by Liv Rancourt
Danielle hugged her back just as hard. “Thanks, Mrs. O.”
“Let me take your coat. The beer’s in the cooler out back, there are snacks on the counter, and we’ll sing some Christmas carols if the crazed fans ever get tired of watching football.”
“Come on, Ma. It’s the Whipped Cream Bowl,” Ryan said, winking at Danielle.
“Really? That’s a strange name for a football game,” Vickie said. Then she caught Ryan’s look. “You brat. You shouldn’t pick on your mother like that.”
“Yeah, Ryan, don’t mess with Mom,” Maeve said, coming back into the living room. She threaded her arm though Danielle’s. “And go watch your dumb game. The girls are going to go have a drink in the kitchen.”
Danielle let herself be pulled away. The smile on Ryan’s face faded the farther she got. Danielle gave him a sheepish grin, then stifled it when his mother looked quickly from one of them to the other.
Vickie O’Connor didn’t miss much when it came to her kids.
“Did I see Joey camped in front of the TV?” Maeve hollered as she dragged Danielle into the kitchen. The dining table had been thoroughly poinsettiaed, at least the parts not covered by trays of appetizers. More people crowded around it.
“Not anymore,” Joe said, appearing behind them. “Aren’t you going to give your baby brother a hug?”
Maeve kept a tight hold on Danielle and wrapped her other arm around her brother. It forced Danielle into awkward contact with a young man she hadn’t seen since he was a kid. Taller than Niall but wiry where the others were solid, his variation on the O’Connor smile had less dimples and more irony. His hair was cropped short on the sides, lifting to a solid wave off his forehead. All he needed was a bolo string tie to complete the retro Western look.
Danielle’s nose mashed awkwardly into his shoulder when Maeve squeezed, but he grabbed her hand, limiting her ability to scoot away. “C’mere stranger. Everybody loves a hug.”
Maeve tipped into them with her full weight, arms around their shoulders. Her move knocked Danielle off her heels and sent her staggering into a cluster of people. She landed with an inarticulate squawk and a mostly humorous round of applause.
A familiar pair of hands circled her ribs from behind, setting her back on her feet. “Careful,” Ryan said, close enough to her ear to send shivers down the back of her neck.
“Now look what you’ve done, Maeve,” Joey said. “Good catch, bro.”
“You okay, Boss?” Ryan asked, this time speaking up for the benefit of his siblings.
“Fine.” She drew back, tugging gently at his wrists. The worst part about the whole thing was letting go of him. His hands were big and warm, and they wrapped around her ribs like a corset of happiness. She gave him a meaningful squeeze, wondering how they were going to get through Christmas Eve without making fools of themselves.
That was if he didn’t lose it completely when he found out she hadn’t talked to Maeve.
I’m an idiot.
The siblings hung out in the kitchen area, the only space not crowded with guests. Eamon followed Maeve and Joey in, propping himself on a corner of the center island with his back to the dining room. He was the family hippie, with shoulder-length hair, a five o’clock shadow that was nearly a beard, and a faded button-down shirt worn tie-less and untucked.
Maeve shoved Joey out the back door, demanding he grab a couple beers from the cooler.
“Then you dorks can go watch football,” she said to her brothers. “Is Niall here yet?”
“Nope,” Eamon said, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and his unfocused gaze forming a patch of discomfort in the middle of his family. He took three of the long-neck bottles from Joey and passed them around the room.
Ryan waved him off. “Already got one.”
Vickie came out of the crowd. “If you guys are going to loiter, you’re in charge of keeping up with the appetizers.”
“What about the wait staff?” Joey said.
His mother gave him a look. “Um, I’ve got a spare black vest you could use.”
Joey struck a mock pose, one hand on his hip, the other with the palm raised. “May I take your order?”
“I’ll give you an order,” Vickie said, aiming a fake slap at her youngest son. “When the timer beeps, take the cheese puffs out of the oven and put a tray of the mini-quiches in.”
“We’re on it,” Danielle said. Maeve rewarded her with a kick in the shins.
“Where is Niall, anyway?” Maeve flipped the cap off her beer with a bottle opener that started playing Santa Claus Is Coming To Town. Startled, she dropped the opener on the floor, very nearly spilling her beer. “Mother!”
Vickie dove back into the party, her laughter quickly drowned out by the noise of the crowd.
“This is cool,” Ryan said, scooping up the bottle opener and looking from it to Danielle, teasing her before handing it over.
Their fingers might have brushed.
Accidentally.
Danielle mumbled an apology and hoped her cheeks weren’t bright red. Ryan caught her with a dimple that drew her to his side by the center island. Trying to act casual, she made an attempt at keeping an equal distance between her and Ryan and Eamon. Maeve claimed a relatively clear stretch between appliances, and Joey stood nearest the back door, apparently used to being the group beer runner. Being youngest had its disadvantages.
The circle of O’Connors turned the kitchen into a private place, despite the rumbling throng jockeying for a spot at the buffet table. The kitchen was where the In Crowd hung out, and Danielle had envied this particular group since high school.
Frequent sneaky glances at Ryan kept her equal parts engaged and distracted. He wore new-ish Levis that fit him the way women dream about, a black crewneck sweater, and Dr. Martens boots. His energy sizzled against her, tightening her smile until she could have struck a match against her teeth.
Every other time she looked at him, she swore Maeve busted her.
“What have you been doing since you got home?” Eamon asked Joey, his heavy eyelids and slow drawl hinting he’d smoked a bowl of something before coming in to face the family.
“Not much. Callahan had a party last night,” Joey said.
“Ooh, was Katie DiJulio there?” Maeve grinned like a kid who’d just found the biggest chocolate in the box.
Joey crossed his arms the way Ryan always did, but without the muscular definition to back it up. He was still smiling, but it had more sneer in it. “Shut up, Maeve.”
Good. Let Joey distract her.
Maeve tipped back her beer with enough of a smirk to suggest she was just getting up for another round. “What’d you ever do to her, anyway?”
Danielle rolled her lips to fight a grin. Ryan bumped her with his elbow, a light touch charged with way too much heat. She glanced at him, and the laughter in his eyes made it necessary to tip her head forward and hide behind a drape of hair.
“Shut up, Maeve.” Joey’s tone took an ominous turn.
“No, seriously. I see her down in the Market sometimes.” Maeve set her beer on the counter and crossed her arms, a mirror of her younger brother. “She’ll go into Nordstrom’s and talk to Cherry, but she won’t speak to me. You must have dogged her good.”
Joey’s smile was stuck in place, but his eyes were really, really unhappy. “Shut up, Maeve.”
Danielle scrambled for something to say, anything to change the topic, to break the tension. She blinked a couple times in Ryan’s direction, but he had a fist covering his mouth, as if it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. Even Mr. Hippie Eamon seemed to be fighting a smile. Business as usual for the O’Connor Kids.
Maeve gave them all a glittering smile, satisfied by the job she’d done ruffling Joey’s feathers. “And that reminds me. This is the first time Cherry hasn’t been here for Christmas Eve in what? Five years?”
Ryan didn’t say it, but the look he gave her said Shut up, Maeve louder than any words.
“Who
’s Katie DiJulio?” Danielle asked. Of the two, Joey made a better target than Ryan. Danielle wanted them talking about Cherry about as much as she wanted to step outside for a root canal.
“The only woman Joey’ll ever love,” Eamon said. His willingness to deflect attention from Ryan made him Danielle’s second-favorite brother. After Ryan, of course.
“Jesus, can we leave it alone already?” Joey shook his head and laughed, conceding defeat. “Where is Cherry, anyway? She finally wise up and dump you, bro?”
Shut up, Joey.
Maeve’s glitter turned brittle, and Ryan lost any trace of a smile. Joey looked around the circle, a sliver of realization shifting the tease in his eyes to something more sympathetic.
They all paused when the oldest brother, Niall, came out of the crowd.
“Dude, you’re late,” Ryan said, visibly relieved at the subject change.
“Where ya been?” Maeve draped an arm around Niall, laughing and possessive at once. “And where’s your bitchy wife?”
Niall ducked underneath her arm. “Rhonda’s not here.” His tone said there was more going on than Maeve’s needling. Danielle was relieved to be talking about anything besides Ryan and Cherry, then was ashamed of her relief when she registered the stress in his words.
Maeve missed the subtext, though. She tripped backwards, laughing and catching herself on the counter. “Well where is she?”
“Don’t know.”
His two words cut straight through the cheery bluster. Maeve reached out for him again, this time radiating concern. They all waited to see what he’d say next.
He pulled off his black watch cap and shrugged out of his coat. He laid them both on the center island, his blue button-down shirt almost the same color as his eyes. “You still have that house, right?” he asked with a nod in Ryan’s direction.
“Yeah, man.”
“I’m going to be moving out. Can I crash in your spare bedroom?”
“Sure.” Ryan was half a head taller, but his eyes echoed his brother’s pain in a way that rarely came out in words. “I mean, Barnabas thinks it’s his, but he’ll get over it.”
Maeve picked up the coat, stopping to give Niall a kiss on the cheek before carrying it out of the room. Without a word, Joey ducked outside and grabbed another beer, handing it to his oldest brother.
“Thanks,” Niall said with a gesture aiming at all of them, his posture straight, his expression cordially neutral. “I’m going to go catch the game.” He faded back into the crowd.
“Guess Rhonda’s history,” Joey said, closing the back door.
Eamon straightened up. “To everything there is a reason.”
He might have been joking. It was hard to tell. Joey pointed at Eamon and opened his mouth. No words came out. After a second, he shrugged and held out a couple more bottles he’d collected from the cooler. “Either of you two want another beer?”
Ryan reached for one, chuckling as if the family crazy had finally thrown him a curve ball. “Niall and Rhonda have been headed for this for a while.”
“No shit?” Joey ran a hand through the smooth wave of his bangs, going from Rockabilly to rogue in one move. “I’m going to see about some football.”
That left Danielle and Ryan alone in the kitchen. They stared at each other for a few beats, their elbows touching. She shifted toward him, almost close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. Her up-close look at the kitchen crazy would take a bit of time to process.
“Your family is never boring,” she said. Her family specialized in sniping instead of support. The Jacobsen foundation was built on obligation. The O’Connors seemed to have built theirs on affection.
“My family.” Ryan’s words were almost a sigh. He raised his beer. “Cheers, babe.”
Their bottles clinked together.
“Merry Christmas, Ryan.”
The dense warmth of his arm against hers and the steady rasp of his breath calmed the pins and needles that had been dancing along the edge of her skin ever since she’d arrived at the O’Connor’s.
“So, you didn’t say anything to Maeve, did you,” Ryan said. It wasn’t a question. He didn’t sound angry. Still, a flash flood of embarrassment dragged Danielle downstream so fast she’d never get her good mood back.
She tipped her chin up, giving up her smile for the first time all night. “I’m sorry.”
“I can talk to her.” He spoke to the floor, as if looking at her would give too much away. “Tell her I want to go out with you. She’ll be pissed, but she’ll get over it.”
“No, I’ll say something.” Danielle focused on their toes, his chunky black boots next to her pointy pumps. They matched their personalities. He was direct, up front about things. She only let a few things show, holding back most of her feelings.
She was about to describe this little revelation when he reached around, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her close. His tone carried impatience, his eyes the beginnings of anger, his mouth, hunger. “Damn it, Dani, this is real to me. I’m not playing a game.”
She had her hands around his shoulders and her lips on his before he could say anything else. There’s more than one way to avoid an issue. She got her fingers up in his hair and let down her guard, the happy party noise fading away as she flicked him with her tongue, drawing him out, swallowing him down. She pressed against him, her core softening against his strength. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer still.
She couldn’t tell who broke the kiss. She just ended up with her head tucked beneath his chin and her body draped against his the way she’d wanted to be since she’d arrived. The crowd could see them. She didn’t care. The family could see them. She didn’t care. Hell, Maeve could see them. She didn’t care.
“And now I’m wondering how grabbing her ass helps the remodel.”
Maeve’s voice snapped them apart. Well, it snapped Danielle back, anyway, with a blast of adrenaline like the rush of a near-miss car crash.
It snapped Ryan into a much different place. He pulled Danielle close with an arm around her shoulders, turning them both and pressing her against his chest, hard, not giving her a chance to disagree. She wrapped her hands around his forearm, uncertain whether she was holding him closer or fighting her way free.
Maeve just stood with her fists on her hips, one spike heel tapping the floor. “So this is why you won’t get back together with Cherry.” Maeve directed her comment at Ryan, as if Danielle didn’t even rate eye contact.
“No,” Danielle said, anger working its way through the cloud of shock that had enveloped her.
Ryan relaxed a little, moving to the side, his arm dropping away from the chokehold he’d had on Danielle’s shoulders. He kept her close, though, interlacing his fingers with hers. “No, Maeve, this is not why I won’t get back together with Cherry. I told Cherry that unless she got help for her drinking problem, we were done.”
“Drinking problem? I see. It’s all her fault.” Maeve’s heel tapped faster, as if she could outrun the implications of his statement.
“Don’t be stupid.” Ryan flicked a glance at Danielle. She nodded back, just as fast.
I hear you and I got your back.
“It’s me you’re mad at,” Danielle said, shifting her weight away from Ryan but keeping hold of his hand. “You always said ‘leave my brothers alone’ and here I am messing with one.”
“You always were the center of your own universe.”
Ryan lurched toward his sister.
Danielle tugged his hand, pulling him back.
“Don’t be a bitch,” he said.
“Come on, you guys.” Danielle put a hand on his arm to calm him, and the muscles bunched under her touch. Fear tried to lock her down tighter than the freakin’ heels on her feet, but she couldn’t give in. If she did, Ryan and Maeve could do each other real damage. “Maeve, you’re my best friend, and I know this makes you uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable.” Maeve took a couple steps back, as i
f she was trying to avoid standing in something disgusting.
“I want to go out with Ryan.” Danielle took a careful step toward Maeve. “And I want to be your friend.”
“And I want your shit out of my apartment.” Maeve spun away in an agitated jerk and stalked off into the crowd.
Chapter Eleven
Ryan hated giving his sister the last word, but the torn-up look on Dani’s face kept him from chasing Maeve through the crowd. Shoving most of his anger and frustration in a back pocket, he cupped Dani’s shoulders and pulled her rigid body against his own.
“Shh, Princess, it’ll be okay.”
The side of her fist landed on his chest, somewhere between gentle and thump, and she rocked back on her heels. “These effing shoes.” She bit down on her lower lip. “Now she’s all in a wad and I’m going to end up sleeping on the street.”
“There’s always my— ”
She pressed her fingers over his lips. “If I go home with you, it’ll make things worse.”
Some of his anger burst out, giving him enough of a head rush to force him back a step. “Oh, it’s like that?”
“Like what?” Her eyes shut down, turning her face into a mask, as distant as the classic movie stars she resembled.
Like what? He took another step back. “Like I’m fun to play with, but not if Maeve finds out.”
“No.” Her mask cracked and both hands grabbed his shirt. “No.”
He wrapped his hands around her wrists and pulled her close, her sweet floral scent pushing back overcoming the negative shit.
“No.”
Her whisper spread like lotion over the rest of his fire. It didn’t cool him completely, but some. “So what’s it like, then?”
She shifted away from him, keeping contact for as long as possible the way a wave pulls back from the beach, then planted both hands on the countertop and made a show of stepping out of her killer heels. Under different circumstances, he might have knelt down and helped her, and despite the shitstorm around them, he almost did.
“It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you.”
The rasp at the edge of her voice tightened his balls and softened his heart. Or his head. Right then he couldn’t tell who was the bigger idiot.
