“I didn’t hear that,” Mack laughed. “So how much was stolen? And what’s next on your lovely lady’s list of adventures?”
The idea of taking her out for another adventure on his motorcycle flashed through Brant’s thoughts. But memories of their kiss lingered and he shook his head. “We’re going for the boring stuff from now on,” he announced. “No more adventures.”
“Pity,” Reid teased, his eyes sparkling over the rim of his glass. “I think you should have many more adventures with Gianna.”
“Nope!” he declared firmly. “Mack, what’s going on in your world?” he asked, changing the subject. He didn’t want to think about this morning any longer. Their lawyer, a beautiful but deadly shark named Andrea, had already filed a restraining order and worked with the prosecutor to ensure the appropriate charges were filed.
“Change of subject,” Reid announced. “You’re coming for Thanksgiving,” he announced to Mack. “Both of you.” It wasn’t a question.
“We’re not doing our usual football games up here?” Mack replied.
“Selena wants a traditional Thanksgiving meal. I’m supposed to make sure both of you are there. So don’t even think about missing it.”
“Selena is amazing,” Mack laughed. “What can I bring?”
“Anything you want. Or more specifically, anything you want to have for the meal. We’ll still get plenty of football in. She promised not to mess with that.”
“Good woman,” Brant replied, lifting his glass in a salute.
“I’ll be there. And I’ll bring something. No idea what though.”
“I’ll be there as well,” Brant agreed. “Hot wings okay?”
And both men laughed. Mack couldn’t see the glare their oldest brother gave Brant, but he could assume. “You’re playing with fire,” Mack teased.
“I know. But is there any other way?”
All three brothers chuckled.
Chapter 7
The doorbell rang and Brant looked around. “Who the hell is visiting on Thanksgiving day?” he demanded, irritated but not sure why.
Okay, so he knew exactly why he was angry but he wasn’t going to admit it to his brothers. He’d never hear the end of it if he even hinted that he wanted to be at the office. But not for the regular reasons. He wanted to be there because he wanted to see Gianna. He needed to hear her and see her. Four days without her was too long.
Besides, just because he wasn’t going to see Gianna for four days, it wasn’t a good enough reason to be snapping everyone’s heads off! He should be relieved, he told himself. He should be happy that he’d be away from the woman, not trying to figure out her next move, or avoid making a move on her.
After that kiss at the warehouse, Brant hadn’t slept well and, even when he was awake, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. And dreaming about her. Aching for her!
“Damn it!” he growled and stood up, stalking away from the sofa.
“You okay?” Selena asked gently, pausing as she moved from the kitchen area to answer the door.
“I’m fine. Sorry about that.”
He smiled apologetically, softening his outburst. He liked Selena a lot. She made Reid happy and that was all that mattered to him.
Reid wiped his hands off on a towel and put a hand to the small of her back. “He’s just grumpy because he thinks he won’t see Gianna for several days,” he explained, kissing his wife on the cheek. “He’ll ease up as soon as he knows.”
Selena blinked, confused as she looked from her husband to Mack and then to Reid. “Did none of you tell him then?” she asked, gesturing vaguely towards the front door.
Mack laughed. “And ruin the surprise? Why would we do that?”
Selena sighed. “You brothers are truly evil,” she muttered, turning to answer the doorbell. “I’m so glad I was an only child.”
All three brothers chuckled, but by the time she’d disappeared, Brant’s curiosity got the better of him. “What didn’t either of you tell me?”
He heard the front door open and then voices. Feminine voices. He glared first at Reid and then at Mack. Then he recognized the lilting Italian accent mingled with the soft tones from Selena.
“Oh, by the way,” Reid came up and draped a carefully casual arm over Brant’s shoulders, “Selena invited Gianna to Thanksgiving dinner.”
Mack chuckled gleefully as all three men turned to face the front of the house just as Selena walked in with Gianna.
Brant felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She was absolutely stunning with all of those soft, dark curls piled on top of her head like that. She had a few sparkly things in her hair, but he had no idea why. The sparkles just pulled his attention away from her soft, full lips. But only for a moment. All it took for him to focus back on those lips was her smile and he was lost.
“Reid, Brant, you already know Gianna, obviously. Mack, this is Gianna Lianar from Italy. This will be her first Thanksgiving, so we’re going to make it extra special!”
Reid took one of the casserole dishes Gianna carried. “Welcome Gianna. We hope this experience won’t make you hate our traditional eating-fest.”
Mack took the other dish. “So, you’re Gianna,” he smiled charmingly, tucking the dish under his arm. Lifting her hand to his lips, he bowed slightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I think I’m going to have to visit my brothers more often,” and he kissed her fingers lightly.
“Back off,” Brant warned threateningly.
Mack only peered coolly over his shoulder, trying to hand the dish to his brother. “Brant, could you put this on the counter while I get our guest a drink?”
Brant ignored the casserole dish and took Gianna’s hand. “I’ll get the lady a drink. You take care of that dish.”
Leading Gianna over to the table where Selena had set out wine glasses and bottles of both white and red wine for dinner, he glared at his brother over Gianna’s lovely head. “Ignore him. He’s just an…idiot.”
Gianna’s soft giggle caught his attention. “What’s so funny?” he asked, lifting the bottle of red.
“Your brother is quite charming,” she teased. “And is he, perhaps, a bit taller than you?”
“No!” Brant snapped, pouring the wine and handing it to her. “And he’s a mountain man. He hates the city, preferring to live out in the wilderness with the wild animals. Stay away from him. I don’t think he’s up to date on his rabies shots.”
More laughter, this from everyone, including Mack who’d brought the dish over to the counter and peered underneath the foil covering. “What did you make?”
Selena swatted at his hand, then turned to Gianna. “I told you that you didn’t need to bring anything. Between these guys and me, we had everything covered.”
Gianna sipped her wine, holding it in front of herself defensively. “I have read a great deal about Thanksgiving. From what I understand, everyone brings something to contribute to the meal. So I was just following the rules.”
Brant ran a hand up and down her back. “There aren’t any hard and fast rules about Thanksgiving. Most families just make it up as they go along and have their own personal traditions.”
Selena smiled. “What did you bring?”
“Well, I don’t really know how to make American foods. I’ve tried to cook some of your traditional dishes, such as macaroni and cheese, but everything just turns out burned or inedible. So for today, I went back to the recipes my momma or papa taught me to cook over the years. Since you said you were roasting a turkey, I brought Italian roasted vegetables and…piccolo cannoli for desert.” She shrugged. “I know that pumpkin and apple pie are traditional, but I don’t have anything similar that I know how to make.”
“Sound delicious,” Brant assured her.
“I agree,” Reid said and started to slip his fingers under the wax paper cover to grab one of the small cannoli bites. But Selena smacked his hand. A moment later, Selena yelped, laughing when Reid picke
d her up and tickled her neck, nuzzling along her nape with his nose.
Gianna watched the affectionate byplay, feeling Brant’s hand curl into a fist against the small of her back. Why? Did he not think that love between people was beautiful? Looking up at him, trying to understand, she couldn’t interpret the expression on his handsome features. Normally, she would translate his expression to one of jealousy, but could he really have feelings for his brother’s wife?
Gianna was sure that Selena would have mentioned any kind of tension between the brothers. So what was this about?
She didn’t understand. These American feelings and gestures, the way Americans hid everything from the world, as if emotions were bad and should be hidden all the time…it was pointless!
“Come on in and sit down. We’re watching football until the turkey is done.”
Selena rolled her eyes. “Don’t do it, Gianna. Come help me. Getting in the middle of those three during a football game could be dangerous.”
Gianna had no idea what she meant by that, but she was relieved to be able to put a bit of space between herself and Brant. If she had her way, she would curl up on his lap and demand that he explain the rules of American football to her. Since that wasn’t an option, she moved into the kitchen area, which wasn’t actually a room as it was in most houses. There was just the television watching area, a large dining area and the kitchen, all of which was one massive room.
The area was nice, she thought as she set her glass of wine down on the counter. If one was cooking, the chef could still be a part of the group, not separated like in her mother’s kitchen. But her mother preferred it that way, not wanting her father in the kitchen when she was cooking. They both loved to cook, so when he was in there with her, he tried to take over, which only caused bickering.
“I understand. It is a violent sport.”
All three men heard her and turned as one to stare, shocked.
“What did I say?” she whispered to Selena.
Selena chuckled and topped off her glass of wine. “Don’t worry about it. They just take offense at any perceived insult to their favorite sport.”
Gianna and Selena moved off to another room, laughing at men and sports while the turkey cooked. A half hour later, everything was ready and Gianna helped Selena carry the various side dishes to the table.
“Over here,” Brant called.
When Mack and Reid were close, he put a hand on both of their shoulders, squeezing slightly so they understood that he was serious. “Listen, whatever Gianna brought, you both are going to take a serving and eat it. I don’t care if it is inedible and you are sick for the next four days, you’re not going to hurt her feelings. Got it?”
Gianna froze in the doorway that separated the formal dining room from the kitchen, hearing Brant’s warning. The brothers nodded in agreement. They were completely serious and on board with Brant’s orders.
“We would never hurt her feelings, buddy,” Reid assured him.
“We’ll both have seconds, no matter what,” Mack promised.
Selena touched Gianna’s shoulder and the two women stepped back into the other room, away from the men. Gianna stood there for a long moment, not sure if she was touched because Brant was ensuring that her feelings wouldn’t be hurt, or offended that he assumed she was a bad cook. She was a great cook and…oh my, what if they don’t like the way she cooked? What if her seasonings were too strong? Or not strong enough?
“Stop!” Selena grabbed Gianna’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, correctly interpreting her friend’s anxious expression. “I’ve been to your place for dinner. You’re an amazing cook! Those guys are going to love whatever is in those dishes.”
Gianna smiled, but her expression was tense. “Are you sure? But if I’m good, why would Brant tell his brothers they had to eat it? Even if they get sick?”
“I’ll let you know if what you brought is bad and I won’t let them eat it, okay?”
She relaxed slightly, still not sure which emotion won out. “Thank you.” She turned worried eyes up to her friend. “Did I bring the wrong thing? Did I mess up? I try to understand your American ways but, you are a confusing country.”
Selena laughed, shaking her head. “You’re putting too much emphasis on those ‘rules’ you mentioned earlier. Seriously, there aren’t any rules.” She tilted her head as she lit the candles on the table. “I suppose that some families would dictate that Thanksgiving should be foods that were served during the first Thanksgiving between the pilgrims and the Native American tribes that lived in the area. The meal is a sort of a celebration that they’d survived starvation after gathering their first harvest.” She focused on lighting the last candle. “But if one were to be strict about that harvest, then no one would have mashed potatoes.”
Mack stepped into the dining room, hands full of dishes, and stopped before he could put them down on the table. “What is this heresy you speak?” he demanded, glaring at his sister-in-law.
“Out of the way, shorty,” Reid growled with Brant behind him, both men carrying additional bowls or plates of more food.
Mack stepped out of the way to allow his brothers to enter, turning so he could address the entire group. “Your wife just said something horrific,” he announced dramatically.
Reid immediately put the sweet potatoes and sliced turkey onto the table and turned to his brother, but not before pulling Selena into the circle of his arms, nuzzling her neck slightly. “I’m sure that you just misunderstood.”
“She said that mashed potatoes technically shouldn’t be served at Thanksgiving.”
Immediately, Reid bit her earlobe, causing Selena to gasp and try to pull away. “What is this craziness?” he demanded. “Mashed potatoes, with all of the fattening deliciousness added to them, are the whole reason to have Thanksgiving!”
Brant agreed, automatically stepping closer to Gianna, but he didn’t put his arms around her. Gianna glanced up at him, wondering what it would be like to have the kind of love that Selena and Reid shared. They were so sweet together, so kind and generous with their affection. Her family was loud and raucous and her parents’ home filled with love and hugs, but somehow, the affection between those two seemed different.
“I thought the primary dish was turkey?” She looked perplexedly at the pitying glances from everyone else. “What? In all of the pictures I’ve studied about this holiday, the turkey is always the centerpiece. In those silly commercials, the wife brings out the turkey, which is surrounded by all the pretty things on the side, and everyone ahhhs and ohhs about how beautiful and golden it is and then the man slices the turkey. Then apparently the fighting starts and everyone’s feelings are hurt, someone says something bad during the meal and everyone gets drunk, everyone falls asleep afterward and leaves hours later feeling too full.”
There was astonished silence after that recitation of her understanding of this day, then everyone burst out laughing.
Gianna turned to Brant, not sure she comprehended the joke. “What is funny?” she asked, her accent thickening as she tried to grasp the issue. Had she said something wrong?
The comforting arm across her shoulders soothed her wounded feelings and she looked up at Brant, hoping he didn’t realize how much she enjoyed his touch.
“What? What did I say that is wrong?”
“Absolutely nothing, honey,” Brant instantly replied. “You pretty much nailed it. For some reason, families all get together for Thanksgiving, even though they can’t stand each other. It’s an odd celebration of food and alcohol, as well as old wounds and childhood resentments. Not a great combination.”
She blinked, looking at the beautiful table filled with delicious foods. “Then why do you do this?”
“It’s all part of the tradition,” he explained. He then turned to Selena. “What’s this craziness about no potatoes? Mashed potatoes are a tradition.”
Selena rolled her eyes. “I was only explaining to
Gianna that roasted vegetables and Italian dessert aren’t traditional, but that is okay.”
“Of course it’s okay! And I’m sure they are going to be delicious.”
Gianna didn’t see the warning look that Brant sent to his brothers, but she noticed the reactions from the two other men and had to lift her hand to hide her amusement when they rolled their eyes simultaneously.
“Sit!” Reid ordered. And everyone chuckled as they pulled out the chairs and took a seat. “To family and friends gathered round,” he toasted, lifting his glass in the air.
Everyone else raised their glasses as well, and took a moment to sip the excellent wine.
Selena shared a blessing for the meal, and then everyone started passing the food around.
“Selena, what did you mean about not having mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving?” Mack asked, dumping a large portion of the fluffy, cheesy, creamy potatoes onto his plate.
She shrugged as she spooned the roasted vegetables onto hers. “Like I said, Gianna was worried that she’d done something wrong by bringing roasted vegetables and cannoli. But I realized that, if we were to stick to what was available when the pilgrims sat down for the first Thanksgiving, then we shouldn’t have potatoes.”
“I can’t imagine Thanksgiving without potatoes,” Brant added a heaping serving of the roasted vegetables to his plate. “They are the quintessential side dish.”
“Yes, but they weren’t indigenous to North America. So, they wouldn’t have been at the first Thanksgiving.”
Everyone paused with that announcement.
“Seriously,” Selena continued when the stunned silence continued. “They were originally found in South American. The first Thanksgiving was back in the sixteen hundreds. Potatoes didn’t come to North America until, I think, the seventeen hundreds.”
Brant took the potatoes and dumped some on his plate. “Good point. Pass the gravy.”
They all laughed and added more food to their plates. Selena’s was the only one that seemed to have healthy portions, but Gianna knew that Selena had a history of an eating disorder so she watched what she ate carefully, never letting herself eat too much or too little. Her relationship with food was a lifetime battle.
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