Falling for the Wrong Twin (6 page)

The entire room exhaled in relief then broke into spontaneous cheers. And Henry-- traitor child--grinned and giggled as if he had just done something clever.

And what did Mike do? He just stared at the interloper. The woman he had unceremoniously tossed out not twenty minutes before. And he sighed. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t so bad as stalkers went.

“Thank you,” he managed. He even managed to sound sincere.

She straightened with a shrug. “All fathers struggle now and then. I was just the strange novelty.”

His mother piped up. “Oh he’s not the father, dear. Just the poor mite’s uncle trying to lend a hand.”

“And his shirt and pants too,” quipped his brother. Then Rick stepped around the mess and bussed his mother and aunt on the cheek. “Good morning Mom. Aunt Tilde.”

“Morning, dear,” said their mother. “I thought you were off with your supermodel.”

Rick shrugged. “Shoots are boring. Besides I’d rather hang with two beauties instead of one.” Then he looked over at Ms. Lopez. “Or should I say three?”

Aunt Tilde huffed. “Your brother thinks she’s a stalker, but look--she knows Oprah!” His aunt held up the iPad to show a blog entry with a picture of the celebrity. Anna, he noted, was not in the frame.

Rick glanced over. “Really? You hang out with the big O? That’s so hot.”

Anna had straightened to her full height. “Everyone loves hanging out with fame.”

He winked at her. “I know. Isn’t it great?”

She laughed at that, and Mike felt his teeth grind together. Jesus, his brother was such a schmuck. All he had to do was flex a pec, remind everyone that he was famous, and girls just climbed all over him.

Meanwhile, his mother leaned forward. “Tell us about Oprah. What’s she like?”

“She’s a lovely woman with a warm heart. She’s also fiercely protective of her privacy, as I’m sure you can understand.”

“That’s so true,” Rick said. “I heard that she…”

The man droned on, some irrelevant story about a party he’d been at and what some super-athlete said to whatever celebrity. And Anna was right there with him, interspersing comments and getting sucked right into his brother’s huge wall of bullshit.

Mike wanted to say something to pierce through the crap, but he couldn’t think of anything. His brother was just too charismatic and all the women—including little Darla—were enthralled. In short, his brother was sucking them in without even wondering exactly who he was drawing into the family. Or the fact that when he disappeared back to mega-stardom in LA, it was Mike who stayed behind to clean up whatever mess his brother had created.

He rubbed a hand over his face, knowing that he was becoming more irrational by the second. He looked at the tableau in front of him and recognized a terrible truth. His brother wasn’t the problem. Hell, it wasn’t even the mysterious Anna who was stirring up trouble. He was doing all of this to himself. He was creating monsters where there weren’t any, and all in the name of protecting his family.

It had started out so simple. His father’s dying words had been: look after everyone for me. He’d tried. Good God, he was still trying, but something was up with his brother and Rick wasn’t taking. His mother was still grieving and that didn’t even add in his sister’s recent loss. It was too much and Mike was at a total loss as how to handle things.

Well, as how to handle most things. One thing—er, woman—stood out loud and clear. At least he knew what to do with her and it started out with an apology.

“Anna, would you mind coming with me—”

“Sit down,” Rick interrupted as he pulled out a chair for her right next to Aunt Tilde. “I’ll get you some breakfast.”

Shit. Rick probably thought Mike was about to throw Anna out again. “She already ate breakfast,” he said. “Before you got out of bed.”

“No she didn’t,” inserted Joey. “James stole it.”

“What?”

The goth boy shrugged. “He wanted to read, and he didn’t want to face that.” He jerked his chin toward the happily munching two year old.

“Smart boy,” Mike groused. Meanwhile, his aunt was pumping Anna for more information.

“Tell me how you met Alan Alda. Was he nice?”

She smiled, her entire body becoming soft and pretty. “Every year at the Academy Awards, they have people fill in the seats. You know, if Brad Pitt goes to the bathroom, they don’t want his seat to be empty when the cameras pan the audience. So they have people like me dress up in their finest to go sit in the seat until Brad comes back.”

Rick lounged back in his seat. “I bet you charmed him.”

God, did the man ever turn it off? Rather than grumble at his brother, Mike grabbed the last of the eggs and pushed them on his niece. The girl would eat nothing but pancakes if given the choice.

“Try some protein,” he said. “It’ll help you grow.”

As he spoke, he watched Anna shift in her seat. She was leaning toward Rick, her eyes dancing as she spoke. “He was the finest gentleman you could ever want to meet. Forget looks and charm, though he has that too, the man takes a genuine interested in people. Who are you, what do you think, that kind of thing.” She laughed and the throaty sound pulsed through Mike’s bones. “Sexiest thing in the world—genuine attention.”

“So you did meet him, then?” Mike pressed. “You sat next to Alan Alda and talked to him at the Academy Awards.” He had this burning need to pin down something concrete about this woman.

She blinked as she looked at him. “What?”

“Did you--”

“Pay no attention to the grouch covered in eggs,” interrupted Rick. “He doesn’t understand that it’s not about whether you’ve hung out with Alan Alda. It’s about how you connected with the man and how we can connect to him through you.”

“Exactly!” she said, her eyes dancing.

Mike stared at the two of them, seeing his brother’s shit-eating grin and the way she angled her body toward him. He saw the curve of her cheek and the length of her neck, all shifted toward Rick, and felt like a jealous husband. The whole idea was ridiculous and yet he couldn’t deny the anger. It made his next words too curt. “What a crock of—”

“Good God, you look a disaster, Mike. What happened?”

Mike turned as his sister Chrissy walked into the room, and he automatically scanned her from head to toe. Her eyes were rimmed red as usual, and her shoulders were stooped. He couldn’t tell if that was signs of grief over her husband’s death or exhaustion. Probably both.

“You could have slept longer,” he said to her gently. “I’ve got it under control.”

His sister snorted and picked a piece of egg out of his hair. Her charm bracelet tinkled near his ear, and he flinched away from the sound. “Yes, I can see that you’ve got it all handled.”

Darla piped up. “Uncle Mike tried to take a grape away from Henry.”

“Well, that was silly of him, wasn’t it?”

Rick laughed. “We thought so. Fortunately, our mysterious siren here saved the day.”

Jesus, did the man never stop flirting?

Meanwhile, Chrissy squatted down next to her son. “You need a bath, baby. Want a bath with Mommy?”

Apparently that was an even more exciting than a blueberry muffin. The kid squealed in excitement this time and kicked his feet. The muffin went flying too--this time at Rick--but the man caught it deftly enough. Meanwhile, his sister nodded at her daughter.

“You too, Darla. You are not allowed to look like Uncle Mike. Or smell like him either.”

The girl--and everyone else--giggled as she hopped up from her chair to take his mother’s free hand. Meanwhile, Mike folded his arms.

“Har har. I’ll have you know that I was being heroic here, taking the hits while your mother and aunt just played with their iPad.” And his brother flirted with a pretty woman.

“Well, that’s what iPads are for,” returned his sister. Then she leaned forward and gave him a kiss. “But I thank you, brother dear. You’ve been a rock, and not just this morning.”

He smiled, his insides easing some. His sister’s voice was easy, her body—though obviously tired—was not the taut bowstring of shock and grief that she’d been since her husband’s death from an IED. He began to have hope that she was healing. And that even as a single mother, she’d survive.

“Call me if you need me, sis.”

“Not a chance,” his sister snorted. “Rick’s here now. He can do some uncle duty.”

“Hey!” his brother called in mock insult. “I’ve got the wonder twins.”

“Twin,” said Joey through a mouthful of pancakes that had mysteriously appeared in the last two minutes. “The other one doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

Everyone laughed at that, including him. Things were returning to--well, not normal. Nothing would be normal again after their recent losses--but at least back to stable. Maybe even happy.

He stood there then, watching as his sister took her children away for their baths. Joey and Rick had settled down to eat, trading sports insults between bites. The older women were peppering Ms. Lopez with questions, and he…well, he was just standing there feeling slimed with bits of egg.

Then she looked up. Her chocolate gaze was not quite warm, but not hostile either. Her lips had a gentle curve to them and her skin was flushed a golden tan that made him think of frappuccino--sweet, yummy, and with a kick that might very well be addictive.

“Would you mind taking a walk with me, Anna?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise and she looked down in dismay at the plate of quiche that had just appeared in front of her. “I’m never going to get my breakfast, am I?”

He felt his cheeks heat. “I’m sorry. It won’t take long.”

“That’s all right,” she said as she straightened to her feet. “I’m used to eating on the run.” She grabbed her plate and coffee and moved around the table. “But I don’t know where you intend to walk. Have you noticed the monsoon outside?”

He had, but where he was headed wasn’t far. Just the screened in back porch. They could have some privacy there. He was just moving past the older women when his mother pressed a fork into his hand.

“Here dear, you haven’t eaten either. Share the piece with her.”

“No, no,” interrupted Aunt Tilde. “Don’t you remember? Real men don’t eat quiche.”

His mother tisked. “You’ve got it wrong, Tilde. They do eat quiche. That was the title of the book.”

“I’m sure it was the other way around…”

Anna tried to cover her laugh, as they left the room. Behind them, the argument continued as always, but his attention was on the woman at his side. Her face seemed to light up when she was amused, making her more beautiful than any artfully applied cosmetics.

“How many times have they had that argument?” she asked in a low voice.

“Every time we come here. It’s not a reunion until they’ve had the quiche argument.”

“It sounds more of a joke, I think, than an argument.”

He shrugged. “Whatever it is, they seem to enjoy it.”

She sobered as she looked at him. “But you don’t?”

“Actually, I do. I didn’t for the first decade, of course. But now it feels…”

“Right?”

“Yeah. Like things might be settling down again.”

They slowed as they looked at the back porch. It wasn’t a large area because the new owners were repairing the walkway on the third floor. This place wouldn’t be safe at all if it weren’t both covered and cordoned off about midway through. But he’d checked the work yesterday. Everything was safe provided the toddlers didn’t get out here.

So he gestured to a seat and helped her set her plate and coffee down. He settled too. They’d picked the side by side rocking chairs just as if they were an old married couple on their back veranda. It was weird doing this, especially with what he had to say to her, but it was the most privacy they were going to get.

“What happened?” she asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“You said it feels like things are setting down again. What happened to unsettle them?”

“Oh.” He looked out at the storm-drenched landscape. The rain was coming down in sheets and he could feel the wet in the air. But their seats were protected and things felt almost cozy. “Billy died. My sister’s husband. He was in the Army Rangers. Jeep ran over an IED.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. He was a good guy. That was four months ago, but then three weeks later my father passed. He’d been sick for a while, but…”

“But the strain of losing Billy took its toll,” she finished for him. “I see why you need a reunion. A little kick back to reconnect with your family.”

He nodded. They did. And that brought him to her. He turned to look at her, the words on his lips, but she beat him to it.

“Look, I know you don’t want me here. I’m not a stalker, but even so, I can see that this is a family time. I’m an intruder. One with mad toddler skills, I might add, but an interloper nonetheless. And I’m so, so sorry about that photo.”

He sighed, realizing this was going to be harder than he thought. “I talked with Bethany. She said you’re stuck here. At least until the roads clear.”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she cradled her cup of coffee close. She didn’t drink, just held it tight as if it were a shield against the world.

Okay, confession time. He might as well get it over with now. “I know you’re not a stalker. And I believe you that the photo was a mistake. You weren’t the one who got paid for the picture.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “That was a quick turn around.”

“Yeah, well, mom and Aunt Tidle spent all that breakfast time reading me your blog.”

“And you didn’t find any three-for-alls or salacious fatherless children?”

He nodded, twisting in his seat as he girded himself to tell the full truth. “Well, that and I had you checked out. Kansas City PD says you’re legit.”

She blinked. Twice. Then she set down her mug with a hard click. “You called the police on me?”

He tried not to feel guilty about that. “I called Carlos. He’s the head of security for Rick’s soccer team. After certain other incidents, Carlos told me if I ever felt uncomfortable, if anything seemed odd, to just call him. He’d check into it, just in case.”

She looked at him a moment, then released a low chuckle. It was embarrassing that the sound of her laugh went straight to his groin. Meanwhile, she was clearly amused. “You called Nico. About me.”