Headstrong (8 page)

He shrugged. “You know Reece. Or actually, you don’t. He’s…he’s like a monk, all calm and disciplined. He’s been that way since he was born. You’re like a tornado let loose in his monastery. Personally, I think you’d be good for him. But I don’t know if he’d agree… I hope he does. He could use a little chaos.”

“Maybe.”

“But if you’re driving him loopy,” Colin went on, “thinking it’s going to win him over, you’re wasting your time. Reece doesn’t go in for head games. You might want to try a little sincerity. He’s a sucker for the straight and narrow.”

“I see.” Libby contemplated the option of sincerity for a moment. The thought of all that openhearted honesty made her feel naked.

Colin straightened up. “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you see in Reece? Not that you
shouldn’t
see something. I’m just curious.” He tossed tomatoes into the pan, seeming uncomfortable with own jealousy.

Libby raised her eyebrows, deciding recklessly to play with a little of Colin’s fire. “Do you think I’m barking up the wrong Nolan?”

“I know it’s none of my business.”

“You think you could teach me a thing or two, don’t you?”

He smiled deeply and, if Libby wasn’t mistaken, blushed. “What makes you think I wouldn’t prefer to be the student, eh?”

It was Libby’s turn to blush.
Oh, if you only knew.

“I can tell you’ve only got eyes for my brother. Although Christ knows why,” Colin said through a sigh, pretending to be insulted by her preference. “But if you’re looking for a Kiwi conquest, I’m delighted you’ve set your sights within our lucky little flat. Let me know if I can aid in the expedition at all. He could do with having his brains properly fucked out. Might loosen him up.” He didn’t notice Libby’s deepening flush. “Reece, though? You do like a challenge.”

Libby looked at her feet. “Well, I mostly like that he’s never made a pass at me. Or even really looked at me, that way.”

Colin laughed. “Oh, he has. He’s just too Zen master to show it.”

She glanced up. “You think?”

“You’re hard to ignore, Libby, even without the nonstop flirting. You make a trackie top look like a teddy. Reece has noticed you. He said he saw you dancing about in your togs on the beach.”

“That he did.”

“Poor bastard.” Colin handed her a fresh cup of coffee.

“Thanks. Well, he’s never made me feel like he was checking me out. He’s…he’s not a creep.”

“Nah, he’s a gentleman. He’ll make a good plod.”

“A what?”

“A copper,” Colin said. “He’s meant to start training for the police in a few months.”

Libby gaped. “
Seriously?
”

“Yeah. He’ll be great at it.” Colin looked genuinely proud. He flipped the sausages with a sizzle.

“Wow.” Libby Prentiss, policeman’s wife. How twisted would
that
be? “But wait—so they’ll have to do like a whole background check on Reece, presumably.”

“Yeah, all that good stuff. I know what you’re thinking.” Colin cracked an egg into a second pan. “About what he agreed to do for your dad?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. “Reece took a big chance on that. If you’d reported him when you caught him, for spying on you or whatever, he’d have been buggered. Or if he got caught, doing shady, under-the-table shit.” He cracked another egg. “Buggered.”

“Why’d he do it, then? He doesn’t seem to want the job.”

“We need the money.” Colin’s voice turned heavy. “Pretty bad. Our dad died in January, and we’re up to our necks in bills and unpaid accounts for the pub. It’s all a bit effed up. Our mum kept it all quiet until after he passed. He was a good guy but he took on some investments he shouldn’t have, this nasty spiral of IOUs. We owe money all over the place and business is
not
good. Pub’s on the brink, and that’s all we’ve really got.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Libby thought for a moment. “How much money?”

“About eighty grand. On top of the usual accounts.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, it’s a whopping great mess. Every week some supplier or other cuts us off. Our mum’s probably going to have to give up her house, and even then we’ll still be in the red. This nest could get mighty cozy, soon.” Colin glanced around the flat, his apprehension plain. “Trust me, Reece would never have taken that job if we weren’t hard up for the cash.”

“I’ll bet.”

Colin flipped the eggs. “Reece is cautious, to a fault. Always has been. I was as shocked as anybody when he said he was going to work for your dad. But he’s been gone a long time, and he was MIA for some rough shit that’s gone on around here. I think this is his way of making up for all that, or trying to. Doesn’t look like he’s feeling too keen for it now though. Failure’s not his strong suit. Don’t take it too personally if he’s hard on you. You wrecked his plans. Give him some time to lick his wounds.”

Libby nodded, thinking. “Well if Reece doesn’t want my father’s gig, why don’t you do it? I’m trying to convince him to be my double agent. Document me on my own terms, for a generous bonus. He’s not really taking the bait. If he hates it so much, you should do it. Maybe Reece could recommend you as a replacement.”

Colin laughed, his eyes squinting and his dimple reappearing. He turned to Libby and held out his tattooed arms, presenting himself as a package. “No father would hire me to stalk their daughter.”

He had a point. “No, I guess not. And not my father, especially.”

“Plus I’ve already got two jobs. And anyway—don’t pretend you’re not hoping my brother’ll be forced to keep sharing your company.”

“Touché.”

A few hours later, rain was still lashing the windows, the sky outside dark and dreary but the flat above the pub warm and comforting. Libby and Colin were sprawled at either end of the couch watching bad Australian soap operas and taking turns refreshing the coffee supply. Colin had his newspaper spread over his legs, but Libby could sense him getting sucked into the melodrama on-screen, interrupting on occasion to air amusing bits of commentary.

Libby tore her eyes off the TV at the sound of footsteps mounting the stairs. She looked at the clock on the DVD player. Twelve-oh-eight. Her stomach gave a flutter she couldn’t identify. “That must be your girl.”

“I should hope so.” Colin offered her a devious wiggle of his eyebrows.

He rose and opened the door as a woman in her midthirties with mousy-brown hair and a tired smile reached the landing, lugging a car seat with a fat-faced, red-haired baby strapped inside. Both were soaked from the rain.

She kissed Colin on the cheek and waved hello to Libby.

“Libby, this my sister Annie. Annie, this is Libby, a friend of mine and Reece’s. And Reece’s future wife, if Mum has anything to say about it.”

“Hey,” Libby said, smiling.

“All right, Libby?” Annie offered a weary grin and set the car seat down. “Thanks, Col. Sorry I’m late. And sorry in advance—her nappies are
toxic
today. I don’t know what did it, but
phew
.”

“Can’t wait. What time are you back?”

She untangled herself from a diaper bag and handed it to Colin. “About four. Anything you need from in town?”

“Nah. Enjoy your afternoon. Drive safe. And slow.”

Annie waved again and departed.

Colin put the bag down, unstrapped his niece and wobbled her in the air. “Ooh, you’re so pretty.”

A smile quirked Libby’s lips. She wouldn’t have guessed it and she certainly wasn’t happy about it, but it was a relief Colin’s “date” had turned out to be a ruse.
Steady now—one Nolan is plenty.
That wasn’t quite it, though… It was Colin’s
company
she felt possessive of, wasn’t it?

Colin turned the baby to Libby, and it gaped at her in an adorable, vacant baby fashion for a second. Then it frowned.

“Libby, this is my niece, and your future niece-in-law, if your evil plan succeeds. Coleen. Named after yours truly,” he added, smug.

“Pleased to meet you.” Libby waved at the now-angsty, sputtering baby. “I don’t know anything about kids. How old is she?”

“Seven months, give or take.” Colin bounced her on his arm and fixed her with an adoring smile.

“I’m surprised she’s not named for your father.”

“I think Annie’s holding on to that distinction in case she and her husband have a boy someday. But this one here”—he nodded down at his niece—“she’s the genius. Wait and see.”

Libby watched out of the corner of her eye as he fed the baby from a tiny bottle his sister had packed, trying to square it with the version of Colin who could weave through traffic at breakneck speed, or the one who physically threatened that asshole who’d creeped her out after karaoke two weeks ago. She came up stumped.

Eventually Colin excused himself to change his niece’s diaper, and Libby wandered to the window, staring at the storm.

Colin’s voice sounded from the bathroom. “Oh, dear
God
. What is she feeding you?”

With a guilty glance back toward the front of the flat, Libby padded through the kitchen to the threshold of Colin’s bedroom door. She hadn’t seen his room before and found herself surprised yet again.

It was a bigger room than his brother’s, and it looked lived in and cared for, unlike Reece’s. The walls were painted a deep oxblood red, a color that managed to not be gloomy in its darkness, but calming. Sensual. Colin was clearly the homebody around the apartment. Only a sweater tossed across his black bedspread threatened the order of the space.

Normally Libby preferred clutter—not filth, just a healthy dose of disorder. Growing up in an immaculate house, she’d been the chaotic one in her family, the whirlwind tearing around the otherwise placid, cleanly corridors of their WASPy New England estate. She could never live the way her mother did, worrying about the angles of the just-for-show throw pillows, buying books not to read but to leave lying strategically on the coffee tables their housekeeper kept gleaming with wax. No matter how hard Libby had worked to keep her bedroom in disarray, each afternoon when she came home from school, she always found it returned to a state of maddening tidiness.

She studied the two art-deco prints on Colin’s walls—poster reproductions for the Tour de France from some indeterminate year, matted and framed. Against another wall was a shelf lined with LPs, a record player set atop it, all beside a more modern sound system. Books and newspapers were stacked on his bedside table.

Libby gazed across his bed, a queen-sized one, bigger than Reece’s. Her imagination was taken by a potent vision of the sorts of things a man as forward as Colin might get up to on such an inviting surface…happy, greedy bodies moving beneath the dark red sheets she saw peeking from under the duvet, sounds and smells she couldn’t begin to conjure—

“You’re a nosy one.”

Libby jumped. Colin stood at her side with his wide-eyed niece tucked into the crook of one arm.

“Serves you right,” he added, addressing her start. “Want a guided tour?”

“No, you were right—just being nosy.” She gave his room a final scan and stepped back in the kitchen. “Reece could stand to get a few decorating tips from you.”

Colin followed. “Well, I’ve lived here for ten years now. He’s still got some moving boxes he hasn’t opened yet.”

“I saw. When did he come back to New Zealand?”

He frowned, thinking. “Three months ago, maybe.”

“And he still hasn’t unpacked?”

“I don’t think he’s ready to admit he’s back. Or that he plans on staying.” He bounced the baby, smile fading.

“You don’t look happy about that.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t care what he does. Nobody asked him to come back, but he seems to think it’s his responsibility to be the man of the family now or something… But you know, we’ve been okay without him for the past seven years.” Colin paused. “Sorry, that’s probably more than you felt like having dumped on you.”

Libby shrugged, pleased simply to hear about the Nolans, the breed of family she’d have killed to be a part of when she was a kid, flawed or not. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, anyway. I’m going to order some lunch.” He opened a drawer and handed Libby a stack of takeout menus. Soon there was Thai food on the way, and the station they were watching announced
Dirty Dancing
was coming on at one thirty. Libby didn’t suspect life could get much better…then she wondered what time the other Nolan would be getting home.

Chapter Five

Before he even laid his hand on the pub’s door handle, Reece knew trouble was afoot. No one used their jukebox, though it did apparently work. And none of their afternoon customers would
ever
play ABBA. He hadn’t even known that album was in there.

He stepped inside and found himself joining a party attended by just about his entire family. His mother was smiling skeptically, standing behind Libby as she attempted some sort of dance with Colin. She interrupted Libby’s movements to adjust her shoulders and arm. The baby was propped on the bar in her car seat, sleeping in spite of the music and excitement.

Colin noticed Reece as the door closed and waved.

Reece dropped his bag on a table and sat near the front to watch the proceedings. He felt a swish of cold air and turned as his sister stepped inside.

“All right, Reece?” Annie stopped behind him and tousled his hair the same way she’d been doing for twenty-five years. “Just saw you pull up and take the good space from under my nose.”

“What in the hell do you make of this?” he asked, wanting his suspicions about how wrong this was confirmed.

Annie smiled at the festivities. “I think it’s the Hustle. Mum used to love doing that when I was little. Look at Colin—he’s not half-bad. Libby’s rubbish, though.”

Reece looked over his shoulder at her to express his surprise.

“I met her earlier, when I dropped the baby off. That’s her name, right?”

“Yeah.” The word tasted sour in Reece’s mouth.

“Why do you sound so annoyed?”

“I don’t want her here.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“She’s trouble.”

“This doesn’t sound like you at all. Did she break your heart or something?” Annie grinned, clearly thrilled to have found a subject that could make Reece squirm.