled by what occurred. “In London I dated someone for three years,” I confess. “And before her a woman just slightly over two.”
“Five years’ worth of relationships before last night? Damn. I don’t even keep shoes that long.” She waits then asks, “Were you engaged to either of them?”
I quiet, remembering. “No. The first was more casual. We were young, both of us looking more for someone to pass our free time with rather than commit to anything serious. The last woman, I thought marriage would eventually be our next step. But things never felt like they should.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I reach for the towel and tie it around my waist. “It wasn’t a relationship exactly. At least not in the traditional sense. For all the years we shared, our moments together were brief. She travelled extensively, attending lavish parties while I worked and dedicated myself to my research. We’d see each other on occasion, but then return to our respective lives.”
“Why didn’t you travel with her?”
Wren isn’t judging me. She’s honestly confused by what I tell her. “I was committed to developing new technology and teaching myself to run an empire. I didn’t have time to engage in that lifestyle. Initially I tried, in order to spend time with her, but the parties were too much.”
“Why?”
“They weren’t real.” I’m surprised how quickly I answer and how much truth lies in those simple words. “They were events thrown solely to boast and display wealth.”
“But that didn’t seem to bother her.”
Again, despite that we’re discussing my former lover, she’s not judging her. She’s trying to understand the world I was born into, but never wanted to be a part of.
“No, it didn’t,” I admit. “This was how she was raised. She didn’t work and didn’t have to, enjoying life was her job.”
“I don’t fault her,” I clarify when a small wrinkle forms between her eyebrows. “It’s simply who she is. The last time I saw her was several months ago.”
“The last time you had sex, I take it?”
I nod. “I hadn’t seen her in several weeks. But instead of feeling closer to her, I realized there was nothing there. At least, not enough to keep me.”
“What was her name?”
“What?” I heard the question. It just seems odd for her to ask. Given how primal I become around Wren, I don’t want her speaking a lover’s name except my own.
“What was her name?” she asks again.
“Saundra,” I reply.
“Did Saundra feel the same way that it was time to move on?”
As much as I don’t want to keep discussing my former relationship, I don’t want to hide anything from Wren. “No. She was ready for the next step she presumed was coming.”
She makes a face. “Oh. I guess that didn’t end well then, did it?”
“Not at all.” I gather her to me and kiss her forehead. “But it could have ended worse had I given into what her family and, I suppose society, expected from us. I’ll admit, the termination of our relationship left me bitter. Not because of what I didn’t get, but because of what never was.” I stroke her chin. “Does that make sense?”
“You wasted your time,” she concludes.
“We both did,” I agree.
Her head falls against me, her wet hair soaking my shoulder. It should feel uncomfortable, but I like her close to me.
We laugh when my stomach and hers simultaneously growl. “Are you hungry?” I ask.
“Considering how many calories we burned last night and this morning? I could eat a damn cow.”
“How about I make you breakfast?” I offer.
“Yeah?” At my nod she adds. “You’re all sorts of hot, you know that?”
She clutches me when I bend and kiss her. Like all the kisses we’ve shared, it quickly turns heated.
She groans, pulling away. “Food now, dessert later, okay?”
“Later?” I ask, still struggling to grasp this woman is real.
“Oh, hell yeah. You think you’re getting away from me that easy?” She turns toward the sink. “Help yourself downstairs. I’ll be down as soon as I’m ready.”
“All right,” I say, stealing one last kiss.
I return to her bedroom and yank on my briefs and my trousers, not bothering with a sweater.
The wood floors and the kitchen tile feel cool against my bare soles despite how warm the house is.
I’m taken aback when I open the stainless steel refrigerator and find it packed with an outrageous amount of meat and vegetables. I dismiss it as a healthy appetite until I’m almost done frying the bacon and a shirtless young man with reddish blond hair wanders into the kitchen.
He takes a seat on the opposite side of the counter.
“Hey,” he says. “Oh. Bacon.”
He reaches for two slices on top of the pile I placed on a plate. “I’m Finn,” he says, ramming the bacon in his mouth and offering me a hand. “You a friend of Wren’s?”
“Ah, yes. I’m Evan,” I answer, shaking his hand.
I freeze when a young woman stepping into the doorway comes to an abrupt halt. She’s in a T-shirt that appears too big on her and nothing else. Apparently, she’s just as stunned to find me here as I am to see her.
“Hey, Evan,” Finn says. “That’s my woman you’re looking at.”
I turn abruptly as she races down the hall. “My apologies,” I say. “I wasn’t aware Wren had roommates.”
“I’m not her roommate. I’m her brother.” He frowns. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here. You visiting from Alaska or something?”
“I’ve spent the last few years in England,” I reply slowly.
“Close enough,” he says, reaching for another piece of bacon.
The young woman returns in sweatpants she appears to be swimming in. I’m assuming they are Finn’s clothes, now that I’m aware she’s his “woman”.
She finger combs her blond highlights through her darker hair
. “Hey, I’m Sol,” she says, reaching for a stack of plates and bringing them to the counter.
“Evan,” I say. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” she says. She makes a face. “Sorry, we didn’t know anyone was home.”
“It’s all right, and I apologize. I didn’t realize anyone was here as well.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. She fumbles through the drawer and removes several sets of utensils. “Do you need help getting brunch ready?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” I turn and reach for the bagels I’m toasting. If I gave it some thought, I’ll admit she’s an attractive young woman, petite yet curvy. But I can’t give it much thought, not when all my thoughts return to Wren. Shit. I never expected to meet her family like this.
I place the bagels where Sol laid out cream cheese, butter, and a pitcher of orange juice. “Looks yummy,” she says, reaching for a bagel.
“Thank you.” I keep busy, worried I left the wrong impression. However as Finn and Sol relax, the strain of our encounter lifts as quickly as it began.
There are six stools placed across the long counter. Instead of taking one of them, Sol walks to Finn’s side. Without blinking or leaving his food, he pulls her onto his lap. Given the bulk in his muscles, I suppose it’s not much of an effort. Yet it’s the ease in which they demonstrate affection that impresses me.
In all the years Saundra and I were together, we were never this comfortable around each other, let alone in the presence of strangers. “How long have you been together?” I ask.
“Almost a year,” Sol answers, glancing a Finn.
He squeezes her hip. “That long?” he asks.
He laughs when she nudges him playfully, stealing a kiss when she tries to close the lid to the cream cheese container.
A year and still going strong. Perhaps love isn’t the impossibility I believe it to be.
“Hey, Evan? You gonna fry up some sausage to go with that bacon?” When he grins, I see the resemblance between he and Wren. “Can’t have bacon and no sausage. You hear what I’m saying, man?”
I chuckle. “Of course.”
The whole thing is bizarre. I’m standing here, shirtless, having spent the most incredible night of my life with a woman whose family I’m currently feeding. Yet there’s no tension.
The front door crashes open and voices drift in from the foyer. “Finn, Wren, where the hell are you?” a deep baritone calls out.
“Stop cursin’. It’s the Lord’s day for fuck’s sake,” a shrill woman’s voice responds.
Finn and Sol barely react. “In the kitchen,” Finn yells through a mouthful of bacon.
Rumblings fill the hallway as bodies in varying sizes pile into the kitchen, every one of them abruptly silencing when they find me standing here.
There’s that tension that was missing.
A large man with dark hair and big meaty hands scowls in my direction, but he’s not alone. Every gigantic man on either side of him with shades of blue eyes, and wavy and straight dark hair, (the blond, buzzed cut male with a gun strapped to his hip the exception) is glaring at me.
“Who da fuck are you?” the first man says, dropping an aluminum foil tray on the counter beside him.
Finn rolls his eyes. “Relax, Angus,” he tells him. “He’s a friend of Wren’s.”
“A friend?” a younger and slimmer version of Angus growls. “What kind of friend takes his shirt off in front of our little sister?”
Echoes of agreement flow around the room, and suddenly the kitchen feels much smaller.
“I’m going to kick your ass,” Angus says, storming forward.
A heavy set woman with ginger curls spilling down her back hurries forward, blocking him and the other man. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screams at Angus, her already shrill voice rising an octave. “Seamus, I swear to God you better stay put,” she adds, pointing to the second man when he lunges.
Angus deepens his scowl, as does Seamus, but neither dare move. “Finn, da hell?” Seamus yells. “You going to put up with this asshole disrespecting Wren?”
Finn eases Sol to the floor. “Hold on a second, will you, babe?”
Sol tosses her bagel on the counter, scrambling in front of him and placing her palms against his broad chest. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m gonna kick his ass,” he says, as if it’s the only obvious alternative.
“You’re seriously going to kick his ass?” At his nod, her eyes widen and she points frantically to his abandoned plate. “But-but he made you bacon.”
Finn glances at the plate and back at his brothers, appearing torn. “Yeah, but that’s before I knew he disrespected Wren.” He shrugs. “I kind of have to, now.”
“I didn’t disrespect her,” I say. My words fall on deaf ears and I very well expect to die until a pregnant blonde woman hurries forward with a child perched on her hip.
“Take the baby,” she says, shoving the tiny version of herself into my arms.
“Tess, what are you doing?” the man with the gun and the buzzed blond hair asks, stepping forward.
Tess adjusts her small black glasses. I’m not acquainted with her at all, but considering how the man stiffens at her response, she means business. “Curran,” she begins. “As an officer of the law—”
“Here we go,” Angus says, rolling his eyes and cutting her off.
“Did you say something, Angus?” Tess fires back. She’s not yelling, yet her tone is as absolute as a headmistress wielding a ruler.
“Ah, no,” he replies, finding someplace else to look.
“I didn’t think so,” Tess replies. She edges slightly away, allowing a very thin woman with long black curls to take point beside me and opposite Sol. “As I was saying, Curran, as an officer of the law and a member of the public sector, do you want to be privy to an angry mob, made up of your brothers, attacking an unarmed man who had consensual sex with your sister?”
“Oh.” “Whoa!” “Yo!” the group of men collectively yell.
“That’s our sister you’re talking about,” Curran reminds her.
“Your adult sister,” Tess reminds him.
Curran clamps down on his jaw. But then his muscles relax as he appears to give in. “She’s right,” he says. My shoulders drop. “I can’t watch this.” I release a breath. “Give me the baby. I’ll be outside.”
“Wait, what?” Tess asks.
He shrugs. “Can’t be privy, if I’m not here to see it, babe.”
Everyone lunges forward at once, except the women who hold their ground, and the baby in my arms cooing and appearing entertained by it all.
“What the fuck?” Wren yells, rushing in.
Her long hair is dripping wet and she’s only wearing a towel, stopping everyone in place.
Everyone.
CHAPTER 9
Wren
I shove my way between the wall of muscle that is Killian and Finn, holding tight to my towel. Poor Evan is standing behind the counter with my niece in his arms and his jaw hanging open. Sol and Sofia ease away when I reach him and round on my brothers. “Seriously, I can’t take a damn shower without you bozos picking a fight with my date.”
“Date?” Angus bellows, motioning to my towel. “Since when do dates involve getting naked and taking showers?”
“Not my fault you haven’t had sex in two non-fucking years,” I answer just as sweetly.
Molly huffs. “Not my fault either,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Seriously, Wren?” Killian tells me.
As a retired professional fighter, and the biggest of the brood, he doesn’t have to yell to be heard. Not with his deep voice. That doesn’t make me any less pissed. “Seriously, what?” I ask. “I’m not doing anything you guys—except for Angus—don’t do all the time. And what the hell are all of you even doing here? You’re supposed to be in New York.”
“The press conference got cancelled,” Finn answers.
He reaches for a piece of bacon, appearing to settle, with food so close to him. “Main card and their camps got into a fight. Everyone got kicked out of the hotel and we came home.” He cocks his head. “Didn’t you get our texts?”
I shake out a hand. “Nah, I was too busy having sex.”
I ignore the hollers, protests, and choruses of “what the fucks” and reach for my niece. “Hi, Fiona,” I say lifting her from Evan’s arms. She immediately starts to babble. “I know, I know, your daddy and uncles are out of control, but you still have Auntie Wren looking out for you. Oh, yes, you do.”
“Hey,” Curran snaps. “Don’t talk to my kid like that. We’re just trying to do the right thing.”
I grin. “Says the man who knocked up his wife out of wedlock.”
Tess reaches for Fiona when I turn. And even though she laughs, I can’t tell whose face is redder, hers or Curran’s. It doesn’t matter, at least not now. I reach for Evan’s hand. “Come on, let’s get back upstairs.”
More “what the fucks” followed by a couple of “you have to be shittin’ mes”. I lead Evan around the island, my chin jutting out when Killian cuts in front of me.
“Really?” I ask.
“Wren, this isn’t like you,” he counters.
“Which part?” I ask.
“Parading half naked guys in the kitchen in front of women and children,” he responds, his deep voice more like thunder.
“Would you rather I parade him in the living room?” I offer.
“You’re pissing me off,” he says.
“Am I?” I have to crane my neck since like I said, he’s the biggest, and as a former champion title holder, probably the baddest. But I don’t crane it for long, stealing a glance over my shoulder. “Hey, Sofia,” I call. “You going to put up with your man being all rude like this to his baby sister?”
Sofia’s willowy frame appears as she glides around the dense crowd of bodies, her long mane of curls almost as wide as she is. I don’t have to see Sol to know she’s seconds from laughing her ass off. They may be cousins, but Sol always lets her presence be known. Sofia is more like an apparition, her motions as subtle as her reaction. She knits her brow in disapproval. It doesn’t seem like much, but seeing how Kill’s loved her since before he got pubes, it’s enough.