Forged (The Art of Love #4)

Chapter 1

ONE

Baxter Hawthorne was the black sheep of the bohemian Hawthorne family. From an early age, when he’d been offered crayons or paint brushes or even clay by his eccentric father or his free-spirited Uncle Robert and Aunt Janice, he’d chosen to play with a calculator instead. Where most of his brothers and sisters and cousins excelled in art classes and afterschool craft clubs, Bax had scored top marks in Maths and had organized his form’s debate club. As soon as he’d graduated, he’d taken an entry-level job with a prestigious London accountancy firm, much to the disgust of his twin brother, Blaine, and the rest of the creative Hawthorne brood.

What Bax lacked in artistic endeavor, he made up for in his devout religious practices. Of course, his faith of choice wasn’t Anglicanism or Catholicism, or any of the traditional organized religions. He was a Hawthorne, after all, so naturally the faith that had encompassed so much of his life and his outlook on the world was Paganism.

He’d been a member of a coven since he was eighteen and had developed a love for that unique sort of spiritual community that had carried him through some rough times in the past. His beloved cousin Raina’s death over a year and a half ago, for example.

Covens could be far more intense than an ordinary religious congregation that sat placidly in an old stone church every Sunday, listening to a grey-haired vicar drone on about purity and obedience. Most sorts of Paganism that Bax had flirted with tended to be far freer with humankind’s baser instincts, and sometimes those natural desires found their way into relationships between coven members.

That was how Bax had ended up dating coven-leader Damien for three years. It was part of the reason they’d had such an exciting, adventurous, and occasionally volatile relationship. And it was definitely the reason why, a few days after New Year’s, Bax found himself carrying boxes of his belongings in through the family entrance of Hawthorne House and up to one of the family flats on the first floor.

“Think of it this way,” Blaine said as he fumbled a box packed with a few of Baxter’s more breakable possessions. “You’ve ended one relationship, but now you have time and mental space to forge all sorts of new relationships with our cousins.”

“Blaine, so help me, if you break the scrying glass in that box, I will curse you into next Sunday,” Bax replied, trying to keep his face straight as his heart overflowed with affection for his slightly mad twin.

Without so much as a hint of remorse, Blaine peeked into the open-topped box he carried up the stairs. “Is that the black thing at the bottom? Under the crystal ball?”

“Obsidian,” Bax said, hefting his duffle higher on his shoulder and shuffling the box of books in his arms.

Blaine paused, staring warily at Bax. “You wouldn’t really curse me, would you? I never know if you’re joking or not when you threaten me with witchcraft.”

Bax fought to keep his expression grim and spooky instead of laughing. “Then you’d better not annoy me.”

The twins stared at each other for a moment before Blaine got the joke and laughed. He shook his head and they walked on with Blaine saying, “I can’t believe you have a crystal ball. What are you, some sort of circus fortune-teller?”

Bax smirked as they reached the door to the flat Uncle Robert had graciously loaned him for the duration of his stay in the family’s bosom. Not only was he in desperate need of someplace to call home after he and Damien had broken up, Uncle Robert had hired him to audit the books for the Hawthorne Community Arts Center, since there had been so many changes in the way the family did business in the last year.

If Baxter’s entire life had to be in turmoil, then at least he could tuck himself away with his family to lick his wound and figure out how to move on.

“Yes,” he said with a slight smirk, entering the flat and setting the box of books down on the sofa, then carrying the duffle into the bedroom. “I routinely tell fortunes while swathed in colorful scarves and burning incense at carnivals and parties.”

Blaine jerked straight as he put his box down on the coffee table, then blinked at Bax as he came out of the bedroom. “No, you don’t,” he said. “I can’t imagine you going anywhere near a carnival. You’re far too fussy and important for that.”

Bax laughed and slapped his brother on the shoulder as they headed out to get the last load of boxes from his car. He and Blaine were identical, but only on the surface. They had the same short, slender build, the same soulful, hazel eyes and soft brown hair, but Blaine’s hair was always untidy and he dressed like a rainbow had thrown up on him. Bax preferred sartorial elegance, never had a hair out of place, and walked with a straitlaced grace that would have had him called a dandy in earlier generations.

“The crystal ball was a gift from Damien last Christmas,” he explained as they headed down the stairs again for the last load, his heart sinking with the words. “It’s just for show.”

Blaine sniffed. “So was Damien.”

Bax couldn’t really argue with him. Damien was classically gorgeous and radiated power. He and Bax had met while part of the original coven Bax had belonged to, but following had never been Damien’s forte. He’d broken off from that coven, taking Bax and a few others with him, and quickly gathered a new group around his magnetic leadership.

That undisputedly dominant energy was the reason why Bax had needed to leave the coven when things fell apart between him and Damien. He hadn’t just lost a boyfriend, he’d lost an entire spiritual community and his soul’s center with it.

“Never mind,” Blaine said as they stepped out into the frosty, frigid January morning again. “There are plenty of other weird fish in the sea. I’m certain you’ll be casting spells and engaging in sexy fertility rituals with someone much better than Damien in no time.”

“Paganism isn’t like that,” Bax said, rolling his eyes at his brother, as they reached the car.

It was like that sometimes, but telling Blaine would only open a can of worms Bax definitely wasn’t ready for.

They were halfway through taking the last of Bax’s things out of the car when a dark blue SUV pulled into the family parking lot. Blaine immediately dropped everything, including the backpack filled with candles and herbs he’d almost but not quite slung over his shoulder.

“Ooh! Alfie’s here!” he exclaimed, dashing toward the SUV just as a tall, muscular man with a military haircut stepped out.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Alfie greeted Blaine, opening his arms as soon as he’d shut his car’s door.

Blaine did a flying leap into his soldier’s embrace, wrapped his arms and legs around Alfie like some sort of horny octopus, and kissed him thoroughly. The display went on for longer than it should have, which was typical Blaine.

Bax grinned, shook his head, and picked up the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Blaine had just recently started dating Alfie, but it was clear the two of them were meant for each other. They were complete opposites that fit together perfectly. Alfie had just finished a long stint with the RAF and was now beginning the rest of his life. He was adamant that he wanted Blaine to be part of it, and if everything Blaine had told Bax in the last week was accurate, Alfie had a potential job offer to be a houseparent for a local orphanage.

It was sweet, really. Bax told himself he didn’t begrudge his brother the happiness he’d found, even though Blaine had started a relationship right as he’d ended one. He told himself he was just giving the two of them space as he quietly headed into the house while the snogfest continued behind him.

He could tell himself whatever he wanted, but it didn’t soothe the ache in his gut. If he was honest with himself, Bax loved being in a relationship. He loved being part of something greater than himself. And yes, he loved sex, too. It had been a major part of his and Damien’s relationship, and suddenly he found himself facing a long dry spell.

It wouldn’t be difficult for him to find a quick fix. He was a member of The Brotherhood, after all, and a trip to one of the clubs in London owned by members of The Brotherhood would undoubtedly end with his ankles up around the shoulders of some buff stranger who liked to play Hide the Sausage as vigorously as possible. Meaningless sex had never really been his thing, though. Frequent sex, yes, but even when he and Damien had been open for the sake of spiritual energy, it had always been with trusted coven members.

As he reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hall with his last load, Bax considered that he should probably find himself a new coven as fast as possible. But finding a like-minded spiritual community was not as easy as doing an internet search and filling out an application. Especially not for the kind of interactions he was looking for.

He’d just reached the door to his temporary home when the door across from his flew open and a toddler in dungarees burst into the hall.

“Jordan, Jordan, no. Come back to Daddy.”

Bax’s heart sped up as Nick Turner stepped out into the hall to chase after his three-year-old son.

“Jordan,” Nick called again, shuffling his fussy, one-year-old daughter, Macy, in his arms. “You need your coat, young man.”

“No, Daddy!” Jordan called out gleefully as he charged toward the stairs.

Bax did not do children. They had no place in a life that had been as adult as his, even before he was technically an adult. He didn’t know the first thing about kids, let alone toddlers.

But that didn’t stop him from putting down his box and backpack and chasing after Jordan, saying, “I’ve got him.”

Jordan knew Bax. He was family, even if he hadn’t spent a lot of time at Hawthorne House until recently. As Bax came after him, he must have seen it as playing. He giggled and continued to run for the stairs. Bax might not have known anything about kids, but he knew tiny people and staircases didn’t go together.

“Come here, you,” he said, hoping he sounded playful and not terrifying, as he caught up to Jordan.

He growled playfully as he scooped Jordan up and shifted him so he could hold the boy tightly. Jordan still thought they were playing and laughed uproariously. He also flailed, nearly kicking Bax in the kidney as he strode back down the hall to where Nick was trying to manage an equally wiggly Macy. The last thing he wanted was to drop a child.

“Thanks,” Nick said on a heavy breath as Bax reached him. “They’re in rare form today.”

“Looks like it,” Bax replied, his heart still racing.

He couldn’t help it. Not when he was so close to Nick. Not when he could breathe in Nick’s alluring, smokey scent and feel the strength that radiated from him.

Nick was his cousin Raina’s widower and Hawthorne House’s resident blacksmith and metalwork teacher. As far as Bax knew, he and Raina had met at art school, they’d dated, married, and started a family, and then Raina had been cruelly taken from them in a drink-driving accident close to two years ago. Nick had been devastated, they all had, but instead of going off and starting a new life on his own with the kids, he’d stayed at Hawthorne House and remained part of the extended, eccentric family.

Nick was a quintessential blacksmith with a build to match. He was well over six feet and had arms that were as thick as Bax’s legs. He was broad-chested and meaty while still being incredibly fit. How could he not be when he spent his days hammering iron and stoking an old-fashioned forge?

Bax wouldn’t have minded if Nick wanted to stoke him. Except as far as he could tell, Nick was straight. He’d been married to Raina and had two kids with her, after all. Not once had Bax heard anything about Nick’s previous dating life, and although that didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t bi, no one had witnessed Nick flirting with men. Or other women.

Of course, part of the reason for that was squirming in Bax’s arms as he stood there, gawping at Nick like a loon.

“Sorry that that one is causing so much trouble,” Nick said, stepping back into his flat and leaving the door wide for Bax to bring Jordan in. “Granny is on the way to fetch them, and we’re having a devil of a time getting ready.”

“Do you need me to help?” Bax asked.

What was he thinking? He wasn’t a kid person.

Then again, he knew exactly what he was thinking when Nick turned and bent over to pick up what must have been Jordan’s winter coat from the floor. He could spend hours burying his face in an arse like that.

Nick straightened and looked at Bax like he wanted to say it was no trouble, he didn’t need help, and Bax was free to go about his business. The pinch of Nick’s face and the stress lines around his gorgeous, brown eyes told another story.

“Mum will be here any minute,” he said. “I need to get that one in his coat and figure out why this one has been in tears all morning.”

Bax’s heart went out to him. “Just let me know what I can do,” he said.

“Daddy, I want a lolly,” Jordan whined as he made an extra push to get out of Bax’s arms. “Granny has lollies.”

Nick rolled his eyes and shared a look with Bax. “Granny likes to bribe people,” he said.

Bax laughed. “Ah. Yes. Some of us are susceptible to being bribed with things we can lick.”

Everything seemed to stop for a second. A faint flush appeared on Nick’s cheeks. Bax kicked himself for making an off-color joke to a man with a pouty child in his arms. He was so used to throwing out innuendo every three seconds. It was his normal.

The cartoony music of a mobile phone broke the awkward moment. Nick shifted Macy into his other arm and reached for his phone in his back pocket.

“Hello, Mum,” he answered the call. “Yes, yes, we’ll be down in three minutes. Alright.” He ended the call, then slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Hurry up, you lot. Granny is waiting.”

“Tell me what you need me to do to help,” Bax said.

Nick hesitated for a moment before saying, “Let’s swap. This one is already in her coat, but it’ll take some wrestling to get that one to put his on.”

Bax laughed, then set Jordan down so that he could take Macy. The moment Jordan’s feet touched the floor, he bolted. Nick chased after him while Bax tried to coo and entertain Macy. The poor thing was obviously overheated in her coat, which was making her uncomfortable, but there was nothing Bax could do about that.

Nick managed to catch Jordan and shove him into his coat with surprising speed and agility. Bax watched the whole process with all different kinds of admiration. For a hulking blacksmith, Nick was surprisingly gentle with the kids. He knew just what to do to get Jordan to behave and put his coat on, even though it was a huge fuss.

At the same time, Nick looked exhausted. Ever since Bax had started spending more time at Hawthorne House, Nick had looked tired and strained. Raina had been gone for a while now, and while the entire family was still mourning her, Bax was fairly certain that the stress of being a single father weighed on Nick as well. He was a single father who was also a teacher, and if what some of the other family members had told him was right, Nick was an incredible artist as well.

How one man could manage all those things was a mystery. In fact, Bax had a feeling Nick struggled to juggle all those things. He’d be lying if he said that wasn’t part of Nick’s appeal. Bax wanted to take care of him in every way.

“Yoohoo,” a matronly voice drifted in from the hall just as Nick and Bax had pulled things together. “What seems to be the hold-up?”

“Mum,” Nick gusted out as he lifted Jordan into his arms. “You didn’t have to walk all the way up here.”

“You said three minutes,” Mrs. Turner said. “It’s been six.”

Bax arched one eyebrow and exchanged a look with Macy, who wasn’t really interested in him. Mrs. Turner must have had a thing for punctuality.

It was more than that, though. Bax had never met the woman before, but at first glance, she seemed to be completely the opposite of Nick. She was tall like Nick, but she held her back too stiffly, and her grey hair was pulled back in a tight bun. From what Bax knew, the Turner family was middle-class, but Mrs. Turner looked like she was trying to be posh. Her wool coat was pristine and had a brooch pinned to one side, and she wore a skirt instead of trousers, even though it was nippy outside.

“Come to Granny, dear,” Mrs. Turner said, reaching to take Macy out of Bax’s arms.

Part of Bax was loath to let the girl go, but as soon as Mrs. Turner came near, Macy reached out for her. When Bax handed her over, Macy wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck. Clearly, they loved each other.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mum,” Nick said, stepping over to give his mum a kiss on her cheek. “Jordan was in rare form this morning. I’ve only just got his coat on. They’re ready to go now, though.”

“Good,” Mrs. Turner said. “Auntie Joann and I are ready to have a lovely day with our favorite boy and girl.” She smiled and nuzzled Macy’s face, causing the girl to laugh.

She lost her adoring smile a moment later as she faced Bax again and asked, “Who is this?”

Bax ignored her standoffishness and greeted her with, “I’m Baxter Hawthorne, one of the cousins.”

“Another bohemian?” Mrs. Turner said, dripping disapproval.

Bax noted the reaction but ignored it with a laugh. “No, I’m the odd one out in this family. I’m an accountant. I’m staying at Hawthorne House this winter, just across the hall, actually, while I’m auditing the books.”

“Oh, an accountant,” Mrs. Turner said, warming to Bax instantly. “How lovely. My late husband was a financial planner, so I know quite a bit about accounting.”

Bax had the impression the woman was the sort who fancied she knew a lot about a lot of things.

“Is Joann with you?” Nick asked, picking up the nappy bag and shifting forward.

It was a sign for everyone to move, so Bax stepped into the hall.

“She’s waiting in the car,” Mrs. Turner said.

“I’ll carry Jordan down and say hello to her, but I need to get down to the forge so I can work on my sculpture,” he said as everyone except Bax started walking toward the stairs.

“You’re still puttering away on that unwieldy thing?” Mrs. Turner asked.

“It’s my art, Mum,” Nick explained. “And I’ll be entering it in a competition that Hawthorne House is hosting in May.”

Mrs. Turner hummed dubiously.

Bax watched them until they reached the stairs and turned the corner to descend. As far as first impressions went, the jury was still out. He didn’t dislike Mrs. Turner, but he had the feeling she didn’t like the Hawthornes. That counted as a mark against her, as far as Bax was concerned.

It shouldn’t have mattered to him what some matronly woman thought about his family, but it did. As Bax gathered up the things he’d left in the hall and entered his flat to begin the process of sorting his life out, he felt like it mattered a lot. He wanted Nick’s mum to like the family, to like him. Because whether he had a snowball’s chance in Hades or not, he Liked Nick Turner. He liked him far more than he should. So much that he just might try to do something about it.