You Say It First
Page 23

“Wow, you’ve had a whole hour of sleep. This is probably not the day to work with a chainsaw.”
He moved close and put his hands on her hips, then drew her against him. “I was thinking the same thing,” he murmured right before he leaned over and kissed her.
His mouth was warm and gentle against hers. He tasted of minty toothpaste. She relaxed into him, liking the heat of his body and the way she could tell he was still a little sleepy. His hands roamed up and down her back, making her wish he would touch her everywhere. When he brushed against her lower lip, she parted for him, giving herself up to the desire just waiting to explode.
Even as their tongues brushed, she arched into him, pressing her belly against his growing erection. Her breasts ached and between her legs she felt the first rush of need.
Maybe it was the fact that they were both not awake enough to have defenses in place. Maybe it was the man himself, but for a heartbeat or two, she thought about pointing out that the counter was probably the perfect height for a quick rendezvous.
Only she wasn’t someone who ever offered that kind of thing. At least not for a first time. There was also the fact that there were three people, including a ten-year-old and her grandfather, not twenty feet away.
As if reading her mind, Nick drew back. His expression was serious, his eyes dark. He rubbed his thumb against her lower lip. “I’ll admit to fantasizing about spending the night, but somehow never imagined this particular scenario.”
“Me, either.”
He kissed her lightly. “Rain check?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.” He stepped back. “Now how can I help?”
“Are you awake enough to fry bacon?”
“I am.”
She pointed to the refrigerator. “It’s in there. I’ll get out the frying pan.”
Nick collected the package and opened it. Pallas got him set up at the stove, put the casserole in the oven, then started cutting up fruit.
She had to admit she felt good. Better than good, maybe. She had a lot of ideas for Nova’s wedding, a house full of people she cared about, and she was still tingling from the toe-curling kisses of a man she liked a lot. All in all, it was a very nice way to start her day.
* * *
NICK STOOD NEXT to Ronan and studied the drawing on the wall. It was to scale and in color, showing the installation as it would be when it was finished.
The underwater scene would be ten feet high and thirty feet long, and filled with the familiar—sea grass, fish, rocks, along with a mystical mermaid swaying in the ever-present tide.
Every element, every glowing color, each shape, was made of glass. There was movement in the forms, a sense of life. As if just standing there you could hear the rush of the ocean all around. Nick honest to God had no idea how his brother did it. A project like this was at least a year’s commitment. While he had help from Mathias and the apprentices who came to the studio to learn from him, he did most of the work himself. He preferred it that way.
Ronan pointed to the sand on the ocean floor. “I haven’t figured that out yet. Real sand is the obvious solution but it doesn’t look right. It’s too flat. Glass is too bright.”
“Have you looked at a combination of ground rock? Quartz with a little polished granite. Or something else, with glass beads thrown in to add depth.”
Ronan nodded slowly. “Maybe. I’ll have to play with it.”
What neither of them said was that Ronan could ask their father. There was little about glass that Ceallach Mitchell didn’t know. Only he wasn’t one to give advice, even to his sons, which meant it was a risk to get in touch with him. Nick knew that Ronan rarely spoke to the old man. There had to be a safer topic for the two of them to discuss.
“I heard from Del the other day,” he said, thinking their oldest brother should be safe enough. “He and Maya are getting married here in Happily Inc. They’re going to want some kind of theme wedding.”
Ronan glanced at him. “Like a royal wedding?”
Nick snickered. “I’m going to tell Del you’re talking about him wearing tights.”
Ronan laughed. “Go ahead. Is there really a theme?”
“That’s what the email said. Maybe I read it wrong, or he meant something else.”
“I hope so.”
Nick thought about the two themed weddings he’d helped out with. “They’re not as crazy as you think. It’s kind of fun that the couple getting married has something like that in common. You know—a memory that connects them.”
“Did someone drop you on your head?”
“I’m just saying they can be nice. Especially when it’s a family thing.”
Not that Del would want that for himself, Nick reminded himself. His oldest brother had spent the better part of a decade avoiding his nearest and dearest. Del had left a hole in the Mitchell clan—his leaving had upset the dynamics. Nick would guess their mother had missed her oldest most of all.
Before he could stop himself, he asked, “You ever talk to Mom?” A question bound to get a reaction because, despite being Elaine’s favorite, Ronan wasn’t biologically her son.
Nick only knew the basic facts about his brothers and their past. That as far as everyone was concerned, Ceallach and Elaine Mitchell had five sons; the youngest two—Mathias and Ronan—were fraternal twins. Three years ago, when Ceallach had suffered what ended up being a mild heart attack, the truth had come out. Ceallach had admitted that Ronan was the result of an ongoing affair. When Ceallach’s mistress had wanted to give up her son for adoption, Elaine had agreed to take in the week-old baby.
Nick still had trouble grasping his mother’s extraordinary decision. She’d had her own month-old baby at the time, which meant Ceallach’s wife and his mistress had been pregnant at the same time. Yet the old bastard hadn’t said a word. What kind of woman willingly took in the child of a rival and raised him as her own?
Her three older boys had been under the age of five and none of them had remembered one child miraculously turning into twins. Del, the oldest of the brothers, vaguely recalled being told that Ronan had been in the hospital all that time.
The deception was impressive, but even more remarkable was the fact that as they grew up, it was clear to everyone that Ronan was her favorite. The one child who wasn’t hers had the tightest hold on her heart.
“She’s not my mother,” Ronan said, still studying the drawing.
“Don’t be an ass.”
“It’s biology. I can’t help it.”
Nick wasn’t one to run from a fight, and right now the idea of punching his brother seemed to make the most sense, but he knew that Ronan wouldn’t hit back. He would win by simply standing there, as if asking is that all you’ve got? Which left Nick annoyed and frustrated.
“She raised you from the time you were born. She loves you and you love her. Saying she’s not your mother makes you sound like an idiot. Worse, it hurts her. She has her flaws, but she doesn’t deserve that.”
Emotions flickered across Ronan’s face but before Nick could figure out what he was thinking, they were gone.
“There’s nothing to say.”
Nick swore. “You never call her? You never check in?”
Ronan’s silence was an answer.
“At least no one has to question whether or not you’re Ceallach’s son,” he said. “Talk about being a dick.”