“You don’t want to hold her?” she asks, incredulous.
That’s when she turns the baby toward me, and I get a good look at the child for the first time. Familiar blue eyes blink back… and in that instant, my whole world stops, tilts, and comes barreling off its axis.
What the hell? My mouth goes dry.
“Isabella,” she says loudly, like I’m hearing-impaired. “Do you want to hold her?”
“Jesus.” I press my palms into my eyes. After a moment, I lower my hands and stare at my brother’s baby. I open my mouth, only nothing comes out. Finally, I clear my throat. “That’s Isabella?”
She looks at me like I’m an idiot and nods.
“Holy shit.” I stare at the child in her arms. At her clear-blue eyes. At those wild tufts of sandy-blond hair. At her rosebud lips. “I thought… I thought she had been with her… with her parents in the accident.”
Katherine gasps. “No. God, no.” She clutches Isabella closer. “I was watching her that night. I told you I was taking care of her.” She shakes her head. “Why would you think that?”
Frustration ripples through me. “I could barely hear you when I was at the airport.” Rubbing my forehead, I think back to what my mother had said… Fuck. What did she say? She was hysterical and crying that she hadn’t seen Cal in so long and now he was gone. Crying that she’d never really given Melissa a chance. And then she wailed, We lost the baby. Those were her exact words.
I run my hand through my hair, choked up by the memory. “I guess… I guess my mom got confused.” And when you spoke to the police, you just asked for details about how the accident happened, not who was in the truck.
We sit in silence, and after I’ve calmed down enough to be rational, one thought hurdles through my mind—it looks like my parents might be inheriting a baby.
4
Katherine
Brady doesn’t say a word as he pours himself another shot of bourbon. I don’t blame him. Thinking Bella was with Cal and Mel that night would send me over the edge too.
I cradle the baby in my arms and smooth down her hair, which probably comforts me more than her, but after that conversation, I need to regroup. After a while, my eyes lift to her uncle.
To say that Brady and Cal are complete opposites is an understatement. Despite his penchant for spreadsheets, Cal was a fair-haired hipster with a carefree laugh. He may have been an accountant, but he acted like a SoCal surfer.
Which is nothing like his brother.
Because Brady’s a brewing storm of intensity.
Jet black hair. Piercing green eyes. A few day’s worth of stubble covering his strong jaw. And muscular, filling out his leather jacket with broad shoulders that cut a dark swath through my vision.
It’s hard not to stare.
He’s sitting with his elbows pressed against his wide-spread knees, glaring out the window, looking like a Sons of Anarchy character about to kick someone’s ass.
He towered over me when he walked in, looking at me like I was some kid he caught trespassing. Yeah, he’s intimidating.
And ridiculously hot.
I glance down at my t-shirt, wishing I had put myself together more before he arrived. Closing my hoodie to hide my stupid t-shirt, I suddenly feel self-conscious.
He hasn’t said much, but based on his expression a few minutes ago, I know I’ve just rocked his world. I find myself wanting to comfort him. If we were friends, if I’d known him longer than the ten minutes he’s been sitting on the couch, I’d hug him. But obviously, that’s weird.
I can’t believe he thought Isabella was gone. The thought sends chills through me.
As though she can sense my unease, she snuggles closer. I need to feed her, but it feels wrong to leave Brady right now.
After three shots of Jim Beam, he puts down the glass and sighs, running his hands through his messy hair. How is it that men always look better after doing that?
He looks up and clears his throat. “Let’s try this again.” He holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Brady. Sorry it took me so long to get down here. That nor’easter really screwed up my flight.”
His accent slides over me and holds me captive. It’s intense like the rest of him. Cal had a New England accent too, but for some reason, coming from him, it made me laugh. Brady’s sends goose bumps down my arms.
Nothing funny there.
Realizing the man is waiting for me to return the gesture, I extend my hand. “Katherine Duran, family friend and glorified babysitter.”
His big paw shakes mine. His skin is calloused and rough, a little like his exterior. But when those green eyes stare back, butterflies riot in my stomach.
When I let go, I feel a little light-headed. What the heck is that about?
“So you’re… you’re Cal’s younger brother? You’re bigger than Cal.” Like way bigger. He has to be well over six feet tall.