Something Beginning With Mistletoe (Something Borrowed Book 3) Page 14

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ The fallout from dysfunctional families was real. She knew all about that. ‘You have your family to sort out anyway. Why are they staying with you? Why didn’t you want them to go back to their own place from the hospital? If the kids go to St Brendan’s they must live fairly close? Right?’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry. Nosy again. Firing off without thinking.’

  But she’d spent long intimate moments with him and she didn’t know anywhere near enough about his life. She wanted to know everything. He nodded, drew her close, his jaw near her ear. ‘It’s fine. But a long story.’

  ‘Talk. Just talk. I like hearing your voice. I want to know you.’

  He breathed softly against her shoulder. ‘I moved to Portobello Road so I could be closer to them. And so that Brad wouldn’t think it strange if I was around more.’

  ‘Why would he think it strange?’

  ‘Because we don’t get along.’ She guessed he was trying to be nonchalant, but his words were laced with sadness.

  She ran her fingers down his arm. ‘Brothers, eh? I don’t think that’s unusual, but not having any siblings, I wouldn’t know how it works.’

  ‘We used to be close, but now we’re barely able to be around each other without the inevitable argument.’ He sat up, ran his hands through his hair and shook his head.

  One thing she’d learnt about Blake was that he worked hard, not just at his business, but at his relationships. ‘I know you—you’ll try to make things better. You love those kids.’

  ‘I do, and they’re having a rough time with the divorce. It’s just that Brad…’ He shook his head again as if to say it was all just too hard, then leaned in for a kiss. ‘I’d much rather do this than talk.’

  ‘And after I’ve done so much talking about my world, the least you can do is tell me about yours.’ He stroked the inside of her thigh, making her squirm and laugh. ‘And then we can do more of this.’

  ‘You drive a hard bargain, Faith Langley.’

  ‘I like to think so. Talk, then play.’ She loved the way he said her name. As if she was somebody important, substantial.

  He huffed out a breath. ‘So he’s made a string of bad decisions. His marriage, his businesses…all of them have failed because he just doesn’t know how to do the big-plan thinking. He gets an idea and just jumps in. I won’t bore you with details, but he’s already broke and, against my advice, he sank a whole load of debt into a distillery. He makes liquor—gin, mainly. But hasn’t a clue how to sell it. Or, most probably, make it.’

  ‘And you’re opening a bar. What is it with you two and gin? You either like a drink or…’ Jigsaw pieces slotted into place. ‘Oh my God. You set up a bar so you could buy his product and keep him in business.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘Trust me, one bar won’t help him, but a few might. If this works then I’ll open a couple more, maybe franchise, and then we can get the product moving…until he gets back on his feet and sorts out his divorce and living arrangements.’

  There may well have been a lot of bad blood between them, but there was a lot of good there too. He was a family man through and through. She wondered what that was like, how it felt to know you were loved by so many people. ‘So what’s the score there? Why do you want them to come live with you?’

  ‘Because they live in an ancient, falling-apart caravan on a trailer park.’

  ‘Blake Delacourte.’ She smiled. ‘I knew you were rich, but I didn’t think you were a snob. You’re embarrassed by the caravan?’

  ‘Not at all. I don’t care how he lives, that’s up to him. I just care that his kids have no space and nowhere to play outside without getting injured. It’s not a good place—there are addicts living there, dangerous people.’ He shuddered and she remembered his ex had been involved in drugs. That alone would make him very wary. ‘I don’t see why they can’t stay at mine long term.’

  ‘Because that would mean he’s failed.’

  Blake was animated now. ‘No, it doesn’t. It means he’s got support. He’s made dodgy decisions, yes, but all he did was take some risks that didn’t work out. He’s not a failure…look at those kids.’

  ‘Your brother thinks you look down on him. That you think he’s failed. I saw it in his eyes at the hospital. Heard him pretty much say it.’

  ‘I just want to help him, but he won’t let me.’ Blake laughed softly. ‘What do I do? Leave him alone?’

  ‘No. Never.’ She controlled her reaction. ‘Don’t leave him alone. He’s family and that’s the most important thing in the world. You need to stick together. God knows, it’s too hard when you leave people to work things out on their own. Don’t put distance in the way, Blake. Reach out. Talk to him at least.’

  ‘I tried talking to him, but he just bawls me out.’

  ‘And then?’

  He shrugged and pulled a wry smile. ‘I bawl him out.’

  ‘Okay.’ She sat up too, shifted round to look at him. Took his hands. ‘I know this may seem like something out of left field, but have you ever stopped telling him what to do and thought about asking him what he wants to do? What help he wants?’

  ‘Sure. All the ti…’ Eyes wide. Sheepish, as her words clicked with something he was thinking about. ‘Okay, so I may have overstepped a little.’

  ‘It comes from a good place, I know. But talk to him without judging.’

  ‘I don’t judge.’ He bristled.

  ‘He thinks you do, obviously.’

  Blake raised his hands in submission. ‘Not that he ever does what I tell him anyway. Stubbornness runs in the family.’

  ‘Oh? I hadn’t noticed.’ She laughed along with him. ‘You care too much.’

  ‘Maybe I do.’

  It wasn’t a bad trait to have. She’d spent her life trying hard not to care and getting hurt in the process anyway. She put her hand to his heart, felt the steady solid beat under her palm. ‘Plus, you’re such a rescuer.’

  ‘Like hell I am…’ But his words trailed off as he thought. He looked at her then, full-on, ran his palm over her hair, cupped her cheek. ‘You won’t let me rescue you, though, will you?’

  ‘Not a chance in hell, my friend. Look at me. I have a sound business. I have a good life. I don’t need anyone to make me complete. I certainly don’t need rescuing.’ Although he had made her feel a whole lot better about Christmas. And about kissing. And sex…

  ‘No. But there are other things I can do for you.’ He pulled her to him and kissed her slowly, the long burn of lust flickering into a bright hot flame. This time the sex wasn’t sex at all, it was pure, raw and honest love-making; gentle and giving, then greedy and desperate, and the climax the most intense she’d ever had. Taking her to new highs and reverberating through her body. Through her core. Her heart.

  Blake made her believe in the strength of family and connection. He definitely made her believe in taking time to have fun. And he…almost…made her believe in the magic.

  Afterwards, she lay breathless and slick with sweat, and this time she didn’t wait for her world to right itself, because she knew, utterly and completely, it was changed forever.

  She pushed his leg from hers and tried to wriggle from his hold. ‘Hey, we need to go to work.’

  ‘Ugh. Not when we can do this. Stay, Faith. A little longer.’

  God, she wanted to. Too much.

  ‘I have a business to run.’ She poked a finger into his ribs until he squirmed and let go of her. Then she got up and made him coffee in the very sleek chrome machine, and a very strong tea for herself. His head was under the pillows when she brought his cup over. But just looking at that lithe body, the sun-kissed skin, had her tummy doing cartwheels. She nudged him with her knee. ‘Hey, sleepy-head. What’s wrong? Mondayitis?’

  ‘It’s all your fault. You drive me crazy.’ An eye appeared from under his pillow fort, a smile. Then a frown. Dark eyes. ‘Wait. Monday? What time is it?’

  ‘Nine fourteen. I really do need to get back to the pub
. There’s a million things to do before opening.’ She wrapped the fluffy dressing gown tighter. Such luxury. Such a shame to be leaving. Maybe she could get Geri to open up…

  Cursing, Blake jerked upright. ‘Nine fourteen? Monday? Shit.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The council sign-off for the bar. Final one. At nine thirty. I have to be there. The guy knows me and has been working through some things I asked him for. I have to be there.’

  ‘Can’t you get someone else to do it?’

  The shake of his head was decisive. ‘My manager’s in Prague for a long weekend. I can’t ask the contractors. There’s no chance of getting another meeting with the council before Christmas, I’ve had this one booked in for three months. And if I don’t get this I can’t open.’ And if he couldn’t open he couldn’t buy his brother’s supplies. And then…

  She put a hand to his back, the lazy, happy mood fracturing. ‘Blake, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Not your fault.’ He didn’t turn round, but carried on pulling his jeans over his legs. Rugged. Jaded. Pissed off. ‘I should have thought it all through last night.’

  Instead of being here with her. He’d put his business at risk and it was her fault. He didn’t need to say it, she felt it anyway.

  ***

  ‘Glad I could help. Good job I was back from school drop-off to fill in.’ Brad stopped sweeping the bar floor and leant on the broom, looking very at home in his dusty surroundings. And very pleased with himself. ‘He asked about drainage and flooding so I gave him a tour of the toilets and kitchen and we dissected the plumbing plans, which were exactly where you said they were. Then we talked electrics and building regs. Lucky for you, I know something about it all from the house renovations and managed to blag my way through. I think he really did believe I was Blake Delacourte. There were a lot of boxes to tick on his form, but they all got the mark. He’s emailing everything through, once he gives it the official council rubber stamp.’

  ‘Good. Good. Excellent.’ Blake blew out the breath he’d been holding pretty much since he’d left the hotel room to race across town, coaching his brother via cell phone about what to say and where things were. He knew he’d been sharp with Faith, but he’d been so focused on this he hadn’t been able to make things right.

  Life would be great if compartmentalising was easy, instead of Faith’s face and body flitting into his head at inappropriate moments. The ache in his chest wasn’t going any time soon either, a constant reminder of how damned involved he was getting. And today’s panic was the result of that. Chaos. A near-miss with the council for the most important meeting of the whole project. He needed to keep his eye on the ball. He always had before—even with Stacey he’d managed to travel and work. Although that had ended in its own disaster too.

  Would he never learn?

  ‘So, we’re in business. Bring on New Year’s Eve. Thanks, Brad. I owe you.’ He stuck out his hand.

  His brother shook it and grinned. ‘Been a long time since we’ve played the swap identities game. Good job you told me about his pregnant wife, although in hindsight I wish I hadn’t asked how that was going. I got the whole lowdown on the birth. The baby boy’s doing fine—he even showed me some photographs. With a bit of luck he won’t send them as an attachment too, even though he’s a cute kid.’

  ‘Brilliant. I didn’t imagine we’d ever need to play that game again. Last time was in third form, right? When I was supposed to be trialling for the rugby team, but had detention.’ Which was probably also the last time he’d ever asked his brother for help. He felt the sting of shame. Asking cut both ways.

  Brad was still laughing. ‘And you still owe me for having to write out I must not put cling film on the toilet seat a hundred times, too.’

  ‘Hey, it was a practical joke. Some people have no sense of humour.’

  ‘It was the staffroom toilet, Blake. And probably not very funny to the maths teacher. Splashback’s a bitch.’ Back to sweeping the floor again, Brad looked over. Blake didn’t need to hear the question—he knew what was coming. Twin intuition. Or something. ‘So where were you ? I mean, I know you were stuck in traffic. But your bed hadn’t been slept in, so I’m guessing this wasn’t an early morning appointment, but an all-night one.’

  ‘Busy.’ With the hot woman from across the road. Having his heart squeezed just a little bit more. Wanting more. Which was doing his head in, frankly.

  Then there was that love word hovering around the edges, taking him by surprise. He’d almost said it, as if it had been waiting to burst out of him. He’d have to reign that in too. He could not get carried away again.

  His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Earth to Blake. Care to elaborate?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So you spent the night somewhere with Faith. Because she wasn’t outside this morning at the crack of dawn cleaning the windows or chatting to the florist.’

  ‘You sound an awful lot like Mrs Singh from the hardware shop. She wants to know everyone’s business too.’ Blake did a quick visual of the room. There was still a lot to do before opening night. Cleaning now, mostly, and superficial decor. Stocking up. Menu planning with the chef. Staff training. He grabbed the toolbox and some large framed black and white pictures of nineteen-twenties advertisements and started to measure the wall for hanging.

  Brad came over and held a picture straight while Blake stood back and checked the height. ‘Hey, if I have to masquerade as a property developer and listen to some stranger’s wife’s birthing stories then you can at least tell me where you were. Just in case, you know, there’s a next time. Normally I wouldn’t care, but sharing the same roof means I notice. You don’t want me calling Missing Persons when you’re having a booty call, do you?’

  He had a point. Blake took a deep breath and waited for the smart, quippy retort and interrogation. The smutty jokes and annoying jibes. ‘Okay. I was at a hotel with Faith.’

  ‘You took my advice. Good. I like her.’

  And that was it. His brother’s approval and no ribbing. No stupid jokes. He’d thought there’d be more discussion but Brad just nodded, hammered in the nails, and between them they got the pictures up around the walls.

  Shocked at his brother’s casual reaction, Blake asked, ‘No brotherly advice?’

  ‘If you want it, you’ll ask. She’s one of the good ones, though, don’t mess it up.’

  He had a bad feeling he already had, with his curt goodbye as he’d rushed back to the bar. Still, some space would give them time to take stock. It was all happening too fast.

  They stepped back to examine their handiwork. Brad folded his arms. ‘Looking good. Anything else you need doing?’

  ‘Loads, but you have your own work to do. Going to the distillery today?’

  It was the wrong thing to say. He felt his brother bristle and was just about to back right off when he said, ‘To be honest, Blake, things aren’t going well. I’ve ordered too many ingredients and not got nearly enough orders through. I’m piling debt on debt and I can’t see a way out. Not by a long shot.’

  ‘I thought you did projections. You knew it was going to take time.’

  ‘I did.’ Brad shook his head. ‘But…you’re the maths genius, not me.’

  Irritation rippled through Blake. ‘So why didn’t you ask? I could have worked it out for you. It’s what I do, Brad.’

  Instead of rising to a fight, his brother sat down on one of the dusty seats. ‘I wanted to do it on my own, okay? Bad move, I know. Truth is, I need help and I’m not too big to ask for it.’

  This was new. He’d underestimated his brother on all sides today.

  ‘So what’s going to happen?’ Blake went to sit with him. Irritation wasn’t going to get either of them anywhere. They’d done enough of that over years. It felt like they’d spent half of their lives walking along a knife-edge, with sharp retorts and anger dividing them.

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s not the get-rich-quick scenario I thought it
was going to be.’

  Blake knew this—he’d seen the financials on the sly anyway. It had been a disaster in waiting. He thought about what Faith had said to him about listening and not talking. About asking instead of telling. About always reaching out to family, because that was the most important thing. And there she was, larger than life, back in his head again.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want to get out, wipe the slate. It’s too much of a commitment to do on my own now I have the kids all the time. I can’t focus on that and them, they’re both more than a full-time job. I need someone to buy it, Blake. If you know anyone I’d appreciate a nod. Then I’ll get a job that fits in with Daisy and Freddie.’

  ‘Yeah, I might know someone.’ Even if he bought all the stock—which he would—he wasn’t going to touch the distillery. Neither of them knew how to run one, it’d be economic suicide. So he’d have to go through his address book, starting at A, but he’d find a buyer if it killed him. For the kids’ sake if nothing else. ‘You’d have to take a hit financially. You rarely make a profit from flicking off a business you’ve only had for a few months.’

  ‘I can do that. Clean break. Clear some debt at least. Have a fresh start.’

  This was fresh start number…how many? It didn’t matter. Whatever happened, however many fresh starts Brad had, Blake would always support him. Because he was family. He took a deep breath and broached something he’d been thinking over since his chat with Faith. ‘Look. You said yourself, you’re good at the hands-on stuff. I’m better at number-crunching. I need someone to project manage for me here and at my other properties, and more down the track. Day-to-day management, there’s always something that needs doing—renovations, modernisation, that kind of thing. I’d like your input at least. You want to give me a hand?’