The Billionaire Boyfriend Proposal: A Kavanagh Family Novel (6 page)

Robbie expelled a breath and lowered his
head. "I should go," he muttered.

"No," I said quietly. "Everything will be
fine. Stay."

Blake let Skull get up and the two brothers
stood a few feet apart, staring one another down. I was afraid
Robbie would give in and go with him, but the distant whine of
police sirens broke the stand-off. Skull swore then scampered off,
leaving Robbie on the porch.

I circled my arm around his waist. "You
okay?"

He nodded. "He'll be back."

"He's not Schwarzenegger," I said, trying to
lighten the mood. "Not even close. We'll be fine, Robbie. We'll
just be more alert from now on."

"You don't know him. He doesn't give up and
he hates to lose. He'll come back and he'll be more prepared next
time."

"The police are here now." Even as I said it,
we heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway out front.

"No. No police." He appealed to Blake.
"Please. I know he's an asshole, but I'd rather go with him than
see him sent back to jail."

Blake blew out a breath and rubbed his hand
over his jaw. "It's up to Cassie."

It went against my gut instinct, but I
nodded. "Fine. We'll tell the police we don't know who those guys
were." I went to head back inside, but Blake took my hand. It was
warm and strong, just what my taut nerves needed.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

I nodded. "You? You got a nasty whack across
the back."

"Fine." His knuckles brushed down my cheek
where the attacker's fingernail had scraped. He stroked my jawline,
still a little tender, and finally cupped it. His touch was so
gentle that it almost undid me right there in front of him. "You've
got a bruise. My poor girl. So brave. Strong." His voice rumbled
from the depths of his chest and his eyes stroked me as gently as
his touch, soothing in their intensity.

Too soothing and intense. I began to cry. He
pulled me against his chest and placed his hand at the back of my
neck, under my hair. His thumb drew slow circles. His other hand
rested against my back, holding me in place. It felt good to be
held like that. Like I mattered. Like I was the
only
thing
that mattered.

Nobody had held me with such tenderness in a
long time. It hurt as much as it helped.

"Ma'am?" The voice of the policeman had me
stepping out of Blake's arms.

We spent the next thirty minutes talking to
the cops about the intruders. They took the details of all my
students, but let them go when none claimed to have gotten a good
look at the attackers. I said goodbye to them at the front door.
They each hugged me then went on their way, although Becky shot a
scowl at Robbie first.

"He better be worth it," she muttered.

Robbie stood in the conservatory, arms
crossed over his chest. He watched the police warily, a deep frown
crowding his brow. He clearly didn't trust them.

The three of us gave statements and the
police were none the wiser as to who our attackers could be. They
did express the theory that they might be connected to the graffiti
artist.

"You need to step up surveillance around
here," Blake told them.

"We're doing all we can, Mr. Kavanagh," one
of the policemen said.

"Do more."

They finally left, but there was no time to
debrief with Robbie and Blake. We had to contend with a string of
Kavanaghs who'd heard the sirens and come to investigate. I'd
thought they were worried about Blake, but all looked genuinely
surprised upon seeing him at my house.

"I'm glad Blake was here to take care of
you," his mother, Ellen, said. She and her husband Harry sat in my
formal sitting room, which wasn't so formal these days. The rug was
frayed at the edges and the sofa in need of recovering, but the
good crystal glasses I used for the beer and wine spruced the room
up a little.

"The police would have arrived in time," I
told her, feeling a little guilty for not giving Blake full credit.
He
did
deserve my praise and I wish I'd been brave enough to
acknowledge it out loud.

Her blue eyes, so similar to Blake's, turned
frosty. "If you say so." She sipped while surreptitiously glancing
at my faded drapes.

I spotted Blake looking at me out of the
corner of his eye. He was caught in conversation with his father.
Robbie had made himself scarce soon after their arrival, which I
thought was wise. He'd retreated to the summer house to finish the
clean up down there.

"Now, about this boy staying here," Ellen
said crisply. She crossed her long legs and regarded me from
beneath heavily made up lashes.

"His name's Robbie."

"Did he paint the neighborhood?"

Blake and I exchanged a glance. Harry's lips
curved into a smile.

"He's not your relative, Cassie, or we would
know about him," Ellen said, "and you don't have friends as far as
I can see."

I bristled. "I do so."

She gave me a placating smile that didn't sit
well on her severe features. "He suddenly appears here on the same
day as the police are called. The housekeeper also found smudges of
paint in my guest bathroom and the guest bed had been slept in
overnight. I find that highly coincidental, and I'm not one to
believe in coincidences."

"You know you can't hide anything from her,"
Harry said cheerfully. "She's got spies everywhere."

Blake sat back in the sofa and regarded his
mother. "I should have asked you first. Sorry. In my defense, it
was late and you were asleep."

She tilted her chin. "Yes, you should have
asked us. But that's in the past. The question is, what are you
going to do about him now?"

"He's staying here," I said. "In my summer
house."

"Isn't that a little dangerous? Becky Denny
said the boy's brother was here looking for him. He became violent,
I believe, hence the police."

"Did you subject Becky to torture to find
that out?" Blake asked flatly.

"Of course not. I overheard her telling Reece
and Cleo."

"And what did Reece and Cleo have to
say?"

"Reece told her not to worry and that you'll
sort it out."

"At least my brother has faith in me."

"We have faith in you too, don't we,
Harry?"

Harry nodded dutifully.

"It's just that we doubt your common sense
where Cassie is concerned."

The heat rose to my face. There was nothing
to say to that. Ellen had always blamed me for driving Blake away
and it seemed she still blamed me for every dumb thing he did. I
didn't see Blake's reaction because I didn't dare look at him.

"Speaking of lacking common sense," Harry
said. "Your mother and I are worried that the boy's brother will
return."

"He might," Blake hedged.

"He'll be bent on revenge and getting the boy
back. It's too dangerous for him to stay here. You have to send him
home."

"It's too dangerous for him to go home,"
Blake said.

"Besides, it's hardly a proper home with a
brother like that," I said. "He's better off here."

"It doesn't worry you that the brother will
come back?"

"Of course it does. But I have the police on
speed dial."

Ellen clicked her tongue and folded her arms.
"You think that will be enough? You're very reckless, my girl."

"I'm staying here," Blake said.

"You are not!" I cried at the same time Ellen
protested.

"I am. Upstairs in the room next to
yours."

"Don't be an idiot. You can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"Yes, Cassie," Harry said. "Why not? I think
it's a good idea."

"Typical," Ellen muttered into her glass.

Harry merely grinned at her. I had to admire
his fortitude. Ellen was not a woman easily brushed off like
that.

"It would make more sense to stay in the
summer house with Robbie," I said. "He's the one Skull wants."

"Skull?" Ellen snorted. "Ridiculous
name."

Blake filled up his mother's glass and mine
with the red wine from the bottle on the coffee table. "If Skull
returns, he'll come to the main house, not the summer house. He
won't even know it's there let alone that Robbie is in it and not
in here."

"That's quite true," his mother said,
thoughtful.

"You're giving in?" I threw up my hands and
let them slap down on my lap. "I thought I could count on you to
want Blake
not
to stay here."

Her lips pulled together. "If you knew Blake
at all, you'd know that neither you nor I can talk him out of his
decision. It's best to go along with it or risk raising the famous
Kavanagh temper."

"My temper is nothing to be trifled with
either," I said.

She sighed. "I know. But the truth is, you
need protecting from this Skull character and Blake isn't going to
allow anyone else to do it."

She was right. Thanks to the combined
stubbornness of all three of them, plus my own common sense, I gave
in. "But there will be some rules," I told him.

"I don't doubt it," he said.

"Rules are good," Ellen said, standing. "I
like rules."

Harry snorted and stood too. "Rules are only
as good as the people supposed to obey them." He pecked his wife on
the forehead and headed for the door. She scowled after him.

Blake walked them out then joined me in the
kitchen as I washed the glasses. He leaned back against the kitchen
bench and watched me. "Want me to cook?"

"Since when do you cook?"

"Since I moved out of home. The army didn't
always cook for me, you know. I had to fend for myself."

Great. Not only had he come back to Roxburg
looking hotter than ever, with a protective streak a mile long, but
he was sympathetic to the homeless
and
he could cook. Lucky
for me it wasn't that big a stretch to remember why we'd broken up,
or I'd be all over him. Again. "No cooking," I said, turning back
to the sink. "That's rule number one."

"How many rules are there?"

"It's not a finite list."

"So what's number two?"

"No coming into my bedroom."

"What if I need to save your ass?"

"Exceptions will be made in extreme
circumstances."

"And rule number three?"

"No physical contact. Except in extreme
circumstances."

He picked up a cloth from the bench and
leaned across me, blocking my access to the sink. His face was so
close to mine that his breath warmed my cheek. My body hummed in
response. If I just turned a little, I could easily close the gap
and kiss him. And damn, did I want to kiss him. It had been a long
time since I'd felt Blake's lips on mine. They used to be soft,
insistent, sweet. Would they still be like that? Or was he harder
now, more demanding? Did he take or did he ask first like he used
to?

I bit my bottom lip in case it betrayed me
and puckered up. I steeled everything inside me, waiting for that
kiss, waiting for the caress of skin on skin and the onslaught of
tingles that I knew would explode inside me at the merest
touch.

But he simply took a glass out of the dish
drainer and wiped it. "No physical contact," he murmured.
"Gotcha."

I scrunched the sponge up in my fist.
Breathed. Breathed again.

The back screen door banged and Robbie called
out. "Where are you guys?"

"In here," I called back, relieved to have a
third party present to ensure we didn't do anything we would regret
later. I had to remember there was no going back with Blake. That
path led only to heartache. The rift that had developed between us
could never be healed.

Robbie loped into the kitchen. "What's for
dinner? I'm starving."

"Pizza," I said before Blake could offer to
cook again.

I caught Blake smirking at me, as if he knew
that seeing him working in my kitchen would break down my barriers
that little bit more. Damn him.

***

"How's the summer house coming along?" I
asked as we ate at the kitchen table. The kitchen had always been
the hub of Gran's household. It wasn't a modern design like the
Kavanaghs' kitchen with its hard, cold edges and shiny appliances.
It was homely with wooden bench tops sporting cuts here and there,
each one with a story behind it. There was the time I cut into a
teacake without using a board because I'd gotten annoyed at being
told to serve the teacake when I preferred to be sketching, and the
time Lyle sliced off the tip of his finger when cutting an
apple.

Gran had cooked brownies and cakes in that
kitchen for decades, even after she'd begun to go blind. I helped
when her sight disappeared altogether, following the recipes passed
down from her grandmother and written in neat, small hand in a
yellowing book that was missing its spine. The oven was enormous,
built to last for years. It cooked unevenly and it was a skill to
know where to place the food to get it just right. But it never
needed servicing and it baked the best cakes. Many times Blake and
Reece had enjoyed the food Gran cooked, the younger Kavanagh
brothers too sometimes, as we sat around the same table I now sat
at with Blake and Robbie.

I tried not to remember those times. The
laughter and stolen kisses behind Gran's back were memories from
happier times, long ago.

"It's habitable for tonight," Blake said.

"It's great," Robbie said. "Thanks again for
letting me stay, Cassie. I'm sorry to put you to so much
trouble."

"It's not trouble for me. Blake's the one who
did the most work. I'm getting free labor."

"I meant my brother."

"It'll be okay. Give it time for him to get
used to you not going back with him. He's smarting right now. His
feelings are probably hurt that you chose us over him."

He licked pizza sauce off his fingers one by
one until there was nothing left. Then he picked up another slice.
"He can't compete with this."