Easy Little Lick (Copperline #3) (19 page)

Max just stared for a minute, then turned back towards Ilsa and held out his arms with a small cry of ‘
mama
.’

Ilsa looked worried as she took him, cooing to him that it would be okay, but Felicity patted Max’s little back and gave her a smile.

“If he’s not used to being around other kids, this is perfectly normal,” she said. “Give him a little time. They’ll interact, especially if we don’t push them to.”

Max stuck his thumb in his mouth as he looked warily at Eoghan. Ilsa sorta looked like she wanted to do the same thing, but she nodded.

Justin looked over at Drew. “Figures… Cody finally gets himself a fucking girlfriend, and she comes with a whole ready-made family and shit.”

“Language, you fucker,” Drew laughed.

I just smiled down at Ilsa. Justin totally meant that to get under my skin, but it didn’t. He was spot on, and it didn’t bother me at all. I actually liked it.

Things were just beginning to settle when we heard Brannon’s Cougar purr into the driveway, followed by the opening door and short, quick footsteps through the house. Suddenly, Sophie stood there looking back and forth between Eoghan and Max in awe. Well, more like
awwwwwe
. Another rustle of grocery bags hitting the kitchen counter, and Brannon appeared behind her.

She looked up at him, then to the small boys again. “Oh my gosh,” she cooed. “How adorable! I want one!”

Brannon looked almost nauseous for a moment before he choked out, “Don’t you think we should get married first, Soph?”

She frowned up at him, but in a teasing manner with love shining in her eyes. “I’m not really one for doing things in order.” She turned to Ilsa. “Hi again,” she said softly.

“Hi,” Ilsa replied.

“He’s adorable. I’m so glad you came.”

“Thanks,” Ilsa replied nervously.

“Wait,” Justin cut in, evidently still fixating on what Brannon had said, “you guys are getting married?”

“They practically already are,” I grinned. “She’s got him by the balls.”

“Fuck off,” Brannon snorted at me with mock outrage, “or I’ll fire your ass. She proposed to me forever ago, but we have yet to make it official.”

“I didn’t propose,” Sophie laughed as she smacked Brannon on the chest. “Anyway, in my opinion, it already is official. I've been using your last name for almost two years.”

“Right, when you proposed.”

“That was not a proposition.”

Brannon looked around at the rest of us. “See, this is what she always says,” he laughed with a good-natured grimace.

“Besides, I don’t need a piece of paper, Bran. I have your name and your ring.”

“I thought all girls wanted a big wedding,” Drew asked.

“Not really,” Felicity murmured wrapping her arms around Denny’s waist as he held their son. “I loved my wedding just the way it was.”

“Cheeky little bird,” he grinned back at her and dropped a tiny kiss on her lips.

“Speak English, you fu—” Justin began, but snapped his jaw shut as he remembered the little ears and ended up murmuring something about fudge.

“I never wanted a big wedding,” Sophie said. “I don’t want a big anything.” Sophie scowled over at Drew who, of course, took it totally wrong and laughed like a loon.

“Doesn’t say much for Brannon,” he howled.

“Bite me,” Brannon shot back.

“Just ignore him, Bran,” Sophie said, turning to him and wrapping her arms up around his neck. “You and I both know better than that.” She bit her lip, and Brannon’s hands tightened around her waist. With a sweet smile, she continued. “And I have everything I want… except maybe one of those.” She gave a slight nod in the direction of Eoghan and Max.

The most intense emotion crossed over Brannon’s face. His expression morphed into a look of wonder, maybe even a little hope. “Are you serious?”

“She’s totally got baby fever, dude,” Justin remarked.

Both Ilsa and Felicity turned to scowl at him. “Shut up, Justin,” they said almost in sync.

“Jinx,” Felicity grinned.

“Snap,” Ilsa replied with a faint giggle.

Brannon seemed to just then realize that he still had an audience. He grabbed Sophie’s arm and pulled her back into the house and out of sight.

Justin looked around at the rest of us with a devious smile. “Twenty bucks says they go fuck in the music room.”

“Language, you fucker,” Drew shot back.

The longer we were there, the more Ilsa began to relax. The Mofos gave each other a lot of shit, but the truth was that we were pretty fucking close-knit.

We grilled up a couple steaks, a bunch of ribs, and some chicken. Everyone brought a little something, and the hot afternoon sun made the day seem sorta perfect.

Even with the little pint-sized scuffle that went down.

Max watched Eoghan like a hawk, but stayed back, not engaging. Eoghan didn’t really seem to think much of it as he sat on a blanket in the grass playing with a few little toy trucks Felicity had pulled from her bag. She offered one to Max, but he just kinda stared at her, then back at Eoghan who was wheeling one around on the blanket making little motor-ish sounds.

As Felicity sat there talking to Sophie (who did actually look a bit flushed and mussed after coming back outside) and Ilsa, Eoghan commandeered the truck she had been offering to Max. None of the girls really noticed, chatting away, but poor Max just focused on that truck like it was the fuckin’ Holy Grail.

Slowly, he began to creep just a little closer to Eoghan.

And a little closer.

A little more.

Then with a speed that was almost incomprehensible for a kid so little, he snatched the truck away and scooted back over by Ilsa.

Eoghan’s shocked face crumpled, and he burst into tears.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Felicity asked him, and he sobbed, pointing to Max who was clutching the truck tightly in his fingers.

“Oh, Max,” Ilsa murmured. “Baby, did you take that from Eoghan?”

Max watched Eoghan cry like his puppy had died, then looked up at Ilsa and let out a sorrowful howl of his own. The two seemed to feed off each other. When one would cry, the other would cry louder, back and forth until Eoghan was throwing himself into Felicity’s arms and Max was sobbing hysterically into Ilsa’s shoulder.

Justin looked at them in horror, then back to Brannon as they kicked back on the deck.

“Jesus, and you want one of those?”

Brannon just rolled his eyes in response.

“I’m so sorry,” Ilsa told Felicity as everyone pretty much ignored Justin.

“They’re just being kids,” Felicity replied. “Kids love to cry. Plus, it’s getting close to nap time.”

As if that was his cue, Denny stood and went over to her, scooping up a sobbing Eoghan and rocking him against his shoulder. Felicity stood as well, picking up the two trucks and handing one to Eoghan and the second to Max. Well into their tantrums, though, each little boy clutched it to them and continued to cry.

Brannon watched them with what almost looked like envy. Whatever had gone down in the house made me think the former manwhore totally
had
caught Sophie’s baby fever.

Drew and Justin gaped at each other, each mirroring the other’s horrified expression.

“I’m never fucking having kids,” Justin muttered.

“Language, you fucker,” Drew replied.

“I've got work tomorrow, so we need to get going anyway,” Felicity said, patting Eoghan on the back. “Give him two seconds in the truck, and he’ll be out like a light.” She flashed a grin to Ilsa. “We’ll get these guys together again. They’ll be buddies in no time.”

Ilsa responded with her own doubtful smile and snuggled her face into Max’s hair.

After Denny and Felicity had left with Eoghan, Max seemed to settle some. The tantrum competition was over. Sitting on a patio swing curled up in his mother’s lap, he finally managed to stop crying and started doing his usual babbling thing. I went to sit beside them, and he looked up at me and pointed.

“
Dody
,” he chirped.

Justin almost spit out his beer. “Holy fuck, did he just call you daddy?”

Drew smacked him on the back of his head. “Language, you fucker. And I’m pretty sure that was little-kid-lingo for Cody.”

Ignoring their antics, Max scooted across his mom’s lap to settle between us. I looked down at Ilsa, wondering about the sudden pensive look on her face, and gently rocked the swing. She watched her little boy as he leaned against me, then looked up at me.

“He
really
likes you,” she whispered, almost tearfully.

I cupped her cheek with the palm of my hand. “That’s not a bad thing, Ils.”

She was quiet on the way back to Butte. Max, who had conked out between us on the swing, had woken up the minute we buckled him into the truck. Most of the way back to their place, he was a little running commentary of everything he saw.

“
Dog!
”

“
Cruk!
”

“
Train!
”

“
Dody!
”

The sadness had creeped back into Ilsa’s eyes. She’d begun to relax at the barbecue, but towards the end, a heavy weight seemed to settle around her shoulders.

Max dozed off just as we pulled up in front of Ilsa’s building. She unbuckled him and lifted him against her chest to carry him inside. I got the feeling she was about to say goodbye, to politely let me know I should leave. Her fear and worry was beginning to take hold, to pull her away.

I wasn’t going to let it, though.

Grabbing the diaper bag, I climbed out of the truck, fully intent on getting back inside her head. I took her keys and unlocked the door, holding it open for her and Max, who was sawing logs as she carried him in and went into the bedroom to lay him down. I stood in the bedroom doorway as she tucked him in, stroking her fingertips along his cheek.

When she stood and turned, she had tears in her eyes.

I watched as she came closer, and, when she was within reach, I pulled her into my arms. Holding her close to me, trying to give her that feeling of safety she’d mentioned before. Her hands splayed over my back and her body pressed tight against me. I just held her tight for a few minutes, giving her unspoken promises with every beat of my heart.

She clutched me back as a quiet war waged inside her. Her uncertainty was strong, yet she didn’t pull away. She surrendered to the shelter I offered.

Bending slightly, I tucked one arm beneath her knees and lifted her up against my chest to carry her into the living room. I settled the two of us on the couch, but she kept her arms wrapped tight around my shoulders with her face pressed against my neck.

“Ils?” I murmured into her hair. “What is it?”

She shook her head, just a tidge, and hugged me tighter.

“You can tell me,” I promised. “You can tell me anything.”