Brothers of Paradise Series

Dad wraps an arm around me. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

He frowns down at me. “I heard about the Anderson project from Reed Harris.”

“You did?”

“Yes. He said his son was running lead on it… with help from you.”Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

“I worked on it, yes. We just recently sold it. Turned a solid profit.”

Dad nods and turns back to the grill. “That’s good. Cut your teeth, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t say it, but I hear the implication. And in a few years… you might work with me. I know he doesn’t consider Harris Development proper builders, not in the way he is.

“I will,” I say, knowing it might be a lie. I’m not sure I want to work with this, not forever.

My dad gives a nod. “Your mom is inside.”

I know when I’m dismissed.

Hayden’s standing at the end of the porch. He’s wearing dark-blue slacks and a button-down. It’s simple clothing, but he fills them out completely. There’s no doubt just how muscular he is.

His eyes meet mine. There are questions in them, questions I know he’ll ask later. About the kiss. About the basket. About us.

He glances down at my dress and I see the exact moment he realizes just what I’m wearing. I have to admit, after eleven years the fit isn’t quite what it used to be, but somehow, that only works to my advantage. The blue dress hugs my curves and the scalloped back shows off more skin that I usually would nowadays. Still, it’s modest enough for a Friday family dinner.

His eyes flick back to mine with surprise. Yes, I want to tell him. You remember this dress. It’s what I wore to my eighteenth birthday party-the night we became us. For a while, at least. Before he broke it.

I turn my back on him.

Gary comes up the stairs to join us. He’s rarely at Friday night dinners, and I’ve always wondered if he feels uncomfortable with the odd mix of friendship, family and work. But Hayden’s presence isn’t something he’d miss.

My dad shakes Gary’s hand.

“Glad you could join us tonight.”

“Thanks for the invitation, sir.”

“Have a seat. There’s wine and beer.” Dad raises his voice. “Parker, get Gary something to drink.”

My good-for-nothing brother shoots out of his chair to do as Dad bids. I resist rolling my eyes and step past them into the kitchen. Mom is working on the final touches.

She stops when she sees me. “Chérie… I’m glad you came.”

“It’s tradition.”

Mom nods, her eyes glinting mischievously as she looks at my dress. As if she knows exactly why I’ve dressed up.

She’s put her hair up in a big bun and gold earrings dangle from her ears. The years have been good to her. It’s vanity, but I hope I’ll age like her. Like nice, aged French wine. Like a woman who gave up her home country for an American businessman. Who dedicated her life to raising four children and making this small, seaside town her home. She hasn’t always been easy to please-God knows that-but… I’ll forgive her eventually for the letter. I know that.

“Help me with the haricot verts?” Her voice is tentative, pointing at the small casserole.

“Sure.”

“A bit more salt.” She’s quiet, both of us working in silence for a few beats, before she surprises me by talking about Hayden. “The military…it’s not exactly a place for just anyone. I didn’t know he had that streak, but when I think back on it, I think it was just the right place for him.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Can you imagine Parker in the Army? Rhys?” Mom takes a tray of baked potatoes out from the oven. They smell amazing, filled to the brim with herbs and seasoning and cheese. Dad might know how to grill-the only thing he knows how to do in terms of food-but Mom reigns supreme in here.

“Henry, maybe,” I say.

She nods, a smile on her face at the thought of my oldest brother. The wonder child. “Yes, Henri would manage it. He’d probably excel. But no, I can’t imagine any of you others would, apart from Hayden.”

I can’t tell if she’s genuine in her praise of Hayden, or if she wants to get on my good side again, but I decide to not question it.

“Are we ready to sit down to dinner?”

“Yes,” she says, carrying the potatoes. “Do you want to tell your dad to take the meat off the grill?”

We all take a seat around the dining table. Hayden takes the spot opposite me, and I can tell that he’s searching for my gaze, but I avoid making eye contact with him. I’m feeling too much, not all of it good, and I don’t trust my gaze. He’s always had a way of being able to read me.

But as it turns out, it’s difficult to avoid looking at someone who’s the clear subject of conversation. Mom asks him repeatedly if he got hurt in the Navy. Dad asks about rankings and career prospects. Parker makes sly innuendoes about scars and women, drawing laughs from all corners of the table.

Hayden grins and bears it all.

The boy I remembered would have hated being the center of attention, had disliked praise, but now he handles it with grace. The expression on his face is one of serenity.

And when Hayden regales us with a story from his time patrolling the Bering Straits, nobody eats, hanging on to his every word. My dad and Parker can’t get enough of the details.

“And you were right off the coast of Russia?”

Hayden nods. “We’re in international waters, but the storm caught us off guard. There was no warning-nothing. We wouldn’t make it to port in time, so we had to ride it out at sea. That’s not unusual in the Straits in September, these storms, when the sea ice is starting to form in the Arctic. It’s one of the last patrols of the year before we need to use the ice-breakers.”

“The waves?”

“Over forty feet.”

Parker whistles. “Shit.”

“Thing is, the wind is so strong, it’s pushing us closer to their border. And command knows that the closer we come, the more antsy the Russians are getting.”

Mom frowns. “But you’re not meaning to. It wouldn’t be intentional.”

“One would think that matters, but in these situations, it doesn’t. A breach of naval space is a breach of naval space.” Hayden shrugs. “We would be on edge too if the situation was reversed.”

Dad is leaning forward. “What did you do, son?”