Page 65 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Slam. Thud. Bang! “Where the devil is the cinnamon?” Brec said in a near growl. The bark in his tone etched crinkles into his aunt’s brow as she sat at the dining-room table with her Bible while he tore through every cabinet in the kitchen.

“In the icebox.” His aunt chuckled as she turned a page in the “Good Book.”

“Who the deuce put it there?” he muttered, biting back a swear word as he lashed the refrigerator open, eyes in a squint while he scanned for the offensive spice.

“You did, sonny, right after you made that fancy-schmancy dee-sert you whipped up to impress our girly-girl for supper tonight.”

Glancing at the clock over the sink, he slammed the container on the counter and plucked out a stick. He commenced to pulverizing it with a grater into a measuring cup of brown sugar as if it were to blame for Molly being out all day on a date with Kennedy.

“It’s your own fault, you know.”

Brec halted grating mid-stick, completely unsuccessful at masking the scowl on his face. “What’s my fault?”

She nodded at the fridge as she closed her Bible with a soft thud. “That you’re too dog-gone distracted to put spices where they oughta be.” She hobbled up from her chair to mosey on over to the third pot of coffee he’d brewed since Kennedy had picked Molly up this morning. Which had royally ticked Brec off when he’d whisked her off for a day of biking on the Spanish Moss Trail, lunch at a blinkin’ pumpkin farm, and apple-picking. Sweet Janey Mac, was she in the third grade or something? More like a bloomin’ field trip than a date.

“And,” Aunt Lilly continued, “if you don’t mind me sayin’, Pelé, too dog-gone green-eyed to see right, much less cook right,” she continued as she poured another cup of coffee, “which has me a might worried about this here dinner tonight.”

He stared at his aunt, mouth hanging open. “What? You think I’m jealous? Of some podunk peeler who makes as much in a year as I do in a day?”

His aunt’s jaw rose to dangerous heights. “You watch your tongue, sonny. That young man has risen from a cop on the beat to lieutenant in the blink of an eye because he’s smart as a whip, dedicated to God and man, and puts his heart and soul into everything he does”—her eyes snapped so hard, he took a step back—“including eyeing our girl. So like I said before, it’s your own blamed fault if she’s out a-lollygaggin’ with him instead of with you.”

Properly chastened as always when Aunt Lilly called him out, Brec cut loose with a heavy sigh while he pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right, okay—I’m sorry because yes, Sloan Kennedy is a decent enough sort and Molly has every right to date whomever she wants, so I don’t know why I’m acting like such an eejit.”

Because you wanted her to spend her birthday with you instead of Kennedy? His lips smashed shut as he stalked over to the coffeemaker, annoyed at his own thoughts nailing him to the wall. And I would have, too, if I hadn’t had to coach at Frank Callan Boys and Girls Club today.

His aunt grunted as she reached into the cabinet for a tea bag. “If you don’t know why, then you’re a bigger eejit than I thought. How ’bout some chamomile to calm you down?”

Ignoring her question, Brec poured himself another cup of coffee. “We’re just friends, Aunt Lilly, nothing more.”

“Sure you are, Pelé. That’s why you’ve been a-stompin’ around here like a bear with his butt on fire since that boy picked our girl up this morning. And if I were you, I’d toss that coffee for something a wee bit more soothing, ’cause you shore don’t need to add any more fuel to this fire.”

Brec paused with the cup to his lips. Blasting out a noisy sigh, he tossed the coffee into the sink and snatched the tea bag from her hands before rinsing and filling the cup with water. Shoving it in the microwave, he punched the time and sagged against the counter with hands braced and head bowed. “What am I going to do, Aunt Lilly?” he whispered, so very tired of this hollow feeling in his heart. The one that began when he’d suspected he was falling in love with a woman he couldn’t have. And the same one that confirmed he was already too far gone to do anything about it, especially after that kiss last week. “I never intended for this to happen, I swear, falling in love with a squeaky-clean woman who won’t give me the time of day.”

“Well now, sonny, what we intend and God ordains are often as different as a hog from a goose, so you can’t go a-blamin’ yourself altogether.”

He peered at her out of the corner of his eyes. “I thought you said it was my fault.”

“I did,” she said with a smirk as she returned to settle back in her chair with her coffee. “Not the fallin’ in love part ’cause that’s God’s doin’, but missy not givin’ you the time of day?” A throaty noise too big for such a little woman rolled right off her lips. “That’s a bles-sed bull’s-eye right on you.”

A groan trailed from his lips. “Come on, Aunt Lilly, I’ve changed since I’ve been here, haven’t I?” He carried his cup over to join her at the table, sloshing the teabag with a little too much force. “I’m attentive to you and Molly, aren’t I? Try to pull my fair share of the weight around here? Go to church every week, read you the Bible? Even volunteering at the Frank Callan Boys and Girls Club three times a week, and I gave up drinking!”

His aunt’s smile slid sideways. “Because I don’t allow it in the house,” she reminded.

“True, but I gave it up before that, I’ll have ye know. Plus I don’t go out carousing at bars to meet women like I used to,” he argued with a tinge of hurt in his tone, “because I’d rather spend my time with you and Molly.”

Her smile went soft along with her eyes. “And that’s meant the world to me, Breccan, it truly has.” She reached to lay a wrinkled hand on his arm, her voice as tender as her touch. “But she needs to know that you and she share the same faith.”

He grunted. “She had a so-called man of faith before and look where that got her.”

“Exactly. Because that’s not the only kind of change she needs, Breccan”—she tapped a gnarled finger to her heart—“she needs change right here, bone-deep, where actions speak louder than words.” Her chin rose a fraction of a degree. “And where faith speaks louder than anything.” She hesitated to take a casual sip of her coffee, her next words so low, they might have been a thought rather than a statement. “That is … if you truly care.”

Eyes burning, he slammed a fist to the table. “Blast it all, I do,” he shouted, biting back the swear word that begged to follow. “More than I ever wanted to.” He threaded stiff fingers through his hair, frustration swarming like fire ants under his skin. “Sweet Janey Mac, Aunt Lilly—she already has my heart, so now she wants my soul too?”

“Yes, darling boy.” His aunt paused to stare at him for several seconds, her silence as thick as the love that misted in her eyes before she gave a sharp nod up. “And so does He.”

Head bowed, something akin to a growl erupted from his throat as he gouged shaky fingers through both sides of his head, elbows taut on the table. “For mercy’s sake, woman, I’m a grown man entitled to make my own decisions.”