by Nicole Snow
God help me, I want to bring Bekah, too. I want them to know her. I want to show them I've got my shit together, and I can have a normal relationship with a woman, without an imminent disaster hanging over our heads.
If only the last part were true. Honestly, my situation is just as complicated as the rash insanity that consumed both my brothers when they claimed their wives, even if it isn't as serious yet.
There must be a Shaw curse because we're about to be three-for-three in that department.
At home, there's more waiting for me than an invitation to the charity ball. I find Bekah at the breakfast bar, where she's unwinding with her Kindle in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other.
I smile when I see what's on her screen. “Reading those gossip rags again? Who is it this time? King Silas and his fairy tale fantasies?”
“Ryan Caspian, actually,” she says, putting her hand over the screen, the little tease. “He's a billionaire, a lot like you, out in Michigan.”
“Heard the name,” I say, frowning because I'm not able to place it.
“He went through a lot for a second chance with his lady, Kara. Had to leave town after he killed a man. They're married and have kids now.”
I let out a low whistle, loosening my tie. Always feels incredible after a long day flogging Neolithic's billion dollar machine a little harder. “Killed a man? Hope there was a good reason. I'm surprised, moscato. Murder-mystery doesn't seem like your usual material. Can't remember the last time I didn't see you swallowing celebrity drama, or checking on your charity in Caracas.”
“Bogota!” she corrects, holding up a finger. “If you want to know the truth, I'm reading about Ryan and Kara because they're a good example of how screwed up things can get before they're set right. Since I'm sharing a bed with a billionaire and we've got big problems, I thought I'd better take a closer look at what I'm really getting into.”
“How about this?” I say, reaching into my pocket. I take her lips long and hard before I push the small piece of paper into her hands.
“A blank check?” her brow creases, confusion setting in.
“It's not blank. Just the amount. Look closer. There's a date, a signature, and a note in the memo line.”
“Whatever she can dream.” Bekah reads the words I scribbled there this morning, looking up, her eyes wide. “I don't get it?”
“It's yours, moscato. Pick an amount under eight figures, and write it in, whenever you want. If you want it to go to your charity, fine. Or your personal bank account, maybe. A handsome stipend so you can do what you really want. You want to go there, do what you need to help those people get their water, go right ahead.”
“What? But I'm here with you...”
I smile. She's so damned adorable when she's surprised, I want to rip that robe right off and carry her to bed. “Didn't say you had to decide today. This offer's good for awhile. My treat. Because you're not really free until we've taken the power away from your old man. This helps us do that, even if it isn't our final answer.”
“Grant...” She's touched. “You're sure about this?”
I take her in my arms, laying another kiss on her lips, before I speak. “This gives you control over your life. A clean slate. A nice chunk of change to start over, however much you need, in the limits I set. If you think a few million means anything to me, think again. Seeing you happy, loved, and free means more. So much more than those selfish jackoffs who held you back will ever understand.”
“It's too much,” she says, a lump visible in her throat. “I can't.”
I lay my hand on her cheek, tilt her chin up with my thumb, and wait until those green eyes are on me, deep and beautiful as the Maine forest. “It's late, is what it is. My only regret is not offering it sooner. It's proof you're a free woman, moscato. You're not my prisoner, or anyone else's. I'll fight my way to the ends of the universe to keep you safe, and you don't owe me a damned thing. I do it because...fuck, because I love you. Love you like I never thought I'd love any woman, and because I want to keep you on the only terms love should ever be: free.”
She jumps me. Didn't think she had it in her to kiss as hard as she does just then, tears streaming down her cheeks. Good thing I'm ready. I take her passion in my mouth and give it right back, running my hands up and down her beautiful body, knowing she's mine forever because I'm man enough to set her free.
“You weren't supposed to say it first,” she says, her voice shaking. “That was my job.”
Looks like she's holding something in, but I don't press her. Not when it's one of those moments you'd be a complete fool to sour.
“Say what?” I grin, pretending I don't already know.
“I love you, Mr. Shaw. Loved you first and I think I love you more. I. Love. You.”
That's a lot of lovin' for a man whose ears only used to prick up with pride when he heard Bastard Axe. Lucky I've evolved.
Don't think I'll ever hear any sweeter words, when they're coming from her lips, proof positive we're on the right track, and nothing will ever derail us.
“Damn, brother. Thought you'd never show, and I'd have to kick this thing off all on my lonesome.” I slap Hayden on the back.
“Whatever. Wrangling up kids is a full time job. We can't all run off to the woods whenever we'd like and chop firewood.” He stares back at me with the same eyes telling the world we're kin. Brothers, for better or worse, bound in Shaw blue.
“Think again, the rugged frontier life would do wonders for your little girl,” I say with a wink, dropping to my knees and holding out my arms as the toddler runs toward me. I sweep my niece up to my chest, bouncing her in the air as she laughs. “Hello, Abby! Been too long since you've seen Uncle Grant.”
She runs her little hands in my beard. She's such a sweet girl. I'm sure the cuteness is about to make my Bekah's ovaries explode as she stands next to me, an amused smile on her lips. I'm still bouncing the two year old in my arms when I walk past Hayds, approaching the striking redhead behind him.
“Penny, how's he treating you?” Grinning, I give her hand a squeeze. Like always, she shoves aside the handshake, throwing her arms around me instead.
“It's wonderful to see you! Hayden's an amazing father and even better husband. Must take after his big brother,” she says, flashing me a wink. “I mean, if the rich and famous bachelor, Grant Shaw, ever decides to live up to his full potential and settle down, of course.”
“Yeah, about that...” I hand Abby back to her, letting the tiny girl give my beard one more brisk tug. “There's someone I'd like you both to meet.” I move towards Bekah, putting my palm on the small of her back, easing her into my family's first impression.
“Hayds, Penny, this is my assistant, Rebekah –“
“Holy hell, bro! Where'd you hire the fox?” Another familiar voice stops me mid-sentence, crashing into Hayden from behind. Even at this charity ball, where the combined wealth in this room is quickly approaching a trillion dollars, Luke wears his bombardier jacket over his suit.
It's hard letting Hollywood fashion habits go, apparently. Hayden shoots him an annoyed look, and our youngest brother raises a cocky eyebrow.
“I was just about to get to her, Fly Right,” I growl, slapping the back of his neck not-so-playfully. “Where's Robbi and your little man, anyway? Might as well do an introduction with the whole family.”
“Oh my God,” Bekah whispers, leaning her lips to my ear. “You weren't kidding. It's really him.”
I laugh, all I can do not to roll my eyes. If she knew my brother, she wouldn't be so star struck by everybody's favorite new swoon from the big screen, the guy who's made the Shaw name synonymous with kinky billionaire.
There are worse fates, right? I try to tell myself there are.
“In the flesh,” I say, stepping past them as she shakes his hand, gushing over his last big erotic romance thriller, Bare. “How's my sister-in-law and my little architect?”
Robbi smiles, wearing her gold blonde hair a littl
e shorter. It looks nice. “We're holding up. Just glad the studio let us get away for the weekend, but I told them I wouldn't miss this for the world.”
She passes me the kid, my baby nephew, one more little tiger who's inherited our ocean blue eyes. Last time I saw Zane, barely one year old now, he was laughing his way to an early nap after we knocked down a huge Jenga tower we'd built together. It was Christmas, little more than six months ago, a time when everything was so much simpler.
There's no time to make small talk. The second Bekah turns around, she's squealing again, running past me to shake Robbi's hand with a fury that makes me wonder if she'll take her arm off. “Robin Shaw! You were amazing. How did you get so brave to do half the things you did in the movie? I couldn't. Not in a million years!”
Robbi laughs, looking past her. I'm sure she's used to fans gushing all over her by now, especially the young and plucky ones like Bekah. Penny comes up next to her, and they share a look, before both their eyes fall on me.
“Grant? Is there something we should know?”
“Yeah, if I can get a break from these interruptions.” I sigh, waiting for my two younger brothers to stop screwing around and join us. They do a moment later, trotting over, putting away whatever inane argument had them so animated just seconds ago.
“Boys and girls, I'd like you to meet Rebekah Corbin, my new assistant and also my date for tonight.” That's right. I'm done hiding anything.
I don't care how my brothers raise their eyebrows as they give her a proper handshake and friendly, elusive grins. Care even less how much psychic gossip I can sense flying between Penny and Robbi, their glances between each other and back to me wondering if I've lost my mind.
They've been there before. All four of them. Both couples came out the other side of their drama happier, healthier, and better for it.
There's no goddamned reason I can't do the same.
“Let's get drinks!” Robbi says, tugging on my girl's arm. “We'll leave the boys a few minutes to catch up.” I'm just glad she wants to make my girl feel welcome.
“Bro, since when did you decide to rob the cradle?” Luke says, a thin smile pulling at his lips. “Is she even old enough to drink?”
“I don't know, thought I'd better give it some thought. More than you put in before you decided to shack up with our old family help.”
Anger stirs in his eyes. Once upon a time, Robbi was our family's hired maid. Their relationship got blown until years later, thanks to a wretched affair between our old man and her mom. Defensive as ever, my little brother stabs his finger into my chest, and I counter, grabbing his wrist.
“Shack up? I married her, Grant. Unless you're ready to show me a ring on that pretty young thing you've got hooked to your arm, you don't have the right to talk shit about my wife.”
Much as my ego wants to snap his arm like a twig, he's right. Robbi's too nice. She doesn't deserve shit talk. Hayds steps between us, pushing both our arms down, wearing a genteel smile for several wealthy old couples with champagne flutes in their hands passing by.
“Come on, guys, this isn't how we do charity. Let's not give the muckraker fuckwad journalists a scene to tweet about.” He ought to know better than anyone how that can blow up, after his fake marriage to Penny turned real. He's also always been the voice of reason, and it's as welcome as it is insufferable at times.
“Sorry, brother. I was out of line,” I tell Luke. “Still don't like you implying I went after her for the banging good looks, and nothing else. If she was worth nothing better than warming my bed, I wouldn't have brought her here tonight. Damned sure I wouldn't have brought her to meet my family.”
Luke's eyes go to the floor. Deep down, I know he regrets his words, but he's too proud to say it.
“It's not often we get together like this anymore,” Hayds reminds us. He stops a server carrying champagne on a silver tray as he walks past, placing drinks in both our hands, before he takes his. “Let's have a toast to the three musketeers for old time's sake, yeah? We'll conquer the world, brothers, as long as we don't turn on each other first.”
Fair point.
We clink glasses. Luke taps mine harder than he needs to, but I smile anyway. There's no time to be stung by his passive-aggressive bullshit.
The gangly gentleman we've brought in to be our keynote steps up to the stage, gripping the microphone. It's Charlie Cunninghare, a veteran from local self-help radio. He's a clear communicator and has the experience to know when to rile people up or put them to sleep, making him the perfect choice. “Ladies and gentleman, we'd like to get this rodeo going in the next twenty minutes. Please find your seats and have your checkbooks handy! All proceeds tonight benefit Healthy Mothers Global, the Helene Psychiatric Fund, and the Bogota Bridge Cooperative. These wonderful charities represent several good causes, from disease research, to mental health, to sanitation, each vetted and endorsed by our gracious hosts.” Charles finds us in the crowd and waves.
We smile, waving back. Family bullshit aside, my grin is real. We each picked a charity to spotlight tonight, ready to raise a nice haul for our pet causes.
Hayds and Luke walk with me over to the front row seats reserved for us. We sit, sipping our drinks, searching for our girls in the vast gaggle of corporate luminaries, celebs, and philanthropists we've sold into joining us tonight.
“What's Healthy Mothers doing these days, Hayds? Zeno's practically cured.” I give my brother a proud look. Good thing I'm not the jealous type, or I'd feel pretty small sitting next to the man who kickstarted the research to cure a virus threatening millions of motherhood dreams.
“We're moving onto the next big thing. Support and care for the mothers who need it. Zeno doesn't make life easy, even when it's cured. Penny never reached the burnout stage when she had it, thank God. A lot of others weren't so lucky. They'll need more science if they want to fix their reproductive systems, too ravaged by the virus to give them kids, even when it's no longer active in their blood.”
“You're doing them a solid,” Luke says, downing his champagne and waving the waiter over. He asks for something harder, a whiskey sour. I decide to go for one, too. “Wish I could say I'd thought up my cause without a lot of help from Ericka.”
“Shit.” Hayds and I say it in unison, shaking our heads. The crazy bitch almost sent our little brother to jail after she accused him of screwing up her face, a last desperate ploy to keep him away from her Robbi. They're on good terms now, and she's a happy grandma, but it's taken her a hell of a lot of therapy to get there.
“No, guys, it's not like that. Just wish I'd been more proactive. Less self-absorbed, fixated on my career, chasing my big break. Could've helped people like Ericka before her insanity ever caused us serious grief, if I'd thought to raise funds for mental health before. I'm never making the same mistake again.” I hold my glass out for him to tap it with his, and we both knock back our whiskeys. “Why water, bro? I know you've done a lot of fundraising over the years for different causes, more than me, but raking up money for water in Panama or wherever the fuck seems random.”
“Colombia” I correct him. “It's Bekah's project. She's to thank for turning me onto it. I shrugged it off, too, at first, but then I saw the pictures. Families going thirsty, or relying on poison water guaranteed to shorten their lives. Babies dying from diseases we can fix with hundred year old treatment and a few good treatment plants. There's no excuse. If I'm able to step up and make things better, I will.”
“Wow. Didn't know it was so serious,” he says, staring into his almost empty glass. “You're doing a lot of good, no doubt. But signing onto a charity you hardly knew shit about, her charity...it's serious, isn't it?”
Obviously. Does he think I'd be sitting here, counting down the seconds, waiting to see the smile lighting up her sweet face when she sees what I'm doing for her and the people she cares about, if I wasn't goddamned smitten?
“Love's a heavy thing,” I say, looking at them both as their eyes go wide.
“Don't know how you boys do it, but you've set a good example. I'll be lucky if I'm able to make her half as happy as you've made your wives.”
Luke and Hayds turn to each other, sharing a look. I'm sure they're about to throw a whole lot more crap my way, double-checking my sanity, but they never get the chance.
The ladies take the empty seats between us, laughing as they pull away from each other.
“Everything good?” I ask Bekah, as soon as her hand is in mine.
“Amazing! Why didn't you tell me your sisters-in-law are hilarious?”
I just smile, happy she's telling me the truth. There's no need to pretend it's okay for my benefit.
It's a relief they didn't let the age gap or my surprise intro treat her any worse than she deserves. Not that I'd expect it from ladies as gracious as Penny and Robbi, but stranger things have happened when people get the wrong notions in their heads.
We lock hands. I eyeball the drink she's sipping, a beverage on ice in a tall glass, something they don't usually serve to preserve the classy, stick-up-the-ass atmosphere that comes mandatory when you're asking favors from people as rich as we are. “Long Island Iced Tea? No moscato?” I tease.
“Non-alcoholic, actually,” she says, her voice weirdly soft. “I wasn't feeling like a buzz today. Still shaking off the cold or whatever it was, I guess. Just walking around here in this thing is making me sweat like mad.”
She fans herself, adjusting her long red dress. I pull her hand up, laying a firm kiss on the back of it, a motion which sets off Penny and Robbi chattering quietly to themselves a few seats over. Little Abby giggles, and baby Zane joins her a second later. Almost like the kids can sense the secret intensity between us, and they're laughing for me as I try to hold it in. I'm only showing one hundredth of it to my family tonight.
“You're hot as hell, babe. Don't forget it.” I kiss her hand again, this time lingering.
“Hot mess, maybe,” she whispers, her cheeks catching the rosy red hue I love. “It's nice to meet your family, Grant. And thank you for making my charity yours tonight. Someday, I'll make it even.”
