This Thing Called Love (A Mirror Lake Novel) Page 7

  “I’m not talking about flooring.”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here? To help me with the deck?”

  “Yes, but you’ve been working way too hard if you have no clue what I’m talking about.”

  “So what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Erika. Peters. You know.” Tom gestured by placing his hands up to his chest in the universal boobs sign.

  Around them, late afternoon sun glistened off waves that slapped against the sides of the deck. Seabirds dipped in and out of the deep blue water. It would have been a perfect, tranquil scene except for the pounding of hammers and the whir of a saw.

  “Our first date is tonight,” Brad said, trying to sound more enthused than he felt. Around them, workers milled about, carrying long planks. Two shuffled by, sharing the weight of an industrial-sized sink bowl. The smell of fresh cut wood carried on the slightly fishy-in-a-good-way breeze. Brad loved it—the smell of progress.

  “Thought you’d be more excited. You’ve been talking about this date for weeks now. And I’m looking forward to hearing some details.”

  He had been excited. But now . . . not so much. Maybe he was getting too obsessed over this remodel. “I never tell you details. Alex would never forgive me.”

  “I’m a happily married man but I consider it my duty to know everything so I can counsel you. You know, so you can experience marital bliss one day, too.”

  “I don’t need your counsel. I’m the big brother, remember?”

  “And I’m the one married with three kids, four and under.”

  “You just want me to sympathize with your sex- and sleep-deprived state. How is everyone, by the way?”

  “The kids miss not having Annabelle around, but I must admit we’re getting a little more sleep.”

  Annabelle. Brad tapped his fingers on the table. “Actually, I wanted to ask you—”

  One of the workers called out. “Hey, Brad, we’re going to leave this pile of lumber out here for the night. That okay?”

  Brad pointed to the far end of the new deck. “As long as it’s stored in the new section. We aren’t letting anyone eat there till the fencing’s up.”

  Tom looked around. “The place is looking good, bro. Who’d have thought old Mr. Saunders’s crab shack would turn into this?”

  A feeling of pride bloomed in Brad’s chest. The expansion doubled the seating capacity, and it was all directly on the lake. Boats could now pull up to the dock and anchor there. Reflections had become a destination restaurant and that was great for him and for his town.

  His brother Kevin had conceived of the deck. He’d always had a great head for business, better than Brad did in some ways. “Make your restaurant the one everyone wants to come to,” he’d said. “And make it accessible by water and land. People love to eat on the water.” If only he could be here to see it now.

  That same loss hit Brad, an empty void that snuck up on him no matter how busy he was. But a more urgent matter tugged on his mind. Annabelle’s future. Tom and Alex were terrific parents. And they loved Annabelle. If they took her, she would grow up with other kids in a loving family. It was the perfect arrangement. He was pretty certain Tom would agree.

  He was still baffled Trish and Kevin had named Olivia the baby’s guardian. What were they thinking? Not that she wasn’t loving or kindhearted, but her life was a roller coaster that never stopped.

  Brad didn’t take it personally they hadn’t named him. He didn’t think Kevin had held it against him that he was a tough older brother who demanded that all his siblings toe the line. Maybe Kevin knew in his heart what Brad feared the most—that he’d done a botch job, learning by the seat of his pants. He would never want to screw up another kid. The risks were way too high of that happening even under the best of circumstances. Yes, he was relieved it hadn’t been him.

  Now he just had to convince Tom that Annabelle belonged with them.

  “You’ve worked hard for everything you got. We’re proud of you.” Tom patted his shoulder.

  “Thanks.” Brad always felt uncomfortable taking praise, but especially from his younger brother. He was usually the one to do the praising. Or the scolding. Or whatever it was his siblings needed. “We’ll be ready for Bachelors Who Cook in two weeks. You and Alex are coming, right?”

  “It’s on the calendar.”

  “I wouldn’t want to compete with something like an end-of-the-year preschool program.”

  “Well, Tommy does have a T-ball game tonight, so I’d like to get to laying that flooring for you.”

  Brad closed his laptop and shoved a stack of papers underneath so they wouldn’t blow away. It was time for the truth. “I’m glad you came, but I want to talk to you about Annabelle.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  He eyed his brother. He had to make him see. “No. Just that Olivia’s got her hands more than full.”

  “She’s been talking to Alex on the phone, getting advice. It’s a big adjustment—for everybody.”

  Brad tapped a pencil against the table. He thought of Olivia, struggling and exhausted. That morning in the bridal shop, he’d let his guard down, but that would not happen again. It was the sex thing . . . if he’d been getting some, Olivia wouldn’t get to him like she did. His date tonight with Erika should fix that problem for sure. It was time to be bold and focus on the best solution for everybody.

  “Look, I’ve got nothing against Olivia, but Annabelle should stay here with us, in Mirror Lake, not be carted off to New York City.”

  “Whoa.” Tom folded his arms and tipped back in his chair. “Do you know what you’re saying? The will said Olivia gets her. That can’t be changed.”

  “It can if Olivia agrees.”

  “Now you’ve just plain lost it.”

  “Olivia will never leave New York. She works all the time. Annabelle will be raised by a nanny. What kind of life is that for a kid?”

  Tom squinted his eyes, and not because of the sun. “Exactly what are you proposing?”

  “Olivia knows the right thing to do. She just may need a little . . . convincing.” To be honest, Brad felt a little guilty for plotting against her. The feeling faded when he pictured Annabelle being raised as an only child far away from cousins who would toughen her up a little, provide companionship, and pull her out of the stark solitude of an only-child’s life.

  In his own life, having four younger siblings had been a burden in many ways. But losing both their parents so tragically had forged a bond of steel between them that would never be broken. It was the only thing that had gotten him through that terrible time. He knew beyond a doubt that any of his siblings would have his back at any time. And he wanted Annabelle to feel that. There was a special strength in forging family bonds when you don’t have parents and he knew that firsthand.

  Tom shook his head. “I understand how you’d want to keep Kevin’s kid here. We’d all like to keep a piece of him here. But Olivia’s making a big effort. Alex says she’s going to drop her hours some. I mean, who are we to judge?”

  “Yes, we can judge,” Brad said defiantly. The pencil snapped in half. “We can tell Olivia as a family what we think is best. Like, a group recommendation.”

  Tom snorted. “You mean gang up on her? We’ve known Olivia a long time. I’m sure she’ll do the best she can for Annabelle. Besides, even if Olivia did give up Annabelle, who would take her?”

  Brad stared at his brother.

  “Oh, no.” Tom held out both hands in a no way gesture. “Olivia is Alex’s best friend. She has every confidence in her. We love Annabelle, but I’d have to feel her future was in jeopardy to even suggest something like that. Olivia’s doing everything possible—even going to baby classes. By herself, because Meg and Alex are both tied up tonight.”

  Brad tilted his chair back. Baby class. Alone. An opportunity for him t
o make her see it his way. In the kindest possible way, of course. Even if she didn’t want him there.

  “Are you sure there isn’t more to this than your concern for Annabelle?”

  He eyeballed Tom, the true do-gooder of the family. He’d been policing all their siblings’ behavior since they were kids. Like when Brad and Kevin would be watching WWF wrestling and Tom would make them switch to PBS for Samantha. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re a little harsh on Olivia because of your past.”

  Brad crossed his arms. “This has nothing to do with the past.”

  “She did leave you to go to New York for that scholarship. Maybe you’ve got a little pent-up resentment going on in there?” Tom tapped his head.

  “I encouraged her to go.” Because he was not going to be responsible for stopping her from achieving whatever she could. Even though he’d lost her in the process.

  “You encouraged her but then you couldn’t accept that she’d changed.”

  Brad scowled. “I was nineteen, Tom. I felt like my life was going nowhere. I felt trapped here. So I suppose you’re right, I didn’t handle that in the most mature way possible. But that’s all water under the bridge. I’m just trying to do what’s best for our brother’s child.”

  “Maybe. But it sure sounds like you’ve got some unresolved feelings rolling around in that thick skull. And they’re preventing you from focusing on what’s important—Erika’s fabulous tatas.”

  Brad laughed. “Nothing is going to stop me from doing that.”

  Tom pointed a finger. “You still have a thing for Olivia.”

  Brad snorted. “That was over a long time ago. It’s just the construction stress.”

  “More like Olivia stress. You’d better be careful.”

  Brad shot him what he hoped was a don’t even go there look. “Samantha’s finally off at college. I’m thrilled to finally have my own place, and I’m loving every minute of it.”

  “Maybe. But Olivia’s always been The One Who Got Away and now she’s living next door. That’s a fantasy most men just dream about.”

  “Trust me, I’m not lacking for women to dream about.” Even though lately everyone in his dreams looked just like Olivia.

  Something that would stop once he focused on the task at hand. In baby class, Olivia would be by herself, probably uncomfortable around all those expectant couples. Who wouldn’t appreciate a partner, even if he was number one on her Do Not Invite list?

  It wasn’t too late for him to be the voice of reason. A little prodding on his part and he’d have Olivia realizing on her own what a ridiculously difficult job it was to raise a child, how her life wasn’t set up to accommodate that. Then it would simply be a matter of time before she did the right thing for Annabelle.

  Tom and Alex might give Olivia the benefit of the doubt and express their undying belief in her, but he was far more skeptical. He preferred not to leave things to fate.

  “What time is it?” Brad rummaged under the papers until he found his phone. Six fifteen. He had just enough time to hightail it to the community center before class began. He’d still be back in plenty of time for his hot date at eight thirty. Standing up, he tucked his phone into his jeans pocket. “Gotta go.”

  “Whoa . . . what about laying the floor?”

  “Rain check. I’m late for baby class.”

  He thought he heard Tom mumble something about it being plain crazy to be more excited about baby class than Erika’s cleavage, but he didn’t really care.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Go ahead and practice changing a diaper on your dolls,” the smartly dressed woman at the front of the Community Center Health Education classroom instructed. From the doorway, Olivia glanced at the clock on the painted white brick wall. Class had begun ten minutes ago.

  She’d been late dropping Annabelle off at Alex’s because the baby had spit up all over her sweater. She’d changed, but just as she went to strap the baby in her car seat, Annabelle had done some business that needed changing ASAP.

  Olivia released the door a little too early and it slammed shut behind her, causing twelve couples to look up from their seats at long rectangular tables. Every woman in the class was visibly pregnant.

  What had she expected? This baby-care class was for soon-to-be parents, not a crash course for someone who had suddenly inherited a four-week-old. Olivia lifted her chin a little. What choice did she have? She needed help, and this was the place to get it. She took a deep breath and walked in.

  “Welcome. I’m Dr. Bailey.” The petite instructor, who had been talking to a couple in the first row, pointed to a vacant table in the center of the room. Much to Olivia’s relief, Dr. Bailey wasn’t pregnant too.

  Olivia nodded and sought her seat, feeling chagrined that she’d already missed information she sorely needed. The last diaper she’d put on Annabelle had left a nasty red crease on her thigh. Not to mention the massive up-the-back accident that had made her late.

  A life-sized doll lay in the middle of the table, along with a small stack of disposable diapers. Olivia sat, grabbed a diaper, and tucked it under her doll’s bottom. After a little struggling, she taped one side but found it too loose. She pulled off the tape and readjusted, but it wouldn’t hold anymore.

  She was about to try again with a new diaper when she heard the click of the door. A tall, lean man entered in a T-shirt and jeans, a Yankees cap pulled down low on his forehead. A double take told her the worst.

  Brad. The normal-guy clothing couldn’t disguise his rock hard body, his confident saunter. A slow burn crept into her face. Their gazes clashed across the room, but she quickly busied herself with her task. What was he doing here, when she had specifically uninvited him?

  Suddenly Brad was next to her, scraping back an orange plastic chair and settling in like all he needed was a beer and a remote to feel more at home.

  “Need any help?” His grin spread wider than a crooked car salesman’s, immediately making her suspicious. Had he come to support her or show her up?

  “Your head better?” he asked, casually sprawling his long legs under the table. He actually sounded concerned.

  “Much, thanks.”

  “Well, you look a lot perkier.”

  She frowned. “Perkier? Cheerleaders are perky. Breasts are perky.”

  “Yes, they are.” Brad’s gaze dropped briefly to the V-neck of her gray sweater but she punched his arm hard enough to divert his gaze.

  “Ow,” he said in mock distress, rubbing his arm. “I just meant that you don’t look like the blood-drained zombie you were before. Forgive my bad adjective.”

  He removed his cap, a big mistake. His dark hair hung in thick, precisely cut layers, still damp from a shower. When his extraordinary light green eyes sparkled, full of amiable good humor, an unwanted spark zinged straight to her groin. Why did he have to be the sexiest man she’d ever met?

  The relationship book she was currently editing advised that no woman should ever date a “ten.” “Tens” were full of themselves and had way more ego issues than your average nice-looking guy. Rather, the book advised, fall in love with an “eight” and give him a makeover.

  She tried to tell herself that maybe Brad’s nose was just a tad too big. Or his smile the tiniest bit crooked. But the truth was that every inch of his big, broad-shouldered, toned body tipped her personal hotness scale way past the “ten” side into the flushing, hot-flash, seeing-stars-and-fireworks-and-cartoon-explosions side. Her goose was so cooked . . .

  Olivia bit down hard on her lip, hoping the pain would clear her senses. “Why are you here? I thought people in the restaurant business always worked evenings.”

  His smile floored her. Damn that dimple anyway. “Not tonight.” His gaze drifted over her in a slow sweep. “Effie told me anyone without a significant other usually brings their
mom. And I know you’re the kind of person who would rather drown than ask for a lifeline.”

  “I’m perfectly capable . . .”

  “It’s not about capability, Sweetness.” His mouth curved up in a lazy grin. “It’s about not having to do something alone. I thought you might like some company, but I’ll leave if you want me to.”

  “Oh.” A parade of emotions skittered through her. Confusion. Wariness. Relief. Yes, it was a relief to have someone here with her amid all these happy pregnant couples. Even if he was the most irritating male in the world.

  “So can I stay?” She hadn’t known him as a young boy, but his innocent expression made her visualize a wide-eyed little tyke with freckles and a cowlick, exuding sincerity with a side of mischief from every pore. A pox on that hunky, handsome face that could still make her stomach turn cartwheels.

  She nodded, but stopped short of thanking him. He stirred her, touched her, and she didn’t trust that feeling at all. She pushed the doll toward Brad, happy to be rid of it. “Help yourself.”

  He put his hands up. “Hey, there, easy with our baby.”

  “It’s not real.” She rolled her eyes.

  He pulled off the gnarled mess of twisted diaper and lifted it between them. “Besides, now that I’m here, I figured maybe you could use some guidance.”

  Give me a break. “I suppose you can do better.” She passed him a fresh diaper.

  He plucked it from her hand, but his fingers lingered over hers. “I do love me a challenge. Especially an easy one.”

  “You’re awfully cocky,” Olivia said. He was too close. His body heat radiated into her personal space and she smelled his cinnamon gum. But the assault to her senses was nothing compared to the way he looked at her—through her—clear past her neutral expression as if he saw every bit of the fear and self-doubt beneath. Instinctively, she pulled back.

  “I’m skilled and cocky,” Brad answered.

  Olivia made a face. “What an ego. I don’t remember it being so big.”

  “Honey, it’s even bigger than it was before.”