by Liz Crowe
“Um, honey?”
He turned to see the impressive shelf of a pregnant stomach. He focused on Cara’s anxious face and the way her breath came in gasps. “I’m thinking it’s time to go.”
“Got it.” He grabbed one of the few things that had gotten unpacked, a small overnight bag by the front door.
“Wait,” she said. “Alert the troops first.”
“Right. Sorry.” He rapped on one of the bedroom doors. “Up and at ‘em. We’re out of here.”
“Hang on, hang on,” a voice called out. “I’m coming, hold your water.”
“It’s not my water that needs holding.” Aiden appeared, tugging on sweat pants, nearly falling over in his rush. “You’re on, dude,” Kieran told him.
“All right, go on.” Aiden yawned. “We’ve got the home front.”
“Daddy?” a small voice called from down the hall. “Uncle Aiden? Mommy?”
“Let’s go, pal, time for breakfast.” Aiden closed the door carefully behind him. The little boy rubbed his eyes, his ratty blanket tucked under one arm. Kieran’s heart expanded and contracted all at once at the sight of his son’s thick dark-red hair and his sturdy little legs covered by UK Wildcat PJs.
“Honey?” Cara’s voice had gotten a lot more tense.
He hated this part but she’d wanted another kid. It had taken them all of three weeks to accomplish that goal. His scalp prickled in an entirely inappropriate way at the thought of how pregnancy hormones transformed a perfectly normal, if somewhat sex-crazed female into a horndog of epic proportions, all the way to the end. His grin widened.
She held onto his arm, breathing through the pain. He waited it out with her, shaking his head so Aiden would linger before bringing the boy out of his bedroom.
Frankie had been unhappy ever since his mother’s pregnancy had become obvious, blaming the stupid baby every time she had a pain or an ache. They’d hoped to avoid any signs of overt labor discomfort lest it set him off on one of his more terrifying tantrums in protest of the looming addition to the family.
Aiden lifted the boy onto his shoulders and raced past all the boxes and into the as yet unpacked kitchen. “It’s a treasure hunt breakfast,” he declared. “Go on, y’all. Beat it. We got this. Me and Frankie here.”
Kieran chuckled when his son treated him to a patented Love sibling scowl. “Mommy?” He tried to peer around Kieran.
“We’ll be home soon, okay buddy? Gonna go get your little brother and bring him with us.”
“Don’t want one of those,” Frankie said, glaring at him. Aiden laughed and poked his small chest.
“Dude, your daddy said the same thing about me once. Now we’re best pals.” The boy’s face brightened slightly.
“I like my cousin, Jeffrey,” he said, naming Aiden’s stepson, a tall, gregarious ten-year-old who suffered Frankie’s constant attention with admirable patience. “And my cousin Jace. I want Jace!” The boy’s voice rose to a familiar, near-hysterical pitch. “And Uncle Dom, too!”
“Calm down.” Aiden picked him up, calm as ever in the face of tantrums. “Help me make breakfast.”
“Where’s my Mama?” the boy demanded.
“Right here, honey.” She walked over to him and pressed her lips to his forehead then turned to Kieran. “Let’s go,” she said through clenched teeth. Kieran guided her away from the boy. “Make it fast. This one’s in a hurry.”
“Got it.” He kissed his son, slapped Aiden a high-five, and headed for the door. “Text Mama, okay?” he called over his shoulder willing his son to not mention Jace or Dom for a while. No one had a decent answer for the where’s -Uncle-Dom-and-Jace question anymore. Dear Lord, but the last few years had been fraught, although at least his mama had not relapsed. She claimed having Dom’s son around at least for a brief while had cured her. Kieran wondered what would happen now that things had done another flip in a shitty direction.
Aiden gave Frankie a big metal bowl and a whisk to distract him and Kieran’s heart expanded so wide at the sight it hurt him, until his wife’s grip on his arm tightened too much for him to ignore.
“I love you,” he said as he helped her into the car. She sucked in a breath.
“I fucking hate you. Let’s go already. Ouch! Jesus,” she yelped and gripped the armrest. When the contraction released her and she relaxed, she took a deep breath. “Be sure and let your folks know.”
Tears streamed down her face. He patted her leg. “Hang in there, honey. Everyone will be there like the first time. Mama said to let her know right away. Hell, they may beat us there.”
When he pulled up to the special maternity ER entrance and screeched to a halt, a team rushed out and helped her into a wheelchair. “Fucking ow!”
Wincing when she ground his knuckles together, he said a quick prayer that this kid would make his appearance as fast as Frankie had done.
They got her settled in a room, hooked to a monitor, and left nature to take its course. He held onto her, breathing through each contraction, and sending blessings to heaven when they deemed her ready for an epidural block.
Finally she flopped back on the pillows, sweaty and red-faced. “Get on out of here a minute would ya, honey?” She patted his scruffy cheek and gave him a weak smile. “I love you, but I don’t want to look at you right now.”
He wandered out to the waiting area for a breath of air. Antony and his wife Margot were there, playing cards with his parents. Anton seemed smaller these days, reduced by the sort of loss he refused to acknowledge. But he grinned at Kieran. “Got that boy out of there yet?”
Lindsay smacked her husband’s shoulder. “Don’t be crude.”
“Not yet.” Kieran snagged Antony’s coffee and took a long drink. “Jesus, I hate this part.”
He observed the card game for a few minutes, trying to calm his pounding heart. They’d managed to time the baby’s arrival around basketball season. But the Lucasville Mustangs were slated for greatness this year, his fourth as their coach, his second as history teacher. He had a lot to do if he wanted the state title they’d gotten within two games of last year. He’d only graduated one senior. They were loaded, especially with freshmen from....
“Mr. Love?” A nurse skidded to a stop in the hallway. “We need you now.”
Following her at a fast run with the sounds of his family’s cheering in his head, he hit the door in time to hear the doctor’s voice.
“I need you to focus on me now, honey. We’re getting Kieran…oh look, there he is.”
Kieran ran to her side bracing for the worst. Within fifteen minutes he held his second son in his arms. His heart pounded and his tears hit the boy’s reddened face, making him blink and yawn. “Hello, Sean Dominic. Welcome to the world.” He grinned at his wife and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Cara Cooper. I adore you.”
“You’d better, you asshole,” she exhaled. “Now give me my son.” Placing the baby in her arms made his heart do that scary squeezing thing again. “Think Frankie will be all right with this,” she asked, not taking her gaze from Sean’s small, sleeping face. “Another Love brother?”
“Sure,” he said, propping his chin on the bed rail and drinking in the sight of them together. “Look at how swell most of the grown-up versions turned out.”
She narrowed her eyes at him then smiled. “All right. Point made.”
He caught the single tear that trickled down her flushed face and put it to his lips. “Now, let’s take a quick inventory.” He counted on his fingers. “One kid made, we bought the house you wanted, got you the second kid. Now, you have to do something for me.”
She pressed her lips to the sleeping baby’s cheek. Kieran waited then tilted her chin so she had to look at him.
“Marry me? Finally?”
She sighed and averted her gaze. His heart sank. How in the world could she possibly doubt anything about them now? He’d tolerated her insistence that they not marry to distract from t
he ongoing Dominic trauma. That they relearn each other first, decide if their adult selves felt as strongly as their teenager ones had.
They’d been relearning or more precisely, living in sin as his father liked to say. They had to show the man Frankie’s birth certificate to prove he carried the name Francis Antony Love. He’d calmed down some after that but had gotten even more stubborn, despite the events of the last year or two and did nothing but grumble about Kieran and his baby mama.
What’s the matter with you, boy? Can’t close the deal with the redheaded gal or what? being his favorite refrain.
He willed thoughts of his obstinate, angry father and his one absent sibling out of his brain. Cara touched his face as sensing his unhappiness. He kissed her palm, making the baby squawk between them.
“Well, we do have that joint bank account and all,” she said, in a shaky voice.
“And both our names are on that big, fat, scary mortgage,” he reminded her. “So?”
“Yes. I will marry you.”
“Thank the good Lord. Come on in y’all.” Giving her a half-apologetic shrug when she glowered at him, he jumped to his feet. The room filled with family, his parents, her mother, Antony and Aiden and their wives. Angelique appeared, holding Frankie whose ice-cream smeared face split into a huge grin at the sight of his parents. Almost everyone Kieran loved was there. Figuring it for the best he could do at this point, he gestured for the minister to enter the room. The man walked in looking dubious until he spotted Kieran.
“Come on over here and hitch me to this woman before she changes her dang mind,” he said, plucking the baby out of her arms. Lindsay took the mewling newborn, crooning over him, leaving Kieran and Cara holding hands.
“You are gonna pay for this, mister,” Cara hissed at him. “I had a baby not an hour ago.” She made an attempt to smooth her wild red curls.
He grinned. “I’ll take the risk,” he whispered, sliding his grandmother Halloran’s emerald engagement ring onto her finger. “Now behave, and say the words, and let’s make this thing happen, finally. You’re beautiful and you know it.”
She nodded, sniffling a little. Once the deed had been accomplished, someone popped open a few Love Brewing barrel-aged stouts and they toasted until the nurses shooed everyone out, leaving Kieran alone with his wife.
“I love you so much.” His voice broke, so he swallowed hard and tried not to think about who he missed right then. “I’m glad our timing got in sync.”
She sniffled. “I love you, too. But I’m so tired. They don’t call this labor for nothing you know.” She blinked at him sleepily. “Did you call him?”
“I tried.” He brushed his fingertips down her flushed face.
“Try again,” she muttered. “You won’t be happy until you can hear his voice.”
Kieran sat a few minutes watching as Cara drifted off, sending a prayer of thanks for his life, in spite of the last few years’ worth of awfulness.
When he spotted his mother still in the doorway, holding her newest grand baby, he tucked the covers around Cara’s neck and walked over to her. Draping an arm over her thin shoulders, he held on as she sobbed over the boy, whispering his name over, and over, and over again.
The End
A Sneak Peek at
Love Brewing
Book 3 of The Love Brothers series
Diana patted Pepper’s flank as she released him into the paddock then leaned against the barn door, relishing the soreness in her muscles. The sun burned a white hole in the light-blue late summer sky. Smells of her childhood filled her nose, smoothing her edges.
A bit of coolness in the air, heralding the coming seasonal transition, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. Masie, the pregnant cow, uttered a low moo, snapping Diana out of day-dreaming about her favorite season—the hunting kind. It brought her long to-do list flashing across her brain, reminding her that she still had to finish mucking out the rest of the barn. The garden was in desperate need of weeding, too. The last of her tomatoes were due in and her sister had already sent three texts this morning about the chicken salad she had to make and get over to the shop.
With a heavy sigh, Diana closed her eyes and let the light wind cool her skin. Her arms burned and her thighs shook in a wholly welcome, familiar way post long ride. She dropped onto the overturned bucket from the horse’s cool-and-wash.
“Go on, get out there, ya big baby,” she said when the huge animal nuzzled her shoulder. He trotted away obediently and stuck his nose into the water trough, tail flicking lazily, indicating satisfaction with the morning’s proceedings. Her lids drifted closed again and she let the sweet smells and sounds of her family’s farm fill her senses. Bees buzzed, the cow made another lowing sound, late season locusts hummed, and the sun heated her skin. She drifted, her mind calm for a change, free of Jen’s endless demands and catering menus.
When the horse whinnied and snorted, Diana ignored it and stretched her legs out. One of the dogs let out a loud bark then the other two joined in. They sounded delighted, so Diana figured that her sister must have arrived in the catering van to pick up the chicken salad—the one she hadn’t even started yet.
Deciding to pretend she was alone a minute longer and enjoy the peace and quiet she always found in the barn, Diana closed her eyes.
“Hey.” A distressingly familiar male voice hit her ears. “Um...Diana?”
She sighed, unwilling to acknowledge how much she would have given at one point in her life to hear that voice say her name again.
“What do you want?”
“Just a place to crash. Hide a bit, I don’t know.”
“Why now? I thought you and your folks were getting along good now.” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice, but it was nearly impossible.
“Diana,” the voice broke. “Please.”
She opened her eyes and observed the man she’d loved as long as she could recall. Dominic Love stood in front of her dressed in, of all things, a pair of dress pants and crumpled, long-sleeved shirt. A red tie hung loose around his neck. He had his blond hair scraped back and tied at the nape of his neck so she could see he’d added more body art. He stood still, hands tucked in his trouser pockets, his expression blank.
She rose and smacked the dust off her ass then rose, arms crossed, willing him not to be there, not to tempt her, because God help her still loved the man, despite how badly he’d treated her.
“I am not letting you back in my bed, Dom.”
When the corner of his full lips lifted in a smirk as if unable to stop itself, she imagined how satisfying it would feel to smack it off his face.
“Not asking for that…yet.”
“Go to hell.” She brushed by him, forcing him out of her brain. He snagged her arm and held on tight.
“I’m already there, doll trust me. I swear I just need a friend right now and someplace to lay low. I’ll help around the place, you know that.”
As if on cue, the horse bumped Dom’s shoulder, shoving him forward. The grip on her arm tightened and he leaned in close. She yanked away from him, keeping her gaze on the far horizon and her mind on the fact that if she went with her gut right then, she’d pull the man back into her life, no questions asked.
“You can sleep out here.”
He let go of her. “Thanks, babe.”
She clenched her jaw. “Don’t call me babe ever again, you shit-heel, motherfucking, selfish, cheating asshole.”
“Okay,” he muttered, but his eyes were bright in a way she knew well.
She walked away, letting the memory of their last, and she believed final, fight fill her mind, fueling her fury as she put one boot in front of the other, placing as much distance as she could between them.
Coming in ebook March 1, 2014
About The Author
Amazon best-selling author, beer blogger, brewery marketing expert, mom of three, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville currently liv
ing in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.
Her early forays into the publishing world led to a groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” which has gained thousands of fans and followers interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”). More recently she is garnering even more fans across genres with her latest novels, which are more character-driven fiction, while remaining very much “real life.”
With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and at times in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are unique and told with a fresh voice. The Liz Crowe backlist has something for any reader seeking complex storylines with humor and complete casts of characters that will delight, frustrate and linger in the imagination long after the book is finished.
Don’t ever ask her for anything “like a Budweiser” or risk bodily injury.
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Read More Liz Books
The Love Brothers Series:
Love Garage
Coming soon….
Love Brewing
Safe Love (a Free Love Brothers Novella)
Family Love
The Stewart Realty Series:
Floor Time
Sweat Equity
Closing Costs
Essence of Time
Conditional Offer
Escalation Clause
Mutual Release
Good Faith
House Rules
Coming soon….
Settlement Statement
The Black Jack Gentlemen Series:
