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He stared at the empty spot where Cait had been standing. “I…” He felt Viv’s warm hand on his shoulder and let its weight ground him in the present before he got sucked into the visions of Finn’s dead body that swam before his eyes. “I will be.”
Viv searched his face and, satisfied with what she saw there, gave a quick nod. He reached for her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips.
“Come on. Cait tells the best stories.”
“Two questions. Does she have any about you? And is she willing to share them?”
“Yes. And eagerly.”
Viv smiled as they rounded the corner into the solarium. “Perfect.”
“Careful, princess,” he warned, noting how her eyes softened at the nickname.
Interesting. When had she stopped hating that? When had he stopped using it to rile her?
“Careful with what?" she prompted.
“Turnabout is fair play. I’m sure your brothers could tell me plenty of stories.”
“They absolutely can. And only half of them are true.”
He released her when they stepped into the solarium and watched her move through his family with effortless ease. He liked the look of her there, he realized. In his home, among his people.
At some point, he had strayed from wanting to keep her at arm’s length to simply wanting to keep her. Except he was hardly qualified to hold on to her heart. He was just as liable to mangle it as he was to keep it safe from harm. Maybe more so.
It would be better for her if she never let him hold it at all. He didn't know how to love someone, especially not someone like Viv. Something that had never bothered him until her. Until she’d fallen into his life with her sharp tongue and perfect body.
He wanted to keep her safe, and the only way he knew how to do that was to keep her as far away from him as possible. Even if all he seemed to want to do was pull her close and never let go.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Viv sprinkled flour on the counter in front of her and tilted the dough out of the bowl where it had been completing its first rise. The staff had the day off, and Viv was taking full advantage of having the kitchen to herself. Well, almost to herself. Libby had tasked Viv with keeping an eye on a pot of sauce simmering on the stove for lasagna later.
So far, Viv had made two dozen Linzer cookies with raspberry jam, a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting for after dinner, and an orange ricotta cake she needed to drop off at her sister’s house. It was a new recipe she’d been playing around with in her spare time.
Baking was her happy place. It was where she got out of her head and lost herself in the repetition of measuring ingredients, mixing until the batter or the dough looked just right, then baking, cooling, and decorating. She could lose hours in the kitchen.
She missed being able to pin her hair up and disappear into a recipe or two for a few hours to relieve some stress or test something new that was rolling around in her head. She liked to play with flour and sugar and vanilla and see what she could create.
She was a decent cook, her grandmother would have accepted nothing less, but baking was where she shined. At least no one seemed to mind that she and Libby took over the kitchen twice a week when the staff was out.
“There was a day,” Brogan said from the doorway, watching her fingers work the dough, “when Wednesdays and Sundays meant we’d order pizza or eat whatever casserole Marta left. I can’t say I mind the home-cooked food.”
“Libby makes the food.”
Brogan pointed at one of the cookies, the red jam showing through the hole she’d cut in the middle. “Are these not edible?”
She laughed. “They are. Butter cookies with jam inside.”
He picked one up and popped it whole into his mouth, chewing with a groan. “Fucking delicious. Is my lovely future wife home yet?”
Viv raised a brow, pinching the seam of the loaf and flipping it gently onto the sheet pan she’d already prepared. “Did Libby finally say yes?”
“Not yet. She keeps saying she isn’t ready.”
Viv glanced up at where Brogan was staring down at the cookies. “Does that worry you?”
“No. She’s already promised me fifty years, and I intend to collect. Marriage is a piece of paper as far as I’m concerned. No offense.”
