Everything You Need (8 page)

Brice parked almost a block away, but she could still
hear the music and see the relatives overflowing from the front
yard.

He hadn’t been lying when he told her not to worry
about what to wear. Going by the people standing in the front yard,
it was like any other day of the year. Kids ran around, screeching.
Some already had grass stains on their clothes. Despite the piece
of lead sitting in her stomach, Hazel found herself smiling at the
scene.

Brice reached for her hand and, like yesterday, Hazel
squeezed it. More for herself than for him. When they got close
enough, people started to clap his back and say, “Hey, haven’t seen
you in a while,” in various ways. His hand tightened on hers and it
told her more about him than she thought she should have wanted to
know.

At the bare minimum she wanted Brice in her bed. She
could have said no to the offer that couldn’t be refused, but she
hadn’t. If honest with herself, Hazel would have admitted to being
a little curious about Brice.

He was a mystery to her. It could easily be his
adventurous outlook on life, but she suspected more lay underneath
the façade. Most of all she wanted to know why a man would turn
down the opportunity to work in a successful family business.

Hazel didn’t get time to ponder it, because Brice
dragged her into the house. More patting commenced and something in
Hazel’s ear popped at the increase in noise. Oh, this was why he
avoided family events. One could easily go deaf and suffer spinal
cord damage by the age of thirty in this atmosphere.

Brice bent down and whispered, “Scared yet?”

She swallowed and met his gaze. Their lips brushed on
accident. A tingle started at the base of her neck and spread
downward.

“Um…” She cleared her throat. “Shell-shocked is a
better word.”

He kept right on invading her personal space. Seeing
a few members had kissed him, PDA wasn’t frowned upon in this
family.

Her discomfort stemmed from the tingle that had
turned into pleasurable pinpricks, raising the hairs along her
arms. She wanted to lean forward and kiss him.

Instead of kissing her, he said, “There’s wine in the
kitchen.”

Fear finally settled in her chest, making her
heartbeat race. “Is that your subtle way of saying, ‘Let’s say hi
to my mom’?”

“No, it’s my way of getting you liquored up. I can
see your panic miles away. I’m sure my family can, too. It’s the
only reason they haven’t bombarded you with questions.” He glanced
around the room. “Or my sisters have spread the news not to scare
you away.”

She blanked her face. “Lead the way.”

He didn’t have to. The scent of garlic tinged the air
and when the tang of spices hit, Hazel’s mouth began to water. The
sound of dishes clanging muted the chaos in the living room and the
front yard. They stepped into view of the kitchen and Hazel knew
she wanted to live in this room. Laughter took over the sound of
cooking.

The dull ache growing in her chest took root. No
matter how many designs she created, the people made it work, made
it worth it to keep going. The people were what turned her designs
into homes.

She sucked in a silent breath, taking in the smell of
freshly chopped onions. She closed her eyes and opened them again
to focus on the people in this room, not the people in her old life
who still haunted her.

Every woman there had long chestnut hair. Some had
curls and others had bone-straight hair that reached past their
shoulders. All of them were stunning.

“Wow. You’re family has great genes. I thought it was
only your siblings.”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear again. She
shivered when he began to talk. “Don’t say it too loud. They don’t
need their egos fed.”

A loud screech came from the stove area. Everyone in
the room turned. Hazel stepped out of the way. She suspected a
stampede, but a woman who might have barely reached Brice’s chin
came was the only one to move forward.

“You came. Your father was so dour when he came home
last night, I’d thought you’d said no. You know he thinks I’m so
fragile.” She took Brice’s face in her hands. “You’re just as
handsome as I remembered.”

“You saw me last week.” He smiled at the woman.

“Your brother and sisters come by every day. Wanting
this, needing that.” She sighed but laid a kiss on his cheek. “It’s
like they are toddlers again.” She patted the same spot she kissed
and finally let him go.

A smile blossomed on her face when she turned to
Hazel. “You must be the Hazel I’m hearing about. I kept thinking
they were talking about an eye color. She’s so beautiful, so
unique, yada, yada—that’s all I hear about this Hazel. Tony is half
in love with you already.” She put her hand out. “Brice had better
watch it.”

Hazel took the surprisingly strong hand in hers and
let Brice’s mother pull her closer in a hug that smelled of flour
and basil.

Hazel took a deep breath and had to bite her lip to
keep the tears at bay. No way in hell could she have stayed away
from this type of mother. Family be damned. The hug lasted way too
short a time for her liking, but she had to let go, finally.

“I’m Alessandra, but you can call me Alessandra.”

Hazel laughed. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, have some wine. I’m sure Brice won’t object.”
Alessandra raised her brows at her son.

“I’ll leave you with the women folk. I’m sure by the
time they’re done they will have your Social Security number and,
if you don’t hold tight to your glass of wine, your
fingerprints.”

Brice kissed the top of her forehead and made his way
back out into the mayhem in the living room. Hazel held tight to
her glass and took a liberal sip from it. “Not bad.”

Alessandra smiled at her. “Nothing but the best in
this family. You’ll learn quickly. Now sit and enjoy.”

Hazel did as she was asked, keeping her glass of wine
in sight the whole time.

*****

Brice didn’t breath easily again until they sat down
at the big table. Most of his relatives had left after pinning
money to Maria, and only the immediate family was left for the
second dinner.

Hazel leaned against him. What he had expected to be
a few hours’ venture with his family had turned into an all-day
event. Being grilled most of it left him bone tired. No telling
what wringer they had put Hazel through, so he reached for her hand
under the table, and with the other reached for his glass of water.
He wished it was wine, but he had no intentions of being stuck on
the mainland for even one night.

“Hazel,” his father began, “Hazel, I’m not sure if
you know this, but my son here has neglected to bring any girl home
for a long time.”

“It’s a little intimidating to meet all of you,
especially during dinner. I’m wondering if I have basil stuck in my
teeth.”

His father nodded. “Good point. You seem like a very
nice girl. Someone my son wouldn’t normally be interested in.” His
big fist covered the stem of a glass of wine and he turned his gaze
to Brice. “I saw Carmen the other day.”

Brice let go of her hand in fear he’d crush it. The
sound of utensils scraping against plates quieted. Brice didn’t
take his eyes off his father. He knew what Pops was doing,
reminding him of past mistakes, but why?

“How is she doing?” He kept his tone even.

“She’s finally got her life together again. She asked
about you.”

“Don’t, Joseph.” The steel in his mother’s voice
would normally have stopped whatever silent argument lay between
the two men. But even the air felt different as his father shook
his head and Brice knew this time it would be different.

“Good to hear she’s doing well.”

“I mentioned you still hadn’t joined the family
business.”

“I’m starting my own. I hope you mentioned that,
too.”

Pops nodded. “I did. She laughed and said, ‘sounds
like the same ol’ Brice.’ I think you should check on her since she
is a longtime family friend. Don’t forget, son.”

His teeth hurt from clenching his jaw so hard.
“Thanks for the info, Father.”

He took a slow breath and beat back the anger as he
faced Hazel, not looking at anyone else in the family. Confusion
and concern filled her eyes, but she smiled at him in
understanding.

“It’s been great, you guys,” she said. “But I have to
get up early tomorrow.”

She gave Brice a look that made the phantom fist
squeeze tight around his heart. Hazel was doing for him what he’d
done for her earlier, saving him. He wanted to kiss her. Plain and
simple.

He stood. “If you’ll excuse us.”

“Joseph,” his mother said and started to condemn his
father in Italian. Words he’d gotten punishment for saying when
he’d been a boy. She stood also and threw her napkin on the table.
She added one final blow by calling him something unrepeatable even
in impolite society.

She huffed out a breath and then smiled sweetly at
Brice and Hazel. “I’ll walk you out.”

Hazel made it to the door first and was out before he
could catch up. He ran a hand over his face, knowing any chance he
had of getting her to design his house—hell, to sleep with him—was
gone.

This was the main reason he didn’t bring anyone home.
His jaw clenched again. It was one of the reasons. Carmen and the
history with her was the other. Living proof, as some people would
say, of why he should never fall in love again, much less want to
marry anyone.

His mother laid a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.
Your father was trying to protect her. He thinks you still refusing
to be in the family business is proof you’re not ready.”

“She’s a friend, Mom.”

She placed a warm hand against his cheek like she’d
done earlier. “You want her to be more.” She narrowed her eyes when
he started to protest. “You were trying to protect her, too. You
never did that with Carmen.”

Brice moved from his mother’s touch. “I’ll call you
later this week.”

She sighed. “Know we both love you.”

Brice didn’t reply, because not for the first time in
his life he wondered if Pops knew what the word truly meant. He
stepped out into the night and took the first deep breath he’d had
since walking over the threshold.

Hazel leaned against the car door. Her arms wrapped
around her waist as if she felt cold. He went to her, but didn’t
speak nor comfort her like he wanted to, because that would make
his mother right. Make his father right. Any woman he cared for he
ended up hurt. He didn’t want to hurt Hazel and that made her more
dangerous than any woman he’d ever dated.

Chapter 8

On the way back to the island Hazel wanted to ask a
million questions about this Carmen. All conversation had stopped
once the woman’s name slash through the air. Hazel also wanted to
ask because if he told her then maybe the chasm between them would
close.

She could no longer lie and say she didn’t know
Brice. She knew grief, that deep searing pain that only dulled with
time. She knew loneliness. Even though Brice came from a huge
family he had the war scars of being alone. She also knew what it
felt like to disappoint your parents. Because Hazel knew those
things she knew Brice in an intimate way. It gave them an
intangible connection she wasn’t ready to have severed yet. And
because the pain and anger was radiating from him, Hazel knew she
had to ask.

“Who is Carmen?”

For a moment Hazel didn’t think he’d answer her, but
he finally spoke. “My ex-fiancée.”

She couldn’t tell from the way he said it who had
broken the engagement off. With trepidation she asked, “What
happened?”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I ended
the engagement. She wasn’t expecting that. It’s an understatement
to say she didn’t take it well.” He paused. “We grew up
together.”

“Ouch.”

He parked behind her cabin. “Exactly. So what my
father was trying to tell you is that I’m no good for you and you
should run while you can.”

“There’s nothing to run from. I’m on vacation. We’ll
probably never see each other again, anyway.” She spouted the lies.
There was plenty to run from. This, whatever, it was that she
couldn’t name. She could barely contain it.

“I’m full of wine and lust. You shouldn’t let that
opportunity pass.” Yes, she felt lust, but there was something
else. Something she wasn’t ready to claim yet.

He let go of the steering wheel. Voice soft and low,
he said, “Hazel, I’ll hurt you.”

Deep down, she knew he probably would. “Like I said,
I’m full of wine and lust. There’s nothing to hurt.”

She started to believe the lies and leaned toward to
him. Brice hesitated and then brought his lips to hers. He laid his
palms on her face and dragged her closer. She sighed and delved her
tongue into his mouth. He tasted of the spices from the antipasto.
His taste, the kiss, overwhelmed her with a need that took her
breath away.

She sucked a breath in when he sat back, his lids
heavy from desire. “Let me walk you to the door,” he said.

The bubble of lust burst at his response. “Okay.”

Hazel kicked off her shoes and slid down to the sand.
The grains, still warm from the day, clung to the bottoms of her
feet. She couldn’t muster up enough frustration. He’d had a trying
day. His mind was probably full of the past like her mind had been
the day before. She wanted Brice on a physical level, but she
wanted more to forget the ghosts.

She pulled her keys out and unlocked the door, aware
of his nearness. The heat of his body warmed her back. He pressed
closer and she felt the rigid length of his penis. She noticed the
change in the air before he spoke.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, starting to
trail wet tongue kisses down her neck.

Her hand gripped the doorknob. “We both need it.”