Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (7 page)

“My arse is fine, but thanks for the concern,” Ian said. Then he straightened, hands braced on the bar. After a moment, he hooked a hand over his neck and rubbed at it. “There’s this thing, though…”

Brannon hooked one boot on the rung of his stool and waited.

Ian blurted out, “I didn’t know she was your sister.”

Brannon scowled. Ian’s accent got thicker when he was pissed or aggravated, but Brannon had known Ian for years—they’d gone to university together in London and had spent more than a few vacations with each other since. The thicker brogue, the
I dinnae
—
I didn’t know
—and the mash-up of the entire sentence weren’t what threw him off.

He just had no idea what Ian was talking about.

“Huh?”

Ian scrubbed his hands over his face. “Look, I thought she was just this pretty lady passin’ through. Stopped in for a pint—more than a few people have been known to do that. And she’s right beautiful, you can’t say she isn’t, and we were talking and if I’d known she was your sister…”

Ian’s words started to run together, but it was probably Brannon’s fault now.

Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with my sister.”

“I didn’t sleep with your sister.”

Dropping his hands, Brannon stared at Ian. “Oh. Well, okay then. What the hell is the problem?”

“I…” Ian’s face went bright red.

Brannon stared at him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Ian blush, not once in all the time he’d known him. “Ian, was my baby sister, Neve, in here last night?” he asked quietly.

“Aye.” Ian shrugged. “She was.”

Brannon reached out and gripped the bar, squeezing the mahogany as he tried to think. “Ian … did you sleep with Neve?”

“I already
told
you.
No
,” Ian said. Then he looked away. “But…”

“Aw, fuck,” Brannon muttered. “Damn it, Ian. You’ve got women in here flirting with your crazy ass all the time. Why did you have to put the moves on my sister?”

Then he stopped. “Or was she putting the moves on you?”

*   *   *

Ian saw the way Brannon’s eyes narrowed, almost jumped on the chance to just be done with the conversation.

But what kind of man did that make him?

Not much of one, really, if he lied about his very willing participation in what had happened last night. Reaching for the bar towel, he wiped off his hands. He didn’t need to, it wasn’t like he’d gotten them dirty working on a schedule. But the distraction? That, he needed.

“You could say it was … mutual moving,” he said, flicking Brannon a look from under his lashes.

“Mutual moving,” Brannon said slowly. The red-headed man looked like he wanted to pick up one of the stools and thump Ian right over the skull with it. He decided maybe he could handle taking a swing from his friend. He didn’t have a sister, but he wasn’t sure he’d want his best friend putting his hands on her. Although, Neve … he cut the thought off. Because there wouldn’t be any more putting hands on her, lovely as she was.

“If you’re going to take a swing at me,” Ian said, mind made up. “Let’s get it done.”

“What?”

“I said it clear enough. If you’re going to take a swing at me, then just do it.”

Brannon dropped back onto the stool. “I’m not breaking my hand on your hard skull, Campbell. If you want to go chasing after Neve, I can’t stop you.”

“I’m not.” He turned back to the schedule.

The taut silence had him looking back up to find Brannon staring at him, hard.

“You’re not,” Brannon said, the words slow and flat.

“No.” Ian shrugged. “She’s your sister. If I’d known, I’d have not touched her in the first place.”

Brannon shoved a hand through his hair, a hard sigh escaping. “Why? Because she’s my sister? Look, Neve’s a grown…” His words trailed off. “Hell. Twenty-eight. It’s been years since I’ve even seen her and that was for all of one afternoon. But she’s not a little kid. If she wants to hang out with you, then…”

“Brannon,” Ian cut in softly. “You’re my best friend—like a brother to me, and you know it. What’s gone on between you and her has torn a hole in you, and
I
know that. Maybe she’s here to mend it, maybe not.” He shrugged and bent back over the schedule. “But … there’s a hole. Her being here is either going to make it bigger or help it close up. I can’t get involved without knowing.”

He flicked Brannon one final look. “It’s not what a friend does.”

He just had to convince himself of that, because he’d lain awake most of the night, remembering the taste of her … and the feel of her in his arms.

Most of all, the way everything in him had just seemed to …
know
her.

CHAPTER FOUR

“It all looks the same.” Neve had always kicked ass when it came to acting, and she was pulling out all the stops as Aneila walked with her around the house.

Aneila had been all of ten when Neve had left. She was twenty now and she must have been training at her grandmother’s knee, because somehow, she already had Neve sitting at the island, and the smells of whatever was cooking had her belly rumbling.

“You didn’t think it would change much, did you?” Aneila asked as she plated up a sandwich.

Neve winced at the size of it. And when Aneila started to put together a salad, she said, “I’m really not that hungry…”

A steely look entered Aneila’s eyes, one almost identical to Ella Sue’s. “If Granny calls here and asks if you ate anything, do you really think I want to tell her no?” she asked, her red-tipped nails tapping her hip.

“Ah…” Neve plastered a smile on her face. “Have at it. I’m probably hungrier than I think.”

Aneila smiled, looking pleased with herself.
Cut from the same cloth,
Neve thought.
Steamrollers in human suits
.

Biting back a sigh, Neve reached for the peach tea she’d gotten from the fridge. “So how has your family been?”

“Well enough.” A pleased smile curved Aneila’s lips. “Did Granny tell you the news?”

“Ah … well. There’s probably a lot of news I’ve missed.”

“True.” Aneila pursed her lips. “Okay, short version … Kiara is going to college in Kentucky—planning on being a doctor. Jazzy married her boyfriend, DeVantrè. He’s off serving overseas now and she’s living on base and she’s going to make me an auntie—
and
Granny will be Great-Granny soon.”

“Oh!” Neve clapped her hand over her mouth in surprise. “I bet Ella Sue is ecstatic!”

“Yes,” said a satisfied voice behind them.

Both Aneila and Neve spun to find Ella Sue standing in the doorway. Aneila grinned. “Hey, Granny.”

“Are you spoiling all my gossip, girl?” Ella Sue shook her head, not waiting for an answer. She came inside, studied the plate Aneila had in her hands, and then looked at Neve. “You
are
going to eat, young lady?”

“Of course,” Neve said. Now she’d
have
to. “So. Great-grandma and one of your granddaughters is going to be a doctor, huh?”

“Oh, yes.” Ella Sue smiled and gestured toward the plate.

Aneila gave Neve a sympathetic smile as she put it down. “You know better than to think you can win when it comes to food,” she said, winking.

Ella Sue pretended not to hear. “Aneila seems to be settling in rather well, don’t you think?”

“Ah … yes?”

That was the right answer, wasn’t it? Hoping she wouldn’t have to say anything else, Neve picked up a piece of summer squash and took a bite.

Ella Sue looked at her granddaughter and smiled. “She’s going to do just fine here when she takes over for me in a year or two.” Now she looked at Neve. Softly, she said, “I’m retiring.”

Neve choked. Slamming a fist against her chest, she tried to dislodge the squash but it wouldn’t come up.

“Well, heavens, child!”

She hit her chest again, panic setting in as the bite refused to go down, and then, abruptly, a pair of arms came around her. That was when the panic
really
set in, but as she was hauled back against a hard chest, a fist against her diaphragm, her lungs struggling for air, she couldn’t even move. Her arms were trapped against her sides.

No, no, no
!

And then, she felt pressure, hard and fast. Something came flying out of her throat, and she was released.

“Well, sis. It looks like you never did learn to chew your food.”

Blood roared in her ears. Adrenaline drained out of her. Barely, just barely, Neve managed to keep from sinking in a puddle to the floor as the relief crashed into her.

It’s okay. It’s okay—

Slowly, she lifted her head and looked up at her big brother.

“Well, hi there, Brannon,” she managed to wheeze out.

*   *   *

Fuck a duck.

Brannon stared at his younger sister.

Two things were glaringly clear—both Moira and Ian had been right on target.

Ian had said she was right beautiful—and she was. Neve had always been pretty, but she’d gone from pretty to nearly breathtaking in the past few years.

And Moira had said Neve looked like she wasn’t eating—again—and acting like she was expecting the ghost of old Paddy McKay to jump out from behind a corner and grab her.

Both of them had been too right.

And now, as she stared at him like she wasn’t sure of her welcome, he found himself wondering just how much of what Ella Sue had said last night had also been right.

He’d adored Neve. His little sister had been part hellion, part angel, and all-around precocious. Even after Mom and Dad had died, she’d still seemed to be like that.

But everything had gotten harder.

She’d try to slip into his room at night, afraid to be alone—

Did you make time for her?

A thirteen-year-old kid didn’t want to wake up and find his eight-year-old sister sneaking into his bedroom at night. And logically, the eight-year-old probably shouldn’t want to.

But that eight-year-old had lost too much.

And when people had suggested things that might have helped … counseling, therapy …

Not us,
Brannon thought bitterly. The McKays didn’t do that shit.

“Hey, Neve,” he said softly, lashing down the bitterness that began to bubble and brew inside him.

Son of a fucking bitch.

Just how badly
had
he and Moira screwed up?

That smile on her face didn’t fool him at all, not when her eyes looked so bruised.

“Goodness, child.”

Ella Sue bustled over to fuss, but Neve waved her off. “I’m fine. Just feel like an idiot.”

The older woman gave her some space, but Brannon wasn’t as nice. He moved in and caught his sister’s face in his hands, and forced her to look at him. She plastered a wide, bright smile on her mouth as the bright color slowly drained away. The color was probably from nearly choking. The overbright glitter in her eyes could have something to do with what Ella Sue had just announced.

“Did you hear what Ella Sue said?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingered for a moment. He’d thought he’d be angry, thought he’d feel … fuck, a lot of things when she finally did come home.

But all he wanted to do was hug her, so that was what he did.

After a while, her arms came around him and she squeezed him back.

Then, after a few seconds, she said, “Ah … Brannon … I … um, I can’t breathe…”

He let her go, grinned at her sheepishly.

“Did you hear what Ella Sue said?” she asked again, her voice plaintive.

He nodded, flicked the older woman a look. “Yeah. She told us a couple of weeks ago about her retirement.”

“Talk her out of it, Bran.” She caught his wrist as he would have turned away.

“Talk her out of it?” He grinned at her and then shook his head. “Ella Sue’s made up her mind. You know what that means.”

Then he gave Ella Sue a wink, who gave him a stern look but he ignored it. “Besides, unlike you and Moira, I know Ella Sue well enough to know that she’ll end up spending half her time here eventually anyway. She loves us too much to ever really leave us.”

Ella Sue sniffed. “Boy, you come around here so rarely, I hardly see you.”

“Yep. That’s why you’re down at Treasure Island twice a week.” He moved over and caught Ella Sue around the waist, hugged her. She hugged him back and, for a minute, he breathed in the scents of orange, spice, and baking bread. She was the closest thing to a mother that any of them had had since their own mother had died. But she’d earned this, and then some.

As he pulled back she glanced at him, and this time, her face wasn’t wearing a smile. She looked grim and serious and her gaze slid past him, oh so fast, in Neve’s direction.

She’d seen it, too.

He gave her a tiny nod.

Something wasn’t right.

The question was when would Neve open up and talk.

She’d been gone a long time, and the distance between them hadn’t just been physical. It had been much, much deeper.

*   *   *

“Come on.”

Ella Sue had left them alone nearly a half hour ago and, although Brannon had kept the discussion light and easy, Neve knew him too well to think it would stay that way.

She should have made a break for it sooner, but it had been so … so nice, she decided. Just so nice to sit there and stare out over the gardens while her brother drank coffee and read the comics and snorted over the paper. It hadn’t been that much different from when she’d left years ago.

But she knew better.

It was a lot different.

She was a lot different.

Everything was different.

Now, as his chair scraped back over the Italian marble, she looked up at him and tried to smile. “Pardon?”

“Come on. We’re not going to hang around here half the day. You’re back home. Let’s go into town. We can walk around and maybe eat supper at the pub.”

“Ah…” The pub.

Where she’d see Ian.

Brannon watched with a bland face. “Treasure Island … remember the old bar? It’s mine now.”

“Yeah. I was … um, I had a drink there last night.”

“You should have had something to eat, too. The kitchen’s amazing. Come on.”