“Here to see Moira, I assume.”
“Yep.” She crossed her arms over her chest. The air-conditioning had felt good at first, but now she was cold. The simple cotton top she’d pulled on didn’t do much of anything to protect her from the cool air, and she had goose bumps breaking out all over. “Any idea where she is?”
“Of course.”
She turned to look at Ella Sue.
The older woman was tucking away her phone. “Mr. Charles, I’ll take her back. I’ve missed her so much. Besides, I’m sure you have so much work going on.” She smiled.
That smile, friendly as it was, sparked something in Neve’s mind. It was the smile Ella Sue had given the vultures who had started to circle after Devon and Sandra McKay—Neve’s parents—had died in a car wreck years ago. It was the smile Ella Sue had used when cops would show up at the door, intent on questioning Neve. Why, yes. I’ll be happy to help you … but I’ll do it my way.
Charles remained at Neve’s side. “Nonsense, Ella. It won’t take but a minute.”
Unaware of just what the issue was between them, but more than happy to get away from her former brother-in-law, Neve gave him a sunny smile and crossed over to Ella Sue. “Charles, I’m sure we’ll have lots of time to chat. But I haven’t seen Ella Sue in years and I’ve missed her.”
A moment passed and then he nodded. “Of course. You can use your lunchtime, then. Just remember, Ella, you are working.” He brushed a hand down the front of his suit and gave Neve a friendly smile. “Before you disappear, let me show you my office. You can swing by and say hello before you head out.”
Yes, because I’m so determined to spend time with you. Biting back the sarcasm, Neve headed across the floor and followed him behind an opaque, flowing wall of colored, carved glass. It made her think of water, ever flowing. Ever changing.
The wall hid several doors, and he disappeared behind one that led down a long hallway. It ended in a set of stairs that went up, up, up, curving around until she found herself in an office that looked out over the lobby, with little windows that offered views down into other areas of the museum she hadn’t yet seen.
“So. You’re working here, huh?” she asked as he pushed open a door.
“Yes. I’m the director and I’ll handle day-to-day operations once we’re open. You might not realize how busy Moira is with the board and keeping McKay operating.”
The barb was subtle, but oh so sharp.
When he smiled at her, she smiled back blandly. “Bless your heart, Charles … it’s so kind of you to stay on even after things … didn’t work out with you two.”
A small smile curled his lips. “If I may…” He inclined his head and reached into his desk.
“Yes?” She tucked her hands into her pockets.
“Moira has a great deal on her mind right now.” Charles watched her, his expression flat, his eyes unreadable. “While … things didn’t work out as either of us had hoped, I still care a great deal for her. She doesn’t need any more stress piled on.”
“She’s always had a great deal on her mind.” Neve shrugged. “It’s a wonder she has enough room in her mind for the thoughts she likes to think. And more stress is practically her motto.”
If he was amused by the comment, he didn’t show it. All he did was continue to watch her and then after another thirty seconds ticked by, he pulled something out of the top drawer of his desk. “How much do you need?”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s not play games, Neve.” He gestured to her, somehow managing to encompass her entire body, from her head to her feet. “You look like you found your clothes in a homeless shelter. You haven’t slept well in weeks, and if you’ve had your hair cut in the past year, then you did it yourself. I always suspected that you’d fall, and fall hard. So. How much do you need?”
That was a hit, straight to her pride, and it did more to clear away the apathy, the misery, even the fear than anything else could have done. Placing one foot in front of the other, she moved to his desk with slow, easy strides. “So. You’re willing to pay me to just leave … and not bother Moira, I assume? Just disappear right now?”
“You are quite the intelligent one. I thought as much.” His gaze was cool and direct.
“I wonder, can you pay me enough?” She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. “Let me think—considering that I own a third of the McKay family empire? Dynasty? Enterprise? What do you call it when your family owns a little of this, a little of that … you know. The bank in town, half the real estate, two of the restaurants … then there are the patents … well, the list goes on. Should I continue?”
Curling her lip at him, she finished by saying, “I don’t need your money, Charles. Nice of you to worry about Moira, though.”
She turned on her heel and strode to the door. Hearing him move behind her, she put more speed to her steps and hit the door just as his fingers brushed her arm.
She jerked her arm away. If he laid a hand on her, she’d lay the son of a bitch out flat.
She hit the steps and didn’t stop until she saw Ella Sue’s familiar face.
* * *
Moira looked the same.
Well, except for the blue silk scarf she’d tied around her hair, a darker shade of red than Neve’s.
The blue gleamed against the soft waves. The blue, the dark red of her hair, and her pale complexion—the smooth, creamy skin—all of it had Neve pausing in the doorway for a second.
Even as she helped pry open a box, her skin glowing with sweat, her eyes gleaming, Moira McKay was beautiful.
In comparison, her kid sister felt awkward and gangly.
Out of place, like she’d often felt.
But that wasn’t Moira’s fault. Too often, Neve had done her best to not fit in. If she didn’t fit in, then she stood out. If she stood out … well, they paid more attention.
“Moira.”
Ella Sue’s soft voice drifted through the air and Moira looked up.
Her gaze connected with Neve’s.
For a second, just a second, something bright and vivid lit Moira’s dark blue eyes. But then it was gone and her expression smoothed over. A calm, easy smile settled into place as she put down the tools she’d been using on the box.
“Neve.” Moira cocked her head. “I was hoping we’d see you today. I heard you got back last night.”
There might have been the faintest bit of censure. Self-conscious, Neve shrugged. “I got in pretty late. I was tired. Stopped in town, ended up running into Gideon and I just crashed at his place.”
Moira’s features froze.
Completely froze.
Well, what do we have here … Neve wondered. Then she smiled, a little more naturally this time. “He’s got a great place. The guest bedroom faces right out over the river. He must have shocked the hell out of some people when they pinned a badge on him.”
Moira looked away, but not before Neve caught the way her shoulders sagged. “Oh, did he ever.” She laughed softly. “Sometimes I still have a hard time believing it myself. Gideon Marshall, reformed bad boy … now the chief of police.”
Moira’s gaze came back to her, roaming over her, and Neve fought the urge to squirm as the concern in her sister’s eyes grew.
A sigh ghosted from Moira and she turned to look at the man who’d been helping her wrestle with the box. “Max, can you give us a while? Take an early lunch if you want.”
He nodded and smiled over at them before heading out of the room.
“I … you look busy. We can talk later,” Neve said, resisting the urge to back away.
“Don’t be silly.” Moira frowned as she moved closer. Neve stood seven inches taller, but she lacked the confidence, the ease with her own body that Moira had always had. “Neve, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like hell. I…”
She stopped and blew out a breath, and then, with a tiny shake of her head, pinned a hard look on Neve. “Have you been sick? Are you sick?”
&nbs
p; Ten years ago, that would have pissed her off—the demand, the flat tone. Now, though, she heard the concern and it soothed something inside her, the hurt she hadn’t been able to hide. “I’m not sick,” Neve said quietly. She shrugged restlessly as she turned away to study the room around her. “I’ve had a rough few months. Okay, the past few years have kind of … sucked.”
Now she turned and looked back at her sister. The ugliness of that final night lingered like a raw, gaping wound, but she shoved those memories aside for now. Swallowing, she said roughly, “I … I needed to come home.”
“Honey.”
A second later, she was wrapped in Moira’s arms and it caught her off guard. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Hush.” It was a command. Not a request, but a command. “Of course you came home—this is where you belong.”
* * *
Brannon probably wouldn’t be considered the most sensitive of souls, a fact he was well aware of.
He was, however, observant.
Observant enough to know when somebody was walking on eggshells. Particularly when that somebody was six feet five and had a predisposition toward the bold and brash, not the quiet and tentative.
After the seventh or eighth sidelong look from Ian, he thumped the plans he’d been working on down and demanded, “Out with it.”
Ian looked up from the schedule he’d been dealing with. “Out with what?”
“Don’t give me that shit, Campbell. Something’s chewing on your ass so just lay it on me and get it over with.”
“My arse is fine, but thanks for the concern,” Ian said. Then he straightened, hands braced on the bar. After a moment, he hooked a hand over his neck and rubbed at it. “There’s this thing, though…”
Brannon hooked one boot on the rung of his stool and waited.
Ian blurted out, “I didn’t know she was your sister.”
Brannon scowled. Ian’s accent got thicker when he was pissed or aggravated, but Brannon had known Ian for years—they’d gone to university together in London and had spent more than a few vacations with each other since. The thicker brogue, the I dinnae—I didn’t know—and the mash-up of the entire sentence weren’t what threw him off.
He just had no idea what Ian was talking about.
“Huh?”
Ian scrubbed his hands over his face. “Look, I thought she was just this pretty lady passin’ through. Stopped in for a pint—more than a few people have been known to do that. And she’s right beautiful, you can’t say she isn’t, and we were talking and if I’d known she was your sister…”
Ian’s words started to run together, but it was probably Brannon’s fault now.
Groaning, he buried his face in his hands. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with my sister.”
“I didn’t sleep with your sister.”
Dropping his hands, Brannon stared at Ian. “Oh. Well, okay then. What the hell is the problem?”
“I…” Ian’s face went bright red.
Brannon stared at him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Ian blush, not once in all the time he’d known him. “Ian, was my baby sister, Neve, in here last night?” he asked quietly.
“Aye.” Ian shrugged. “She was.”
Brannon reached out and gripped the bar, squeezing the mahogany as he tried to think. “Ian … did you sleep with Neve?”
“I already told you. No,” Ian said. Then he looked away. “But…”
“Aw, fuck,” Brannon muttered. “Damn it, Ian. You’ve got women in here flirting with your crazy ass all the time. Why did you have to put the moves on my sister?”
Then he stopped. “Or was she putting the moves on you?”
* * *
Ian saw the way Brannon’s eyes narrowed, almost jumped on the chance to just be done with the conversation.
But what kind of man did that make him?
Not much of one, really, if he lied about his very willing participation in what had happened last night. Reaching for the bar towel, he wiped off his hands. He didn’t need to, it wasn’t like he’d gotten them dirty working on a schedule. But the distraction? That, he needed.
“You could say it was … mutual moving,” he said, flicking Brannon a look from under his lashes.
“Mutual moving,” Brannon said slowly. The red-headed man looked like he wanted to pick up one of the stools and thump Ian right over the skull with it. He decided maybe he could handle taking a swing from his friend. He didn’t have a sister, but he wasn’t sure he’d want his best friend putting his hands on her. Although, Neve … he cut the thought off. Because there wouldn’t be any more putting hands on her, lovely as she was.
“If you’re going to take a swing at me,” Ian said, mind made up. “Let’s get it done.”
“What?”
“I said it clear enough. If you’re going to take a swing at me, then just do it.”
Brannon dropped back onto the stool. “I’m not breaking my hand on your hard skull, Campbell. If you want to go chasing after Neve, I can’t stop you.”
“I’m not.” He turned back to the schedule.
The taut silence had him looking back up to find Brannon staring at him, hard.
“You’re not,” Brannon said, the words slow and flat.
“No.” Ian shrugged. “She’s your sister. If I’d known, I’d have not touched her in the first place.”
Brannon shoved a hand through his hair, a hard sigh escaping. “Why? Because she’s my sister? Look, Neve’s a grown…” His words trailed off. “Hell. Twenty-eight. It’s been years since I’ve even seen her and that was for all of one afternoon. But she’s not a little kid. If she wants to hang out with you, then…”
“Brannon,” Ian cut in softly. “You’re my best friend—like a brother to me, and you know it. What’s gone on between you and her has torn a hole in you, and I know that. Maybe she’s here to mend it, maybe not.” He shrugged and bent back over the schedule. “But … there’s a hole. Her being here is either going to make it bigger or help it close up. I can’t get involved without knowing.”
He flicked Brannon one final look. “It’s not what a friend does.”
He just had to convince himself of that, because he’d lain awake most of the night, remembering the taste of her … and the feel of her in his arms.
Most of all, the way everything in him had just seemed to … know her.
CHAPTER FOUR
“It all looks the same.” Neve had always kicked ass when it came to acting, and she was pulling out all the stops as Aneila walked with her around the house.
Aneila had been all of ten when Neve had left. She was twenty now and she must have been training at her grandmother’s knee, because somehow, she already had Neve sitting at the island, and the smells of whatever was cooking had her belly rumbling.
“You didn’t think it would change much, did you?” Aneila asked as she plated up a sandwich.
Neve winced at the size of it. And when Aneila started to put together a salad, she said, “I’m really not that hungry…”
A steely look entered Aneila’s eyes, one almost identical to Ella Sue’s. “If Granny calls here and asks if you ate anything, do you really think I want to tell her no?” she asked, her red-tipped nails tapping her hip.
“Ah…” Neve plastered a smile on her face. “Have at it. I’m probably hungrier than I think.”
Aneila smiled, looking pleased with herself. Cut from the same cloth, Neve thought. Steamrollers in human suits.
Biting back a sigh, Neve reached for the peach tea she’d gotten from the fridge. “So how has your family been?”
“Well enough.” A pleased smile curved Aneila’s lips. “Did Granny tell you the news?”
“Ah … well. There’s probably a lot of news I’ve missed.”
“True.” Aneila pursed her lips. “Okay, short version … Kiara is going to college in Kentucky—planning on being a doctor. Jazzy married her boyfriend, DeVantrè. He’s off serving overseas now and she’s li
ving on base and she’s going to make me an auntie—and Granny will be Great-Granny soon.”
“Oh!” Neve clapped her hand over her mouth in surprise. “I bet Ella Sue is ecstatic!”
“Yes,” said a satisfied voice behind them.
Both Aneila and Neve spun to find Ella Sue standing in the doorway. Aneila grinned. “Hey, Granny.”
“Are you spoiling all my gossip, girl?” Ella Sue shook her head, not waiting for an answer. She came inside, studied the plate Aneila had in her hands, and then looked at Neve. “You are going to eat, young lady?”
“Of course,” Neve said. Now she’d have to. “So. Great-grandma and one of your granddaughters is going to be a doctor, huh?”
“Oh, yes.” Ella Sue smiled and gestured toward the plate.
Aneila gave Neve a sympathetic smile as she put it down. “You know better than to think you can win when it comes to food,” she said, winking.
Ella Sue pretended not to hear. “Aneila seems to be settling in rather well, don’t you think?”
“Ah … yes?”
That was the right answer, wasn’t it? Hoping she wouldn’t have to say anything else, Neve picked up a piece of summer squash and took a bite.
Ella Sue looked at her granddaughter and smiled. “She’s going to do just fine here when she takes over for me in a year or two.” Now she looked at Neve. Softly, she said, “I’m retiring.”
Neve choked. Slamming a fist against her chest, she tried to dislodge the squash but it wouldn’t come up.
“Well, heavens, child!”
She hit her chest again, panic setting in as the bite refused to go down, and then, abruptly, a pair of arms came around her. That was when the panic really set in, but as she was hauled back against a hard chest, a fist against her diaphragm, her lungs struggling for air, she couldn’t even move. Her arms were trapped against her sides.
No, no, no!
And then, she felt pressure, hard and fast. Something came flying out of her throat, and she was released.
“Well, sis. It looks like you never did learn to chew your food.”
Blood roared in her ears. Adrenaline drained out of her. Barely, just barely, Neve managed to keep from sinking in a puddle to the floor as the relief crashed into her.
Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) Page 5
