Second Chance Girl (Happily Inc. #2)

Mathias gauged his brother’s mood, based on the handful of words. For once Ronan wasn’t being a jerk, which was a pleasant change.

Ever since their father had blurted out the truth and screwed up their lives five years ago, Ronan had been distant. Before that, they’d been a team. They’d grown up as twins—or so they’d thought. Not anymore. Now Ronan was the half brother. Ceallach’s son, but not Elaine’s child.

After their father’s mild heart attack, he’d been hospitalized for observation. Ceallach had requested the “twins” come see him. When they’d arrived, he told them about his affair and how Ronan was only half brother with the rest of his sons.

Mathias hadn’t been able to take it in—he’d been devastated and had started to lash out at their bastard of a father. But Ronan had only listened in silence. Partway through Mathias’s rant, Ronan had walked out without saying a word. Mathias had followed. When Ronan had said he had to leave their home in Fool’s Gold, Mathias had gone with him. He’d known things would be different for a while, but he’d never thought all this time would pass and Ronan would still think of himself as anything other than a member of the family.

There were moments when Mathias wanted to remind Ronan that he’d had to deal, as well. He’d always thought they would return to being a team—if not twins, then at least close brothers. But Ronan had stayed distant to the point of doing much of his work at his own studio up in the mountains.

Whenever Mathias was asked why he didn’t want to fall in love and settle down, he used his father as an excuse. Ceallach was a jerk and what if Mathias was one, too? But the truth was far different. His inability to trust in love had little to do with his father and everything to do with his brother.

He and Ronan had been a team. They’d been a unit that had faced the world together. It was always supposed to be like that—only Ronan had changed the rules. Mathias knew in his gut that if he hadn’t gone with his brother, Ronan would have simply disappeared. All this time later Mathias couldn’t let go enough not to give a damn but he also couldn’t forgive.

Ronan crossed to his desk. On the way he passed the large recycling container filled with broken bits of glass. He picked up a piece easily identifiable as the head and neck of a giraffe. On that one, Mathias had been close.

Ronan looked from the glass to him and back. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

Mathias shrugged. “It has to be perfect.”

“Now you sound like him.”

“Dad being an egomaniac and an asshole doesn’t mean he’s always wrong.”

“What about those?” His brother pointed to the stack of imperfect dishes, bowls and mugs on shelves.

“They don’t matter,” Mathias admitted.

Ronan didn’t look convinced. “People line up in the street on the day those pieces go on sale.”

“Nobody’s life is changed by a plate.”

“Nobody’s life is changed by much of anything we can make in this studio.”

Before Mathias could respond, his brother walked away. Something Ronan had been doing a lot these days. No—he’d been doing it since their encounter with their father. Everything had changed and Mathias didn’t know how to make things go back to the way they’d been.

He checked on his two pendants, then ripped off his protective goggles. There was no way he would get more work done today, he thought grimly. Not with how he was feeling now. He went into Natalie’s office. Sophie jumped to her feet, her tail wagging.

“Come on,” he told her. “I’ll take you for a walk. That will make us both feel better.”

And if it didn’t, at least he’d taken the moral high ground—walking a dog rather than destroying more innocent glass.

*

ULRICH HAD NO idea if Violet would show for dinner or not. He told himself that regardless of the outcome, he’d done what he could and would be able to look his grandmother in the eye with a clear conscience. He’d apologized and had attempted to make amends. How Violet responded to that was beyond his control. Although as the time ticked closer to six, he found himself hoping she would show up. For his grandmother’s sake, he added hastily. Because it would be easier on him if he was able to give a few details about their dinner. Not because he was looking forward to spending time in Violet’s company.

If only he hadn’t been wrong, he thought grimly. If only his grandmother’s secretary hadn’t mentioned the outgoing packages. If only the inventory hadn’t turned up so many discrepancies. Whatever circumstances had conspired, he’d ended up here—at a restaurant in Happily Inc, California, waiting on a woman who might or might not show up for their...appointment.

Not date. Never a date. This was practically a business meeting. They were here to clear the air, nothing more. Which all sounded great but didn’t explain the sudden rush of anticipation that kicked him in the gut when he saw a tall redhead walk into the foyer.

Had she been beautiful two days ago and had he just not noticed, or had she done whatever it was women did to make themselves alluring? She still had thick, glossy curls that tumbled down her back. Her eyes had always been wide and green. But her skin seemed more luminous and her dress—a simple black number that emphasized her curves—was pure magic.

He moved toward her and held out his hand. In part to be polite but mostly to feel her skin against his own. He wanted to know if there would be a reaction when they touched. If the attraction would die as quickly as it had formed or if it would explode into—

“Ulrich,” she said, putting her hand in his.

The heat was immediate, as was a sinking sense of having been played by fate. His relationship with his ex-wife had been based on their being a sensible match. Since the divorce, he’d avoided entanglements of any kind, so it had been years since he’d experienced the dark, sensual, visceral burn of desperately wanting any one woman.

“Miss Lund.”

She raised her eyebrows as she released his hand. “Come now, Ulrich. We’re not auditioning for a drawing room comedy. You can call me Violet. It’s so much nicer than the other names you’ve been using in your mind.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I only thought gracious, lovely things about you.”

She stepped close and lowered her voice. “You go to hell for lying, same as stealing.”

Her tone was teasing, her breath warm on his neck.

“I have every confidence the good Lord wants me with him when I die.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

The hostess appeared and told them their table was ready. They were shown to a quiet booth against the far wall. The restaurant was more crowded than he would have expected for a weeknight and he was pleased he’d thought to make a reservation.

Violet sat across from him. She ignored the menu, instead focusing her considerable attention on him.

“This is awkward.”

“A little,” he conceded. “I appreciate you joining me. It seemed the least I could do.”