Reclaiming Brave: The Kane Brothers Book Three

by Gina Azzi

  "We'd like for you to stay here after the baby comes," James says.

  Now, it's my turn to open my mouth and rush to explain how I can't continue living in a penthouse I can't afford. I need to be able to take care of my family, to provide for them, not live off of Sierra's stepdad.

  Once again, James holds up a hand before I can get any words out. "I know what you're going to say, Denver. And I understand where you're coming from. When Gayle, my first wife and I married, her father was financially successful, and I felt like I was always trying to prove myself to him. I don't want you to feel like you have to do that. Gayle's parents and my parents both helped us get started once we began having kids. It's a grandparent thing. So I'm going to rent the penthouse to you."

  I continue to stare at him, my mind racing as to how to explain to him that I could work for the next year and not afford a monthly payment.

  "Three hundred dollars a month," he says seriously. "And you promise to take care of our girls and to come visit the UK twice a year. And you and Sierra pursue the types of careers that make you happy and work for your growing family. I'm not offering as a favor, Denver. I'm offering because I want to and because I can. And because I know your past, and men like you deserve a second chance. So take it, get on your feet, and pay me back by creating a beautiful family that you're actually present for. I ruined my first marriage by never being around, always working. I missed out on most of Callum's childhood. I won't make that mistake with Jenni, and I didn't miss a moment with Liam. Learn from my mistakes and accept the support, because families support each other. And you're family now."

  Sierra glances at me from the corner of her eye as I stare at her parents in complete awe. These are the types of families I'd see on TV, but I didn't know they existed in real life. I mean, he's handing us the keys to his penthouse for a measly three hundred dollars a month and the promise to visit his family?

  It's too much.

  He's offering me a fresh start, a do-over.

  "Thank you, sir." I stick out a hand and he shakes it.

  "It's my pleasure, son."

  Son. Jesus. How different it is to have a man like James to look up to.

  And that's who I'm going to be to our daughter. The type of man she can look up to and be proud of. The type of man she's proud to call Daddy.

  32

  Sierra

  Pinks and peaches and creams and golds are taking over my life. I sit in the studio for hours now, my brush knowing exactly what to do against the canvas. It all started last week when I spent hours lost in my studio, Ed Sheeran on the Sonos, a cup of decaf tea on my side table.

  My hand arced wide, brush stroke after brush stroke of soft curves and gentle movement. Light pinks, peaches, creams, and golds. Dashes of white for lightening and black for shadowing. And then, the emergence of a mother, her graceful neck bent lovingly, her gaze intent on the sweet baby cradled in her arms. Her swollen belly was visible under her dress, pieces of her hair falling forward and shadowing her jawline. The bundle in her arms stretching one arm up sweetly to touch her face in a moment so pure, so true, it brings tears to my eyes, and I can hardly believe that I created a moment of such simple grace.

  But since the creation of this canvas, they've all been similar. Tender moments of love, sweet snapshots of family, minutes that are gone in the blink of an eye now frozen in time. Mothers and babies, fathers and newborns, brothers and sisters, families. So much love, so much caring, so much...everything.

  Looking around my gallery, I decide to spend the morning taking photos of my work and preparing social media posts. I choose five recently completed canvases and clear some space where the natural light is best to take pictures from various angles. Once I'm satisfied with the results, I close up the studio and retreat to my usual place on the living room couch to work on my laptop. Bed rest is seriously the most boring thing ever, but I am getting a ridiculous amount of work done now that I have hours and hours to work without any social plans distracting me.

  Each work I complete is simple and sweet and…heartfelt. Abstract, with a family-centric vibe, my painting has moved in an entirely new direction from the portraits and landscapes. And I’ve never had more fun with it in my life.

  Updating all of my social media accounts before lunch, I sit down to take a break and eat some of the leftovers from the gender reveal party.

  The buzzing of my phone causes me to place my sandwich on my plate and pick up my cell. A New York number I don’t recognize flashes across the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “May I please speak to Sierra Begay?” a woman’s voice, friendly but professional, asks.

  “Speaking.”

  “Sierra, hello. My name is Judy Crantz. I own and run a small art gallery on—”

  “Sway Gallery. That’s you! Oh, my God, I’m so sorry I interrupted you,” I trip over my words, shocked and excited that Judy Crantz, the Judy Crantz, is calling me!

  She laughs warmly. “You’re familiar with us, then?”

  “Oh, yes. I love your space and the art you showcase, and I spent way too much time walking around your gallery.”

  “That’s excellent to hear because I’d love to show some of your new pieces.”

  My blood stops and so does my heart. And my ability to speak. I can’t even breathe. I take a moment to collect myself and wish my voice wasn’t shaky when I say, “Really?”

  Judy laughs again. “Really. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while now, and I really love the new work that you’re doing. Your older paintings were beautiful, but this new style, the abstract and the shading, even the blending of colors, it caught my attention. Especially the paintings you posted this morning.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  “Excellent. Shall we have lunch next week to discuss the particulars?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We make plans to meet for lunch, and then I nearly swoon onto the couch, giddy happiness filling me up. The peanut and I have an impromptu dance party as I sway around the living room, belting out an old Mariah Carey song my mom used to love.

  Oh, my God! I’m an artist. A real one!

  My hands tremble. I pick up my phone, about to call Daisy, since she’s been my go-to for the past four years. But before I can call her, my finger hits Denver’s name, and I hold the phone to my ear.

  “Sierra. You okay?” he answers immediately, and my heart swells at how much he worries about me.

  “I’m an artist.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I got a call. Judy Crantz. Freaking Judy Crantz from a gallery that I’m obsessed with. She wants to showcase my work. In her gallery!”

  “Wow,” Denver exclaims. That’s right, he exclaimed something. True story. “Sierra, that’s, wow, that’s incredible. Congratulations, baby! I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m losing my freaking mind over here. Can you believe that?”

  Den chuckles, the sound low and sexy, and I wish he were here with me right now. “I can definitely believe it. You’re all talent, babe. Let’s celebrate tonight. I’ll cook—”

  “Let’s go out. Please, Den. I feel really good today. I know whatever you make will be a million times better, but let’s just go out.”

  “All right,” he agrees easily. “I’ll pick you up for our date at six.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “See you later, babe.” He clicks off and I squeal again.

  Resuming my dance party, I shimmy all the way to my closet for…wait a minute, this news deserves a new outfit, doesn’t it?

  Stuffing my feet into a pair of boots and shrugging into a winter coat, I leave the apartment and head to Rosie Pope and Seraphine. This girl needs to do some serious shopping.

  At six a knock sounds on the door and I laugh, knowing it’s Denver and loving that we’re playing this as a proper date. Dressed in sheer black tights, they’re kind of creepy because of the giant belly built into them, a simple cream cashmere knit sweater dre
ss with a massive roll neck, and sweet boots, I feel like myself again. I can’t believe how long it’s been since I dressed up. My hair is curled at the ends, hanging down my back. I’m wearing makeup. And perfume. And I’m so excited for tonight.

  “Hi.” I open the door, smiling at Denver.

  His eyes widen the moment he sees me and my smile grows.

  “Hey. You look,” he swallows, “beautiful. Really beautiful.” His eyes meet mine, and a ghost of a grin touches his full lips. He holds out a bouquet of flowers for me, and I lean forward to kiss his cheek.

  Taking the flowers, I hold open the door, and we walk inside while I add the flowers to a vase. “Thank you. They’re lovely,” I tell him, my fingers fluttering over the petals of the winter bouquet: amaryllis, silver brunia, dusty miller, pine cones, and berries. It’s really exquisite.

  “You’re lovely.” Denver watches me, his dark eyes molten.

  “Where are we going?”

  He waggles his eyebrows playfully and I giggle. This is a side of Denver I rarely see and I love it. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “A surprise!”

  “It’s not that exciting, but yes, a surprise.” He holds out his hand to me. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” I place my hand in his, and we leave the apartment, the door closing behind us.

  Walking outside, soft flurries swirl around us, the air biting cold, and the wind whipping my hair back. But inside, I feel toasty and warm.

  Grinning up at Denver, he chuckles at my expression and dips his head to capture my lips. Nipping his lip lightly, I close my eyes and breathe in this moment. I could stay in it forever.

  33

  Denver

  Having no idea how to plan a special date or where to take Sierra on such short notice, I debate if I should call Callum or Lachlan. But then, what do they know? They spend all of their time in fancy restaurants and trendy nightclubs. I want my date with Sierra to be a celebration for her huge accomplishment today. To be able to spend some real time with her, hear her over the music in the background, and have an actual conversation.

  “Hey Migs.” I turn to the only guy I know in New York who can point me in the right direction.

  “Yeah, man?”

  “If I was going to take my girl out tonight, someplace fun and laidback but nice. Good food. Good music. She had a big day today. Where would I go?”

  Without even blinking, he rattles off three restaurants. I opt for the Mexican cuisine and he nods. “Good choice. I’ll make a call and get you a reservation.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him sincerely, and he waves a hand at me.

  “You’re doing good here, Denver. You should go out and celebrate your big day, too.”

  I chuckle, not really understanding what he’s talking about. But then he hands me a folder. “This is a new client that came up. Here’s the proposal I’m thinking about. We start on Monday. You’re in. Hands on, all of it.”

  I open the folder and whistle low under my breath at the 1967 Shelby Mustang inside. “You sure?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know. Are you?”

  “Yeah, man. I definitely want in on this.”

  “See you Monday.”

  After clocking out, I begin to walk toward the subway when I pass a florist. A real one, not just a bunch of flowers outside a bodega. Popping in, I chat with the florist as she creates a bouquet to bring home to Sierra. I know it’s simple and not really original, but I hope she appreciates the thought.

  The truth is, she’s pretty much all I think about these days.

  When I knock on the door to the penthouse and Sierra answers, my eyes almost fall out of my head. Not because of how beautiful she is, but because of how happy she looks.

  She’s wearing a dress I want to slide my hands under and boots I wish she’d wrap around my hips. Her dark hair is curled at the ends and hangs down her spine like a waterfall. Her chocolate eyes are bright, and her cheeks are rosy. She’s just…breathtaking.

  Once she’s placed the flowers in a vase and we’re on our way to the restaurant, our fingers laced together and our breaths mingling in the cold air, I realize how excited I am to be taking my girl out on a date and how incredibly proud of her I am.

  “You cold?” I ask her as she snuggles into me.

  “I’m good.” She says, her eyes twinkling.

  “The place we’re going, it’s not fancy or anything.”

  “I’m sure it’s perfect.”

  “I hope you like it.” I’m suddenly nervous. Should I have planned something different? Something better? Isn’t dinner what everyone does on a date?

  “I’m sure I’ll love it. Honestly, I don’t care where we go. I’m just happy to be spending time with you, out of the house, and doing something different.

  I nod. I guess for us going out to dinner is different since most nights I cook, and we eat together before Sierra nods off.

  We make a right and she shimmies a little, her laughter uninhibited and genuine, as we walk closer to the Mexican restaurant. The music flows out onto the street, and inside the tables seem lively, the atmosphere fun, and the entire vibe chill but cool.

  “We’re here.” I extend a hand for her to walk in front of me through the door.

  “This is awesome!” she squeals as she dances to the hostess.

  I chuckle because really, how is everything with her so much damn fun?

  Once we’re seated, Sierra smiles at me over the candles on the table and I can’t stop staring at her. Reaching out to hold her hand, I enjoy that I can still make her blush. This pelvic rest has been a lot harder than I thought it would be but tonight, tonight it seems impossible to keep my hands off of her.

  We order guacamole and chips to start. I ask for a Corona and Sierra orders a fancy mocktail. When our drinks arrive, we cheers to her success and spend our date, and the rest of the night, completely wrapped up in each other.

  And it’s perfect.

  34

  Sierra

  “This was your doing, wasn’t it?” Daisy calls me early the next morning, shouting the second I answer the phone.

  “What are you going on and on about?” I ask, biting back my smile. Lachlan emailed me a few days earlier with one sentence. You were right.

  I’m always right.

  And I love Daisy’s reaction.

  “Your brother called me. He offered me a job. As a senior marketing associate. Senior! To work in Scotland. Did you hear that? I’m moving to Edinburgh. To work. I have a job. I am a gainfully employed real person with a real life!”

  I laugh, leaning back against the throw pillows on the couch. “You’ve always been real, Dais.”

  “I’m so freaking excited. Thank you, Sierra. Thank you!”

  “I didn’t do anything. You did. Trust me, Lach wouldn’t have offered you the job if he didn’t think you were qualified for the position.”

  “I move in January. I’m going to be working for your cousin, Aaron.”

  “You’ll love working with him. He’s the marketing guru in the Edinburgh office. And I’m sure you’ll see Finlay a lot too since he’s the in-house lawyer. Don’t be afraid to reach out to either of them if you need anything.”

  “I can’t even believe this is happening to me.”

  “Believe it, sister. You’ve got a job and a new life!”

  “Really, thank you. I…I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll have dinner with my Mom once a month since she’s desperate for girl talk, being around the boys all the time.”

  “Done!”

  “She’ll be thrilled.”

  “I gotta tell my brothers. Call you later?”

  “Of course. Love you.”

  “Love you more.”

  I hang up the phone, smiling at Daisy’s obvious excitement and happiness. This is going to be great for her. She’s going to love Edinburgh and her new position. Plus, she’ll build some confidence after feeling down for so many months about not hav
ing any real job offers. While I know her brothers are going to be upset that she’s moving to another country, she’ll have my brothers and cousins and Mom and James. She won’t be on her own; Mom would never allow it.

  “What’s that about?” Denver asks, collapsing on the couch next to me.

  I run my fingers through his hair, playing with it. “You’ll find out in about ten seconds.”

  He peers up at me curiously. “What’re you up to now?”

  I shake my head just as his phone rings.

  “Dais,” he answers.

  I hear the screaming and squealing on the other side of the line and watch as Denver’s mouth curls into a large grin.

  “That’s incredible, Dais. Congratulations. Scotland, huh?” His eyes shoot to me, narrowing slightly.

  I shrug.

  “All right, yeah. Go call Jax. Proud of you,” he says gruffly and I snort.

  “You’ve got my sister moving to Scotland?” he asks me when he hangs up but he’s grinning.

  I bat my eyelashes. “Now, you’ll be more willing to go for all of our family visits.”

  He laughs, the sound carefree. “You’re always up to something, Begay. You’re sneaky.”

  “Only where you’re concerned,” I manage to admit before Denver’s on top of me, his lips pressing against mine.

  “Okay, tell me everything,” Daisy answers the phone, as if she was sitting by it waiting for me to call.

  “She was wonderful. Just like I imagined her to be,” I gush, hardcore fangirling over the Judy Crantz. We just wrapped up lunch in Soho, and I’m barely a block away before I call Daisy.

  “She must be so fabulous. What was she wearing?”

  “A simple cream sweater, cowl neck, with Citizens jeans and the hottest Louboutin boots I’ve ever seen. Her purse was Chloe.”

  “Sigh, gasp, obsessed,” Daisy gushes with me. “I hope I’m like her when I’m fifty-whatever.”