by Josie Kerr
“Ten and 15 years.”
Em’s mouth fell open.
“Yeah, Moira was only 15 when she had Finn, and 40 when she had Colin. I think that Finn, Sean, and I have the same father, but then, we all look a lot like her. I know Colin’s father is someone else because we were living in Texas then. Moira followed some roughneck down there, hauling me along. The two older ones had already escaped the house.”
“How old were you then, when you lived in Texas?” Em asked.
“I was about nine or ten. She bounced from man to man, always looking for an upgrade. But then she met Duke. He was the only man who acted like I wasn’t a nuisance. It made Moira really angry to not be the center of attention. He was the one who encouraged me, got me interested in percussion and engineering. And then suddenly, we moved back to St. John’s and then she had Colin.”
Mick wiped his eyes impatiently.
“So, anyway, after that night I spent the next four years dealing with the kinds of homes that would accept giant teenage boys with violent tendencies.”
“Is that where you got the burns?”
“Yeah, that was the last home. I was nothing but a check to those people. The day I turned 18, I came home to find what little I had out on the porch and the locks changed. I had already gotten a little apartment above the fight club and was going to move out that night anyway.” Mick shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal to be kicked out his home.
“What about Colin?”
Mick gulped some air and licked his lips.
“I saw Colin the day before I went to juvie. I stopped by his school and talked to him through the fence, gave him my Saint Rita medallion and a Jerusalem cross. When I got out, he was gone.”
Em gasped. This was so much worse than she had ever imagined.
“What happened to your older brothers?”
“They went down in a storm at sea about six months after Grace and I got married. It was the last catch of the season, and a big storm blew in and smashed the boat to smithereens. There weren’t many survivors.”
“Oh Mick,” Em said, huddling up against his chest. “Bless your heart.”
Mick stroked her back absentmindedly, taking comfort in just feeling her next to him, knowing there was someone that he could hold on to.
“Rory’s been looking for him for years, since we got out of college.” Mick’s grim face told how devastated he was that the younger boy couldn’t be found.
“What if I took a crack at it? Would you let me do that for you? Rory is a brilliant developer, but I’m a much better snoop.”
Mick chuckled at that. "Yeah, you can look into it. I’m not holding my breath though. Okay?”
“Okay.” Em leaned her head on Mick’s chest, listening to his heart thump and petting his neck. She was tempted to confess that she was already looking for him, but Rory was adamant about not telling Mick about their search. Hopefully something would pop soon.
“So, are you ready to meet the Doyles?” Mick asked, frantically trying to get his mind off the past.
Em sat up in the bed. “Truthfully? I’m terrified. What if they don’t like me, Mick?” Em answered honestly. “What if they resent me? What if they think I’m an interloper? I want them to know how much I care about you.”
“They’ll love you as much as I do,” Mick said. Em’s eyes got big for a second, but she quickly hid her shock at Mick’s words.
Shit. Did he just use the L-word? He did.
Mick didn’t seem to realize what he’d said, so Em acted accordingly, but inside, she was hysterically screaming with both excitement and fear.
Okay, get a grip on yourself, girl. He didn’t mean capital L-Love, he meant little-l love, like when he calls me “love.” Hell, Rory calls me “love” all the time.
Mick began to kiss her neck, distracting her from her internal monologue. Em kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair down around his neck. He made his way down her body, kissing and nipping along the smooth curves of her belly and hips. He nuzzled the dip of her pelvis, worshipping the swirling designs that decorated her hips and belly, peppering open-mouthed kisses along their colorful borders. He ran his nose down the curve of her hip and continued along the length of her thigh.
He slid off the bed, resting his knees on the floor, pulling her down to the bed’s edge.
“One thing good about your bed, it’s easy to slide off the end to I can get to you,” Mick said as he pressed his hands on the inside of Em’s thighs, pushing them open so he could gaze at her softness. Mick ran his fingers lightly over her lower lips, the tips dancing across her folds. He placed a sweet kiss on her, dipping his tongue into her core and flicking it against her nub. Mick slipped in his thick middle finger and rubbed her clit while he used his tongue to flick around the nub. He added another finger and curled them inside Em, making her explode around them.
“That was fast,” he chuffed. He lay with his head on her mound, her legs over his shoulders. He kissed the inside of her thigh. I used the damn L-word. She didn’t say anything. What the hell am I doing?
Mick kissed her mound again, and then moved her legs from his shoulders and dragged her back up the bed with him. He held her close to him, nestled into his chest. She placed a kiss on his left pec, her hand drifting down to his erection, meaning to reciprocate. He moved her hand away, kissing the top of her head.
“I’m fine, Em. I don’t need anything except you.” Mick hoped Em would understand what he was saying.
“I don’t need anything other than you, either, Mick,” Em said, understanding completely.
Chapter 33
“Are you sure this contraption is safe to use?” Mick looked at the vintage roaster with skepticism. “This thing looks straight out of ‘I Love Lucy’.”
“It is from the 1950s, yes, but it works perfectly and produces the best roasted turkey you’ll ever taste,” Em said as she placed the uncooked bird in the roaster. “I’ve used this roaster for years with Ashley’s family and they always rave about the results.” Mick made a noncommittal noise and Em grinned at him.
“Rory and I usually just buy a turkey already cooked,” Mick said. “There’s no need to go to all this trouble.”
Em blew a raspberry. “It’s no trouble. Put the bird in, set the timer, take the bird out. Easy peasy.”
“You’ve gone all out, Em. I’m supposed to be hosting this year, not you.”
“You’re hosting. Everyone will be in your home; that’s hosting. I’m just cooking.”
Mick surveyed the dishes Em had prepped. He was in awe. They had been at the rec center the day before, putting together turkey dinners for the program participants. There was a full kitchen at the center but they had never really taken advantage of it for a large scale hot meal. Em, armed with an Army recipe book and some industrial-sized cookware, whipped up 300 dinners, with the help of Trey and Dre. She was a maniac in the kitchen.
“What are you grinning at?” Em asked as she added things to a big stand mixer that looked about the same age as the roaster. She had some flour on her forehead and was adorably flushed from the heat of the kitchen.
Mick came up behind her and placed his hands on her hips. He kissed the top of her head, murmuring into her hair.
“You’re something else. You work full-time, then make a million turkey dinners and box them up so people can have a Thanksgiving they wouldn’t otherwise have been able to enjoy, and now you’re doing the whole thing over again for us.” He placed a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”
Em fiddled with a piece of plastic wrap. “I love doing it. There’s just something about feeding people that makes me feel really fulfilled. And besides, I’m not working full-time right now, thanks to stupid Tripp, so I might as well do something else I love to fill my time.”
She finished covering the mixing bowl and wiped her hands on the front of her apron. “Whew. I need to let the dough rise for an hour, and then we can start on the rolls.” She arched her back like a cat, twistin
g her torso side to side. “Let’s sit on the couch for a bit, hm?”
She loved her couch. The giant Victorian camelback couch had high arms so she could lean back, and it was so long that even Mick could stretch out to his full length. Mick settled into the corner of the couch and Em curled up next to him, nestling into his side. He ran his fingers in soft circles over her upper arm.
“Did your family have a big to-do for Thanksgiving when you were growing up?” Mick asked. “You don’t talk a lot about them.”
Em sighed. “Mother and Daddy weren’t the most affectionate of people. I mean, they loved me, I know, but they weren’t demonstrative at all. I suspect they weren’t really heartbroken that they never had children, and then when I came along, they were really quite flummoxed. I was always kind of treated like a little adult. There was no whimsy in the household, that’s for sure. But yeah, we had a big Thanksgiving, even though there were only the three of us in the actual biological family. Mother and Daddy had a big group of friends that didn’t have a lot of family or their families were far away, so it was very much an orphan Thanksgiving. Lots of people. It was nice, but very formal. Totally different from Ashley’s crazy family, with a different football game on in every room and people yelling and whooping and eating on the couch.”
“Which do you prefer?” Mick asked, settling down further on the couch and pulling her with him.
“I like somewhere in the middle. I enjoy sitting down at the table and using the nice dishes, but having some fun and being relaxed and not wearing stupid pantyhose and a skirt and heels.” Em shuddered as a laugh rumbled through Mick’s chest.
“Well, we can break out the good dishes if you want to, Em, but we’ll have dessert on the porch. We’re not watching football, though, and I’m absolutely not wearing heels and pantyhose, no matter how much you beg.”
“That’s fine with me,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning into him. They sat in companionable silence, Mick holding Em in his arms, while Em absent-mindedly ran her fingers over his neck and jaw.
A loud clatter from the kitchen jolted both of them from their quiet reverie.
“Beauregard, no! Bad kitty!” Em screeched.
“What’s going on?” Mick turned around on the couch to see Em’s big tabby cat on the counter by the roaster, pulling on a drumstick as hard as he could.
“I must not have latched the roaster lid securely,” Em said, shooing the pudgy cat away from the roasting turkey. “Mick, remind me that this leg is Beauregard’s. Good grief,” she laughed. “There will still be plenty of food for Rory to take home.”
“Food for Rory? What about me?” Mick asked with mock offense. “Why does he get to take food home? I’m the one hosting.”
“You, my man, have ready access to all the goods,” Em said, leaning over the back of the huge divan and draping her arms around Mick’s neck. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.
“I’m your man?” he said, teasing, but not. Mick’s look grew serious.
“Of course you’re my man.” Em returned Mick’s serious look, trying to gauge his reaction to her confession.
“Well, good.” He placed his hand on the back of her head, drawing her face down to him and kissing her deeply. “And I like having access to all the goods.”
Another clatter came from the kitchen, this time accompanied by Beauregard’s angry yowl. “Dammit, Beauregard, stop messing with the mixer!”
******
Mick looked at the kitchen island, still completely awestruck at the number of desserts Em had whipped up at the last minute. More amusing was the fact that she had all sorts of different plates and pedestals on which to display all these desserts. She was really a regular Suzy Homemaker, he thought with a smile.
Mick admired Em’s behind as she bent over to rearrange the contents of the oven. He really liked the way those jeans fit her. That prissy apron was pretty cute, too. The noisy arrival of the Doyle clan pulled Mick’s attention from further inspection of her figure.
“Leave it off, Mam. There’s not much more to say about her,” Rory was saying as he came through the door.
“Not much more to say about who?” inquired Mick, curiously. He didn’t realize Rory was seeing someone.
“Yes, who, Rory? Are you hiding a lady friend from us?” Em frowned. As much as they worked together, she figured she would notice if he was dating someone. Actually, she’d suspected for a while that something was going on between Rory and Ashley, but neither of them would admit anything. That in itself was suspicious, at least on Ashley’s part. Ashley wasn’t known for her discretion, to say the least.
“Oh, thanks Mam. Now you’ve done it,” Rory groaned while Mick burst out laughing. “Now you’ve got Nosy Nelly and his girlfriend curious.” Mick’s scowl at Rory’s nickname made Em giggle.
Mick pulled Sheila Doyle into his arms in a big hug. “Hello, Sheila. I’m so glad you’re here.” He kissed her on the cheek.
Mick took the bags from Paddy and caught him in a side hug. “Sheila, Paddy, I’d like you to meet Em.”
Em stood at the back of the kitchen, smiling shyly, and gave a little wave. “It’s nice to meet y’all. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She chewed her lip anxiously and looked back and forth from Paddy to Sheila.
“Well, love, come give us a hug,” exclaimed Sheila, holding out her open arms. “It’s not often we meet friends of our Michael. We wilna bite.”
Em quickly crossed the kitchen and embraced Sheila warmly. The older woman held her tightly and whispered in her ear, “I’m so glad Michael has met you.”
Em whispered back to her, “I’m so very lucky I met him.” She kissed Sheila’s cheek and discovered it was wet with tears, though Em didn’t know if the tears came from her eyes or Sheila’s.
“Come on, don’t hog the girlie, Sheila,” grumbled Paddy as he held his arms open for his own embrace, his eyes twinkling. Em tearfully laughed and stepped into the older man’s arms.
Mick looked at the three sniffling and laughing people and grinned broadly, blinking tears from his own eyes.
“Good lord, you all are a bunch of sentimental eejits,” grumbled Rory good-naturedly, but he squeezed Em’s shoulder anyway.
Em tried to shoo everyone from the kitchen, but Sheila insisted on helping her get the last bits of the dinner together, the men wandering into the living room with their drinks, arguing about the latest football match. Mick’s eyes wandered back to the kitchen every few minutes. When he happened to catch Em’s eye, he winked and quietly toasted her.
Sheila looked at these small interactions with great interest. Even as a child, Mick had always been a caregiver, and when Grace was alive, he’d had to share her with the children. He took great care of them, sacrificing his own needs for those of his family. It was time for someone to take care of Mick, and Sheila thought this Em might just be that person.
Sheila felt the tears threaten again, and Em quietly said to her, “I know.” Sheila patted Em’s upper arm affectionately. “Let’s get the food on the table, okay?”
When Em called them to the table, Rory eyed the chairs, remembering that morning encounter with Mick and Em. “Don’t worry,” Mick said, conspiratorially, “We’ve christened all the chairs, and perhaps the table, too. And maybe the couch and the club chairs, and I can’t forget the porch furniture, either.” Rory looked ill, prompting more laughter from Mick.
They had a lovely meal, Sheila and Paddy regaling Em with stories of the antics of a younger Rory and Mick. Em took advantage of the story time to examine Rory’s parents more closely. Rory had his father’s height, but was built more like his mother, who was a sturdy sort of woman. He had his mother’s coppery hair as well, but, like his sister and father, had a head of unruly curls.
Em considered Mick as well. He smiled more with Paddy and Sheila, his big body both relaxed and animated at the same time. Mick caught Em studying him and winked at her.
Now this is what a family Thanksgiving should be, Em thou
ght.
Chapter 34
Dinner finished, Mick and Rory banished Em and Rory’s parents to the living room while the two younger men put the leftovers away and washed the dishes. Sheila and Paddy shared more of Rory and Mick’s teenage adventures with Em, and Em told a few tales of her own youth.
Mick sat down next to Em and put his arm around her. Em rested her head on his shoulder, basking in the warmth of his embrace. She was almost asleep, lulled by quiet conversation and the melody of Irish accents, when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Expecting it to be Ashley, Em ignored it, meaning to call her back in the evening to give her the full details of their dinner. When the phone buzzed again, Mick nudged her to answer it. Em excused herself, moving to Mick’s office for some privacy.
Em glanced around his messy office, grinning as she glanced at the phone. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Oh Em, I’m so glad you answered. I hope I’m not interrupting your Thanksgiving dinner, but I had to call while Tripp was at his parents’ house.” Bailey spoke quickly, sounding almost hysterical.
“Bailey, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, Em, it’s not okay at all,” Bailey sobbed. “Tripp’s gone off the deep end. I was in complete denial. I know it’s awful, but after you called, I checked all his call logs, both from his cell and the house, and he lied, Em. He totally lied! He said YOU had been calling HIM, begging him to take you back and give you your old job back at the Holbrook Firm. He’s a big, fat, lying liar!”
Em was both furious and relieved. Furious at Tripp’s duplicity, relieved that Bailey was still really the sweet woman she had befriended. “Bailey, has he hurt you? How has he been treating you? Other than lying, I mean.”
“He hasn’t hurt me physically, Em. You know he’s too big a chicken for a physical confrontation. But since I’ve started actually looking pregnant, he’s totally lost interest in me, and not just sexually. He totally ignores me, doesn’t come home for days, and doesn’t acknowledge me the few times he is home. I just don’t know what to do!”
