“It’s not ideal.” He took a drink of wine, then stretched his arm across the table, covering my hand with his much larger one. “What about you?”
“I grew up on the outskirts of Boston, then moved to Virginia for college. Now, I live in a small college town wedged in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia.”
“Sounds picturesque.”
“You have no idea.”
Our conversation flowed easily. He spoke about his parents—both of whom never remarried—which led to him telling me about his half sister, Sloane. She was the result of a brief affair between his father and his secretary, who quit her job when their relationship ended.
“Maeve, her mom, hid the pregnancy from my father, so we didn’t find out about her until she was already two weeks old.”
“Wow. That must’ve been hard.”
“Sloane was an unexpected blessing to our family, though at the time I acted like a real tool.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.” He huffed out a laugh, then sobered. “I refused to call her by her real name for almost a year.”
“What did you call her?”
“I didn’t call her anything except that girl or the baby. It wasn’t until she got sick with pneumonia and ended up in the hospital that I finally got over myself. From then on, I swore nothing would ever hurt her again.”
Flipping my hand over, I laced our fingers together, giving a little squeeze. “You’re a good brother.”
“I tried like hell, but Sloane never made it easy. She had an independent streak a mile wide. Still does.”
I was enthralled with the way Kier’s entire being lit up when he spoke about his sister. So much so, I barely noticed when our appetizers were delivered and our wine refilled. There was a great deal of love and respect behind the stories he shared about their childhood. It almost made me jealous of the fact I didn’t have an older brother willing to slay my demons.
“Are you still close with her?” I asked, taking a bite of bruschetta.
“Extremely.” His lips tipped up at the corners. “She and the twins will be moving near me once I get settled.”
“Twins?”
His grin widened, sending a wave of desire crashing through me. I had to clench my thighs together in order to suppress the sudden, pulsating ache deep in my core. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how a simple smile elicited such an intense reaction from my body.
“Rogan and Reagan; Sloane’s seven year old twins. My niece and nephew are mo chroí, my heart in English.”
“They’re lucky to have you.”
Taking the last bite of mango salad, Kier signaled Juan, who disappeared briefly, returning with three additional servers in tow. Two carried plates covered with a silver dome and the other held a medium-sized gray plastic bin. Juan quickly cleared our dirty dishes, depositing them into the bin, then took the plates from the other servers and placed them on the table in front of us, removing the lids. My mouth watered as I breathed in the aroma from the onions, garlic, and peppers in the stew.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked.
Kier peered at me, waiting until I gave a small shake of my head to answer. “No, we’re good. Thank you, Juan.”
By then, the moon had traded places with the sun, casting an ethereal glow onto the now—pitch-black—sea below. The water was hauntingly beautiful, yet deceptively still, considering the amount of activity teeming beneath the surface. Life was everywhere; even in the lone shadow that danced along the sand to our left where the light from our candles caught an iguana scurrying down the beach.
A comfortable silence ensued while we dug into our meals, though it didn’t last long.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, I’m an only child which, looking back, was probably a good thing.”
“How so?”
Scooping up another mouthful, I thought about how to respond without delving too deeply into my past. He’d been open with me and deserved the same in return, just maybe a simpler, less tragic version.
