Page 71 of Painted

“Daddy,” Jordan grumbled, throwing his chubby arms around Nick’s neck and clinging to him.

Nick sighed. He knew it was useless to try to get a three-year-old to feel an emotional connection with a mum who already hadn’t been there for half his life. Jordan had been just over nineteen months old when the crash happened and Macy had been barely two months old. The only way his beloved kids would remember their mum at all was through pictures and stories that someone else told them.

“Are you okay?”

Nick turned to find Baxter Hawthorne, one of the twins, approaching the dais. It seemed like half a dozen new Hawthornes came out of the woodwork every time the family hosted a party of any sort. But then, that was the joy of being part of a large family. He was glad that even if his babies couldn’t grow up with their mother, at least they’d have a million cousins to play with.

Or maybe not. Nick was pretty sure that Baxter was gay. His brother, Blaine definitely was.

“I’m fine,” Nick lied. “Just a little tired.”

“Are you sure?” Bax asked, stepping up onto the dais with him.

Nick didn’t answer. It didn’t make any sense that he would be okay after wrapping up a fundraiser and memorial tribute to his late wife.

“I miss her is all,” he said at last with a sigh, adjusting Jordan in his arms.

Bax smiled sympathetically. “We all miss her.”

It probably shouldn’t have, but that came as a little bit of a surprise to Nick. “Were the two of you close?” he asked. “I mean, when you were younger. I haven’t seen you around Hawthorne House much since I showed up here.”

Bax sent him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, Uncle Robert and Aunt Janice lived at our place when we were all kids, back when the house was still a school.”

“Oh, that’s what Raina always meant by growing up in rainbow chaos,” Nick said, then chuckled.

“Chaos doesn’t begin to cover it,” Bax laughed with him. “I remember being so glad when they all moved out.”

Nick raised his brow in surprise. “Really?”

“I was a horrible teenager at the time,” Bax said, his smile cheeky and…charming. “I can’t be held responsible for being a brat back then.”

“Were you?” Nick asked, blinking. Bax was the least brat-like man he’d ever met. Unlike the rest of the decidedly bohemian Hawthornes, he was quiet, dressed conservatively, and worked as an accountant instead of engaging in some sort of art.

As if he could read Nick’s thoughts, Bax laughed. “I was beyond horrible,” he said. “But I guess that came from feeling so different from everyone else in the world.”

“Because everyone else in the family was an artist and you weren’t?” Nick asked.

“No, because I wanted to become a Catholic priest and they were all a bunch of heathens.”

Nick flinched and blinked at him. “Really?”

Bax sent him a sly grin that had such a wicked glimmer in his hazel eyes that Nick’s heart inexplicably missed a beat for a moment. “No, not really,” he said.

“Oh,” Nick chuckled. It felt more like a release of the sudden build-up of tension inside him that had come out of nowhere.

“I’m Pagan, actually,” Bax went on.

Nick smirked as he rubbed Jordan’s back. “Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

“No, I’m actually Pagan,” Bax said with perfect seriousness.

“Really?” Nick asked, feeling knocked off balance again.

Bax just stared at him for a long, charged moment. Nick was waiting for him to say no, he was just joking again. Waiting a little too eagerly.

Finally, Bax said, “Actually, I am. A Pagan accountant. Can you imagine?”

“No, I really can’t,” Nick laughed as Jordan began to squirm.

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