Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters

by Cari Quinn

  “I thought brooding in the dark was Dad’s bailiwick,” he said, piercing blue-green eyes silently accusing.

  She toasted her brother with the half-filled glass of Whiskey she had yet to sip out of. She’d forgotten how much she hated the smell. “Maybe it’s genetic.”

  “God, I hope not.” Des sat beside her on the ancient floral couch and shifted to face her. “Heard you had a date tonight. Kind of early to be home, isn’t it?”

  “Midnight isn’t early.” Ten o’clock would have been early, which is why she took the long way home to kill two hours, but try as she might, she couldn’t push Brodie out of her mind. She didn’t want—didn’t need him—complicating her life. But the more she thought about him, the more she realized what she was missing. He made her feel alive, as if she were more than a pub manager, big sister, dutiful daughter. He saw her as the woman she wanted to be; the woman she’d never really had the chance to be.

  “In my experience anything before two a.m. on date night is early.” Des stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and pinched her upper arm. “What’s going on? Date a dud? Or a disaster?”

  “Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk—”

  “You never want to talk about anything. And this." He plucked the glass out of her hand and set it on the side table behind him. "Is not going to help. You must really like this guy.”

  She tried to shake her head again, but tears burned her eyes and erased the lie before she could utter it. “I really do,” she whispered and looked away, pressing her hand over her mouth. “It’s so stupid. We’ve known each other what? A couple of weeks? Less than that." Her breath escaped in a shudder. “But from the second I met him, it was like—”

  “You found home?” Des finished. “Ma used to say that about Dad, remember?”

  She nodded, squeezing her eyes so tight she saw stars explode. She felt tears trickle down her cheeks as Des shifted closer and drew her against him. She stiffened, struggled for a moment, then sagged into him in a brief bout of surrender. “I made a promise, Des.” She whispered. “To Ma. To all of you. To hold this family together no matter what.”

  “Which you’ve done spectacularly well, by the way.”

  “I’m not looking for compliments.” She sniffled and pounded a fist against his T-shirt covered chest. “I just never let myself believe I could have or that I’d even want something beyond this.” She waved a hand around the time-encapsulated living room that, aside from the addition of new family photographs, hadn’t changed since their mother died. “But sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating. I feel so alone, Des. Like if I take one step too far and the rest of you will fall away like ashes in the wind. But now there’s Brodie and that beautiful little girl of his and I feel so guilty for wanting something more.”

  “Only one person in this family has anything to feel guilty about.” Des hugged her tight. “We both know that. Ma might have been the one who died, but Dad’s the one who turned in to a ghost. We’re all lucky you got Ma’s strength. But you got his stubbornness, Regan. Maybe more than a double dose. Nowhere in that promise you made Ma did it say you had to sacrifice your life, your future, for us.”

  “I didn’t see it as a sacrifice.” Not until now. Not until Brodie. And part of her hated him for it. “I just figured this was the family I was meant to have. For all intents, Fallon was mine from the day she was born. I’ve got the pub. I’ve got all of you. Why all of a sudden doesn’t that feel like enough?”

  “Because none of this was your choice. In all the years since Ma died, you’ve never once put yourself ahead of us. Well, aside from book club.”

  She laughed and wiped the dampness from her face. “My sanity saver.”

  “Then we owe them as well. Listen to me.” Des pushed her into her corner of the couch and pinned her with the same look she would have aimed on any one of her siblings. “This family is not going to disappear. We aren’t going to abandon you or fall apart because you decide you want to chase after something—or someone—you want. This isn’t an either or situation, Sis. You can have everything you want, you just have to give a little. You’ve given us the last eight years, Regan. Isn’t it time you took something for yourself?”

  “It’s not that simple.” She swiped her fingers under her eyes. “There’s too much—”

  “And there always will be. You just need to decide if you’re worth the sacrifice. Personally, I think you are. And whatever you decide to do, I will always have your back. We all will.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?” He didn’t look convinced. “It would be helpful, then, if you’d actually tell us what you need from time to time. Stop shutting us out. We’re a family. It’s time we all started pulling our weight.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe not all of you will.” Regan heaved a heavy sigh and dispelled the melancholy that had settled around her. Wallowing in what ifs and what could bes weren’t going to get her anywhere. There was work to be done, siblings to oversee, and the Spring in to Summer festival to get off the ground. God. She pinched her eyes shut. The festival. She had a meeting tomorrow with her committee. In the meantime, having a good cry and a good confession session with her brother would have to be enough to refocus her and maybe, if she was lucky, push thoughts of Brodie to a vacant corner of her mind. “Thanks, Des.” She patted his knee as she stood up. “Good talk.”

  “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” He crossed an ankle over one knee. “You’re not going to change a damn thing are you?”

  She probably wouldn’t, but she hedged her bets. “I’m going to sleep on it. We’ll see how things look in the morning. Good night.” She headed down the hall to the stairs, catching a flash of movement behind the slightly ajar door to her father’s room. She hesitated, considered checking on him, but the idea he might be awake raised the possibility of yet another argument she couldn’t win and honestly, she didn’t have the energy.

  She headed upstairs and closed her bedroom door behind her, leaning back and staring into the empty space. The silence bore down on her, a harsh reminder of how alone she truly was despite Desmond’s assurances. It didn’t matter what he said, she’d set her life in stone years ago. She could wish things were different from now until the end of time, but in the end, she’d always known she’d made a difference in her family’s life.

  It was just going to have to be enough.

  ~*~

  Being relegated to friend status with Regan sucked.

  It hadn’t taken Brodie long to come to this realization; about the time it took for him and Cilla to have lunch at the pub a few days after his and Regan’s “date”. They’d been greeted with the same enthusiasm and as usual, Regan had bestowed her utmost attention on Cilla, but when it came to talking to Brodie—to sharing the banter and joking and any topic of the day—there was none of that. She appeared to have trouble even meeting his gaze, as if afraid that if she did, she’d be pulled into a vortex she couldn’t escape from.

  He wanted her in his life; in Cilla’s life, but he wasn’t so selfish that he was going to push her into doing something she didn’t feel she could do. He’d said as much as he could when it came to convincing her it was worth exploring the feelings they had for each other. To do anything more wasn’t fair to her. She’d done him the courtesy of listening to him.

  Whether she’d heard him was another question.

  Which was why, for the past two days, he’d found every excuse not to go to the pub. Cilla wasn’t happy about it by any means. She missed her trees and she missed Regan. She missed getting to go in the kitchen and see the cooks cooking and the servers serving. She missed helping to take orders and even push the buttons on the cash register. He was getting a day by day play by play as to exactly what Cilla was missing. The trouble was Brodie missed it too. But that wasn’t all he missed.

  He missed Regan.

  “Hey, Ink Man!” Brodie caught the flash of red hair
crossing the street as he headed back to MARKED with take-out from J & J Markets. Finn Murphy jogged across the street, his usual grin stretching his wide mouth. “You got time to squeeze me in today?”

  “If you don’t mind waiting until after lunch.” Brodie hefted the bag, glancing over Finn’s shoulder toward the pub. “I’ve got those final designs we talked about.”

  “Regan’s not tethered to me,” Finn said with a raised brow as he followed Brodie’s gaze. “She’s over at Lancaster Park helping set up the tents for the festival tomorrow. Want me to go and haul her over here so the two of you can work whatever this is out?”

  “There’s nothing to work out.” Brodie gestured for Finn to follow him into the studio. “We understand each other.” For whatever reason, Regan wasn’t willing to even try to make a place in her life for him and Cilla. It was like trying to blast his way through a cement wall, but he couldn’t live on the hope Regan would change her mind; not when he had Cilla’s feelings to worry about. “Maura, mark Finn as in and waiting will you?” He said as he pushed into the studio. “Toshi, here’s the eggplant parmesan you asked for.”

  “Heaven, thy name is J & J,” Toshi said as he inhaled deeply. “No offense,” he added when Finn straightened.

  “Truth?” Finn winked at his sister. “Where do you think we go for take-out?”

  “I like their lasagna,” Maura admitted with a wistful smile on her face. “And the homemade ciabatta.”

  “Like stepping into Italy that place is,” Finn agreed. “Maura, I didn’t see you at breakfast this morning. You get word about Des calling a family meeting tonight?”

  “Someone stuck a Post-It on my forehead this morning,” Maura muttered and rubbed a finger across her brow. “Don’t suppose that was you?”

  “Seamus. He thought it would get your attention.”

  “Big brothers have a unique sense of humor,” she told Toshi and Brodie. “And yes, I’ll be there. It’s how I love spending a Friday night. Is Cilla coming in this afternoon, Brodie?”

  Brodie unloaded the cardboard containers and handed them out, sectioning off a section of his own manicotti for Finn. “Her day camp is helping set up for the festival. Not sure how much help Cilla’s going to be, however. I’d put my money on her being banished to the playground.”

  “She does wield a mighty cast,” Maura said and Brodie was once again impressed with the progress the teen had made. All had been forgiven on Cilla’s part and she and Maura had become, well, he thought friends was the appropriate term. Cilla had taken to following Maura around the studio imitating anything she did. “We’ve got everything ready to go for tomorrow stacked up by the back door,” she said. “Regan said she put MARKED’s tent near the baseball field, so we should have enough power for the printer and laptop. Not doing permanent tattoos will probably work in our favor as we can send them here for Toshi to deal with.”

  “We’re designing custom temporary tattoos for people,” Brodie told a confused looking Finn. “Like a test run in case they aren’t sure they’re for them. Or if kids want to try them. They’ll come off with baby oil or wear off after two weeks. I’ll need you at the park by eight tomorrow,” he told Maura.

  “I know.” She waved her phone in the air. “I already set my alarm. I’ll hitch a ride with Regan.”

  “Great,” Brodie lied and headed in to the back room. “I’m getting a water. Anyone want anything?”

  “We’re good,” Toshi said and toasted Brodie with his soda bottle. “Go wallow in solitude.”

  “I’m not wallowing,” Brodie muttered. Deep down, he knew Toshi was right but the only thing he could do was sit back and wait.

  If only waiting wasn’t so damned hard.

  CHAPTER TEN

  How, Regan wondered, after twenty-eight years, she could forget to wear sun block when she knew she’d be spending all day in the sun, was beyond her. With a double dose of Celtic heritage, she could sunburn in a snowstorm and the California sun was definitely not snow encased. She chalked up her forgetfulness to a lack of sleep and stressing over the final details for the Spring in to Summer festival and struggled with the oversized floppy hat on her head to keep her face from being burned to a crisp.

  The number of businesses participating in the early summer fundraiser was impressive and included not only a mini-version of Pages Unlimited, but Ella was going to be offering a selection of take-away bouquets and start-up planter kits for budding gardeners. Cassidy had arranged the power situation and had even hooked up a loud-speaker system for the occasional door prizes and drawings for attendees. Murphy’s Pub was sponsoring one of the drinks and snack station and Regan had conveniently made sure to be side by side with J & J Market’s triple wide set up that would include sandwiches, salads and authentic Italian ices.

  Cars buzzed by, some slowing down to see the progress of the festival preparations and one gold sedan in particular got honked at when the older occupants seemed mesmerized by the crowd of helpful volunteers.

  “All the pop up canopies are up!” Fallon raced over to where Regan stood with her clipboard, overseeing the festival’s installation in Lancaster Park, a familiar dark-haired little girl with a neon blue cast bringing up the rear.

  Regan’s heart clenched in her chest. She’d purposely tried to avoid Cilla ever since she’d arrived with her fellow day-campers. Not that she hadn’t been keeping an eagle eye on Cilla, who was buzzing around the nearly fifty pop-up canopies with the fierce determination of a pollinating bumble bee. “They’re working on the signs now. Here.” Fallon shoved a dripping bottle of water in to Regan’s hands. “What’s next?”

  “Thanks, kiddo.” Regan took a long drink as her stomach growled. Not only had she forgotten sun block, she’d also forgotten to eat. At the rate she was going, she’d be lucky to ingest something by sundown. “You’ve been a big help today. Both of you,” she added as Cilla turned bright, excited eyes her way.

  “It’s been so much fun! How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Cilla asked.

  “There are seven of us all together,” Regan said.

  “Seven?” Cilla’s eyes went doll-eye wide. “You are so lucky! You always have someone to play with.”

  “That I do,” Regan said.

  “Is that why you don’t want to play with my daddy anymore?”

  Regan sputtered and covered her nose to stop from spraying her sister and Cilla with water. “W-what?”

  Cilla shrugged. “You don’t like him anymore. I can tell.”

  “That’s not true,” Regan said, but to a five-year-old, she supposed that’s what Regan’s change of heart looked like.

  “Grown-ups are weird, Cilla.” Fallon came up behind her, wrapped her arms around Cilla’s waist and twirled her around. “Your daddy and Regan like each other, they just don’t know how to admit it.”

  “You like my daddy?” Cilla squealed and held out her arms.

  “Fallon, you aren’t helping. ”

  “I kind of am.” Fallon grinned and dragged Cilla away. “Come on, Cilla. Miss Banning said you could go to the playground now that the tents are up. We’re too little to help with anything else. I’ll go with you.”

  “We’re going to talk about this later,” Regan called as Cilla ran after Fallon toward the playground where a cavalcade of kids were already scrambling over the wood and plastic structures. Instead of getting to play, however, she wound her way down the wide aisles toward the Murphy’s tent and came face to face with Theresa Juliano. “How are things going?”

  Theresa turned critical yet kind eyes on her and for an instant, Regan thought of her mother; not that the short, compact brunette resembled Noreen in any way, but there was a similarity in their countenance and their aversion to anything other than straight-forwardness. “We’ll be ready,” Theresa stated in her typical de-facto tone. “You’ve organized a good team, Regan. This is going to be a great success.”

  “As long as people show up,” Regan countered. She wouldn’t be convince
d until she couldn’t see through the crowds tomorrow.

  “They’ll show.” Theresa planted firm hands on her round hips and smiled. “We’ve been advertising for weeks. Besides, I know for a fact Morgan and Sheila have been getting the word out. When the Tremaynes speak, this town listens.”

  “How are Morgan’s wedding plans coming?”

  “Stalled.” Theresa huffed. “That soon-to-be daughter-in-law of mine has yet to pick a date. But I’m going to fix that this week. Just as soon as all this is done.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand.

  “Are you?” Regan bit the inside her cheek. If there was one certainty in Lantano Valley it was that Theresa Juliano was a force to be reckoned with. She might wield a mighty wooden spoon, but there were few people in town with bigger hearts. Unless it was Morgan Tremayne. Regan could only imagine what family get-togethers were going to be like once the two families united.

  Before Theresa could respond, Regan changed subjects. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to co-chair next year’s festival with me. I know your schedule is probably pretty tight—”

  “I would be happy to.” Theresa patted her arm. “You’re a good girl, Regan. You’ve done an excellent job your first year. Together, next year? We can make it even bigger. Bah! You and I will make a great team. And you know what? I bet Sheila Tremayne might have some suggestions as well. You want her on board?”

  Regan blinked. “I would love that.” Sheila ran one of the most successful event-planning businesses in southern California. Or she had until recently when she’d taken a more active role in her family’s charity. These days she only took on special events like Alcina Oliver’s birthday party. “Do you really think—”

  “Leave Sheila to me.” Theresa chuckled. “Those girls don’t say no to me.”

  “Does anyone?” Regan asked with more than a touch of skepticism on her face.

  Theresa narrowed her eyes. “I like you. Are you dating anyone? I don’t see a ring.” She pointed at Regan’s hand. "You should be seeing someone. I have sons."