rattled off a bunch of directions for how to deal with this or that, and he just nodded and kissed her cheek when she finished up. “Thank you.”
Damien finally roused. He’d been watching his wife through hooded eyes and Paddy tried not to think about whatever nasty stuff was going on in his brother’s head. “Wait, date? Oh! This is the librarian?”
“You knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Mary looked to her husband.
“Believe me, most of what I don’t share you’d be scandalized by, anyway.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come to breakfast tomorrow and tell us how it went. I may need to check some books out, anyway. I haven’t been down there in some time.”
“Don’t meddle, Curly.” Damien pulled on one of the long dark curls that were the source of her nickname.
“Pfft. It’s not meddling when it’s family.”
Paddy grabbed the totes. “It totally is. She’s skittish. If you poke around, just be discreet. I like this woman.”
Mary smiled up at him, patting his arm. “I can handle it. Now go. Have a good time and use a condom!”
He found himself blushing and felt better when Damien cracked up.
* * *
NATALIE GAVE HERSELF one last look in the mirror in the staff bathroom. The earrings made her smile. Like a little bit of Tuesday was going on the date with her.
Date. With Paddy Hurley. She was so stupid.
And yet there she was, freshening her lipstick and finger-combing her hair. “Time to go,” she told herself in the mirror before she waved goodbye to her coworkers and headed out to the sidewalk.
Where she heard the purr of an engine and knew it was him before the deep green classic car pulled into view.
He pulled up and shook his head so hard when she moved to open her door that she drew back as he got out.
“Wait!” He came around.
“Is it broken?”
Paddy snorted. “No. But my manners aren’t, either. First things first.” He took a long look up and down, and she was glad she’d worn the heels. “You look pretty. I want to say more, but I don’t know if I should.”
“Well, now you have me nervous.”
He kissed her then. Nothing really untoward, a quick peck smack-dab on the lips. But those traitorous lips tingled and his scent was in her by that point. He wore cologne, which seemed odd, but it was nice. Sexy and masculine without being overwhelming.
He hadn’t had a beard all those years before. She liked the slight scratch of it.
Paddy opened the door and indicated she get in. She managed to do so without showing her underpants or looking too ungraceful.
He got in just a second or two later and pulled away from the curb.
“You have great legs and cute toes.”
He said this as his attention was on the road, so he didn’t catch her blush.
“Um. Thanks.” God, did he have a foot fetish or something weird? She thought back on their time and flushed, a sweat breaking out. Okay, so that was unwise because he was really supergood at sexy stuff. But he hadn’t seemed unnaturally interested in her feet.
“Where are we headed?”
“My boat. I figured we could have dinner out on the deck. It’s such a nice night and it’ll be light until so late. I’ll take us away from the marina. I know a nice little stretch just east of here. Deserted, so we’ll be able to see the sunset and I’ll have you all to myself. But not in an it rubs the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again way.”
She burst out laughing. “Did you just quote Silence of the Lambs at me? Serial killer dialogue meant to reassure me?”
He cursed under his breath, and she reached out to pat his arm to reassure him. “I know it was a joke. Really. I’m more concerned you have a foot fetish than with you being a serial killer.”
“Foot fetish?”
“The toes comment? I mean, look, if it floats someone’s boat, more power to them. But I can’t even get a pedicure because people touching my feet weirds me out.”
“Note to self, don’t try to paint Nat’s toenails.” He turned with a grin on his face. “We’re both being way more nervous than we need to be.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
“I like cute toes when they’re painted and looking great in nice high heels. I don’t want to lick them or anything. Yours would probably be worth it. But I can control my baser urges.”
He parked at the marina, which was less than five minutes from the library, and walked her down the row, heading to a rather impressive boat.
“So, what’s that? Fifty-footer? Nice.”
“Someone knows her way around boats. I like to go fishing with my brothers and our friends. In the summer, if we’re here and not out on tour, we can watch fireworks from the water. Have dinner out here. It’s a good thing to have. You’re okay with boats, right? No seasickness or anything?”
“I love being out on the water. My grandparents had a boat. Sometimes, as I was growing up, we’d go out on it. They lived on Lake Washington.”
“Oh, Seattle locals?”
“Medina.” Her grandparents had lived in a mansion with a sloping lawn to the lake where their yacht had been moored. Too bad they paid more attention to the lawn and their things than what their spoiled son got up to.
He held her forearm as she got on the boat.
“Oooh, swanky. What brought a rich girl from Medina to a shithole bar in Portland?”
“They’re the rich ones.” She blew it off, not wanting to get into it. She was rich, too, but it was their house and their lifestyle. The guilt would start if she thought about it too long. Guilt and anger and all the stuff she knew didn’t belong to her, but she felt it, anyway.
He let her avoid the topic. “Come on, then. Let me get ready. Have a seat up there. Once we’re away from the marina, I’ll crack open some champagne.”
She watched him, the sun behind his head highlighting him like a freaking angel. He was confident there at the wheel. Hands steady, sunglasses shielding his eyes and rendering him even more attractive.
* * *
THE TIME IT took to get away from the marina to the cove where they finally ended up had allowed her to get herself together and shove all that stuff about her family far away.
He handed her a glass. “Now, what should we toast to? New beginnings? Old times?”
“Dinner.”
