The Walsh Brothers

by Kate Canterbary

  The wreckage he left in his wake was substantial, and I knew it would take years to put us back together but we knew all about restoration. We knew about picking up the pieces, brushing away the effects of time, and seeing things as they should be.

  Lauren came to me, curled herself around me, and we watched in the hazy darkness between night and morning as the storm rolled in from the sea. I didn't have to request her presence, she just knew I needed it. She didn't say anything, and there was nothing to say that her loving touch didn't already express.

  There were versions of Lauren, probably too many to count, but she showed me every one without hesitation, and I knew her. I knew her heart and her mind and her love, and I knew that night at The Red Hat that she was rare and precious. And she knew me, all of me.

  Despite every mathematical improbability, we had been waiting for each other. Passing each other in coffeehouses, on the streets of Beacon Hill, and on beaches of Cape Cod, waiting for the moment when our universes collided. Until she fell into my arms.

  We belonged to each other.

  We sat there for hours—maybe it was minutes, I couldn't tell anymore—and she whispered, "Tell me what you need."

  Five words we knew so well, and right now they meant something else entirely.

  I studied her eyes, looking for the flares of gold in the seas of green, and said, "Can I show you a few things?"

  She nodded, and I grabbed the items I needed from my home office without giving myself a second of doubt.

  "I've been drawing this house," I said, settling onto the sofa with her on my lap and paging through my graphing notebook. "I started it a couple of months ago, and I have some variations here, but it's the same house at its core. Here's the great room and the kitchen. The library, the master bedroom."

  "This is remarkable, Matthew." She touched her fingers to the paper, tracing the lines. "I thought you did this in a computer program. I didn't know you did it by hand like this."

  "It's how I learned. This was the one thing my father taught me: how to let the design move from my mind to my hand to the page." The thought slammed into my chest, more as an unanticipated reminder than stunning grief, and I decided I was all right. Lauren was filling the empty space where Angus usually unloaded his venom, and I knew she'd get me through this. "I took it apart and rebuilt it a couple of times, and I put in a little roof garden, just because they make Sam happy."

  Lauren turned the pages, studying each design and feeling my pencil's indentations on the paper. "Is this a project you're working on?"

  "No," I said, resting my chin on her shoulder and letting my lips brush against her neck. "But I kept going back to it, over and over these past few months. Every time I made it a little different, adjustments here and there, but it was always the same house."

  She nodded thoughtfully, and I knew she was entertaining my ramblings with extreme patience. I hadn't seen a single eye roll from her yet, and I wanted her to stop worrying that my father died tonight and argue with me again. I was finally free to live, and I wanted her alongside me for the journey.

  "I realized this morning I'd been drawing it for you," I said. "This is for you, and part of me has known that for months because it's all the little things you like, the things you need. Built-in bookshelves, a claw-foot tub, a big kitchen island, plenty of windows in the master bedroom. This is yours. And mine, I hope. Some day." Her eyebrows winged up, and I laughed, my first genuine laugh today. "It's our house. The one I want to build you."

  She stared at the design for long, excruciating minutes, and when she finally glanced up, I saw that familiar grin, that naughty schoolteacher smile, and I could breathe again. "Is that all? I recall there being multiple items on your punch list, Mr. Walsh."

  "Do you remember how you came home with me after one kiss, Miss Halsted?"

  And then she gave it to me: the eye roll I'd been craving for days. "I think there was more to the story than that, and I think it had something to do with your growls and panty-dropping stares."

  "So that's a yes," I laughed. "Do you remember how I asked you to marry me the next day?"

  "Yeah, after all my friends rubbed up on you like desperate, skanky housewives. It was lovely to watch."

  "You said no that night." Plucking the ring from my pocket, I slipped it over her finger, and placed her hand on the drawing of our home. "Say yes."

  Lauren stared at the diamond solitaire, and there wasn't much I wouldn't have given to crawl inside her head and hear her thoughts.

  "How can you be sure?" she whispered.

  "You take me as I come, ugly parts and rough patches and my insane family and everything. I love you, and you own me. Completely. You have since that first night."

  "I love you," she said, her hands flying to my face, her thumb brushing back and forth over my lip.

  "Oh yeah?" I whispered.

  She nodded, and sucked my lip into her mouth, biting. I pounced, crowding her against the sofa and savoring her. Her scent saturated my senses, and I could think of nothing other than sinking into her wet center and losing myself in her. She rubbed her cheek against the stubble on my chin and pressed a biting kiss to the corner of my mouth.

  Pulling back, she cupped my face and arched an eyebrow. "Why do you have an engagement ring lying around your apartment?"

  I leaned into her embrace and my eyes drifted shut. "Because I picked it out after we sold the brownstones," I said against her lips. I inhaled her scent, laced our fingers together, and wrapped our entwined arms around her waist. "Don't freak out. Before you say no—"

  "Yes," she sighed.

  She dragged her teeth over my lips, and I needed her soft and pliable beneath me. I needed her yielding to me. I just needed her. Clothes started flying off around us, and soon I felt the heat of her skin.

  "Yes? I don't even know what that means, Miss Halsted. I've only heard you saying yes when my head's between your legs. Yes yes, as in…yes?"

  "Yes." She smiled up at me, and my brain was on an infinite loop of mine, mine, mine. I wanted to devour her. "But I need you to meet my parents first. Maybe…you could come with me next week, after the funeral, and we spend Christmas with them in Mexico. Wouldn't that be a nice break from all of this?"

  I dropped my head between her breasts—my favorite place in the universe—and groaned. "Your father is going to murder me."

  "I'll protect you," she whispered. "He talks a tough game, but never says no to me."

  "I can sympathize with that sentiment."

  My tongue surged into her mouth while my hands gripped her hips, my erection rocking into her with enough force to shift our bodies across the sofa and onto the floor.

  "You're such a fucking caveman," she laughed.

  I felt the cool metal of my ring on her finger as her hand trailed over my shoulder and up the nape of my neck. The primitive sensation of knowing she was mine far outstripped anything I ever experienced, and I brought her hand back to my chest.

  "I love you," I panted. "And you did wait for your husband."

  "I know, I know, I know," she replied, her words drawn into a moan as I wrapped her legs around my waist and drove in deeper. "I think I've always known. It's always been you."

  I was lost in her. But on nights like tonight, it felt a lot like being found.

  Epilogue

  Matthew

  Christmas Eve

  Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

  * * *

  The Commodore held Lauren's hand and studied the ring on her finger. He cut a sharp glance to me, then Lauren, and back to me. She didn't notice. She went right on guzzling her margarita as if the Commodore wasn't trying to vaporize me with his glare.

  "That's quite the rock," he said. "Only two reasons a man buys something like that: he's making up for shortcomings or asking forgiveness."

  The unspoken question lingered over the table while a mariachi band played holiday tunes, circulating through the resort's restaurant.

  "My sister, Erin, h
elped me pick it out," I said, reaching for my water glass. "She's a geologist. She actually talked me out of a larger stone. Erin said this one," I nodded to Lauren's hand, still in the Commodore's grip. "Was flawless. Perfect. Rare. And I knew it was the one for Lauren."

  The Commodore stared at me, his expression clearly articulating his contempt for my response. And as much as I disliked this exercise, I expected it. Lauren had told me more than a few stories about her absurdly protective father and brothers, and I was the guy they'd never met.

  The guy who intended to marry his daughter.

  Lauren twisted her hand free to intercept another margarita. "Gracias," she said.

  "Well I think it's beautiful," Judy, my future mother-in-law, said. She patted my arm and offered a bright smile. It was nice knowing I had an ally at the table. "What are you thinking for the wedding? Any ideas? Wouldn't San Diego be wonderful?"

  Lauren turned to me with a sweet, bewildered look on her face, and she shrugged. "We haven't talked about that yet."

  Between burying my father and making the last-minute trip to Mexico, there hadn't been time for much of anything. Boston was getting hit with one blizzard after another, and that made the business of restoring homes almost impossible. Half of Lauren's apartment was packed and ready to relocate to my loft, but we didn't know what to do about the rest of it. And we were stepping around the topics of weddings and marriage, as if this trip to Mexico was necessary to finalize our engagement.

  "That's not much of a surprise," the Commodore barked. "Did he get you pregnant?"

  "Oh, my God," Lauren said. "Give me a little credit!"

  I expected that, too. At least there wasn't a shotgun pointed at my head.

  "Goddamn it, Bill!" Judy cried. "It's Christmas Eve. Be a civilized person or go back to the room."

  Over the rim of her glass, Lauren's gaze pinged between me and her father. His eyebrows lifted before focusing on the pilsner glass to his right.

  "You're in architecture," Bill said. "You're successful in that field."

  It was a statement, a comment delivered with the cool authority of well-researched fact.

  "We've done well for ourselves," I said.

  "That's an understatement," Lauren snorted. Her words ran together, slurring just a bit at the end. She waved a hand in my direction and dropped it on my thigh, and I figured I'd be carrying her back to our casita. "Matthew is brilliant. He and his family, they have a client waiting list five pages long. They're in all the architecture and design magazines; they're featured at all these prestigious events. They're beyond successful, Dad. You should see what he's done with my school."

  Lauren kneaded my leg, squeezing my hamstring through my trousers. Her thumb, that sweet little thumb, passed back and forth over my inner thigh, and I swallowed a growl.

  She was such a handsy drunk, and I loved that about her. But right now, at this moment, in this restaurant, I didn't need to think about Lauren crawling under the table and sucking my cock. Or my hand sliding beneath her gauzy red sundress. Or clumsy, drunk sex on the floor of our beachfront casita.

  Not with Commodore Halsted staring at me as if he could read all my perverted thoughts about his daughter.

  "I called in a few favors at the Agency," he said.

  Oh God, please tell me we are not talking about the Central Intelligence Agency.

  "Ran an extensive background check on you."

  Yep, that agency.

  "Dad!" Lauren said, slapping my leg in concert with her shout.

  "William," Judy groaned. "We talked about this. You're being a weirdo!"

  What would that produce? Tax returns, parking tickets, college transcripts? I wasn't associated with the mafia. I'd never texted pictures of my dick to anyone. I wasn't running a fight club from my loft. The only skeleton in my closet was my father, and he was good and dead now.

  "And you participate in triathlons."

  I didn't expect that one. Maybe he was thinking I could run, swim, or bike back to Boston tonight.

  "Not just triathlons," Lauren said. "Those crazy Ironman competitions like Will and Wes."

  She was disappointed that her brothers were still deployed on top secret missions and weren't joining us for the holiday, but I was relieved I was only facing unfriendly fire from only one Halsted.

  "I usually get a few miles in each day. Up for a run in the morning?" Bill asked. "Maybe some ocean swimming? You can't get much of that in Boston."

  Feats of strength. Perfect. Why couldn't I just let him win a round golf?

  "Definitely," I said.

  "Good," the Commodore said, smiling. "Looking forward to it."

  Yeah. I'd be lucky if I didn't have to wrestle a pod of humpback whales tomorrow.

  "That went well," Lauren said as the door closed behind us.

  She kicked off her sandals and headed for the bathroom. I seized the opportunity to bang my head against the casita's door.

  "I mean, overall, it wasn't bad," she called.

  I banged my head again.

  "Yeah, sweetness, if I had seven margaritas, I'd be saying the same thing." I nursed a single beer through dinner. Didn't seem wise to meet my future in-laws while rocked off my ass on the best tequila Mexico could offer. "Which part went well? When your father announced that he had me investigated? Or when he suggested that your engagement ring was intended to make up for a small dick? Or maybe the fact he glared at me for three straight hours like he was trying to decide how to kill me?"

  "But my mother loved you." Lauren leaned against the door frame and gestured with her toothbrush. "Give him some time. He's surprised. We've been in Cabo for like eight hours and he just met you. You'll grow on him."

  She vanished behind the bathroom door, and I flopped onto a wide leather chair in the living room. Moonlight sparkled on the Pacific no more than twenty feet away, and I exhaled. The worst of it was over, the 'hi, how are you, I'm Matt and I'm marrying your daughter' was behind us. Now I just needed to survive the next ten days.

  But I couldn't relax. I'd been on edge for the past month, but this—this tension gnawing at the base of my skull—was different.

  "Hey," Lauren murmured as she approached. Her hands dropped to my shoulders. "Everything is going to be fine. There's no bite to his bark. You know that, right?"

  I nodded, and closed my eyes while her fingers teased apart the bunched, knotted muscles. Several quiet minutes passed, and her ring tickled my earlobe, catalyzing my tension into hunger.

  This is what I need right now. She is what I need.

  "Bedroom," I murmured.

  Standing, I caught Lauren around the waist, tossed her over my shoulder, and marched out of the living room.

  "Is this some kind of Walsh family holiday tradition?" she asked.

  "No," I said. Her sundress was over her head on the ground before her ass hit the bed. "This is me taking what's mine."

  I stripped down and crawled onto the bed, stalking Lauren until she reclined against the bank of pillows. There was no mistaking her heavy-lidded gaze or the way her breathing hitched when I dragged my cock along her leg. I ran my nose across her shoulder, up and down her neck, between her breasts, surrendering to the staggering pull I felt toward her.

  "Tell me what you want," she whispered against my ear.

  Hooking my fingers in her panties—God, those lacy creations were going to give me a heart attack one of these days—I drew them down her legs and over my shoulder. Her bra was next, but instead of yanking it off, I twisted her wrists in the straps.

  "What are you doing?" she giggled.

  "You're all mine, sweetness." With her hands positioned over her head and blessedly bound, I smiled. "But if you touch me right now, I'll explode. Don't even think about moving."

  Lauren laughed beneath me, her body vibrating with loose, drunken giggles that spiked desire through my veins. "And what would be wrong with that?"

  "Ordinarily? Nothing. But right now?" I licked each of her nipples, leaving them
taut and shiny. "I'm in charge. You basically gave me a hand job under the table while your father was plotting my execution. And I had to sit next to you while you wore that little dress, and I wanted to lean over and lick your tits every forty-one seconds. So now I'm tormenting you."

  "Oh really?" Nodding, Lauren curled her leg around my waist, locking me against her center. Instinct had me grinding on her, and I realized I was probably the one who required the restraints.

  Lauren

  * * *

  Sometimes, Matthew's eyes shifted between several shades of blue. They brightened when he was happy and laughing, almost a cornflower color. While he worked and solved problems, they tended toward grayish slate. And now, even with his head bent over my breasts, I knew they were nearly midnight blue, dark and serious as intensity consumed him.

  Drinks and dinner with my parents was rough. Matthew was quite accustomed to being one of the most affable Walsh brothers, and he didn't know the first thing about being the least popular guy in the room. But he held his own and took the best my father could give without breaking a sweat.

  Now I figured we'd get naked and forget all about it.

  "We told your parents that we're engaged," he murmured against my belly button. I needed him a few inches lower, I needed those tiny kisses and licks and bites where I was aching for him.

  "Mmhmm. And look, my father didn't castrate you. I'm really pleased about that."

  Matthew glanced up at me with a rueful smile. "So when do I get to marry you?"

  For a full day after I said yes, I wrestled with gravity. I couldn't determine whether I was floating ten feet off the ground or flattened by the weight of this decision. I assumed responsibility for arranging Angus's funeral, and that busy work provided the cover necessary to panic without anyone noticing.