Page 69 of Power Play with My Brother's Irish Friends

38

CHARLIE

“Showtime.” I rubbed my sweaty palms down my thighs and peered over the crowd of passengers tumbling out the airport doors. A few of them stumbled at the bright sunlight and stopped to shuffle things around.

“I don’t see her.” Duncan stood beside me, his broad shoulders and his best crowd-surfing grimace ensuring people gave us a wide berth.

The news had died down over the last month. We were barely a blip in the system anymore, except when the news channels picked up our most recent win and decided to try and turn it in to a spicy nightmare all over again. Still. We were able to travel freely around the city again, and the first thing we’d done with our newfound freedom was drive to the airport to pick up Miranda.

Patrick thumped me in the sternum. “Are you sure you had the right flight number? What if she leaves through different doors? We’ll miss her.” He’d turned into a worrier since Miranda started traveling so much. It was kind of adorable but mostly annoying, for me especially since I was the one he always questioned.

I punched him back. “You looked at it too. So if I’m wrong, you’re wrong.”

“Neither of you are wrong. She’s right there.” Duncan pointed, his body already in motion, carving a path through the crowd and into a quiet corner where Miranda stood with her suitcases around her like a shield. “Hello, lass.”

Her head whipped up from where she’d been staring at her phone. “Duncan?” A blink and she focused on me, then Patrick. “You’re all here. What? Why?”

“To see you.” Duncan pulled her into a hug that swept her off her feet and twirled her around. “You look amazing.”

“I look like a bedbug.” She grimaced and wiggled in his grasp. “I slept the whole way here. I stink.”

“You look amazing.” Duncan refused to relinquish his hold as he kissed her. “Cutest little bedbug I’ve ever seen.”

Her cheeks flushed when he broke away and set her down. “Thank you.” Her throat worked in an unsteady swallow. “Nothing I have fits anymore.” She ran her hands over her belly, tucking the loose shirt beneath the small mound. “Say hello to your daddies.”

I fought to stay on my feet and not crash to my knees right there on the sidewalk. The urge to wrap my arms around her waist and press my ear to her stomach tried to overwhelm my control, but I stiffened my legs and kissed her cheek. “Hello, sweetheart.” I skimmed a hand over her belly. “Hello, babies.” I took two of her suitcases and wheeled them to Patrick’s SUV. They followed after Patrick had hugged and kissed Miranda with enough passion to have more than one woman fanning her face and winking in Miranda’s direction.

Duncan rolled his eyes and shoved the last of the suitcases into the back while Patrick settled Miranda in the passenger seat.

I elbowed him lightly and grinned. “Ready?”

“You bet.” At the reminder of what we had planned, his smile burst out.

We kept up a generic conversation as Patrick drove. Miranda told us what she could about the contracts she’d finished up, and we brought her up to speed on the team and how things were going in the PR department. She looked back when we passed up the turn leading to Austin’s house. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” Duncan rubbed her shoulders from his spot in the seat behind her. “Close your eyes.”

“Duncan…”

“Miranda…” He covered her eyes with his hands. “I’ll stop if you get carsick. Otherwise, the hands stay.”

“Fine.” She huffed but laughter tinged her voice and took the heat from the way she crossed her arms and slumped down in the seat.

Patrick stopped in front of the house and turned off the engine. The house we’d bought sat at the end of a new housing development. Three stories of architectural beauty with wide columns along the front, soft blue-gray siding with charcoal-gray shutters, and enough space for anything and everything we might want in the future. I’d called up the interior designer that Miranda forced Austin to hire to decorate her room at his house and convinced her to help us decorate and furnish the entire place.

“Can I open my eyes now?” Miranda grasped Duncan’s wrists and pulled. He lowered his hands and we both leaned forward to watch her expression. “What’s this?”

Patrick dangled a set of keys in front of her. “Our house.”

“Ours?” She palmed the keys, her brow furrowing, then smoothing. “Like, ours?” Her index finger swirled around between the four of us.

“Yep.” Duncan jumped out and opened her door. “Want to see it?”

“Fuck yes.” She slid down right into his arms and almost ran up the sidewalk lined with newly planted flowers. We’d chosen an array of colors that the landscaper had promised were easy keepers and would have color all summer long. I knew more about plants and decorations than I’d ever wanted to know, but it was worth it to see Miranda’s face when she stopped to exclaim over the hanging baskets that swung between the porch’s columns. “It’s so pretty.” She bounced on her toes a few times, her hand on the doorknob.

The second the door opened, she squealed and dashed across the foyer. “Oh my god. Look at this.” Arms straight out, she spun in circles. “You guys.” Her voice broke and tears poured down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you did this.”

We surrounded her, arms locking together until we’d created a knot of love and affection.

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