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“I know your parents want life to be easy for us. We have the same desired outcome for Mia—just a different route.” I walk over to him, place my head on his chest, and sigh. Leith holds me close. After a while, I unwrap myself from the comfort of his strong embrace. As I let go of him, Leith catches my fingers in his. It looks like there’s more on his mind. However, if it’s the turn our discussion took earlier, about my parents, the conversation is done.
“I should cook now,” I mumble, looking down.
“Hen, go get bonny for tonight. I’ll get Mia from the pantry. Tell her no more Fruit Loops. We’ll order Italian. Chicken parmigiana for Mam. Wee shrimp scampi for my hen.”
“Uh-uh. Leith, you’re the only person in the world who detests shrimp.” I’m telling him how the shrimp are jumbo-sized when Leith squeezes my midriff. We’re laughing, kissing. The perfect young, married couple again.
* * *
The guys aren’tmuch for Italian, not like Nan and me. While Camdyn, Leith’s seventeen-year-old brother, sets the table on our massive deck outside with the Italian takeout, I’m zipping around the kitchen. I pour out the boiling water from the potatoes and readjust the heel of my stiletto.
Steam rises into my face. I hiss, “Shit!”
“Och!” The familiar voice of Leith’s mother, Nan, comes from behind. “Yer a long time deid.”
“Your nana told you that.” I smile, turning around. At first, when she said so many years back, I thought it was a threat to my life, yet the context seemed way too sentimental.
A simple tan dress covers Nan’s buxom curves and skims her wide calves. For the head of a Scottish crime family, Nan dresses like a choir conductor, and the only jewelry she wears is a cross pendant. While the rest of Leith’s brothers are various shades of blond, Leith and his mother share the same reddish highlights in their hair. Nan’s hair is cut short so that it curls around her naked ears. Their sons’ gorgeous eyes came from their father, whose loud voice carries from the dining room. He’s speaking an old Gaelic that I’ll never understand.
A small smile begins to nudge at the edges of Nan’s chubby cheeks until it spreads wide. “How many times have I said, ‘yer a long time deid,’ Chevelle?”
“Lots. Usually, I’m running a mile a minute.”
“Aye. Ye would drop textbooks, a paper cup of coffee, and be already on the ground before my laddie could help ye up. But that’s what they’re for, lass. Helping you.”
I sigh, seeing how this conversation is about to be tied up with a nice-shiny bow, Hallmark-style. “Nan, I know you want to help us.”
“Nae.” Nan shakes her head. “Big Brody threatened to skelpme wee behind. Wee? Heh. Ain’t nothing wee about me. Listen, Chevelle. I have always valued yer tenacity. Ye may think I wanted for ye and Leith to be more like us. Many years ago, my son lost his heid for ye, Chevelle. It made ye my daughter.”
“I know,” I murmur, though, I’d rather thank her and assure her that she’s closer to me than any mother I’ve ever known. Although Leith taught me the art of love, I’m still a little standoffish. Showing affection is hard for me, except with Mia, whom I loved before I set eyes on her.
“Chevelle, I remember when I tasted yer first draft. I held the pint in my hand, could feel the passion ye poured into creating it. I got so excited, knew the value of investing.”
“Awe, I appreciate your belief in me, Nan.”
She nods. “I’m glad ye do. But still, I’m as stubborn as the hairy cow in the highlands I once ran through as a not so wee lassie. As much as I tell myself what will be will be, I watch the two of ye work so hard for Mia. My instinct is just to throw a bit of money yer way. Enough on that. Can I help ye with the neeps and tatties?” She gestures to the steaming potatoes and another pan, containing turnips.
“Sure.”
“Do I smell delicious haggis?”
“Yup.” I nod toward the Viking oven where the haggis is baking. Haggis with neeps and tatties are a MacKenzie favorite. And this is how the cornerstone of one of the biggest crime syndicates in Scotland and I squash a quarrel before it starts. We work together to feed our family.
Chapter 7
Leith
Clenched fists beatagainst the glass wall, silenced by the ultra-thick pane. Bright green eyes with caterpillar lashes appear through the window.
Feckme. My eldestbrathair, Brody, named after our father, has brought Erika along. Though I only have eyes for Chevelle, my hen has eyes, too. Erika is bonny in her own right. It’s been a source of contention between my lass and me for years.
Dressed in slacks and a button-down, I open the door, step outside, and close it. Though I’m a smidge taller than Brody, I’ve had to be cunning when he roughed me up in the past. We call him Little Brody on occasion, but the bloody bastard is nae wee guy. He’s bigger than an ox, dressed more casually in jeans and flannel. A foot shorter at his side, Erika is wearing jeans too, along with a leather jacket and a wee shirt over her wee tits, and those pointy shoes that she likes to use when she’s not fighting fair. Her red hair is in braids on one side and flows long on the other. When Chevelle does her hair like this, it makes her look sweet and innocent, Erika not so much.
“I told ye to come by later.” I corner Erika.
She rolls her eyes. “Here I am—now. Just leave me alone in the room with our sweet Chevelle. I’ll make the hen mine.”
Brody gestures. “Wit’sthis ‘come by later’ between the two of ya?”
