Sweetest Mistake (Nolan Brothers #2)

by Amy Olle

  “Emily’s already picked them out.” Mina’s words sounded strained, as though she held her breath. “What are they called again, Em?”

  “Ranunculus.” Emily folded the tissue and tucked it into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “Wi-with brunia and seeded eucalyptus.”

  Vivian frowned.

  “And wh-white lilies,” Emily added.

  The lines eased from Vivian’s face. “Well, you have to let me do something.”

  With a whoosh, Isobel swept back the curtain and Mina appeared before them in a corseted A-line with delicate off-the-shoulder sleeves.

  Vivian took one look at her and said, simply, “No.”

  Mina accepted the rejection without flinching. “You’re helping me with my dress.” She yanked the curtain closed. “You don’t need to do anything more than that.”

  “I could use y-your help w-with the menu.”

  Vivian’s injured expression turned calculating. “Stuffed baby artichokes and Tuscan salad. For the main course, smoked salmon with lemon, seasonal vegetables, and golden potato croquette. Either Pinot Grigio or Sauvignon Blanc for the wine. You can choose.”

  The curtain rustled and Mina stepped out from behind it.

  Emily gasped while, for the first time since she entered the store, Vivian fell silent.

  The dress conformed to Mina’s curves with a standing shoulder collar and an elegant flare at the bottom. It contained no adornments, but was made of a buttery-smooth satin with a wide sash around her small waist. It reminded Emily of styles they might’ve worn in the forties, but with a sexier silhouette.

  Vivian’s head started to bob and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s perfect.”

  Mina’s eyes widened. “It is?” Her head bent as she tried to look at her body. “You don’t think it’s too tight? Or old-fashioned?”

  Unable to speak, Vivian went to Mina and wrapped her in her arms.

  A spasm of grief struck Emily near her heart as she witnessed the special moment. One of those rare instants in life when all the small pains melted away, or finally made sense, and good-byes only meant new beginnings.

  It was a moment Emily would never share with her own mother. She told herself if she were fortunate to find a man she loved enough to marry, she wouldn’t begrudge her fate, but her mom’s absence from her life was like a big, gaping hole blown through the middle of her chest. It might callus over one day, but she would never be whole again.

  Vivian sniffed. “It’s timeless, and it shows off your curves. That’s something every woman should do on her wedding day.”

  With Mina changed, the quartet made their way to the front of the store. Exhaustion clawed at Emily and she plopped onto a raised platform by the entrance where a mannequin posed while Mina and Isobel finalized the details of Mina’s dress order.

  Emily leaned back to gaze up at the faceless mannequin, outfitted in a taupe patterned blouse and a cream-colored corduroy blazer with dark-wash blue jeans and leopard-print ballet flats. She fingered the teardrop pearl earrings lying next to a chocolate-brown leather tote at the mannequin’s feet.

  It was a great outfit. The kind of outfit a smart, professional businesswoman might wear. Or a woman with a lover.

  Vivian appeared at her elbow. Her throat worked when she swallowed. “I wish I’d known your mother was sick. I’d liked to have helped or… visited her.”

  Emily recoiled and her heart kicked painfully in her chest.

  Vivian’s voice wavered. “Did she suffer?”

  Her throat closed and it took her many long moments to force out the words. “Y-yes, she did. Very much.”

  She knew it wasn’t what Vivian wanted to hear, and maybe she should’ve censored her response for her aunt, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t downplay the hell Audrey had suffered.

  Mina turned away from the sales counter and Emily stepped into her place. She barely listened while Isobel verified the size and color of her dress.

  This month marked one year Emily’s mom had been dead, and in that time, she’d moved across the country, opened her own business, and had regretful sex with a gorgeous man.

  Isobel confirmed the total price, and Emily slid her credit card from her wallet. But before she handed it over, she pointed to the mannequin in the front window. “I’d like to b-b-buy the outfit on that mannequin as well.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sleep hadn’t eased the exhaustion pulling at Emily’s limbs, and by late afternoon the next day, she crawled to her bed and pulled the covers over her head. When she awoke near dinnertime, her head throbbed with the pressure in her stuffed sinus passages and her eyes burned.

  In the bathroom, she rummaged through the cupboard in search of anything with enough strength to knock her out again, but her search turned up only a couple of allergy tablets and a bottle of multivitamins, and she discovered the nearly empty box of tissues on her nightstand was the only box in the house.

  She counted the rolls of toilet paper and decided she could manage without more tissue. Then she swallowed and her throat screamed with raw aching. Her muscles sore and weak, she yanked a brush through her hair before she gave up on grooming and pulled on her sneakers.

  Outside, clouds hovered overhead and blocked out any warmth from the setting sun. She didn’t know if the temperature had dipped or if her body, with its weakened immune system, overestimated the chill, but she burrowed her nose in her sweatshirt and darted to her sedan.

  At the store, she skipped the carts and searched out the health aisle. Her head as cloudy as the darkening sky, she loaded her arms with cough syrup and drops, throat spray, mentholated rub, and two boxes of ultra-soft tissue. En route to the checkout lanes, she added a jug of orange juice and a gallon of ice cream to her heap.

  She tucked the ice cream under her chin and turned toward the front of the store. As she came around the end of the aisle, someone crashed into her. She registered only blonde hair and jiggly warmth before a box of Kleenex popped out from under her arm and landed on the ground with a crack of noise.

  The pile in her arms shifted and started to slide. She bobbled the orange juice and a squeak leaked from her when the ice cream toppled toward the floor.

  At the last second, two hands shot out and plucked the gallon from its freefall. Bright green eyes glinted up at her. Emily gulped back a curse, and winced with the sting of her inflamed throat.

  “Nice catch.” Her nose clogged with snot, she’d become a mouth breather.

  Luke’s dimples popped, and he straightened. “Cookie dough? Somehow I pegged you for a rocky road kind of girl.”

  She wished the cold hadn’t destroyed her sense of smell. He probably smelled as good as he looked. A neat black suit hugged his lean frame and turned his bright eyes brilliant. The stunner at his side wore a gold shrink-wrapped dress, and held a bottle of wine nestled in the crook of her arm.

  The butterflies banging around in Emily’s stomach crash-landed somewhere around her naval.

  He was on a date. They were on a date. Together.

  “I’m allergic to n-nuts.”

  His gaze raked over her and his smile fell. “Are you sick?”

  The blonde’s perfect button nose crinkled and she drew back.

  “It’s just a cold.” A menacing tickle built in her nose and erupted as a sneeze.

  The other box of tissue hit the floor. She stooped as Luke bent over and her forehead bashed into his shoulder.

  “You should get a shopping cart,” the blonde said.

  When Emily stood, the mucus clogging her sinuses shifted and the world tipped with a dizzying slant.

  “Let me help you.” Luke reached for the jug of orange juice.

  Emily twisted away. “No, I’ve got it.” Her gaze slipped to the woman found so often on his arm.

  Luke seemed to startle. “Emily, this is Kate. Kate, Emily.”

  The women exchanged muttered hellos.

  “Emily bought the old Winslow house and opened a bed-and-breakfast.
” The slide of his deep voice tried to pull her in, but she resisted its seductive lure.

  Kate’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Isn’t it weird sleeping with strangers in your house?”

  Emily preferred it to being by herself. With guests filling the empty house, she might be able to pretend she wasn’t all alone in the world.

  In the awkward silence that followed, Emily eased back. “Uh, h-h-have a nice n-n-night.”

  She spotted an empty checkout lane and dumped her armload onto the belt. Moments later, she approached the storefront to find he had waited for her.

  He plucked the grocery sacks from her hands and fell into step alongside her. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m good.” She attempted a cheeky grin. “I’ve got drugs now.”

  He didn’t laugh, but only frowned down at her.

  At her car, she opened the trunk and he set the groceries inside the dark interior.

  “Let me give you my number. In case you need me—”

  “All I need is sleep.” She slammed the trunk closed. “Enjoy your date.”

  With Kate.

  Emily didn’t give Luke a chance to make excuses, think up a lie, or worse, not bother to do either, but went around to the driver-side door and ducked inside the car. She drove away while, in the rearview mirror, he scowled after her.

  He ignored the voice inside his head screaming at him to get the hell out of there and pounded his fist on the back door at Emily’s house.

  This time, he’d keep his control in place. If he focused on her shortcomings, he’d forget about how pretty she was when she smiled, and how he desperately wanted to suckle her porn-star mouth again, and her pink nipples, and—

  The muffled sound of a sneeze reached him through the heavy door.

  “Emily, open up.”

  He heard a thump followed by a sharp curse.

  The force of his smile surprised him. He leaned a shoulder against the house. “Take your time. I can wait.”

  A sliver of light filtered out to him when the door cracked open a fraction of an inch.

  One brown, red-rimmed eye appeared through the opening. “What do you want?”

  He could hear the congestion in her voice, which managed to be husky and sexy rather than gross.

  “You’re not asleep, are you?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Good. Let me in.”

  “I’m in m-my pajamas.”

  “So?”

  “So, go away.”

  He held up the bowl in his hand.

  She eyed it. “What’s that?”

  “My special healing recipe. It’ll clear your sinuses and feel good on your sore throat.”

  Naked longing swept across her face and he coughed with the force of lust that crashed into him.

  Her small hand shot out through the crack. “The soup can come in, but you can’t.”

  “We’re a package deal.” He held the bowl out of reach. “It’s all or nothing.”

  A frown tugged at her mouth. “Where’s your date?”

  With one shoulder, he pushed his way inside the house.

  A giant snowflake stretched across the chest of her dark blue nightgown. The twin peaks of her beaded nipples begged for his attention, and whatever words he might’ve said fled his mind with the blood rushing to his groin.

  He set the soup on the counter and rummaged around her kitchen for a bowl and spoon. She sank onto a barstool at the island and slumped forward.

  “Have you taken your meds?”

  Another sneeze burst from her, and she moaned. “Uh-huh.” She dabbed at her bright red nose with a crumpled tissue.

  Soup warming in the microwave, he laid his hands on her shoulders. “C’mon then. Let’s get you to bed.”

  She slid off the stool and he followed her into the mudroom, through a side door, and down a short hall.

  “Man, you really are sick. You’re not going to try to kick me out?”

  In response, she released an exhausted sigh, and in a space set up like a typical living room, she trudged to the overstuffed sofa and dropped onto a pile of pillows.

  He returned for the soup, and handing it to her, sat on the circular coffee table before the couch. She took a small taste and a soft moan slipped through her lips.

  Heat rushed over his skin as she swallowed several more greedy nips.

  Holding the bowl under her nose, she fixed him with a dark look. “You can leave now.”

  “I will. When I’m ready.”

  Her mouth pinched. “Wh-where’s Kate?”

  “I took her home.”

  She considered that. “You two—”

  “Are friends.”

  “Well, I should hope so,” she muttered.

  “We’re just friends.”

  She set the soup on an end table and burrowed deeper into the quilts. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” With the pad of his thumb, he brushed over a callus on his palm. “I promised someone I’d look out for her and I am.”

  One eye cracked open to search his face. He allowed her assessment.

  “I didn’t come here to talk about Kate.”

  Both eyes popped open, and though they were heavy lidded with tiredness, he could still make out the whiskey swirls near the center.

  He ran a hand down his thigh. “I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?” Her husky voice had a vulnerable hitch.

  He shifted on the table, the right words suddenly difficult to find.

  She grew impatient. “For insulting m-my cooking?”

  “No.”

  “For nitpicking the way I drive?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “For kissing m-me?”

  He leveled her with a look. “Absolutely not.”

  “For not kissing m-me m-m-more?”

  At the hopeful ring in her tone, a smile tugged at his mouth. “Maybe, but that’s not where I’m going with this. I’m sorry for the way I left. You didn’t deserve that.”

  Her cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink. “I said something to upset you. It’s one of the reasons I try not to talk too much.”

  Guilt kicked in his chest. “No, it was nothing you said.” He raked a hand through his hair. “It’s all this hero bullshit. It’s driving me crazy.”

  She studied him over the top of the quilt for a long moment. “You’re so weird.”

  That startled a laugh from him. He opened his mouth to say more. Hell, he might’ve told her the whole shitty story if he hadn’t caught himself in time.

  For all he’d tried to forget the day a fifteen-year-old took his dad’s gun to school and opened fire on his classmates, Luke found himself wanting to talk to Emily about it, if only so she’d understand what a load of bullshit this idea of him being a hero truly was.

  Or maybe it was more than that. He couldn’t shake the feeling, the hope, she’d understand the devastation he felt watching his fellow cop felled by that coward’s bullet. How, when his friend slumped to the floor, he didn’t think, didn’t feel, but lifted his gun and fired. In cold blood.

  Luke had been close enough that the kid’s blood splattered on his face and clothes, marking him with the truth.

  That though he’d built his entire life around being honorable and fighting for the good guys, he was no different than his dad. A cold-blooded murderer. A bad guy.

  Her hand poked out from under the quilts and she knuckled one droopy eye.

  “I’ll let you rest.” He scooped up her nearly empty bowl and turned to leave.

  “Luke?”

  He turned.

  “Thanks for the soup.”

  “You’re welcome.” He closed the door to her suite behind him.

  An odd disappointment spread through him and he rolled his shoulders, trying to shake it off. It was for the best he didn’t tell her all of it. She was the one thing in his life not tainted by the stain of that day.

  He rinsed out her bowl and laid it in the di
shwasher. He should head out. There was still time to hit the gym if he wanted any chance of sleeping more than an hour or two that night.

  Yep, that’s what he should do.

  She dreamed of him.

  Of him with her.

  Her white-gold hair cascaded across the pillow. Silken strands of spun gold. His mouth brushed over her milky smooth skin.

  She laughed and rolled to face him. His large, tanned hand closed over her full breast.

  Emily longed to kiss her skin, everywhere his mouth had touched, so that she might know the taste of his pleasure.

  She stirred enough to know she dreamed before the blackness pulled her under once more.

  Sometime later, she awakened to warmth and darkness, and the vague niggling of some far-off pain.

  “Wake up, sweetheart.” He wiped her cheeks with wet hands and she twisted away from him.

  Light flickered against the beige walls and the silhouette of a man crouched before the fireplace. The glow of a fire cast him in warm lighting, illuminating his profile as he stared into the flame.

  Her heart constricted. Why does he have to be so beautiful?

  His head snapped up and he straightened to his full height.

  The sofa dipped when he sat on the edge next to her. “How are you feeling?”

  She blinked away sleep. Was he really there, beside her?

  He held a cup of water under her nose. “Drink this.”

  The cool water slid down her parched throat. Her head pounded and she collapsed onto the cloud of pillows.

  Sleep reached out to her, and a vision of Kate, naked and splayed for him, jolted her awake.

  Emily didn’t know if Luke was telling the truth that he and the beauty were only friends. She supposed it didn’t matter. It changed nothing between them.

  “You should go.” The words cracked with the dryness in her throat.

  “Can you take these? They’re for the fever.”

  The pills scraped the walls of her swollen throat and she winced.

  “Try to sleep,” he told her. “I’m here.”

  But when she awoke the next morning, she was alone in her big old empty house.