Sweetest Mistake (Nolan Brothers #2)

by Amy Olle

  “Those pesky details,” Honey murmured.

  “Wait, does that mean I didn’t have to memorize those pages you sent?” Will asked around a mouthful of doughnut.

  “Yes, you did.”

  Will’s despondency was short-lived. “As long as it’s a beach scene, I don’t care.” He flipped through the pages Max had set in front of him.

  “Not gonna happen,” Max said. “The permit won’t allow it. I’m appealing, but for now, it’s a no-go.”

  “How about we have a look at that permit?”

  All eyes in the room turned to Luke.

  Max straightened and eased back in his chair. “It’s a painfully dull document, I can assure you.”

  “Nonetheless, I’ll take a look at it.”

  “What exactly are you looking for?”

  Luke lifted a shoulder. “I just want to verify everything’s in order. Thief Island has some interesting ordinances that most other places don’t have. Isn’t that right, Mayor?”

  Drew raised his coffee cup. “We’re a bastion of quirks and oddities, it’s true.”

  Max’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You know an awful lot about ordinances.”

  Luke shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Emily pays me to keep her out of trouble.”

  “A chef and a bodyguard?” Max’s dark eyes shimmered. “You’re a handy guy to have around.”

  “I try to be.”

  With a swift movement, Luke turned to Emily. “Why don’t you go check and see if any of the guests have started to stir while I make breakfast.” He spoke in a low voice and the conversation around the table resumed without them.

  “You sure you’re okay in here by yourself?”

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “I’m officially worried.”

  After a quick change out of her bridesmaid dress and into a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt, Emily wandered upstairs where guests had in fact begun to rouse. She made sure they all knew food awaited them in the dining room and then she rushed back downstairs to help Luke in the kitchen.

  He put her to work manning the toaster and the coffee station—he didn’t trust her with anything else—while he kept platters of eggs and pancakes replenished.

  When the food consumption slowed, she headed upstairs to strip beds and remake them with clean linens.

  She dumped the used sheets and towels down the laundry chute to collect beside the washer and dryer in the mudroom. As she passed through the dining room, Luke stood poised before the rapt audience seated around the table, endeavoring to juggle a spatula, an orange, and a teacup.

  Vivian’s tinkling laughter rose above the merriment and exposed her as yet another victim to Luke’s charm.

  Emily was still smiling when she closed the lid to the washing machine and pushed the button to start the items washing.

  She didn’t hear him sneak up behind her. He captured her around the waist and hauled her in to his side. “When can you meet me in the library?”

  He eased her back against the wall and she tilted her face up to his. His mouth brushed over hers in a whisper-soft kiss. One hand came up to touch the side of her face while he savored her mouth.

  He pulled up abruptly. “What was that?”

  She blinked away the languid warmth settling over her. “What was what?”

  A loud thump sounded when something hit the other side of the wall at her back. They stilled.

  Heavy panting carried to her. “I’ve never met a woman quite like you,” Drew said thickly.

  Honey’s soft laugh carried a hard edge. “I’m a little different from the spoiled rich girls I’m sure you’re used to.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re as different as different can possibly be.”

  “Is that so?” A ring of disappointment tinged Honey’s voice.

  “For one thing, you’re smarter. The smartest, I’d wager.”

  A beat of silence followed before Honey asked, “And easier?”

  “You turned me down last night.”

  “Maybe I’m not the whore you’ve imagined me to be?”

  “I know a whore when I see one,” Drew said. “That’s not you.”

  The soft slippery sounds of their kiss went on for some time, until finally, they gasped for air.

  “You’re going to be bad for reelection,” Drew said, his voice thick.

  A few more thumps on the wall, and the door to her suite closed.

  “Y-you don’t think they’re going to have sex in my bed, do y-you?”

  Luke shrugged. “At least someone gets to.”

  She smacked his arm and slipped out from the prison of his arms. He pinched her butt as she darted away.

  Whenever she was near him, her heart lifted, becoming light and buoyant.

  After a decade-long enslavement to creeping death, when she’d known only the panic of helplessness and the despair of hopelessness, she hadn’t recognized the light, airy feeling for what it was.

  Happiness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A few days into filming, Emily contracted a flu bug. She barricaded herself in her suite and stayed in bed for two days. On the third day, she woke with a throbbing in her head, but no queasiness.

  With a groan, she rolled to her side. Her cell phone blinked with a waiting message and she opened the text from Luke.

  At work. Call or text my cell if you need me.

  He’d checked in on her both days she lay in bed, managing to find ways to make her smile even through her misery.

  She typed a reply. Feeling better today.

  His response came immediately. Excellent! Let me know if you’re up for dinner later. I’ll cook. For both our sakes.

  She slept on and off throughout the morning. In the afternoon, she soaked in a warm bath and as dinnertime neared, the first rumblings of hunger stirred in her belly. Excited flurries joined the mix when she sent Luke a text about dinner. His reply came right away. He was delayed at work, and if she didn’t mind waiting, he could swing by to pick her up in an hour so they could head to the pub for a quick dinner.

  She told him she could wait.

  Though exhaustion dragged at her body, she put on the skinny jeans and corduroy blazer outfit she’d purchased at the boutique downtown. Before the mirror, she tried to mimic Kate’s eye makeup application, but it came out looking more smudgy than smoky and didn’t conceal the dark circles under her eyes. With a blow dryer and a round brush, she worked at detangling her hair for a time, but eventually gave up and fastened the strawberry-blonde mass in a ponytail at the back of her head.

  When she padded into the foyer to collect her coat, a loud voice carried to her from the front room.

  “Will, you’re supposed to look afraid, not aroused.” Barely constrained anger polluted Max’s tone.

  “I can’t help it. Honey’s nipples are poking me in the arm.”

  Emily peered into the room to see Will before the front window. Honey, wearing a thin cotton tank top, stood at his elbow.

  “Honey,” Max barked. “Dim the headlights.”

  “It’s, like, twenty degrees in here.” Honey sounded bored. “Unless you let me put on an actual shirt, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  The cloying scent of men’s cologne hung in the air and Emily’s stomach gave an ominous wrench.

  Just then, the beam of headlights moved across the wall. Her heart jumped.

  Luke.

  She snatched her coat off the newel post and scurried to the front door. Not thrilled by her visceral response to him, Emily reminded herself it was just a fling between them, but she hadn’t seen him in days and her body craved the nearness of his.

  She flung open the door. A small gasp slipped through her lips.

  Large snowflakes fell lazily from the sky and a mantle of pristine white blanketed the earth. Snow clung to the trees and brightened the darkening sky.

  Closeted away in her suite with the curtains drawn the past two days, she hadn’t been awar
e of the heavy snowfall.

  Luke climbed the porch stairs, all dark beauty against the backdrop of pure soft white.

  She stepped onto the stoop and pulled the door closed behind her. “It’s so beautiful.”

  A faint smile teased at the corners of his pink lips. “Have you ever seen so much snow?”

  She shook her head.

  He bent, and scooping up a handful of snow, packed it into a tight ball in his hands. Green eyes flashed bright above the standing collar of his black wool coat. “So you’ve never been in a snowball fight?”

  She eyed the snowball in his hands. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He tossed the white ball in the air and caught it. “Wouldn’t I?”

  She shuffled down the porch stairs. “W-we should go. It’s freezing out here.”

  The snowball hit her in the butt.

  With a gasp, she packed a ball of snow as he had and let it fly. More snowballs whipped through the air between them, until she collapsed in the fluffy powder in the front yard, breathing hard from exertion and laughter.

  Luke dropped down on the ground beside her. “Let me know when you’re ready for your next lesson.”

  Her deep breaths formed puffy clouds over her face. “I need to rest.”

  “You don’t have to get up.” He started waving his arms and legs.

  Laughing, she mimicked him. She liked herself better when she laughed.

  There hadn’t been much to laugh about when her mom grew sick. Then, when she got really sick, Emily thought she’d never so much as smile again.

  Luke stood over her and pulled her to her feet. She looked down at the two angel impressions in the snow.

  He packed another snowball and, laying it on the ground, started to roll. He pushed the ball around the front yard until it’d grown to ten times its original size. He rolled it to a stop in front of her. “Last lesson for today.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “A giant snowball fight?”

  “How to build a proper snowman.”

  Delighted laughter spilled out of her. Under his tutelage, she rolled a torso and a head. Luke snapped two twigs from an oak tree and inserted them into the snowman’s sides as arms, while Emily dug up two rocks from the driveway for eyes.

  They stepped back to survey their creation.

  “Not bad for my first time, is it?”

  “You’re a quick study.” His voice sounded gruff and sexy. “Guess I should reward you.”

  Heat zigzagged through her when he leaned close. One hand snuck around and cupped her bottom. His mouth brushed over hers.

  Fog mingled in the air between their mouths when she asked, “Will there be more rewards with my next lesson?”

  “Lots of rewards.” His grip tightened. “We’re supposed to get five more inches this weekend.”

  “I’d say more like seven or eight.”

  A growl rumbled in the back of his throat. “Let’s skip dinner.”

  She pulled away. “No way. I haven’t eaten in two days. I’m starving.”

  Bodies packed the pub when they arrived at Lucky’s. The Friday night crowd was lively, and judging by the amplified music and abundant flirtations, they were well into their after-dinner drinks.

  Luke’s palm smoothed over her lower back as he shouldered a path for them through the crowd to two empty stools at the bar. They squeezed in as the bartender slid a pint of Guinness in front of Luke.

  Emily ordered a soda and opened a menu, but her queasy stomach couldn’t settle on an acceptable choice and she closed it again. When the bartender returned, Luke ordered soup and a baked potato. Her stomach let loose with a wimpy growl, so she ordered the same.

  “It’s important to eat a warm meal after being out in the snow.” He took a sip of his pint.

  “Wh-what else do I have to learn before I’m considered an educated Michiganian?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Michigander.”

  “It is?”

  “Consider that a bonus lesson.” The soft lights caught the strands of copper threaded through his dark hair. “Let’s see, there’s sledding and snow forts, and of course we have the snow sports to consider: snowmobiling, snowboarding, and skiing.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Cross country or downhill?”

  “Both.”

  “I’m not exactly athletic.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Before it’s over, you’ll be able to name ten different types of snow.”

  “There are different types?”

  He shook his head. “So, so much to learn.”

  A woman’s voice cut into Emily’s laughter.

  “Hey, stranger, where have you been?” She slipped her arms around Luke from behind and her smooth dark hair fell over his arm.

  A cloud of uneasiness settled around Luke. “Hey, Jenna. How are you?”

  “Lonely.” She slid around to stand in front of him, giving her back to Emily.

  She had long, slender legs, a tight butt, and—damn it all—thigh gap. What was it with the women on this island? Maybe it was the skiing?

  Jenna squeezed between them and Luke scowled at Emily over Jenna’s head.

  Emily hid behind her glass. Even in her dark-wash jeans and ivory blazer, next to Jenna’s sparkle, she felt dull and dowdy.

  “Where’s Kate?” Jenna asked.

  “I’m not here with Kate.” He pulled Jenna’s hands from around his waist. “Jenna, this is Emily. My date.”

  Fizzy bubbles caught in Emily’s throat and she coughed when Jenna’s head whipped around. The woman took all of two seconds to size Emily up.

  And declare her a non-threat.

  She smiled brightly. “Nice to meet you, Emma.”

  Emily grunted.

  Jenna turned her full wattage back to Luke. “You gonna sing for us later?”

  “Not tonight.” His voice sounded strained. “See you around.”

  Jenna’s wounded look turned shrewd when her gaze slipped back to Emily. “Yeah, see you around.” She slipped into the crowd.

  “So, you and Kate are friends?”

  He hesitated, measuring her for a moment. “That’s right.”

  She hoped her smile appeared easygoing. “Because it kinda seems like everyone thinks you’re a couple.”

  “It was a front.”

  She blinked. “Wh-what?”

  “The whole thing was an act.” He rolled his shoulders, as if shrugging off an uncomfortable burden. “She was grieving and I wasn’t interested in a relationship. If people thought we were a couple, we didn’t have to deal with the constant barrage from the opposite sex.”

  Emily grimaced, though given the way her heart leapt when he referred to her as his date, she should probably be thankful for the reminder of his temporary interest. “A barrage, huh? How awful for you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It was just easier that way.”

  Their food came, and just as Luke lifted a spoonful of soup to his mouth, a young man with blurry eyes smacked him on the back.

  “If it isn’t my favorite doughnut muncher. How the hell you been, man?”

  “Hey, Jacob. I’m good. How are you?”

  Luke and Jacob talked sports for a bit, and soon two other men joined them. Their conversation wove in and out, touching on each of their lives, before the men drifted away, but before Luke could resume his meal, more people rushed in to fill the space around and between them.

  They regaled him with stories and he listened intently to each and every one, interjecting once in a while with a thoughtful comment or an enthusiastic question. For that, they loved him.

  Feeling awkward, she shifted uneasily on her barstool.

  It was like dating the star quarterback. Unlike other high school girls she’d known, Emily never once dreamed of dating or even becoming friends with the popular kids. From her vantage point, the popular kids were cursed to have everyone’s eyes on them, dissecting their words and scrutinizing the clothes they
wore.

  But Luke didn’t seem to mind, and indeed, it almost seemed as if he liked being around people.

  If she were honest with herself, part of what had attracted her to him was his beauty and charm. Same as every other woman. Hell, even the men were attracted to him, and dogs, most likely.

  Her chest twisted with jealousy. He interacted with others so easily and authentically. He didn’t have insecurities—what was there for him to be insecure about?

  Although, as she observed him, she noticed that the fine lines around his eyes began to deepen with exhaustion. No one else seemed to notice. Instead, they bought him drinks and badgered him to sing until he gave in to their relentless requests.

  When Luke climbed onto the tiny stage in a corner at the front of the pub, a cheer rippled through the crowd. He sat on a barstool with a guitar, and when he strummed the first chords of his song, an immediate quiet fell over the room.

  He performed a mix of Irish ballads and pub tunes. In between songs, he exchanged quips with the male audience members and won over every female with his smile and suddenly thick Irish brogue.

  Soon, he declared the next song his last for the evening.

  A groan of disappointment greeted his announcement.

  The chords of a trendy pop melody drifted from his guitar. “I came here to eat, not to subject myself to your ridicule.”

  Then he started to sing. His voice, as beautiful as his face, whipped and whirred something inside Emily. He sang to no one and to everyone, of nothing and everything. She began to tremble.

  He closed his eyes and his fingers tenderly plucked the guitar strings while pain twisted his features as he gave voice to all the anger and sorrow of loss and grief locked up inside her.

  It was all there, the story of her life, in that inane pop song.

  She sat helpless and shaking on the barstool while he bared his soul. To an entire room full of people. It was something she could never do. Not ever.

  Had there ever been two people more unalike? It was as if they were exact polar opposites.

  A vise clamped around her heart. Whatever this thing was between them, Emily hadn’t deluded herself that it had anything resembling forever written on it. But seeing him up there, dazzling a room full of people with nothing more than a smile and a song, she realized just how farfetched the idea of them as a couple truly was.