Chapter 5
FIVE
“Motherfucker—”
I popped my head out of the living room and, eyes wide, discovered Brennan and Aidan squaring up outside the pool room.
“I told you to back the fuck off.”
“You’re the one who won’t goddamn listen. You give me this role that I never asked for, when I was doing most of the fucking work anyway, and now you have the audacity to—”
“Brennan?” I uttered his name softly, so as not to surprise either of them.
Just one look and I could tell they’d already been fighting and were on the brink of a rematch. Disheveled clothing aside, they sported various cuts and nicks. From here, I saw how raw each of their knuckles were.
Both heads whipped around to find me, and I simply arched a brow at them.
Gone were the days when either of these men had the power to scare me.
My husband had done too good a job of teaching me how important I was to him.
“I think we need coffee,” I declared when they both just looked at me. “And brownies. I stopped at Aoife’s and picked up some treats. Come into the kitchen.” When they frowned, I narrowed my eyes. “Now.”
Brennan’s nostrils flared, but Aidan shook his shoulders, released a breath, and growled, “Fine.”
I nodded as he strode toward me then beckoned my hand at Brennan. His jaw worked but he traipsed after his brother, only pausing along the way to brush a kiss to my temple.
“You’re not supposed to get involved when we fight.”
“I’m not letting either of you ruin my buzz.”
“Your buzz?” He tangled our fingers together. “Afternoon tea amped up a notch?”
“Oh yeah, we had strippers and everything—” I chortled when he scowled. “I’m joking, Brennan. Joking.” At his grunt, I ghosted my fingertips over a graze on his cheek. “You fought?”
His lips pursed. “You said you had brownies?”
I nodded and watched him trundle off to the kitchen.
Aidan leaned against the counter, his fingers already in the box of baked goods I’d just purchased. Brennan, of course, snatched the muffin he was about to eat and, out of spite, took a massive bite.
“Brennan, you don’t even like blueberry muffins,” I chided.
“I took it in your honor. They’re your favorites.”
“My hero,” I sniped. “Now, do I have to invite your mother over, or shall I just bang your heads together without her input?”
Aidan snagged a donut. “Ma’s at the spa.”
“You’re a poet and you don’t fucking know it.”
“Brennan.” When that earned me his version of a pout, I sighed. “What’s going on? Savannah was really upset today, Aidan. I hope you know you’re pissing people off left, right, and center.”
“She asks too many questions.”
“Duh. Marriage hasn’t exactly mellowed her out, has it?”
“It definitely fucking hasn’t,” he griped then took an extra-large bite of his donut.
As much as the sweet treats stopped them from arguing, it also meant their mouths were too busy to answer my questions.
“Well?” I tapped my toe on the Italian marble that Brennan had imported especially because I loved the color.
“You’re not my wife, Camille. I don’t have to—”
“Watch your fucking tone,” Brennan snapped. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that in HER home.”
“Like what? A human? It’s your job to lick her ass, not mine.”
My eyes widened when both of them dove at each other. “Not my—” My shoulders sagged. “—table.” The damn thing, six feet long and over 200 pounds of raw mahogany that had needed assembling in situ, nearly flew across the floor as they fell into it.
When they veered toward the dresser that displayed my collection of Delft miniature houses, I squeaked and darted into the pantry.
I had no idea what made me do it.
Maybe it was invoking the threat of Lena? (She gave off poltergeist vibes.)
Grateful I’d been weight training with Brennan recently, I picked up the copper holder that I stored my potatoes in, hugged it to my chest, and ran back into the kitchen.
In the time I’d been gone, they’d angled away from the dresser, but seeing as they rolled around the floor like maniacs, only God knew how long my miniatures would be safe.
I got as close as I dared, lifted the copper urn, then upended it.
Right over them.
More than twenty pounds of potatoes cascaded over their heads, dirt and little wiggly roots that had fallen loose alongside them.
“What the fuck?!” Aidan roared, spluttering as he choked on potato dust, ducking left and right to avoid the fallout.
“Jesus Christ,” Brennan snarled, whipping around to evade the projectiles, but gravity wouldn’t be stopped.
Even as the brothers rolled out of the way, they landed on the potatoes.
Now that my container was empty, I ignored their yelps and barked, “Have you two quite finished?! Roman is taking a goddamn nap, and if you woke him up, I’ll hurl my crisper at you!”
They both stared up at me, filthy in the most literal ways, potatoes on their chests and between their legs, pooling around their shoulders.
Smudges on their faces, dust in their expensive suits.
Dirt in their hair and spattered around them like a farmer had outlined their bodies instead of the police with chalk.
When they continued staring at me, I stacked my hands on my hips. “You do not fight in my kitchen. Do you know how long it took me to find a damn table I liked? And my miniatures!”
Aidan and Brennan ceased gawking at me to glance at one another and, as if the fight were a fever dream, began to roar with laughter.
Aidan slapped Brennan’s chest in time to his wheezing chuckles, and my husband, well, he guffawed.
I didn’t even know Brennan could make that noise.
It was my turn to gape at them as they laughed themselves hoarse. I’d never seen two of the city’s most brutal men look this damn young.
“Blyad,” I muttered when it carried on and on. I even ended up plunking myself onto one of the chairs that had screeched across the floor during their fight.
Eventually, the pair of them gasped for breath but stopped with the hyena act.
“You married Ma,” Aidan joked. “All she needed was a rolling pin—”
“I know,” Brennan wheezed.
“I am here?”
Aidan’s head tipped backward to find me. “Sorry, Camille.”
I sniffed. “I’d accept your apology if my kitchen weren’t a damn mess.”
Aidan punched Brennan’s arm—but in a friendly way. God help me for knowing the difference. These damn brothers were going to turn me gray! “Come on, let’s clear this up before she brings out the rolling pin for real.”
Brennan, like the frickin’ ninja he was, did this weird jump/leap and landed on his feet. For a big man, the stunts he could pull always boggled my mind. Either he was a part-time ninja or just part cat.
Brennan yanked Aidan to his feet, taunting, “Come on, old man.”
Aidan flipped him the bird, but they both surprised me…
Neither of these men had so much as lifted a broom or a mop in decades. I wasn’t even sure Brennan knew we had them, but he proved me wrong.
Within minutes, the pair of them were sweeping up the mess they’d made.
“Remember the last time we did this?” Aidan asked with a laugh.
“When Da threw a fucking fit about Eoghan enlisting,” Brennan said wryly. To me, he clarified, “Eoghan was supposed to be one of us.”
“I thought Sr. was proud of him?”
“Oh, he was. Eventually. And he definitely appreciated the skills Eoghan picked up on Uncle Sam’s dime, but first, he threw Eoghan into Ma’s dresser.” Brennan shot me an apologetic look. “I’m glad we didn’t bust any of your miniatures, honey. I’m sorry about the mess.”
“Apology only accepted if you promise not to fight in my damn home again.”
He raised his hands in surrender, broom included. “Promise.”
“What did Lena collect?”
Aidan’s gaze turned distant. “Those ugly as fuck flower things.”
“Oh, shit, yeah, I forgot about them. Capi do manti?”
“Capodimante?” I corrected.
“That’s right. Porcelain stuff.”
My brow puckered. “How sad for her!”
“Yeah. Da was an asshole. That temper of his—” Brennan and Aidan shared a look when he broke off.
Simultaneously, they cleared their throats.
“Sorry, Camille.”
“Sorry, baby.”
I laughed at their puppy-dog expressions. “Three apologies are enough, and you’re not your father.”
Aidan scrubbed the back of his neck. “Hard to remember that sometimes.”
“It bothers each of you that you might be emulating him,” I reasoned, knowing that for all they loved their father, his specter would haunt them for the rest of their lives. “But unlike you, he didn’t give a damn about being his raw self.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Brennan complained.
“At least you know what to buy your mother for Christmas.”
They stared at me in confusion.
“Jeez, men can be real slow sometimes. The porcelain figures!”
“Nah, she doesn’t like that stuff anymore.”
“How do you know, Aidan?”
“Well, have you ever seen any in her apartment?”
“No, but maybe that’s because she misses her old collection. It’ll be different if you guys find her some pieces. It’ll mean more to her.”
Brennan rubbed his chin. “You think she’d like that?”
“I think there’s no harm in trying, and I know she’s going on a cruise, so if she hates them, you won’t get a vat of mashed potatoes hurled at you over the dinner table.”
Both men laughed, but from the glance they shot one another, the second in as many minutes, I figured they knew I wasn’t wrong.
Lena might be getting older, and that red hair of hers might be more silver now, but the fire in her could burn the bravest of souls.
While they worked on sweeping up their mess, I made us coffee. With that prepared, I set it on the newly straightened table and chairs, then plopped the rest of the treats on top.
“Now, what were you two bickering about?” At my pointed looks, they also took their seats.
“Business, sweetheart—”
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Brennan O’Donnelly.”
He grunted.
“Savannah slept in the guest bedroom.”
Aidan’s announcement had my husband frowning, but I just nodded. “She said as much.”
My brother-in-law winced. “She told you guys?”
“They share every-fucking-thing,” Brennan mumbled. “I told you.”
Aidan cringed. “She still mad?”
“Hurt, more like.”