Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (32 page)

“Morning,” she murmured as she strode into the kitchen and found the kitchen table covered by typical early morning chaos and bee-lined for the Advil. “I see Liam’s giving the old Irish breakfast a go again.”  She stopped behind Fallon and dropped a kiss on the top of her sister’s blond head, earning a grin before Fallon dipped her nose in to today’s choice of book, a biography on Abraham Lincoln. Regan rubbed a finger against her temple, wondering where Fallon got the brain capacity she possessed. The little girl had practically come out of the womb with a book in her hand and questions on her lips.

“Nothing like a pile of eggs, bacon, sausage, and potatoes to cure what ails you, right, Sis?”  Liam waggled rust red eyebrows at her as he gestured toward her sunglasses with their mother’s ancient metal spatula.

Regan’s empty stomach rolled as she popped two pieces of bread in the toaster. “Keep your voice down or I’ll bash you over the head with Ma’s rolling pin.” That way they could both have a headache.

“If you can find the rolling pin.” Liam cracked another couple of eggs into the sizzling bacon grease. “Finn says you have a date tonight.”

“Finn has a big mouth.”

“That I do,” Finn said as he joined them by dropping into the chair beside Fallon and plucked the book out of her hand, set it on the far side of the table.

“Hey!” Fallon frowned and grabbed for it, but Finn pushed her back in her chair.

“You know the rules. Only eyeballs at the table. Books, phones, and other electronic devices are no go until you’re out the door.” He leaned back until his chair balanced on two feet and glared at Regan. “You’re slipping, Sis. They’re your rules after all.”

Regan was tired of rules. No.  She sipped caffeine laden coffee and closed her eyes. She was tired of enforcing the rules. Everyone always expected her to be the voice of control, of reason, and the decision maker. What she wouldn’t give to surrender her super power for a day.  With everything else going on—like making sure the pub was a continued success and the boys’ tuition was paid—she was picking her battles.  Fallon with her face in the book didn’t even register.

“Well, look who’s up with the sun.” The surprise, nay, shock in Finn’s voice echoed everyone’s sentiments in the kitchen. “Good morning, Maura.”

“Morning.”

Regan remained where she was while Maura circled the kitchen and headed to the refrigerator for the pitcher of orange juice. “You look nice,” Regan said but the second her voice hit the room, Maura’s body went stiff and her shoulders tightened.  Regan sighed. Still giving her the silent treatment.  Fine.

Her sister might still be wearing jeans, but they were clean, and the plain black t-shirt she wore reminded Regan of the uniforms they wore at the pub. She’d tied her hair up and her makeup was minimal, giving her the youthful look a girl her age should have. “Plans today?”

“Maura’s getting a job,” Fallon announced with enough pride that had Regan smiling as Maura shushed her. There was nothing like little sister admiration. Sadness washed over Regan’s heart. She remembered when Maura had turned idolizing eyes on her once upon a time, but those days were long gone. Somehow, at some point, she and her sister had drifted apart and for the life of her, Regan couldn’t figure out how to get back to her.

“Shut up, squirt.” Maura knocked her hand against Fallon’s arm.

“Where?”  Regan had to give Finn credit for not sounding as shocked as his expression conveyed.

“I don’t want to say,” Maura said without looking at Regan as she took a seat at the table. “In case it doesn’t work out. It’s art related.”

“Of course it is,” Liam said. “It only makes sense. It’s your calling.”

Regan frowned into her coffee, wishing she’d gotten up early enough to brew it herself. Liam always made it too weak. She caught Maura looking at her, a flash of pain crossing her face before she set her jaw and narrowed her eyes.

“Brodie thinks I have talent.” The defensive tone in her sister’s voice struck Regan dead center of her heart. “He doesn’t think art is a waste of time.”

“Who said it was?” Liam asked as he set a plate of bacon and potatoes—Maura hated eggs—in front of her. “We’ve always said you’re incredibly gifted.”

“Not everyone,” Maura muttered with another sly look at Regan. “It’s not that big a deal. It probably won’t happen anyway.”

“Anytime you take responsibility for your life it’s a big deal,” Finn said. “I’m proud of you, Maura. I hope you make a real go of it.”

Maura shrugged.

“Anyone seen Pop this morning?” Regan asked, keeping her mouth shut so as not to disrupt the force that was Maura sulking. Brodie was right. Maura did have talent, but he didn’t know wherever Maura went, disaster was certain to follow.

“Still sleeping.” Still wearing his sleeping sweats and tank, Seamus, the mutant of the family with pitch dark hair and equally dark eyes dropped into his usual chair at the table before bracing his chin in his hand. “What’s with the glasses?” He asked Regan as she pulled her toast out, the sound of the knife scraping butter over the surface setting her teeth on edge.

“Book club,” Liam joked and Seamus said something that sounded like, “ah.”  “Not the first time it’s resulted in a hangover,” Liam continued.  “What exactly goes on at this club anyway?” He air quoted club.

“You’ll never know.” Regan patted his arm as she took her seat at the head of the table opposite Finn. Her head might never forgive her, but she wouldn't give up her club—or her friends—for the world.  Despite their incessant teasing. “I might be out late tonight, too, so it’s up to one of you to get dinner on the table.”

“Can we have pizza?” Fallon asked as she picked at her eggs, poking the runny yolks until they ran over the rest of her breakfast like a gooey tidal wave.

“Liam’s in charge here tonight, so you can ask him,” Finn said before he turned stern eyes on Regan. “Wait. What do you mean
might
be late?”

Regan took a page from Maura’s behavior manual and shrugged as Liam handed out the last of the breakfast plates. She swallowed hard as she stared at the unappetizing eggs swimming in grease. Perhaps it was time for Liam to get some cooking lessons at the pub.

“You’re going on that date with Brodie,” Finn pointed his fork at her as Finn nudged his narrow hip against her arm. “I like him. Seems like a good, honest guy who’s genuinely interested in you. And you can’t hide behind us forever.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Regan hid her frown behind her coffee mug.

“Yes, you do,” Seamus said. “We’ll only let you live in denial for so long, Regan.”

Regan didn’t miss the knowing looks her three brothers exchanged. She narrowed her eyes, looking for answers in their normally open expressions. “What’s going on with you all? What are you up to? And where’s Des?” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen the oldest Murphy son for the last few days.

“Already at work,” Finn said. “He just got a promotion at Oliver Technologies, but it means serious overtime since they’re getting ready for their annual stock holders meeting.”

“That’s good news.” Hopefully a promotion meant a raise. She could do with some extra financial help around here.  There might be days she resented not being able to follow through with her own dreams, but seeing her brothers—and hopefully her sisters—fulfill their own gave her a special sense of accomplishment not to mention a sense of pride. Des especially deserved it, riding herd on the family whenever she’d been stuck at work. She knew the time was coming when Des along with the rest of her brothers would leave the house, but she was happy to have them stick around as long as they wanted. Besides, when they did leave, her work was really going to begin. Especially when it came to their father.

For now, she could rely on the Murphy boys to keep an eye on Cormac—they seemed to understand him better than she did, but even she could see their frustration begin to kick in whenever the subject of their father came up.

She looked around the table, watching her siblings dive into their breakfast with as much gusto as they dived into life. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a romantic life.  It couldn’t. Every accomplishment was another notch in the promise she’d made Ma. She loved her family, too much, some would probably say, and while there were times she wished she didn’t feel so utterly alone, in the end, everything she’d done would be worth it.

That didn’t mean she didn’t feel trapped at times.

Doubt circled like a restless, caged lion, unable to settle, unable to fully relax and yet Regan couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone by her side, always at her back, putting her first for a change.

Someone like...

“Nothing’s written in stone about tonight,” Regan said to get her mind off Brodie. “Something might pop up and I’ll have to cancel.”

“Nothing’s going to pop up. We’ve made sure of it,” Liam said.  “I’m coming in to the pub at eleven and Seamus said he could be there around three, right, Seam?”

“Uh-huh.” Seamus had already plowed through half his breakfast. “I’m caddying at the club until two. Just have to shower and change and I’ll be there. I’ll pick Fallon up from science camp on my way and Liam can bring her home when he’s done.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Maura chimed in with more than a hint of resentment in her voice. “I can take care of myself.”

“As you’ve proven time and again,” Finn said and gave her a look that had Maura shutting up.  “I’ll be in at five, just in time for Brodie to pick you up,” Finn said with a matter-of-factness that reminded Regan so much of their mother her heart ached. “So unless you can come up with some other excuse—”

“Fine.” Regan knew when she was beat.  But going out to dinner with Brodie didn’t mean anything other than a night off work. It wasn’t fair to get either of their hopes up. Yes, she liked him. He was seriously sexy and that smile of his had invaded more of her thoughts than she was comfortable with and thinking of how he was with Cilla just about turned Regan into a puddle of goo.  Practicality and life, however, told her whatever chemistry they shared wouldn’t be enough to go anywhere.

Or would it?

CHAPTER SIX

“Toshi, you chose a great day to take the morning off.” Brodie was lucky to get the open sign turned on by nine. He’d burned the toast—twice—and forgotten to charge his cell phone over night. Add to that Cilla’s pinging around the house like a ricocheting laser beam, overly excited about the day camp’s planned outing to the sea life rescue center in Malibu and her renewed and very vocal desire for a pet of some kind, he was just about at his wit's end by seven thirty a.m.

But it was yet another call from his ex-father-in-law that shot Brodie and his day completely off kilter and culminated with Brodie disconnecting the phone.

The thinly veiled threats of reopening Cilla’s custody case aside, Gemma’s lawyer was petitioning for a new hearing in the hopes of getting her a new trial. The chances were slim, but her father was certain if Brodie testified on her behalf—fat chance—she’d have a good shot of at least having her ten to fifteen year sentence reduced. No doubt the fact Gemma was refusing to see either of her parents was somehow Brodie’s doing, but he couldn’t allow himself to be swayed by their insistence Gemma was only in prison because of him.

Despite Ray’s hostility this morning, Brodie knew he and Florence had no intention of suing him for custody. Their lawyer had resigned after the last court hearing and as far as Brodie knew, another hadn’t taken their case.  But Gemma’s parents knew him well enough to know what buttons to push. Letting his lawyer know about the latest call seemed like overkill at this point. Ray and Florence were angry and frustrated and dealing with their only child being in prison. Reporting them to the judge would only exacerbate the situation. Better he just try to cut off communication once and for all.

It didn’t help that once he arrived at the studio, the new appointment system in the desktop computer at MARKED had decided to act all wonky and that the coffee maker had gone on strike. Actually, he wouldn’t put it past Toshi to have sabotaged said appliance. His friend was willing to do anything to shift Brodie over to his experimental tea regimen.

The only thing keeping Brodie sane at this point was the promise of seeing Regan tonight. She was like a tether to sanity, keeping him locked down and in place while the rest of the world spun around him. Just thinking about her made him feel...lighter.

He waited for the computer to reboot, drumming his fingers on the desk as he silently pleaded with the electronic Gods to grant him a reprieve and set things right once more.

The phone rang and for an instant, Brodie considered letting it go to voice mail, on the off chance Ray had tracked down MARKED’s number.  But he couldn’t take the chance on losing a customer.  “MARKED. How can I help you?”  He answered, and within seconds felt the weight of unease loosen in his chest as he scribbled down information for a potential customer. 

When the door opened and Maura Murphy walked in, Brodie almost forgot to tell his new client goodbye before he hung up. “Good morning, Maura.”  He couldn’t think what else to say except to ask why she was here and that might come across as accusatory. What the teenager was doing here, however, could qualify as a mystery for the ages.

“Hi.”  She shoved her hands into the tight pockets of her jeans, her worn messenger bag strapped across her torso as she rocked on her heels.  “I thought about what you said yesterday. At the pub,” she added, pointing behind her as if he needed reminding where it was.  She dug into the pocket of her bag and pulled out a new notebook.  “I thought you might be interested in these. You know. For promotion maybe?”  She handed the pages over, a thin veil of haughtiness masking uncertainty.  “I noticed you didn’t have a logo or a brand around here.  I took a business class last semester and they talked about how important they are, especially when starting something new. I kept to the color tones you used.”

Brodie got to his feet and open the notebook, looked down at the intricate “M” interspersed with the rest of the letters in MARKED. The design was crisp, elegant, but maintained that masculine touch he’d been going for with the interior design of the studio. The dark colors intermingled with light, creating shadows within the name of his business while making a definite and strong impression on the reader. She’d done a variety of them, all in the same style, but for use in different advertising arenas. At some point he could envision the solitary feathered edge “M” to be more than enough to identify his store.