Charity’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon—the man’s crazy in love, and you know it.”
“Yes, we’ll give him ‘crazy,’ ” Marcy said with a chuckle.
“Mother!”
“Sorry, dear, couldn’t resist . . . any more than that crazy husband of yours can resist you.” Marcy hefted a stack of plates and bowls and handed them to Charity with a conciliatory kiss on the cheek. “Here, make yourself useful instead of badgering this poor girl. If there’s interest between Steven and Annie, Mother Nature will handle it without any help from you.”
“Wanna bet?” Faith collected utensils and a stack of linen napkins from the drawer. She winked. “Trust me, Annie, this one makes Mother Nature look like an amateur.”
Charity grinned, plates and bowls stacked to her chin. “Actually, Mother Nature and I make a great team—she strikes the match, and I fan the flame.”
No doubt about that. Annie gulped and took a swig of her tea.
“Charity Katherine Dennehy!” Marcy’s voice halted Charity midpush through the door. Hooking an arm to Annie’s shoulder, she arched a brow. “You will not meddle in this young woman’s relationship with Steven unless she gives you express permission, is that clear?” She patted Annie’s hand. “Just give me the word, Annie, and we’ll lock her down.”
Four sets of eyes converged on Annie’s face and she blinked, barely able to believe Steven’s family wanted to help. Would it be the same if they knew she was Maggie’s sister? She drew in a shaky breath, well aware she needed to tell Faith privately . . . and soon.
Her heart slowed to a thud. But could they be right? Did he have feelings he wasn’t willing to admit? Her pulse took off at the prospect, and she glanced up at Marcy and then at each of her daughters, a shy smile blooming on her lips. “The truth is, Marcy . . . I’ve been drawn to your son from the moment I met him, and I haven’t been able to think of anything else. But . . .” She locked gazes with Faith, completely certain what she needed to do. “If it’s okay with all of you, I’d like to pray about it first, just to make sure we’re doing the right thing.”
“Sweet saints, now I know who you remind me of!” Charity said with a sag of her jaw. Her gaze flicked to Faith and held while her lips curved into a smile. “She reminds me of you!”
Annie laughed. “You do realize you people will have a hard time getting rid of me with compliments like that and treating me like family?”
“Well, if we play our cards right—” Charity began.
“Charity . . . ,” Marcy warned.
“Hurry,” Faith said, prodding Charity through the door. “We need to pray before Steven returns.” She smiled at Annie. “You’re sure, now? ’Cause there’s no stopping once she gets started.”
Annie nodded, skitters in her stomach. “All I care about is praying first, and then give the woman full rein and throw away the key.”
Charity literally preened, chin high and her expression a near smirk. “Well, you all heard her. She’s obviously a woman with a good head on her shoulders who knows how to get what she wants.” Butting the door with her hip, she shot Annie a wink. “You and me?” she said with a scrunch of her nose. “We’re going to get along just fine.”
“Steven.”
“Huh?” Steven blinked, his father blurring into focus from across the chessboard.
Patrick O’Connor leaned forward, arms folded on the table and a hint of a smile in gray eyes that scrutinized his son with deadly accuracy. His mouth crooked. “If I’d wanted to win with my eyes closed, I’d be playing with Sean.”
“What?” Steven said again, his eyes on his father but ears on the fun and revelry going on in the next room. His brow wrinkled. “What are you talking about, Pop?”
“The game, Steven,” Patrick said with a thin smile, “your mind’s not in it.” His father leaned back in his chair, gaze shrewd as he studied his son. Despite dark curly hair glinted with silver at the temple and the sag of facial muscles that indicated a long day at work, Steven knew that Patrick O’Connor missed nothing when it came to his family. Sliding a glance over his shoulder into the dining room where Annie played dominoes with his mother and sisters, his father looked back with a knowing smile. “At least, not this one.”
Heat braised Steven’s cheeks and he shifted, downing half his iced tea. “I’m just distracted tonight, Pop, that’s all.” He attempted to focus hard on the board, but all he could see was Annie at dinner, laughing with his family, chatting, teasing . . . just like she belonged. His jaw went stiff. She’d been so close he could smell her, a mix of honeysuckle and shampoo that hit him full force, like he’d taken a shot of aged whiskey—smooth, warm, tingling his senses till he wanted more. Her fingers had brushed his when she’d passed the cornbread, and he hated how every nerve had vibrated as if pure adrenaline coursed his veins instead of just blood warmed by her touch. She’s too young and vulnerable, he reminded himself, and yet she seemed older here, confident, relaxed, easy to talk to. Despite his efforts to ignore her, she’d drawn him in over and over to conversation that indicated a keen mind, engaging his brain as well as his body.
After dinner Henry had begged him to play kick ball, and Charity had shooed Annie out, claiming she needed to help Glory play the game. Regrettably, Steven had never enjoyed himself more, laughing, teasing, running bases with Glory on his shoulders while Henry cheered him on. An athlete like Sean, Steven had taken pleasure in watching Annie run the bases, her grace and ability evident in every stride. Consumed by the game, she was a beautiful tomboy with legs pumping and hair flying. Her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes sparkled so much, he could barely stop staring. Apparently competitive to the core, she was a ruthless coach, almost stealing the win. But not quite. A hint of a smile edged his frown.
Blasting out a sigh, he glared at the board, grateful his father had saved his hide with a game of chess because every minute with the kid was proving to be deadly. A competition that went well beyond kick ball—his will vs. his mind and body—and at the moment, his will was in sorry shape. No matter. He was a man who prided himself on his will of iron, or at least till Maggie came along. Well, never again. He shook off thoughts of the kid and forced a smile he hoped would derail his father. “Distracted, maybe, but don’t count your win just yet, Pop, because I’ll get over it.”
“You sure about that?” Patrick rolled the sleeves of his white shirt and then loosened his tie, the heat of a summer night obviously taking its toll. He gave a quick nod toward the next room while he assessed his son with a keen eye. “She’s a pretty little thing, Faith’s friend. Smart, sweet, and obviously a very nice young woman. It’s no crime to look, you know.”
Steven huffed out another sigh and moved his pawn forward. “She’s too young, Pop, only seventeen, and you’re beginning to sound a lot like Charity, you know that?”
“Maybe,” Patrick said with a diagonal move. “But she only interferes because she cares about you, as do I.” He captured Steven’s pawn, calmly removing it from the board. “Sorry.”
Steven’s lips went flat. “Yeah, I can see how much you care. Good move.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Patrick said, his smile almost smug. He leaned back in the chair, eyeing Steven with affection. “That young woman might be a good move too—I like her. And given your distraction with the game in the other room, I’d say you do too.” He chuckled. “And right now your chances for a win are a lot better with dominoes than they are with chess.”
“I smell chili . . .” Collin burst through the front door with Brady on his heels, the two of them as sweaty and worn as Steven before his shower.
“Thank God,” Patrick boomed. “Fresh blood.”
“Nothing fresh about it,” Collin said with a grin, “but you’d lose anyway, by sheer asphyxiation.”
“Daddy! We’re playing Sardine’s Ghost—wanna play?” Abby barreled through the swinging door and flew across the room to collide into Collin’s legs with a giggle.
Swooping h
er up, he slobbered her with kisses before tucking her under his arm. “Nope, Peanut, it’s late and we need to get you and your sisters home and into bed.” He put her back down and popped her on the bottom. “Go round ’em up, okay?”
“Okay.” Abby whooshed through the kitchen door.
“How ’bout you, Brady, up for a quick game?” Patrick eyed him like a shark who smelled blood, the lure of victory bright in his eyes. “Steven’s proving to be a disappointment.”
Steven flushed. “Hey, Pop, just figured you had a rough day so I was going easy on you,” he said, deflecting his embarrassment with a cocky grin at his brothers-in-law.
“Oh, sure, sure . . .” Patrick parried with a chuckle, rising to give his sons-in-law a wink. “And distraction had nothing to do with it whatsoever.”
“Oooo, distraction?” Charity honed in neatly, eyes fluttering wide as she strolled into the foyer from the dining room. “And just why is that, Steven?”
“Just never you mind, you little vulture,” Patrick said with a grin. “What do you say, Brady? I can make it a quick, painless game where you’ll never know what hit you.”
Brady ambled to where Lizzie sat at the table with Molly asleep on her shoulder. His lips eased into a dry smile. “I’m afraid I’d be as worthless as Collin or Steven tonight,” he said, massaging Lizzie’s shoulder before lifting his sleeping daughter onto his own. “And I’d rather be fresh when I take you on, Patrick, if you don’t mind.” He kissed Molly’s head. “I refuse to steal Sean’s thunder as the most pitiful chess player in the family. Ready, Lizzie?”
“Sure, Brady.” Lizzie lumbered up, a palm to her pregnant belly. She deposited a peck on his cheek before heading to the kitchen to retrieve her son from the backyard.
Patrick sighed. “You’re off the hook, Steven. If I want pathetic, I’ll wait for Sean.”
Faith tugged Annie to where Collin stood, stopping a few feet shy of her husband. “Collin, this is Annie, the good friend I’ve been telling you so much about.”
Collin flashed a smile, arm extended. “Hi, Annie. Faith talks about you all the time.” He shook Annie’s hand, then hooked Faith’s waist, bussing her cheek.
“Not near as much as she talks about you, I bet,” Annie said with a chuckle.
Steven fisted his tea, Annie’s laughter doing odd things to his gut. Go home, kid, and leave me alone.
“Collin McGuire, take your hands off me right now,” Faith warned with a squeal, lunging from his hold. “No hugs or kisses till you’re squeaky clean, mister.”
He threaded fingers through damp hair, giving Annie a wink. “Now there’s incentive if ever there was.” Collin glanced at Marcy. “Don’t suppose there’s any chili left?”
“I thought you two were going to grab a bite out?” Faith asked, clearing dirty glasses from the dining room table.
“We did.” Brady helped Faith push in chairs while Charity put the dominoes away. “But the man’s a bottomless pit, Faith. You should know that by now.”
Marcy’s smile was apologetic. “Sorry, Collin, I think Steven finished it off.”
“Yeah?” Collin leered at Steven. “And exactly how many bowls did you put away?”
Steven grinned and upended his tea. “Not more than four or five, I promise.”
Collin groaned as Lizzie returned from the backyard with cousins in tow.
“You need Steven to run you home?” Patrick asked.
“Nope, it’s a nice night, a few blocks won’t kill us,” Brady said, waiting for Lizzie to dispense hugs before leading her and their little ones out the door.
Annie glanced at her watch. “Goodness, it’s after nine. Aunt Eleanor will have my head. Do you mind if I use your phone to give Frailey a call?”
“Oh, don’t bother,” Charity said sweetly, “Steven will drive you home.”
The tea pooled in Steven’s mouth before going down the wrong pipe. He began to hack.
Faith slapped him on the back while Charity slipped an arm through Annie’s. “It’s silly to call Frailey when Steven can run you home.” She smiled at Steven. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Clearing his throat, Steven glanced at Annie, minding way more than he was willing to admit. He managed a smile. “Sure, if the kid needs a ride, I can do it.”
“Who needs a ride?” Mitch asked, brows arched. Closing the front door, he strode in and brushed his lips to Charity’s. “Plenty of room in the roadster.”
“Great!” Steven said in relief. He nodded toward Annie. “The kid needs a ride home.”
“No!” Charity said too loudly. “Because Faith and Collin need a ride too, right, Faith?”
“Not a problem,” Mitch said. “Everybody can squeeze in since Faith and Collin are just a few blocks away.” He nodded at Annie. “You’re Annie, I guess? Hi, I’m Mitch.”
“Nice to meet you,” Annie said shyly, “and thank you for your offer of a ride.”
“Unfortunately that won’t work, darling,” Charity said sweetly, sending a look of concern to where Glory played jacks with the cousins. “You see, Annie’s sister needs a ride too.”
Mitch blinked. “Oh. Well, I can just run Faith and Collin home first.”
Charity yanked on his arm to whisper in his ear, and Mitch’s mouth crooked up. “On second thought, the roadster might be a little cramped.” He slapped Steven on the back, his smile dry. “Don’t look now, Steven, but she’s got you in her sights.”
Patrick chuckled and moved toward the stairs. “It’s late, Marceline, let’s head up.” He fished keys from his pocket and tossed them at his son. “Steven, lock up and then take Annie and Glory home. Annie, it was a pleasure meeting you, and I hope you’ll come back soon.” He angled a brow at his foster daughter. “Gabe, upstairs—now.”
A painful groan issued from her throat.
“Come on, darling,” Marcy soothed, ushering Gabe to the stairs. “I’ll fix you a nice, warm bath because I’m afraid you don’t smell much better than Collin and Brady.” She shot a bright smile over her shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger, Annie, you hear? Good night, everyone.”
“Good night, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connor, and thank you!” Annie called. Her gaze collided with Steven’s, and she chewed at her lip. “Sorry for the inconvenience. I can call Frailey, really.”
He felt like a louse. But then innocence like Annie’s always made him feel that way. He sighed and buried his hands in his pockets, offering a polite smile. “Nope, I’ll be happy to give you a ride. I need to stop by Joe’s anyway.”
“Good, then it’s all settled.” Charity gave Annie a hug. “Hope to see you soon.”
Husbands and kids bolted out while Annie linked arms with Faith to follow behind.
Steven expelled a weary breath, and Charity gave him a quick hug. “Come on, Steven, open your eyes,” she said with a pinch of his waist. “You’re smart, good-looking, and employed, but what good is it? You’re one of the loneliest men I know.”
He diverted her concern with a laugh. “Single doesn’t mean lonely, sis. Trust me, there’s nothing lonely about me.”
She studied him, eyes suddenly too serious for Charity. “Haunted, then,” she said quietly, a solemn look reflecting deep love often obscured by tease. “And you’ve been that way too long now.” She patted his cheek. “Do something about it, will you?” The sparkle returned to her eyes. “Because face it, Steven—miserable is not a good look for you.”
He grinned. “I don’t know, it works for Mitch.”
She smacked his shoulder. “For your information, you little brat, Mitch is one of the happiest men around.”
“Yeah?” Steven cocked a hip. “And how do you know that?”
“Simple.” She tossed her hair back and sashayed out the door, slipping a grin over her shoulder that included a wink. “Because I tell him so every day.”
9
So . . . Annie tells me you’re an officer of the law.” Glory sat in the front seat of Steven’s father’s Model T like a tiny adult, legs cr
ossed at the ankles and hands folded in the lap of a polka-dot dress carefully fanned out. She glanced up, tone matter of fact. “Do you carry a gun?”
He studied her out of the corner of his eye while he shifted gears, a grin easing across his face. “Sometimes.”
“Have you ever killed anybody?”
“Gloria Celeste Kennedy, that is an awful question!” Annie pinched her leg.
Kennedy? Steven’s palm froze to the wheel.
“Ouch, that hurts,” Glory moaned, pinching her sister back. “I’m just curious is all, ’cause Steven’s the only person I ever met with a gun.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Steven eased into the next lane before peering at Annie, his tone sharp. “Kennedy? Joe said your name was Martin.” Even in the dark, he saw her blush.
“Martin is my aunt’s name,” she said quietly, staring straight ahead, throat shifting in silhouette. “I guess Peggy told Joe I lived with my aunt, so maybe he just assumed.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Steven braked at a stoplight, his mind shifting as fast as the Model T.
“Steven?” Her voice was tentative.
“Yeah?” He waited, finally looking over when she didn’t respond.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
He squinted. “You okay?”
“No, not completely.” She paused, her face as pale as the moonlight streaming through her window. “There’s something I need to tell you, but I’m not ready.” She exhaled. “But I will.”
He nodded, studying her with a crimp in his brow. “Okay.” Sucking in a deep breath, he slowly released it again and stared straight ahead, allowing his thoughts to stray. Kennedy was a common name in Boston, but it always had the same shocking effect, taking him back to Maggie. She had hailed from Chicago as he recalled, and the only sister she ever mentioned was a kid named Gracie Sue, or something like that. Come to think of it, he hadn’t really known a lot about Maggie, and he supposed that had been part of her mystique. Mysterious, passionate, sexy.