I covered my mouth with my hand to keep the laugh tickling my throat at bay.
Brenda let out a belting laugh, slapping her hand against her leg. “She acts like ye never saw a naked bairn before.” Her laugh carried through to warble her words. Tickled. She was downright tickled with herself.
Airen, not to be one-upped by her aunt, stormed back into the room, finger pointed in her aunt’s direction. “I, for one, don’t think it’s funny. And here ye are hanging up my nakedness for any stranger to see. Shame on ye, Auntie!”
Brenda let out another rolling laugh and crossed the room, pulling Airen hard against her in a bone-cracking hug. “I’m that glad yer home, lass. I’ve missed yer sass and fire.”
Airen hugged her back, rolling her eyes up at the ceiling. “I’ve missed ye too, but if ye put up another one of those baby pictures, I’m leaving again and no coming back.”
“Oh? Well, I best put the rest of them away then for sure!” Brenda tried schooling her features, but her smile couldn’t be contained. Especially when she noticed the storm cloud that rolled over Airen’s face.
Putting her hand against Airen’s cheek, she looked her straight in the eye and said, “I’m joking. That was the only one I put up. And you were only about two and covered in bubbles.”
Brenda stepped back as Airen sputtered. “You can’t be leaving pictures like that of me about the house!”
I cleared my throat, hoping to put an end to the explosion of wills between the two.
It worked, because they both turned to look at me. Brenda’s eyebrow quirked along with the corner of her mouth. I just had this feeling—
“And what about you, Aiden?” Brenda asked.
“Me? What about me?” I didn’t like where the conversation was heading, especially if it included me.
“Ye saw the picture, surely?”
Had I been prepared for Brenda’s question, I could have schooled my features, but I hadn’t, and I could feel a tingle of warmth across my cheeks.
She watched me intently, her lips pulled tight against her teeth, trying to hold her humor at bay. Airen looked everywhere but at me. Her cheeks had turned well past pink and went straight to scarlet red.
“I suppose the only right thing to do is—”
I watched Brenda as she said it to me with a wink. Teasing. She was teasing Airen and getting quite a rise out of her. She wiggled her eyebrows, willing me in her canny way to go along with it.
And damn me if I didn’t do it too. “We’ll have to get married. That’s all there is to it now that I’ve seen her in the bathtub.”
Airen’s head snapped up, eyes as wide as saucers, the color draining from her face as her mouth opened and closed like a landed fish.
I held it as long as I could, but the need to laugh made it impossible to keep quiet.
Brenda, however, broke first. “Och! And the look on your face—priceless. Aiden, lad, ye had her going for a minute, to be sure.”
Airen covered her face with both hands and stumbled over to a well-worn chair, sitting with a bounce in the middle.
Enveloped in the rich plum color of the chair, she pulled her legs up and rested her head against her knees. With arms wrapped tight around her legs, her entire body shuddered hard enough to make the springs of the chair squeak.
Brenda shook her head and left the room, leaving me wondering just how to deal with the situation. I took a step and stopped, casting a weary glance over my shoulder in hopes Brenda would be there to take care of her niece. No luck there. With the sound of silverware being plucked from a drawer, she wasn’t coming back any time soon.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I approached Airen slowly, not knowing what the hell to do. Crying girls made me antsy. I didn’t know what to do with one. Her head snapped up as my foot kicked over a basket of yarn.
Colorful balls scattered along the floor in every direction. “Son of a bitch,” I hissed to myself. I bent down, grabbing the basket, as Airen’s feet slid off the chair and hit the carpet beside it.
Bending over, she scooped up a yellow ball of yarn and dropped it into the basket. “Only fifteen or more to go,” she said, smiling as she pushed up from the chair and squatted down to grab two more. Together, we picked up the rest in silence.
When all the balls of yarn were safely tucked back in the basket, which was equally tucked up against the chair, out of harm’s way, did we speak. We both talked over one another to say we were sorry.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” she asked me.
I shrugged. It wasn’t as if I’d done anything to intentionally hurt her. I’d just been following along with the joke. “I shouldn’t have poked fun at you like that. It upset you and well, I’m sorry.”
Cupping her hand over her mouth as a snort of laughter escaped her, she fell back into the chair she’d vacated to help me with the great yarn escapade. She managed to pull her hand away, wiped the underside of her eyes, and pulled her legs up under her.
Once settled, she turned her attention back to me. “I assume by you saying you were poking fun means you were having a go at me?”
“O’course that’s what he meant. Even so, I did say ye had an odd way of saying things,” Brenda said as she came back in the living room with a loaded tea tray.
Moving around to the couch, I felt the seat cushion hit the back of my legs, wondering what in the hell I was supposed to do or say. I should have just dropped her bag on the couch, made my excuses, and left. In fact… “I best be going.”
“Oh, but surely, ye must stay for dinner. It’s the least I can do for ye driving us home and being the gentleman!” Brenda said, pouring out a steaming stream of tea neatly in three cups. “Besides, the tea is poured. You don’t want to rush out now and miss my newest blend.”
She cornered me, or rather, she took control of the situation. If I had left, she would have questioned my manners. At least, that was what Grant had warned me about. “Never walk out on tea, Aiden. You might never get invited back.” He’d meant in a generalized statement, but it in fact applied to the situation I found myself in.
I took the cup from her hand, feeling the thin porcelain hot against my skin. All I needed to do was hike out my pinkie, ask for the Grey Poupon, and I’d be just like a refined gentleman. Not likely, you’re about as redneck as you can get, Aiden.
Easing my way onto the couch, I brought the fragrant drink up to my nose, inhaling it to get an idea of what was in it before I drank it. Something fruity with a hint of sweet? Mentally shrugging at my guess, I took a sip, hissing when it scalded my tongue.
“Mind your tea, it’s hot,” Brenda said, plunking a cinnamon stick in my cup.
I eyed it wearily. What the hell was I supposed to do with it?
Brenda walked over to where Airen sat, motioning for her to stand up. “And you, oot my chair.”
“Not back a day and I can’t even sit in yer chair as a welcome home. Making me move to the couch like a guest,” Airen grumbled back, holding the teacup in one hand, her other sought the cinnamon stick and stirred her tea with it.
“A guest ye might be if ye keep up the sass, and don’t be forgetting, I have just the thing to take care of ye at that!”
I moved to scoot over, giving Airen room beside me on the couch. She smiled briefly at me before sinking into the corner and pulling her legs under her.
“The two of you look like a pair o’ birds. One’s roosting in, and one’s ready to take flight,” Brenda said, bringing her cup up and inhaling the rising steam. “What do you think? It’s an old recipe; I’ve tweaked it just a bit.”
I moved back against the cushions, settling in as Airen pursed her lips, blowing to cool the scalding liquid before taking a hesitant sip. That would have been the smart thing to do. What the hell did I know about hot tea? The only tea I drank was sugared and iced to perfection, and you could drink it right away in mass amounts.
“It’s good, Aunt Brenda, like always. The cinnamon stick is new.” Airen broug
ht the dainty cup to her lips, taking another sip as Brenda shifted her gaze to me, lifting her cup as if signaling for me to drink up.
“Oh, aye, I don’t use it very often. Special occasions usually, but no more than that,” she answered, getting to her feet. She set the cup down on the tray and turned to exit the room, saying, “O’course, it was used by my great-gran with love spell workings. No too sure how that all worked out, mind.”
Airen sputtered beside me, choking on the mouthful of tea she’d been in the process of swallowing at Brenda’s revelation.
I took the cup from her outstretched hand, setting hers and mine on the tea tray, scowling at the cheerful blue-flowered pot as if it were the guilty party, instead of Brenda.
She caught her breath, wiping her shirtsleeve under her eyes, and groaned. “I’m sorry, Aiden. She fancies herself a matchmaker. And she’s not very subtle about it.”
Pushing my hands against my knees, I rose from the couch. “I should probably go. Tell Brenda thank you for…” I gestured to the tea tray. “I’ll ah… I’ll see her tomorrow.”
Not waiting for her reply, I bee-lined it for the door, making my escape.
At the end of the driveway, the breeze shifted, blowing a sheet of rain towards me like an avenging angel. With no way of outrunning it, I set out for the church at an even clip, cursing the fact I’d decided to wear lace-up boots instead of tennis shoes.
By the time I’d made it to the church, the rain had blown off, leaving me waterlogged. Puddles the size of small lakes reflected the muted glow of the street lamps I passed.
The time it took me to get back to the church didn’t help sort my thoughts. In fact, it had left me even more confused as to how to handle my investigation. The obvious choice would be to get closer to Airen and unearth whatever I could over the course of time I had left. It didn’t feel right though. And what Robert de Fleur does is right?
I jerked my sweatshirt over my head, wringing it out as my thoughts battled against each other. Thunder rumbled overhead, matching my foul mood. I’d come all the way to Scotland to live under a church, work in a coffee shop, thwart a matchmaking aunt, and run in the freezing rain with no sign of Robert de Fleur as the kick in the ass for it all.
Wrenching open the back door, I made my way to the basement, hoping not to run into anyone until I had time to process what had transpired since meeting Brenda’s niece.
HE RAN OUT AS IF the devil himself were chasing him. And didn’t he have it right then? Aunt Brenda and all her matchmaking skills couldn’t catch Aiden if she tried.
I knew it, because he had the same flicker of fear running in him as I did in me. I’d seen it in the way his eyes rounded as he turned to me when he left.
When he bolted, I crossed the room in four quick strides, peeking out past the lace curtain of the window beside the door. He’d slowed just at the shadows of the tree line and then disappeared, making me wonder if he meant what he said about seeing Aunt Brenda the next day.
“Run off, did he?” Aunt Brenda asked, poking her head out of the kitchen.
My finger twitched against the curtain. Letting it go, I schooled my telltale face, and turned around. “Do ye blame him? I mean really, Aunt Brenda. Should ye be giving him a go without really knowing him?”
“Ye think I scared him off? Lass, ye’ve no idea about that one,” Aunt Brenda answered. The tart tone of her voice was stretched across her lips in a pucker.
“Ye did scare him off. And well enough that he might no come back, I’d say.” I tried to look nonchalant, but Aunt Brenda had turned away, heading back to the kitchen.
Evidently, we weren’t done talking about it, because she answered loud enough for me to hear her, which meant she wanted me to follow her into the kitchen.
Her back was to me as she opened the oven and pulled out a casserole dish “It’ll take more than me to scare him off.”
I stopped at the narrow island bar, pulling out a high-back stool and sitting down. The kitchen, along with the rest of the house, looked the same as it did the day I left—from the polished cooktop to the magnet arrangement on the refrigerator. Everything had remained the same, as if frozen in time.
Setting the steaming dish on a hot pad, Aunt Brenda changed her tactics. “Did you no see how he handles himself? Sure of himself, that one. And would keep you straight enough. I dare to say he’d be a right good—”
“Dinna even finish that statement, Auntie!” I dropped my head with an audible bang against the bar and sighed.
I heard the sound of the wood spoon sliding from the ceramic vase she kept beside the stove. My head snapped up just as she brought the grooved head down on my arm. “Ouch! What the hell was that for?”
She popped my other arm. “Yer smart mouth, that’s what for. And yer dirty mind. Aye, I ken what you were thinking and ye should probably head straight down to Father McKinnon.”
I jerked back far enough to where she couldn’t whack me again with her damnable spoon, raised an eyebrow, and said, “I’ll get yer coat, because surely, if ye knew what I was thinking, ye were thinkin’ it as well.”
Twin spots of red bloomed on her cheeks as she put her weapon away and set to pulling down two plates. She handed them to me, meeting my eyes with shimmering merriment. “Weel, maybe we’ll just wait ‘till Sunday next and go together.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It had always been like that with Aunt Brenda. No matter how proper she tried to be, she couldn’t fool me, and she knew it. “Aye, I dare say ye have more to confess than me. What did ye mean at getting on with Aiden? Ye ken it as well as I do; he’ll no be here longer than a few months. They never stay, Auntie.”
She gathered the casserole dish from the cooktop and sashayed past me to the dining room. “Aye, I ken it. Doesn’t mean ye can’t try to change his mind. Yer no getting any younger, lass.”
I rolled my eyes at her back, following behind her to set the table. “Let it be, Auntie. I’m no interested in settling down, let alone luring an American to my bed.”
She poked her finger in the air at me. “Ye ken tha’s no what I meant. Besides, ye canna do worse than that lad. Assuredly. D’ye no hear him? A voice like warm honey. And a devilishly handsome face, too.”
The plate in my hands slipped from my fingers with a soft bump against the table. I wiped my hands down the front of my jeans, eliminating the immediate slickness there from the reminder of how he’d spoken. The soft cadence and slow way he pronounced things with an accent that was just as my aunt had described… warm honey. Damn her for being right about it.
“So ye did notice?” she asked, trying to keep the hint of laughter from her voice.
Turning on my heel, I walked back to the kitchen to get the silverware and gain some much-needed space from my aunt’s hawkish stare.
I wasn’t sure how she did it, but she could read me like an open book. To everyone else, I remained a mystery. Even Adam, my very best friend, hadn’t been able to do it, and we’d been closer than anyone. Remembering Adam made my chest ache. No matter how much I wished for the pain to recede, it was always there—ready to suck me under again.
Shaking my head, I pinched my eyes closed, taking a deep breath and releasing it. I wouldn’t let the sorrow pull me under. I’d learned how to deal with, I just needed to keep it locked up where I’d put it years ago.
Clenching the forks in my hand, I set them down and pulled two cups from the cabinet. Turning on the tap, I filled each cup and then carried everything back to the table with schooled features. Leaving the past behind me where it belonged.
Aunt Brenda had served out a heaped helping on my plate. My stomach clenched against the rich smells coming from the heavy, creamed sauce she’d made.
“What is that?” I asked, handing her a glass of water and then a fork.
“Chicken in white sauce,” she answered, clasping her hands in front of her.
I bowed my head, respecting her pre-dinner prayer that encompassed the food, my return home,
and a special request that it tasted better than Mary Young’s original recipe.
I murmured ‘Amen’ with her and waited until after she took her first bite before laughing. “Did ye have to ask the Lord to ensure it tasted better than Mary Young’s recipe? That seems like unnecessary use of the Lord’s power.”
The forkful of food she’d lifted from her plate hung in the air en route to her mouth. “Aye, ye dinna have the honor of trying the poison she’d foisted on me. I changed it up a bit…” Seeing the look on my face, she huffed.
“And what did ye no change?” I asked, biting the inside of my lip as I eyed the pile of food on my plate.
“The chicken,” she replied, and then moved the fork between her lips. She hummed in delight as she chewed.
My fork clattered to my plate as I laughed. “Aye, that sounds about right then.”
Aunt Brenda pulled a linen napkin she’d placed on her lap up to her lips and daintily wiped each corner of her mouth. “I canna help it if the woman is a foul cook. All I can do is improve the meals she makes a right mess of.”
She waved off talk of Mary Young and her cooking, changing the subject. “D’ye have a nice chat with yer mum?”
I groaned, stabbing a piece of chicken and putting it in my mouth.
Aunt Brenda watched me with a scowl that spread across her face. “What’s amiss then?”
To keep from answering right away, I wrapped my hand around my cup and took a swallow of water, washing down the heavy cream sauce in my mouth.
I hadn’t eaten anything that rich in a long time, and my stomach would surely revolt because of it. My stomach clenched, adding to the discomfort that my mother was not happy I hadn’t made an appearance on her doorstep the minute I returned.
Sighing, I told Aunt Brenda about our short conversation. I put my hand on Aunt Brenda’s arm when she bristled beside me. “Dinna fash, Aunt Brenda. I told her I’d go see her first thing tomorrow.”
That seemed to settle her a bit and to keep the peace as I did my best to eat everything she put on my plate. I knew I’d pay for it later on when the heartburn hit.
If Ever I Fall: Book 3 of The Six Series Page 4
