The Best Kind of Trouble
Page 8

His mother’s brows rose, and then she nodded, patting Mary’s arm.
That shared look could very well equal trouble for Paddy, so he wanted to nip it right in the bud before it could turn into a reality. “What is going on between you two? It looks like there’s a caper brewing. No capers. For God’s sake. It took me a month of following this woman around like a lost puppy just to get her to let me walk her to work. If you two rush in like Lucy and Ethel, you’re going to ruin all my progress. Also, what are cigarette pants?”
Mary waved that away. “Never mind, it’s her. There aren’t any other blondes working at the library. Don’t make her eat corn on the cob. Not on the first date. Even if you knew her from before.” Mary came down the steps. “Come with me to the house. I’m sure I have some sides for you.” She tucked her arm through his.
“Are you taking pity on me?” He liked to tease her. She’d come from an equally insane family and fit in theirs just fine. She was the sister he’d never had, and she kept his brother Damien in line and from burning things down. Plus, there was that really good cook thing, and she wasn’t a chore to look at, either.
“That’s what family does.” She winked.
“Let’s drive over. I want to get to the boat and get things set up. I’m picking her up at six.”
He opened the door of his car for her, and she got in.
He wasn’t stupid with his money, but he loved cars and had a special garage built at his place for his collection. He’d decided to take the Shelby fastback. He’d had it restored up in Seattle the year before, and he loved the summertime when he could drive it often.
It was a sexy car. And yes, he was showing off. A little.
Damien was out front when they arrived at his and Mary’s house, just down the road from the main house their parents lived in. His brother’s face lit when he caught sight of Mary. “Hey, there, Curly. Have you been keeping Paddy out of trouble?” Damien kissed his wife soundly.
“Impossible to keep the Hurley boys out of trouble. Only your mother has the fortitude for that. But he’s got a date, and I’ve got stuff for him.”
Damien slung an arm around his wife’s shoulders as he took Paddy in. “Don’t give him those potatoes. Well, you can’t, anyway, because I ate them about ten minutes ago.”
“Damien! Those were for dinner.”
He laughed and Paddy rolled his eyes at his bottomless pit of a brother.
“I was hungry. How can I resist? They didn’t even have a sticky note on them saying not to eat them like the other stuff does.”
“You ignore those, too. I figured if I put the potatoes behind the beets you’d never see them.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Come on in. Let’s see what’s left after Hurricane Damien has gone through my kitchen like a plague of locusts.” Mary poked Damien’s side. “Where do you even put it all? How fair is that, anyway?”
Paddy did what he was told, sitting at the bar while she put together a tote of food for him. Her colored-cotton totes were famous in his family. She had several, each with colored stripes indicating which of them got what bounty. His was blue, and she handed him three, one of which was insulated.
“Balsamic strawberries. They’ll be awesome for dessert. Wild strawberries, even. There’s a pint of vanilla ice cream in case she wants some to go with the strawberries. The balsamic is good on that, too.”
He used to question her weird food combos. After three years of her cooking, he no longer doubted that whatever she gave him would taste good.
She rattled off a bunch of directions for how to deal with this or that, and he just nodded and kissed her cheek when she finished up. “Thank you.”
Damien finally roused. He’d been watching his wife through hooded eyes and Paddy tried not to think about whatever nasty stuff was going on in his brother’s head. “Wait, date? Oh! This is the librarian?”
“You knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Mary looked to her husband.
“Believe me, most of what I don’t share you’d be scandalized by, anyway.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come to breakfast tomorrow and tell us how it went. I may need to check some books out, anyway. I haven’t been down there in some time.”
“Don’t meddle, Curly.” Damien pulled on one of the long dark curls that were the source of her nickname.
“Pfft. It’s not meddling when it’s family.”
Paddy grabbed the totes. “It totally is. She’s skittish. If you poke around, just be discreet. I like this woman.”
Mary smiled up at him, patting his arm. “I can handle it. Now go. Have a good time and use a condom!”
He found himself blushing and felt better when Damien cracked up.
* * *
NATALIE GAVE HERSELF one last look in the mirror in the staff bathroom. The earrings made her smile. Like a little bit of Tuesday was going on the date with her.
Date. With Paddy Hurley. She was so stupid.
And yet there she was, freshening her lipstick and finger-combing her hair. “Time to go,” she told herself in the mirror before she waved goodbye to her coworkers and headed out to the sidewalk.
Where she heard the purr of an engine and knew it was him before the deep green classic car pulled into view.
He pulled up and shook his head so hard when she moved to open her door that she drew back as he got out.
“Wait!” He came around.