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“I’m sure they’ll understand,” he said. “They’ll expect it. I’m rarely on time.”
“That’s a terrible habit,” she scolded.
“I’m eccentric,” he said, dropping his paintbrush in water and wiping his hands on a towel.
“No excuse,” she said. “Go change clothes.”
He took his shirt off and she sputtered and laughed and said, “Not right here, you fool.”
He grinned and said, “All right, all right,” and went downstairs, disrobing as he went.
Hattied snuck a peek over the balcony and whispered, “Good Lord,” as he turned and headed toward his bedroom.
“Sorry, Winston,” Duncan said. “Don’t mean to alarm you. Though you’re something of a prude for someone who never wears pants.”
Hattie came flying down the stairs and said, “Winston, maybe you could get him to move faster. Maybe nip at his heels a little.”
“Winston never nips,” Duncan said. “He’s a civilized dog and would settle any dispute with fisticuffs like a gentleman.”
“Of course,” Hattie said, pursing her lips. “My apologies, Winston. Maybe you could formally invite your master into the ring if he’s not ready in five minutes.”
“That’ll teach me,” Duncan said, shutting the bedroom door behind him.
* * *
Duncan parked in the field next to the barn and checked the clock on the dashboard. Hattie was tense beside him, the idea of being half an hour late completely offensive to her sensibilities. But by his estimation, they were right on time. That had been the plan all along.
He and his family had been planning her surprise party for weeks. It had taken all their cunning and persuasive powers to get her to share her birthdate, but if anyone could get information out of someone it was an O’Hara. The Inquisition had nothing on them. And February fifteenth had been the date, though they were three days early to throw her off the trail.
“I hate being late,” she said as they approached the big barn doors.
She twisted her hands nervously, and he put his hands on her shoulders to calm her, though she jumped slightly at his touch, making him frown.
“Relax,” he said. “No one is going to care we’re a few minutes late. They won’t punish you. I promise.”
“That’s not necessarily my experience,” she said under her breath, but it was loud enough for him to hear.
He pushed the barn doors wide open, and the deafening shout of “Surprise” knocked her against him.
“Wh—what?” she asked, shaking her head in denial.
“Happy birthday,” he said, leaning down to kiss her temple.
“But my birthday isn’t for three days. I don’t understand.”
“That’s what makes it a surprise,” he said, pushing her gently into the room.
His entire family was there, and one by one, they came up to hug her and wish her happy birthday. His parents were first in line and he loved the way his mother wrapped her in a tight hug and held her with a warmth that made his heart full.
His brother Wyatt and his wife, Raven, were next to wish her well, and it brought him joy to see Raven whisper something in Hattie’s ear that had her laughing out loud. Hattie was normally much more reserved and her manners impeccable, her wealthy upbringing a dead giveaway even if she’d never shared that bit of information with him. But Hattie and Raven had becoming close over the last months, the two as opposite as could be.
Then Hank and Colt came up, and Duncan frowned as Colt picked Hattie up and swung her around. His younger brothers were only a year apart and they excelled in getting into mischief.
And then his brother Aidan came up with his wife Dylan, treating Hattie as if she was the sister they’d never had. Even his cousins treated her that way. It was hard for Duncan to remember a time when she hadn’t been in Laurel Valley.
They wound their way through the room, dodging waiters passing hors d’oeuvres and drinks and kids playing hide-and-seek. Mac was there, along with her parents and siblings, and there was a great deal of noise and laughter and chaos, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Immediately an idea for a painting came to mind—a large canvas, vibrant colors, constant motion—an accurate representation of his family. In fact, it would look stunning hanging above the large stone fireplace. It would make an excellent Mother’s Day present.
Duncan heard Hattie gasp with surprise and he turned in time to see her launch herself at Atticus. His cousin looked thinner than he had the last time he’d seen him. But thinking back, the last time he’d seen him had been at his wife’s funeral. He was only in his mid-forties, but he’d aged a lifetime over the last year.
