Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (30 page)

“Good help makes it easier.” Regan pulled a dish towel through the string of the narrow green apron she wore. “Most of them are related to me, so there’s that. That’s my brother, Finn.” She pointed to the tall, lanky redhead currently flipping a large steak on the grill.  “Say hi to Brodie Crawford, Finn,” she called.

“Hey!” Finn turned matching green eyes on him that mirrored his sister’s good nature. “Been meaning to stop by your place. Got some work I’d like done on my arm.”

“What is it with my family and tattoos?” Regan muttered but when Brodie looked at her he found her grinning. “I’ll never understand it, but to each his own. What did you want to order?”

“Um.”  Brodie dodged yet another influx of servers and let Regan steer him toward the back of the kitchen where a number of tables were situated against the far wall, one of which was occupied by a very sullen and familiar looking teenage girl.  “Toshi said surprise him, just no fish. And that Guinness stew looks great.”

“What about for Cilla?”

“She’s at day camp.”

“That explains that lost look on your face.” Regan laughed and Brodie found he couldn’t stop smiling around her. She was just so...bright.  “You don’t know what to do without her or her tea parties, do you?”

“Something like that. Look, I know you’re busy, but I wanted to—”

“Regan! Cash register’s busted again!”  A young woman with a high-topped ponytail poked her head in the kitchen and yelled. “We need your special touch.”

“On my way.” She grabbed a metal ruler out of an overfilled coffee mug on a small desk. “My special touch. Hang out for a while, okay? I’m bound to get a couple of minutes here sometime. Finn? One Guinness stew and one Shepherd’s Pie to go. Deluxe it. I’ll be right back.”  She raced off on sneakers he suspected had to be jet powered.

“Sure.” Brodie had spent most of his thirty years getting used to his size. He was a big guy and he took up a lot of space, but the pub’s kitchen made him feel like an out of place pinball being bounced around between scoring shots.  He moved out of the way, enjoying the bustling controlled chaos of the servers and cooks, the interplay of white uniforms and steel, and the camaraderie he felt in the air as it mingled with the intoxicating aroma of garlic, roasted meat, and fresh baked bread.

There were plenty of empty chairs, but the one across from Maura Murphy captured his interest, especially when he glanced over her shoulder and watched her put the finishing touches on a beautiful illustration of a woman in white in the middle of a forest.

“You’re very good.”  He took a seat, making it a point not to invade her space when he noticed how her hand tensed around the nub of the green pencil she held. “We weren’t properly introduced last week.” He held out his hand. “Brodie Crawford.” 

She stared at his hand and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes before they flashed cold, but she returned the greeting with a quick grasp and shrug. “Sorry about what happened.”

“For lying about me giving you that tattoo?”

Another shrug, but her cheeks tinted pink even as her lips tightened. “I didn’t mean to scare your little girl.”

“We don’t always know what our actions will provoke until it’s too late.” He might still be angry that her lies had upset Cilla, but he wasn’t convinced the teenager had done it out of spite. Misguided loyalty, perhaps, but she didn’t strike him as malicious. Just...lost.  “I get it, by the way.” He settled in the high back chair and folded his hands on the table. “Not wanting to rat on your friends. If they are your friends.”

She’d heard this before; her expression closed off, the rest of her tensing and shutting down as he continued to look at her. She resumed drawing, a silent dismissal.

“So, is this your punishment? Did Regan relegate you to kitchen duty?”

“Dad put me on restriction. Three weeks. I’m not to be out of a Murphy’s sight unless I’m sleeping or peeing.”

Brodie had to glance away to stop from laughing.  “Regan’s keeping an eye on you, then.”

“Finn.” Maura’s knuckles went white before the tip of the pencil snapped. “I’m staying out of the way. Regan doesn’t want me here.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Brodie said, but as the words left his mouth, he could see Maura believed it. The young woman radiated anger and frustration, but only hints of it seeped in to her drawing; as if she could filter her emotions. That took a special kind of talent. “Do you mind if I look at your book?”

“Why?” Maura looked at him with all the suspicion a sixteen-year-old could muster.

“Because I’m an artist and I like to see other people’s work.” He held out his hand.

Maura stared at him for a long moment before sliding the notebook across the table.

He opened it up and started at the beginning.  She started to grab it back, but clenched her fists and drew her hands into her lap, trying to look anywhere but at him as he looked at each illustration with a critical eye.  “You thinking about art school?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“You should.”  Growing up first on the streets in Miami and then spending significant time in graffiti and tattoo culture first in New York and most recently, San Francisco, he’d seen his share of undiscovered illustrative talent from coast to coast. It took natural ability and artistic discipline and there was a wealth of undiscovered talent from coast to coast. But few had the natural control and eye he recognized in Maura’s work. She wasn’t just good. She was gifted.

“Art doesn’t get anyone anywhere.” Maura’s sullen attitude had returned and it was all Brodie could do not to react as he stared into the face of one of the most glorious lions he’d ever seen put on paper. There was such realism in her work, such attention to detail and emotion.

“Art’s done pretty well by me.” He left her notebook open to the drawing she’d been working on. “It can do well by you, too, if you put your energy in the right place. “

“And what place would that be?” Maura asked in that same suspicious tone that made Brodie wonder if anyone had ever encouraged her abilities.  Given Regan’s reaction to Maura’s tattoo related behavior last week, he had no doubt she cared about her sister. But caring for and understanding who Maura actually was were two separate issues. Maura continued to stare at him, but the hostility in her eyes had begun to fade. “Why do you care?”

Because a long time ago, someone had given him the same opportunity. Saved his life. Given him a purpose. Brodie had to bite his tongue from making the verbal admission. “Let’s just say I’m passing it on.” 

“This is because of her, isn’t it?”  Maura jerked her chin toward Regan as she swooped back into the kitchen. “You’re sucking up to me to try to get in to her pants, right?”

The crude comment took him off guard and while he was willing to give her some leeway when it came to purging her teenage angst, there was only so much disrespect he was willing to tolerate.

“I’ll give you that one for free.” Brodie made certain his tone ensured she understood she’d offended him. “But one’s all you get. I’m not going to lecture you, Maura. I’m sure you’ve had your fill of them. But I do know what it’s like to be misunderstood while you’re trying to find your way. What I do suggest is you stop complaining and wallowing over how much your life sucks. Trust me, a lot of people have it a lot worse. You’re going to have to take responsibility at some point if you want to make something of your life. Whether you see it or not, your family cares about you and they want the best for you. But if you do need someone to talk to, someone who might have an inkling of what you’re going through, you know where to find me.”

“Hey, Brodie.”  Regan raced over, a thick paper bag in her hand that she set on the table right on top of Maura’s notebook.

Maura hissed like a cat and ripped her notebook free, grabbing for her pencils and jamming everything into her bag.

“What now?” Regan sighed.

“Nothing,” Maura muttered, hugging her bag against her chest as she tucked her hair behind her ear and raised skittish eyes to Brodie. “Thanks. Seamus is going to pick me up in a few minutes, so—” She walked away leaving Regan staring sternly at the wall in front of her, her jaw working overtime as she gnashed her teeth.

“That girl is going to put me in an early grave.”

“Maybe not,” Brodie said. “She might surprise you and make some changes.”

“Doubtful.  Did she apologize to you at least?”

“She did,” Brodie assured her and tried not to notice the surprise on her face. “I accepted.”

“You really need to stop showing me what a good guy you are.” Regan gave him an uneasy smile. “I’m sorry. We haven’t had any time to talk. What was it you wanted to ask me?”

Brodie took a deep breath and got to his feet, wrapping his hand around the top of the bag for security. “Dinner. I wanted to know if you’d have dinner with me. This week. Sometime.”
Somebody stop me.
“Tonight, maybe? Or tomorrow. Whenever. Toshi can sit for Cilla.”

Regan couldn’t have looked more surprised if he’d kissed her—something he’d been thinking about doing since he’d first met her.

She ducked her head, the first indication of uncertainty he’d ever seen. “I don’t date.”

Well that kicked him in his...ego. “Anyone or just me?” 

“I don’t have time for it, Brodie. Look.” She took a deep breath and his self-esteem stitched itself back together as he caught a hint of regret in her eyes. “We’re becoming pretty good friends. Isn’t that enough?”

It took all his effort not to say, “no” and she seemed to sense that.

“Okay, the truth is, I don’t want to get involved. With Anyone. My life is...” she waved her hand around the bustling kitchen. “Chaotic to say the least.”

“I have a five-year old. I know chaotic,” Brodie said with a shake of his head. “Try again.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” The ebullient confidence slipped a notch and Brodie wasn’t willing to let it disappear. He reached out his hand and stroked a single finger down the side of her cheek. When her face warmed under his touch and the light glowed in her eyes again, he smiled.

“Try me.”

“It would be a mistake to get involved,” she said but he could see there was a lot more to her refusal than she wanted to admit.

“Dinner’s not involved,” he interrupted and adjusted tactics. “It’s a meal you have to eat anyway and besides, I bet you can show me some hidden gems around Lantano Valley I have yet to discover. Aside from Lancaster Park. We see enough of that from the cottage house I bought.”

“You bought the MacAllister’s house?”  Regan’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a pretty little home.”

“Little being the operative word.” Sometimes Brodie wondered how he didn’t bash his head on the doorways. But Cilla had fallen in love with it the second she saw the storybook-quality house that Goldilocks would have been happy to call home.

“If it’s a tour guide you’re looking for—”

“I found what I’m looking for.” The admission slipped past any filter he might have and strangely enough, he didn’t wish the words back. She’d intrigued him from the moment they’d met; from that first sweep of red hair as she’d streaked into his studio. The energy and life-force she possessed intoxicated him, drew him in, and continued to hover long after she was out of his sight. “It’s just dinner, Regan. Somewhere different, somewhere that’s not here. Come on. When’s the last time you took some time away from your life?”

“I—” She frowned. “I have book club tonight.”

Brodie was in too far to back down now. “Then when?”

“This looks like a rather intense conversation,” Finn said as he joined them, a dishtowel grasped between his hands. “Am I interrupting, I hope?” At Regan’s irritated glower his grin only widened. “Little brother’s prerogative. What’s going on?” he addressed the question to Brodie.

“I just asked your sister to dinner.”

“Let me guess,” Finn said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “She told you she doesn’t date.”

“I don’t,” Regan said.

“She doesn’t,” Finn agreed before she could continue. “But she should. And it’s about time someone asked. She’s usually scared off any interested male counterparts by now so the fact you’re still here speaks volumes. How’s tomorrow night? She has that book club thing tonight. Book club is sacred,” he added with a false whisper.

“Finn,” Regan warned. “I’m working tomorrow—”

“I’ll cover.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” Was that panicked look on Regan’s face for real? Was the idea of going out with him really so unappealing? Or was it the idea of doing something for herself she couldn’t come to terms with?

“You aren’t asking, I’m volunteering.” Finn’s expression mirrored the same determination Brodie had witnessed the other day when Regan stormed into his studio in defense of her sister. “You keep saying we need to take more responsibility around here and at the house. Consider this one time I’m listening to you.” Finn slung an arm around Regan’s shoulders and squeezed. “You sure you know what you’re getting in to with her?” 

“I’d like to find out.” Brodie said.

“Excellent answer. I like you.” Finn reached out his other hand and slapped Brodie’s arm. “But there are three more of me and none of us will take kindly to our sister’s heart being messed with.”

"Understood." If anyone’s heart was being messed with, it was Brodie’s. All Regan had to do was smile and he was lost.  Not to mention how confusing he found sibling, let alone family dynamics. “So, tomorrow evening?” He returned his attention to a dumbstruck Regan.

“Do I have a choice?”

“With me?” Brodie didn’t want any misunderstandings between them. If she honestly didn’t want to go out with him, he’d accept that. “Always.”

“Man’s got a way with words.” Finn hugged her again before dancing out of smacking range. “I can be here by five. See you tomorrow night, Ink Man.”

“Makes me sounds like Sponge Bob’s side kick,” Brodie muttered. “So.” He turned hopeful eyes on Regan, who sighed as if she’d just been sentenced to hard labor and kicked a significant sized hole in his self-esteem.

“Fine.” If she meant for her heavy sigh to put him off, she failed. If anything, he appreciated the drama.  Something she had in common with Maura. “You can pick me up here around five and we’ll do...whatever?”