by Kristi Gold
Shaking off the thoughts, he asked, “Are you going to let her go?”
Finally, she met his gaze. “I probably should. She’ll also have the opportunity to see my parents since they practically live next door to Nancy. But Stormy’s never flown alone before. And the thought of putting her on a plane all by herself with a bunch of strangers scares me. I realize kids do it all the time. Just not my kid.”
She did have a point, Kieran decided. And he had an idea that could be the answer to her fears, at least in part. “Would you let her go if she went by private plane?”
Erica laughed. “Unfortunately, mine’s hired out next Thursday.”
“I’m serious. My brother Logan owns a global-transportation company and he’s recently added a new fleet of jets. It’ll take one phone call and he’ll have a plane ready to fly her to Tulsa. She’ll have her own personal crew and you won’t have to worry about her getting lost in a crowd.”
Her mouth dropped open before she snapped it closed again. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, I am.” Of course, he hadn’t asked his brother yet, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Logan had the money and the means to accommodate the request. “I’ll even take you to the airport on Thursday morning to see her off.”
She sat silent, mulling it over for a moment before she asked, “She’ll have her own crew?”
“You bet, including at least one flight attendant. I could request a bartender and chef, but since she’s underage, and the flight won’t be that long, that’s probably overkill.”
She smiled. “You’re right about that. And if you can do this, it would save Nancy from having to pay for a last-minute ticket.” Her smile faded into a frown. “Is this going to cost you?”
Not monetarily speaking, but Logan could come up with a creative payback, like making him clean out the plane prior to its departure just to have a good laugh. “Logan owes me for the time I took the blame for a baseball he tossed through our mother’s kitchen window.”
“Speaking of baseballs,” she said. “Aside from hitting six balls in a row, how’s Stormy doing with everything else?”
“Damn good. She has a strong arm and great hand-eye coordination. One of these days, I’m going to take her to my sister to see if she has the mechanics and makeup to be a pitcher.”
“Stormy mentioned that to me last week.” Erica laid a hand on his arm. “You’ve done so much already, so please don’t feel obligated to do more.”
He wasn’t doing anything out of obligation. He was doing it because he cared for both of them, much more than he should. “Mallory will get a kick out of revisiting her old softball days. Plus she needs to get in some practice for when her girls are old enough to play.” Which was still a good three years away, but knowing Mallory and Whit, they’d have the twins running bases by midsummer.
When Erica fell silent, Kieran decided she was still stuck on the whole private-plane offer. “Do you want me to make the call to Logan, or do you want more time to think about it?”
Indecision passed over her face, replaced by acquiescence. “You can make the call, as long as you’re sure it’s not going to be an imposition on your brother.”
“Deal.”
“Okay, then.” Erica slapped her hands on her thighs and rose from the couch. “I have chicken in the oven that should be done about now. Can you stay for dinner?”
He could, but he needed to get back to the club and do some analysis—of his business’s finances and his feelings for Erica.
Kieran stood and replanted the cap on his head. “I’ve got some paperwork that needs my attention. But thanks for the offer.”
“I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for us. More than you realize.”
When Erica slid her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, Kieran automatically wrapped his own arms around her. For a long moment, they stood there, holding each other, until Erica backed away, much to Kieran’s disappointment.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said.
“Tomorrow night it is.” But before he left, he had one more thing to say. “Allowing Stormy to go on this trip alone is a positive step, Erica.”
“I know. Pretty amazing for a woman who has trouble letting her child stay by herself for more than an hour.”
Everything about her amazed him—from her deep dimples to her devious sense of humor. Unable to help himself, Kieran leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Just remember, when you see Stormy off next week, I’ll be right there with you.”
Chapter Eight
Once they arrived at the municipal airport Thanksgiving morning, Kieran’s support was the only thing holding Erica together. She would need that continued support in the next few minutes when she would send her daughter on a journey, alone. And if she could do that without bawling, well, that would be simply short of a miracle. Stormy, on the other hand, seemed more than ready to board the plane without her mother. An incredible plane, Erica concluded, from the looks of the dark blue streamlined jet sitting on the tarmac outside the waiting-area windows. She didn’t care how it looked, as long as it functioned properly.
Instead of dwelling on the negatives, she chose to think positive thoughts while Kieran conversed with Logan, whose dark good looks served as another reminder of the prime O’Brien genes. A few moments later, a fortysomething debonair man and a pretty, tall blonde approached the group, introducing themselves as the pilot and attendant in charge of Stormy’s flight.
“My name is Muriel,” the woman said as she offered her hand to Erica for a shake. “I’ll take good care of your daughter.”
She was counting on that. “This is only her second plane ride and the only one she’s taken alone. I doubt she even remembers the first flight.” The flight they’d taken to Oklahoma for Jeff’s funeral, a sorrowful trip Erica would never forget.
“I do too remember, Mom.” She looked up at the lady and smiled. “They gave me a wing pin. I still have it in my jewelry box at home.”
“We don’t have any of those, Stormy,” Muriel said. “But we do have a whole refrigerator full of chocolate milk.”
Stormy rocked back and forth on her heels, barely containing her excitement. “That’s my favorite drink. Can we go now?”
“They’re ready if you are,” Kieran said, his comment aimed at Erica.
Was she ready? Not really. But they’d come this far, she couldn’t change her mind now. “Sure.” She turned back to the attendant. “Stormy has her grandmother’s phone number in her backpack, although I’m certain she’ll be waiting when you arrive.”
“I’ll personally give her a call right after we touch down,” Muriel said. “I’ll call you, too. I have a son who’s a little older than Stormy, so I know how important it is for you to know she’s safe.”
Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers who also happened to be mothers. “I appreciate that.”
Kieran tugged on one of Stormy’s curls. “Tell your mom goodbye, kiddo.”
Without hesitating, Stormy threw her arms around Erica’s waist and grinned. “Thanks for letting me go, Mom. We’ll have a party together when I get back to celebrate—uh—Thanksgiving.”
Erica knew exactly what Stormy had almost said before she’d reconsidered. A very wise decision since she’d been forewarned not to mention her mother’s birthday to anyone. “You have a nice visit with Nana Stevens. Give her a kiss and hug for me, and tell your Granddad and Grandma Keller we’ll see them at Christmas.”
“I will.”
With a heavy heart and tears threatening to spill from her eyes, Erica watched Muriel take Stormy’s hand in hers and walk away. She continued to watch until her baby disappeared through the door that didn’t allow Erica admittance, reminding her of all the surgeries where she’d entrusted Stormy to the care of professionals because she’d had no choice. Stormy had survived then, and she’d do so now. That still didn’t soothe the ache or tamp down her urge to chase after her child before she boarded the plane.
“She’ll be fine,” Kieran said, giving her some much-needed reassurance.
“I know she will, but it’s still hard.”
“Mark Henry’s clocked thousands of hours of flight time,” Logan added. “He’s the best pilot I have.”
Erica swallowed around the yet-to-dissipate lump in her throat. “I really do appreciate this, Logan. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
Logan smiled a smile much like Kieran’s. “No trouble at all. And if you’re ever interested in leaving the spa, I have several corporate clients who request onboard massage therapists, particularly on international flights. If you’re as good as Kieran says you are, I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”
“She’s not interested, Logan.”
Kieran’s abrupt and somewhat irritable dismissal took Erica aback. “I can speak for myself, Kieran,” she said. “But he is right, Logan. As much as I appreciate the offer, I couldn’t be away from Stormy that long.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.” Logan pushed up his sleeve and took a quick check of his watch. “I’ve got to pick up Jenna and J.D. before I head over to Mom and Dad’s. You’re going to be there, right?”
“You bet,” Kieran said. “I wouldn’t want to miss Mom’s pumpkin pie.”
“How about you, Erica?” Logan asked. “Do you have any plans?”
“Well, no, but I—”
“She’s coming with me, Logan.”
Erica stared at Kieran. “Since when?”
“Since I decided you don’t need to be at home alone, worrying about the kid. My mother cooks enough to feed the entire community of West Houston, so there’ll be plenty of food.”
Great. Nothing like being tempted to blow the diet. But she honestly liked the thought of spending time with Kieran’s family. “As long as she serves celery, that might be an option.”
“Like I’ve told you before, moderation is the key,” Kieran said. “And if you slip up, I’ll make you work extra hard tomorrow evening.”
“I’ll see you both in about an hour, then.” Logan started down the corridor before turning and walking backward. “It was nice meeting you, Erica. And don’t let this guy talk you into a nooner. My mother expects everyone there on time.”
Erica was rendered speechless while Kieran added, “Don’t listen to him. He’s full of it, just like the rest of my brothers.”
“I’m so glad to know you’re not going to try to engage me in a nooner,” she said as soon as Logan was out of earshot, though the thought wasn’t at all repulsive.
“Actually, I was going to say my mother wouldn’t care if we were a few minutes late.”
She planted a playful slap on his arm. “I haven’t even agreed to go with you yet.”
He responded with a sly, crooked grin. “Anything I can do to convince you?”
Spending the day with Kieran was all the convincing Erica needed. “I’ll go, as long as you promise you won’t make me run behind the car after lunch.”
“Promise.” He draped an arm around her shoulder. “But just a word of warning. Spending time with the O’Briens is like spending a day at the zoo.”
The minute they’d stepped through the door two hours ago, Kieran realized he’d thrown Erica into a den of fawning lions. Lions who meant well, but still a little too feral with their enthusiasm. At least she hadn’t run out the door…yet.
Although he’d brought women home before—two to be exact—neither had earned as much attention. But then neither had been as personable as Erica. She’d played on the floor with the babies, helped prepare lunch and overall, blended in with the siblings as if she’d been taking part in their gatherings all her life. More important, Erica was a huge hit with his mother and father, who likely viewed her as the perfect daughter-in-law prospect. Lucy probably expected to see her every Sunday from this point forward, and Dermot would expect his son to propose to her by the end of the day.
An occasional Sunday dinner might work, but having her as a permanent part of their lives—his life—was a stretch. Yet during the meal, as he’d watched her from across the dinner table, her hair falling past her shoulders and her dimples on exhibit, he could easily envision her there every week. He could picture Stormy playing big sister to the nieces and nephews, tossing a softball around in the backyard with Mallory. He could imagine taking Erica home afterward, making love to her late into the night and…Damn, he was in trouble.
Kieran chalked up his suddenly sappy disposition to his mother’s announcement that Erica had made the sweet potato casserole from her own recipe. He was a sucker for good cooking, the only way he could explain his visions of domestic bliss. He didn’t care to examine the other possible reasons. Not until he got the hell away from family central.
Now that the meal had been devoured, the kitchen cleaned through a concerted effort and the babies put down for a nap, only a few returned to the table for dessert. Devin had left for his in-laws with Stacy and the boys over an hour ago, while Aidan, Logan and Whit, along with their wives, were out in the yard partaking in the traditional touch football game. And of course, his mother was still in the kitchen, doing who knew what.
That left Erica, his dad and of all people, Kevin, who was conveniently seated across from Kieran, right next to Erica. The fact his twin had bothered to make an appearance, and hadn’t tried to hit on Erica, meant the devil must be doling out ice cubes.
Kieran couldn’t help but wonder over Kevin’s uncharacteristic silence, the fact that he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He’d apparently lost his razor, too. Strange, since his twin normally prided himself on immaculate grooming.
Kieran could only surmise that his brother had had one crazy, sex-filled night with his current woman, if she was still in the picture. No way of knowing that unless he asked, and he didn’t plan to ask.
When Kevin kept staring at his untouched dessert plate, Kieran couldn’t leave well enough alone, thanks to the latent anger he retained over his brother’s poor choices. “Hard living’s starting to take its toll on you, Kev. You look like hell.”
Kieran waited for the usual acerbic comeback, but Kevin only muttered, “You’re right about that.”
Damn. He was much worse off than Kieran had realized if he couldn’t do better than that. “I know you think sleep’s overrated, but you ought to try it sometime.”
His mother returned to the table and served up a scowl, along with a piece of pie to his father. “It’s Thanksgiving, so both of you please call a truce. Little Maddie and Lucy get along better than the two of you when you’re together, and they’re toddlers.”
“Sorry,” Kieran muttered, and he honestly was. He had no business ruining his mother’s holiday because he couldn’t forgive and forget his brother’s transgressions.
In typical subject-changing fashion, his dad said, “Tell us about your girl, Erica. Would she be havin’ your red hair?”
Erica smiled. “She’s more blond than red.”
“Well, I’d be assumin’ you’re Irish.”
“Actually, my maiden name is Keller. I’ve been told I get my coloring from my German great-grandmother, but I do have distant cousins named McCann.”
Dermot slapped a palm on the table, rattling the remaining silverware. “I knew it.”
Time to intervene. “As far as my dad’s concerned, everyone should be Irish,” Kieran said. “And those who aren’t should wish they were.”
Dermot looked exceedingly insulted. “I have nothin’ against the Germans, Kieran. I’m only sayin’ that our Erica here has Irish blood flowin’ through her veins, I am sure of it.”
Our Erica. For Kieran, that about said it all.
The back door slammed and in walked Mallory, her auburn hair pulled up in a ponytail, looking a lot like the little sister Kieran remembered from years back. “What’s up?” she asked as she took the other unoccupied chair next to Erica.
“We’re discussing Erica’s daughter,” Kieran offered, along with a look that said to j
ump right in before their father got on a roll.
“We were discussin’ Erica’s hair color,” Dermot said. “Would it be natural, lamb?”
Kevin failed to comment, Kieran silently cursed and Mallory rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you asked that, Dad,” she said. “You better be glad Mom didn’t hear you.”
“I heard him,” came Lucy’s voice from the kitchen. “Behave yourself, old man, or I’ll send all the leftovers home with the children.”
Dermot tossed his napkin aside and grumbled. “The woman has ears like a wolfhound.”
Erica didn’t look at all shocked. In fact, she laughed. “In answer to your question, I’ve had the same hair color since the day I was born.”
After sending their dad a quelling look she’d learned from their mother, Mallory shifted toward Erica. “Kieran tells me Stormy’s a good athlete.”
Erica’s smile showed her pride. “That’s what I understand, although she’s just now started working on her softball skills.”
“I’d be glad to help her if you’d like,” Mallory said.
Lucy reclaimed the chair next to her husband. “Mallory was quite the pitcher in high school.”
“That she was,” Dermot said. “You’d do well to take her up on the offer.”
Erica took a sip of diet soda. “Stormy would love that. We’ll be glad to work around your schedule, Mallory.”
“Sounds great,” Mallory said. “I’ll call you next week.”
Just like that, Erica had agreed without any argument. Kieran realized how far she’d come in the few weeks he’d known her, that she’d finally begun to view her daughter as a healthy, normal kid.
Dermot cocked his head to one side and asked Lucy, “What do you have cookin’ in the oven, darlin’? You’ve already prepared more than enough to choke a jackass.”
