19. Paul #2
“Please, gentlemen, no need to fight over little old me. Let’s just hurry inside, shall we?”
I had no idea if this particular bout of tension was all part of Cherry’s plans, but what I did know was that I was feeling awfully territorial. I didn’t get an answer before we were all getting into the car, Cherry up front with Tadgh and me in the back with the oversized gift basket.
Thankfully, it was a quick drive to the back of the house, and this time, instead of being politely sequestered in a secondary sitting room, Tadgh pulled into a garage not too dissimilar from our own, then led us to the foyer.
“Wait here,” he said, and I could almost feel Cherry vibrate with opportunity next to me. “I’m gonna go get my parents. I’ll send the staff to see to you if you need anything.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about anything like that,” I said.
The look he sent me was one part scathing and two parts affronted. Honestly, if his expression grew any sharper, I might end up just as dead as my father was.
“What kind of hospitality is that?” he asked as if I had just spat at his feet. Huh, maybe Cherry had been right; us rich folks seemed to be awfully up our own asses.
Still, a concern about being a good host was a more acceptable character flaw than many I’d seen in my lifetime.
“Point taken. We will be happy to request whatever we need from the staff you send our way.”
“Good. And none of that pretending you’re not hungry or thirsty to be polite. I can smell your appetite from here.”
He headed off, and Cherry narrowed her eyes at me.
“I thought you said you’d eaten breakfast.”
“I did,” I replied, and although I kept my tone relatively even, I was flattered that she even cared about such a thing.
Although it was a bit frustrating that I knew she could see such a private emotion.
Well, the theme of the day was distraction, so maybe I could use that tactic as well.
“Have you had anything but coffee, an energy drink, and the seaweed snacks you had for lunch because you started to get nauseous?”
“I had some goldfish crackers too,” she muttered.
It was little moments like this that kept me from sinking too deep into the reality of everything that had been revealed during our disastrous funeral trap.
“A balanced diet you have there,” I said.
I could tell Cherry was ready to verbally spar with me, but I heard heavy footsteps approaching, so I held a finger to my lips. Briefly, there was a flash in my mind of doing that to her, but that wouldn’t exactly go along with me trying to be logical about our dalliances, so I refrained.
Fortunately, Cherry got the message just as a middle-aged shifter I vaguely recognized came down the stairs.
“Well, I’ll be, you can’t tell me that’s the young VanMarche son! Chris! I ain’t seen you since you were about hip height!”
Ah, very abruptly, I knew exactly which uncle this was.
He was the one who had been born of an affair and sent off to live on his mother’s family farm.
When the current alpha came of age, he’d rushed to bring his brother home.
He was a Jedediah in a sea of very Irish names, and although I hadn’t been alive during the scandal, my father had mentioned it to us when we were confused why one of the McElroys sounded like he came straight out of blazing saddles.
“I’m Paul, actually,” I said cordially. “Chris is my older brother.”
“Whoops, sorry about that, my good man. Always did have a hard time keeping track of Yankee names. I’ll go grab my brother. After that shindig of a funeral, I know he’s just dying to talk with you!”
The uncle turned right around on his heel, and the way he ascended the stairs reminded me of how Cherry did the same when she had to go back up for her phone, her wallet, and appropriate outdoor shoes.
“He seems sweet,” Cherry whispered after waiting long enough. “Although a bit like a Hollywood stereotype of what they think a Southern person might be.”
I nodded along and thought about telling her an abridged version of his history, but then I heard the sharp sound of high heels slowly approaching down another hall. Looking in that direction, I expected one of their staff members to finally appear, only to see that it was the lady of the house.
Mrs. McElroy’s expression was one of surprise, so I got the impression that her son hadn’t talked to her yet.
Also, the way her scent suddenly shifted toward panic reminded me that she wasn’t the most social of butterflies.
Not that there was anything wrong with that; in fact, I was considering becoming a hermit after this whole scenario was solved and my family got to rest in peace.
“Oh, goodness,” she said in that raspy voice of hers. “I didn’t know we were due for a visit!”
“We weren’t exactly scheduled,” I said, shaking the basket in my arm a little. “Consider this an impromptu show of my family’s gratitude.”
“That’s just lovely! You wait right here; I know my son has been just dying to talk to you!”
Before Cherry or I could explain that he was the one who brought us in, she was already off and rapidly disappearing back around the corner she had emerged from.
I didn’t know if she was just that eager to get away from us or that enthusiastic about telling Tadgh that we were there, but either way, she was gone.
“I’m beginning to sense a pattern here,” Cherry murmured before I, once again, heard footsteps.
Third time had to be the charm, right?
Unfortunately, not.
This time it was one of the daughters entering, the one who had just graduated college. Four staff members followed her, rolling along heavy suitcases or carrying boxes that put the size of my basket to shame.
“Whoa, wait a minute, aren’t you?—”
“One of the VanMarches,” I gently interrupted her, not wanting to go through the whole thing for a third time. “Yes, I’m?—”
“You’re Jackson, right? The baby of the family! Man, have I heard some wild stories about you !”
I was trying to be patient, (peace, serenity, control!) as that had always been my thing, ( more peace, more serenity, more control) but their inability to remember my name was beginning to grate at my nerves.
For God’s sake, they’d all just shaken my hand at a funeral and run away after we’d been attacked by an assassin!
The least they could do was be a good ally and remember who I was!
Although, I certainly don’t know all their names... but I am sure I would if two of their family members had recently died and the details of it were still very much a hush-hush mystery!
“This is Paul VanMarche the Third,” Cherry said firmly, and I would forever appreciate how she could code switch from her somewhat Buffy-speak to consummate professional in less than a second flat. “Jackson, the youngest, is currently in a rehabilitation program below the border.”
That wasn’t true, but it was a good cover to explain why our party animal and borderline socialite of a youngest brother hadn’t been seen in quite a while.
“What, really? I don’t remember there being a Paul.”
Yeah, apparently no one did…
“But you know who’s gonna love that you’re here? My uncle Jedediah! I’m sure he has a million questions to ask you! Here, let me go get him!”
She rushed off, and this time Cherry and I didn’t even try to stop the retreating McElroy. Instead, she and I exchanged glances.
Cherry waited a safe amount of time yet again before standing on tiptoe to whisper closer to my ear.
“Do you want me to go do my thing?”
I must have been more hard up than I thought, because when she mentioned doing her thing, my mind went to the way she gripped me, milking my cock when I climaxed. And what was worse, I could tell that she saw the flare of lust in my emotions, because one of her eyebrows shot up.
“By your thing , do you mean sneak off and investigate?”
“Yeah. What did you think I meant?”
“Not important. But?—”
For once, fortune smiled down on me, because much louder footsteps began to echo down yet another hall attached to the foyer. I gave Cherry the signal that someone was coming, and she dropped the subject just in time for a strapping mountain of a shifter to come in with the tea tray.
“Come,” he said in a thick accent. “I take you where you can relax.”
“Ah, thank you,” I murmured, realizing that we might have already lost Cherry’s opportunity to split off without being noticed. “But we are fine waiting here.”
“Please, I insist.”
I could pull rank and tell him to get lost, but I figured that would arouse suspicion. Instead, I nodded. “If that’s the case, by all means, lead the way.”
“ Grazi. ”
Cherry looked at me again, but this time her expression was much more dubious. Hopefully, we’d find an excuse for her to slip away once we were served our tea and the McElroys continued the world’s slowest game of telephone.
The tearoom was just down a couple of halls and a few doors, and it was quite quaint, in a purposeful way.
Unlike the Chevaliers, who had very rococo-inspired décor, the McElroys had a more upscale cottagecore look going, complete with plenty of Irish imagery and themes.
I didn’t mean shamrocks or any of the things one might spot on Saint Patrick’s Day, but rather Belleek pottery, Celtic plaques, thick, homemade candles, and a plethora of Irish lace.
“Here, please make yourselves comfortable. And feel free to ring the bell should you have any need of me,” the large butler said once we were seated at an ornate, polished wooden table.
It was only then that I realized there was a vague familiarity about the man, and I tried to pin where I had seen him.
Other than his impressive stature and biceps the size of my head, he was fairly nondescript. His hair was buzzed, he had no tattoos, and his eyes were a dark brown. He was Caucasian, but tanned, making me think he either spent a lot of time outdoors or was perhaps Sicilian?