by Jill Shalvis
picking you up. I’ve just got to get the wine and beer I promised to bring tonight. Do you want to come in, or wait here?”
Their gazes met and held a moment. “I’ll come in,” she said. “But you should know it’s because I’m curious about your house, not because I want to do…” She almost said “it,” he could tell. “The wild monkey sex,” she said instead.
He grinned at her. “Look at you with the big-girl vocabulary.” He unlocked the front door and held it open for her to walk in ahead of him. “Fair warning,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
He’d had the house for a year now, and loved the small beach shack that he was slowly renovating. Slowly being the key word.
Olivia took in the sights. Cole looked around, trying to see his place as she might. The living room and kitchen were all one room, a wall of windows allowing a stunning view of the water.
That was his favorite part of the place.
There were some dishes on the counter, books on the kitchen table, and a tumble of shoes and boots in a huge wooden box, above which a ton of weather gear hung on pegs. Yeah, he probably could’ve done a better job on the cleanup efforts.
The furniture was big and comfy, and well used. The TV was a massive flat-screen, new. “Home sweet home,” he said.
“It’s nice,” she said.
“Working on it.” He stepped into the kitchen and grabbed the beer and wine. Striding toward Olivia, his little mermaid for the evening, he set the boxes down on the bench by the front door and stepped into her. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said a little breathlessly. He wasn’t sure, it could’ve been how tight her costume was, but he wanted to think it was because of him. He ran his hands down her body. “I like this costume. A lot.”
“Yours isn’t bad either.” Her gaze lingered on his open shirt.
Her eyes dilated.
“Say the word,” he said, done teasing, “and we skip the party.”
“I’m wearing mermaid hair.”
“I know.” He wasn’t sure what that had to do with wild monkey sex. He let his fingers run through the hip-length red wig she was sporting, and because he was a multitasker, he could picture what she’d look like riding him in that wig, the locks flowing over her breasts, brushing his chest. It was a real good image. “I like the hair. And that skirt.”
“It took three of us to get me into this skirt,” she said. “Callie broke a nail and Becca fell on her ass helping me tug it into place. That should’ve been a clue.”
Cole had started to pull away but he stilled. “Your friends had to help you dress?”
She slid him a look. “Is that all you heard?”
“Pretty much,” he admitted.
“Oh, for God’s sake—”
“Shh a minute,” he said. “I’m not done picturing it.”
She shook her head and gave him a shove. Grinning, he pulled free, led her back to his truck, made sure she was buckled up, and shut the door.
“You mentioned surviving the night,” he said when they were on the road again. “What do I get if I survive the night?” he asked.
She glanced over at him, clearly startled. “Where are we going, exactly?”
He stopped at a light. “My sister’s annual Halloween surprise party for her husband.”
She stared at him like there were so many problems with that statement that she didn’t know where to start. “How can an annual party be a surprise?”
“My sister’s husband loves her, God knows why. She gets a kick out of giving him a surprise party, so he pretends to be surprised.”
More staring from gorgeous mermaid. “You’re bringing me to a family party,” she said.
“Yeah.”
She opened her mouth. And then closed it. “Is your family that bad that you need a prize to survive them?”
“There are days, yes,” he said.
She just stared at him.
“Don’t worry, they’re going to love you. And that costume? Hot. I’m going to have to fight off the cousins and brothers-in-law,” he said half jokingly as he pulled up to his sister’s house. There were already a bunch of cars, and judging from the loud music and laughter coming from the house, the party was already well under way. “Perfect. Looks like we’re late enough that everyone’s already going to be a few red Solo cups into the evening’s festivities.”
“We’re late?”
“Perfectly late,” he said.
She blinked at him. “So we’re at a family party, and we’re late. On purpose.”
She was mad, he realized. “I was saving you from having to be with them longer than necessary.”
“You were saving me,” she said, and then nodded. But then she shook her head. “And you think I’m going to make a good impression here. In a ridiculously revealing costume that screams ‘ho on a stick,’ and also, we’re late.”
He couldn’t help it, he laughed.
Wrong move.
He got that immediately, but as she fumbled for the door handle it was all he could do to hit the locks before she escaped. “Wait,” he said, knowing that if she got out, she would take off like a bat out of hell. “Wait a minute. Let me catch up.”
She whirled back to him, brow knitted, lips—those perfect red lips—ready to blast him. “I’m waiting.”
“You’re mad that we’re at a family party.”
“Give the man a point,” she said.
“And you’re mad that we’re late.”
“Another point,” she said. “Want to go for a three-pointer and win the game?”
“No one’s going to care that we’re late,” he said to soothe her. “I’m the only son; they’re going to be grateful I showed up at all. And having you with me, you’re like my get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little early for this?”
“No,” he said. “We missed the ‘Surprise’ already. I hate that part.”
“Your family,” she said. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to have me meet your family? We’re not even…” She trailed off, clearly at a complete loss.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
She gave him a look that he imagined could shrivel a guy’s balls right off. But the truth was, he liked her show of temper. Her eyes were sparking, her skin was flushed, and she looked like she wanted to kick his ass from here to next week. He had a good fifty pounds on her, but he wanted to tangle.
With her in that costume.
And out of it.
She made him feel so damn…alive. He looked down at the erection he was sporting—not smart in the stupid pirate pants that didn’t hide a damn thing—and snorted.
She followed his gaze and narrowed her eyes. “Are you kidding me? My pissiness is turning you on?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s just you,” he said. “No worries. I’ll do multiplication. That usually works. Twelve times twelve—” He caught movement at the front windows. “The coven’s watching.”
“The coven?”
“My sisters.”
She just stared at him. “You call your sisters ‘the coven’?”
“Just sometimes.”
“And they’re watching us.”
“Little bit. They like to stick their noses in my business. It’s like they can’t help themselves.”
“And you’re still hard?” she asked, heavy on the irony.
“Good point,” he said. He looked over and saw Cindy peeking out the window and pointing at him, probably to Clare or Cara. “Problem solved,” he muttered.
“I should have eaten the brownies first,” she said.
Cole was beginning to understand that family meant something entirely different to her than it did to him. “Hey, it’s going to be fun.” He wished he knew what had put that look on her face, that distrust, that…vulnerability. He hadn’t wanted to push because she’d been so reluctant to talk about her family, but he was undeniably curious.
And more than that. He
was concerned that maybe her past wasn’t anything that she wanted to remember. And he hated thinking about why that might be.
He really wanted to know more about her, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to try to get her to relax and enjoy. Reaching across the console, he squeezed her hand. “Listen,” he said, dipping down a little to look into her eyes. “I know you’re skittish about this, but it’s going to be okay.”
She didn’t respond, but he could read her now, or he was starting to be able to. She had a wealth of old soul in those dark depths. And pain.
It killed him.
He cupped her jaw. “I promise not to hurt you, Olivia.”
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. “People can’t promise things like that.”
“Try me.”
She stared at him some more, got out of the truck, and then started walking toward the front door.
They didn’t even hit the first step before the door flew open and the music and laughter spilled out.
So did a sister or two.
“Clare, Cindy,” he said, pointing to the two people dressed up as Dr. Seuss’s Thing One and Thing Two.
If it hadn’t been for the five-year-old minion gripping Thing One’s thigh—Clare’s son, Jonathan—he couldn’t have said who was who. “This is Olivia.”
“Gorgeous costume,” Clare said. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks,” Olivia said.
“Is that hair real?” Thing Two asked, reaching out to touch it.
“No,” Olivia said. “It’s just a wig.”
“Good,” Cindy said. “Or I’d have to hate you. It’s amazing. You didn’t get this at any old costume shop.”
“No,” Olivia said, “I didn’t.”
“She owns the Unique Boutique,” Cole told them. “She’s got some pretty amazing stuff in there.” He felt Olivia’s glance and turned his head to meet it.
He’d surprised her. Getting that his family could be completely overwhelming to him, and he’d known them all his life, he could only imagine how bad it might be for a perfect stranger. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand in his and pulled her in a little closer, smiling at her.
She smiled back—for his sisters’ sake, he was pretty sure, and he was proven right when she went up on tiptoe to murmur in his ear.
“I don’t care how hot you look, Captain Sparrow, if I survive this night, I win. And my spoils are going to be more than brownies.”
Chapter 21
You can’t call a woman’s things ‘stuff,’” Clare said to Cole. She looked at Olivia. “Sorry. We raised him better than that.”
Olivia did her best to smile. No way was she going to admit that walking into this all-Donovan party had shaken her to her core. No way. She shook her head, like It’s all good. “It’s okay. It is mostly…stuff.”
Iron Man came up behind Cole and began to strangle him. Cole reached behind him and junk-punched the superhero, dropping the giant guy to the floor. As Iron Man went down, he hooked a foot around Cole’s legs and brought him down with him, hard.
The floor shook like thunder.
The two of them wrestled and rolled around, crashing into a coffee table. They were evenly matched, which was a good thing for Jack Sparrow, given that Iron Man had a hundred pounds and six inches on him.
“Squash him like a bug, honey,” Thing Two yelled.
Okay, that was sweet in a way, Olivia thought, Cindy calling her brother “honey.”
“Nail his sorry ass,” Cindy yelled. “Come on, Garrett, you can totally take that pipsqueak!”
Whoops, Olivia’s mistake. Thing Two wasn’t encouraging Cole. She was yelling for Iron Man to squash Cole like a bug.
And indeed, Iron Man rolled onto Cole and bent him like a pretzel.
“Excuse me,” Olivia said to Thing Two, “but you know he’s injured, right?”
“Eh, he’s tough,” Cindy said. “Honey,” she yelled, “sit on him if you have to!”
The entire party of about thirty people had gathered around and were cheering and egging on the wrestling match. They seemed pretty evenly divided between Jack Sparrow and Iron Man.
Iron Man was winning. He had Jack Sparrow in what looked like an impossible hold, eating hardwood floor.
“He’s injured,” Olivia tried again, this time to Miley Cyrus and Robin Thicke, who’d come up beside her. “His shoulder—”
The guy dressed as Robin Thicke grinned. “He’s scrappy as hell, darlin’, no worries.”
Olivia glared at them, and then at his sisters, but clearly no help was going to come for Cole from either source. Whatever. She’d help him herself then, and she strode directly into the melee and—
Cole managed to turn his face and smile up at her. He actually smiled, like I got this, babe.
She stopped and shook her head, and Cole made his move. He rolled Iron Man onto his belly, climbed on top of him, and wrapped his forearm around Iron Man’s beefy neck, yanking his head up off the floor.
“Oh, come on!” Cindy yelled at Iron Man. “It’s like you’re not even trying!”
Cole leaned low over Iron Man, his mouth near the guy’s ear. “Say it.”
Iron Man shook his head.
“I’m going to offer this one last time,” Cole said, calm as you please, sitting on Iron Man’s back. “Say it or eat dust.”
Iron Man huffed out a huge sigh. “Fine. I bow to your greatness.”
“Sorry,” Cole said, cupping a hand around his ear. “Didn’t hear you.”
“I bow to your greatness! Jesus! You’re going to wrinkle the suit, man! And you might want to lay off the pizza and beer, you’re getting fat.”
Cole grinned—clearly he knew damn well he didn’t have a spare ounce of fat on him—and sprang up to his feet.
Iron Man flopped to his back. “Shit. You suck.”
Cole strode over to Olivia and slung an arm around her neck. Pulling her in, he kissed her temple. “Ariel, this is Garrett, my brother-in-law.”
Olivia just stared up at Cole. “Are you okay?”
“I won, didn’t I?” He glanced back at Iron Man, still lying on the floor sucking in wind.
“Yes,” she said, “but—”
“Princess of the sea,” he said, and let out another laugh in her ear, “you can inspect me for injuries later.”
She stared at him. “Men are so weird.”
“Good weird, right?”
That was when Elvira walked up to them. She was lean and regal, and she gave Cole a long look.
“What?” he said, lifting his hands. “He started it.”
Elvira shook her head and looked at Olivia. “You’ll have to excuse my son,” she said.
Oh, God. Her son? This gorgeous creature was Cole’s mom?
“Seriously,” Cole said. “He started it.”