The Trouble with Temptation (40 page)

“So glad to know.”

Gideon’s voice caught his attention and he slanted his gaze toward the man standing near the door.

“How was your date?” he asked.

It must have been the pain pills. Brannon wouldn’t have asked that in a thousand years if he hadn’t been strung out on pain and still loopy from the meds they’d given him before he left. Granted, when the nurse had mentioned it, he’d been damn well aggravated, but he hadn’t meant to
say
anything.

The room went quiet.

Slowly, Gideon shifted his gaze to him.

Neve blinked. “What date?”

Ian was staring intently at the bags he’d lined up along the wall. “Neve, why don’t you help with these, darlin’? Show me where they go?”

“What date?” Neve asked, mystified. “You weren’t out with Moira. She was … oh.”

She turned to the bags, grabbed some blindly. “Come on, Ian. I’ll show you where these two lovebirds are staying.”

When she went to shove past Gideon, he caught her arm. “Neve, sweetheart…”

“Don’t.” Her voice was hoarse. She shook her head. “I get it, okay? You deserve to be happy and I know that and all she does is push people away. But…” She sniffled. “Moira should be happy, too, shouldn’t she?”

“If she’d let me make her happy, Trouble, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Gideon sighed and looked away. “But she doesn’t want to be happy. Not with me anyway.”

*   *   *

Moira stood in the hall.

Eyes closed, tears burning, she regulated her breathing and didn’t let herself move.

They’d made it back quicker than they’d planned but Ella Sue had rushed back out because she’d forgotten something.

Something important, she’d claimed.

So she’d left Moira there to put up the groceries.

If Moira had just moved her ass when she heard Gideon’s voice, she could have avoided this.

But no …

Slowly, she moved back into the kitchen, swiped at the tears on her face.

So he’d gone on a date.

He was done waiting.

She understood.

She’d been waiting for that, really.

But still … it hurt.

A sob welled up in her throat, tried to choke her, but she wouldn’t let it. She forced herself under control and then grabbed her iPhone, a pair of earbuds, jammed them in. She dribbled water on a paper towel to dab at her eyes.

She waited another moment and then moved out into the hallway, smiling when she saw Ian.

“You’re back. Ella Sue?” Ian’s teeth flashed white in his beard.

Moira shook her head. “She had to run back out. Are they already here?”

Ian nodded, although his eyes were … sad. When she passed by him, he caught her in a quick hug. He said nothing and she forced herself to give him a curious look.

For a moment, she thought he’d say something. But then he just shook his head. “Come on, then. Ready to hassle your brother?”

“It’s a sister’s job.” They walked together into the large, cheerful room where everybody waited. Light shown in brilliantly, but for her, everything seemed dull, dark, and lifeless.

Her gaze landed on Gideon. He gave her a short nod, but that was it. Unlike the way he’d always looked at her, the way she’d always
expected
him to look at her, she realized.

She gave him a casual smile as she told herself,
Show time
.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

To a McKay, family is all.

Family is everything.

Brannon sat with Hannah at his side and his family around them. Moira was at the head and he wondered what she thought it meant that Ella Sue continued to seat Gideon at the foot, across from her.

Of course, if Moira—or Ella Sue—knew that Gideon had spent the better part of last night traipsing around town with Deputy Maris Cordell, then Moira would shut down and Ella Sue just might upend the soup tureen over the man’s head.

He then wondered if that might count as assaulting a police officer. Not that Gideon would ever charge Ella Sue for attacking him with a big bucket of soup. He loved the woman too much.

Distracted, he glanced around the table.

Everybody was there.

But not everybody was sitting.

Ella Sue was still bustling around and he tried to catch her eye.

He was already worn out. Not that it took much. He eased a little higher in the chair and slid Hannah what he hoped was a casual glance. She had her glass of water in her hand and smiled at him as she took a sip.

He wished they could do champagne. But it wasn’t fair to her, so he wasn’t having any if she couldn’t.

After. Once the baby was born.

If she said—

“I was going to wait for this,” Ian said abruptly, standing up from his chair.

Ella Sue appeared in the doorway, her brows arching high over her eyes.

Everybody else was looking at Ian.

And then grinning as Ian went to one knee in front of Neve.

“Hey!” Brannon snapped. Then he had to stop.

Ella Sue clapped a hand over her mouth, a laugh escaping.

Ian glared at him. “Do you mind?”

“Actually, I do.” He would have slumped in his chair or gotten up to kick Ian’s ass, if he could have.

But he didn’t have the energy, or even the strength, for that, so he sat and brooded.

When Hannah glanced at him, he managed a weak smile.

Ella Sue continued to laugh.

“Neve.” Ian stared at her as though she had hung the stars in his universe, teeth flashing in his beard.

She had a hand pressed to her lips. Her right hand, because Ian had her left hand.

“You’re my heart, Neve,” he said simply. “Say you’ll be my wife.”

Her response was to fling her arms around his neck and start kissing him.

“Is that a yes?” Gideon asked.

“It better be,” Brannon muttered.

Hannah smacked at his knee. “Oh, hush. Quit being so grumpy.”

“I got good reason.”

Ella Sue had finally stopped laughing, leaning against the door. “Hannah, honey, give the man a break.”

Then she slid her eyes over to Brannon expectantly.

“I shouldn’t do this now,” he said sourly. “He ruined it.”

All of a sudden, every eye in the place, Neve’s and Ian’s included, were on him.

Hannah looked startled as he shifted around and caught her hand. “I can’t get down on bended knee,” he said softly. “If I do, they’ll have to pick me back up. But I’ve got this … and unlike that ass, I
was
planning to do this. Here’s my proof.”

He flipped open a box.

The box, other than a quick check that afternoon—from him and from Ella Sue—had remained closed for twenty years, closed, and sealed, tucked away in a vault inside the bank in town.

Hannah sucked in a breath, startled.

“This was my mother’s,” he said softly. “My father gave it to her. And before that, my grandfather gave it to my grandmother. The diamond has been in the family for generations … since Patrick McKay had it set in a ring and gave it to his bride Madeleine and brought her here from New York.”

Hannah slowly lifted her eyes to his. “Brannon…”

“It always goes to the oldest son, for him to give to his wife. As the only son…” He cleared his throat. “Hannah, will you marry me?”

He couldn’t go to his knees. So Hannah climbed into his lap, gingerly, taking care not to bump into him as she wrapped her arms around him. “That better be a yes,” he said into her ear.

“Yes, you big idiot,” she said, a husky sob tripping her up halfway through. “It’s a yes.”

“Then let me put on the ring.”

She clung to him another moment and then straightened up, watching as he slid the old, elegant band into place. The diamond, almost as large as her pinkie nail, gleamed up at her, set in a band of platinum. It was elegant and genteel and beautiful.

“You can get a new setting. My mom did. That’s—”

“I love it.” She leaned in and kissed him. “I absolutely love it.”

He buried his face in her hair.

She laughed, a shaky, nervous sound. “This is seriously as old as the town?”

“Yes.” The answer came from Moira and Hannah looked up, saw the woman she would soon be able to call sister.

Moira pulled something out from under her shirt. “We all have something—by tradition. The locket goes to the oldest daughter. Neve has a ring. That goes to the youngest child. If there are middle children there are other pieces, too. They stay in the vault otherwise, although any of us can use them. But these pieces are the main ones, the wedding ring, the locket, and the emerald that Neve has.”

“I don’t wear mine,” Neve said, her voice husky. She smiled a little. “I’ll wear it at my wedding. But that one
is
still in the original setting and it’s pretty delicate.”

Hannah rested her brow against Brannon’s. “Wow. We’re really doing this.”

“Damn straight. You said yes. You can’t back out now.”

She laughed and then, grinning, she shot Neve a look. “Maybe we should have a double wedding.”

“Ohhhh…” Neve started to grin.

“Hell, no,” Brannon said. He glared at Ian. “The man already stole my thunder, popping the question when I had everything planned for this.”

“Nobody could ever steal your thunder, baby.” Hannah curled an arm around his neck and relaxed against his chest.

Around them, conversation started to rise and fall, but they were caught up in their own little world.

Brannon placed his hand on her belly just as the baby kicked.

He jumped, looking up at her.

She guided his hand back, held it in place.

“I think she approves,” Hannah said softly.

“That’s good. Because I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to Jim at Turtle Run Winery in Corydon, Indiana. Another thank you to my son, who we shall call Music Man. I needed help on cars and he’s becoming something of a car guru when he isn’t learning how to play the guitar.

Read on for an excerpt from the next book by
SHILOH WALKER

The Right Kind of Trouble

Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

Gideon cupped her chin, lifting her face to his.

She swallowed and the pull of his eyes was so intoxicating, she almost forgot to notice the pain in her throat.

“Don’t cry.” He moved in closer, hips angling in slightly, shoulders rounding as he drew nearer to her. She felt surrounded by him, but it wasn’t enough. “Please don’t cry. You gut me when you do. You know that.”

Shaking her head, she reached for his waist, kneading the taut muscle there. She didn’t know if she was telling him she wasn’t going to cry or what. But the tears continued to burn and she wanted nothing more than to curl herself around him and cling tight.

If she clung to him tight enough, he could never leave. The scent of him started to go to her head, the rasp of his fingers sending shivers through her as he slid one hand around her neck to stroke her skin.

She caught one wrist in her hand, bringing his hand to her cheek.

Gideon had gone rigid and he didn’t move at all when she pressed her mouth to his palm.

She didn’t let it stop her.

She’d known he hadn’t brought her up here with any intention other than to make her rest. Gideon, ever her protector.

She didn’t want
protection
, though. She just wanted him. She wanted what she’d been throwing away all these years and she wanted him back for always. After she’d pressed a kiss to his palm, she nudged him back. His eyes glittered, his cheekbones standing out in stark relief against his deeply tanned skin. He was all hollows and angles and long lean lines. He’d always been able to stop her breath and the rugged masculinity of him had become even more refined over the past few years.

She caught his face and tugged.

He resisted for a minute and she was almost certain he’d pulled away.

So she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his chin, slid them down. When she got to his neck, his head fell to the side—slightly. It was enough. His skin was salty and warm and she could have happily spent the next few hours doing nothing but learning the taste of him all over again. She found the rapid beat of his pulse with her tongue—then her teeth.

“
Fuck
!” Gideon’s snarl was vicious and he tangled his hand in her hair.

She found herself trapped in the next moment, between his long, rangy body and nearest column of her poster bed. Her breath stuttered out of her as he boosted her up, shoving his hips into the cradle of hers. “Don’t,” he said, his breath coming out in ragged pants. His eyes burned as he stared at her. “You aren’t jerking me around like this again, Moira. If you don’t mean this … if you…”

He stopped and looked away and she saw his jaw clenching, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The emotion coming out of him battered at her and she wanted to draw him close, stroke away all the misery. But she’d caused this. She’d done this. Could she even
begin
to fix all the pain she’d brought him?

“If you’re just going to walk away again, Moira … don’t.”

He put her down and started to pace. Moira wanted to go to him, but what was she supposed to do? Pantomime what she was feeling? She’d already tried to
show
him and that wasn’t working.

A muttered curse caught her ears and she looked up just as he spun to face her, rage written all over his normally calm features. “You’re killing me inside, okay? You’re…”

Then he stopped, his cheeks puffing out as he blew out a slow breath. He drew in a deeper, slower one, holding it for a few seconds. She opened her mouth, but he lifted a hand.

He wasn’t asking her, though. The question was directed inward.

“Look, you can’t even talk,” he said, still not facing her. “You can’t explain what’s going on and I can’t see inside your head. I don’t know what you want—”

She reached for the buttons on her shirt. He’d never leave without looking back at her one last time.

She didn’t think.