Page 56 of A Very Un-Shakespeare Romance
“I fell in the shower and bruised my ass. My glutes are killing me.”
Leaning closer, she narrowed her eyes. “You fell?”
“Are you inching closer so you can try and see my bruise? I can stand up if you want to give it a thorough examination.”
The idea of seeing his naked butt had her breath arresting in her chest. She could kiss it and make it better. Instead, she pulled a Sheila and fluffed her hair. “I’m not in any hurry.”
“Liar.”
She jolted.
He immediately took her hand. “Whoa! You should see the look on your face. I was just kidding. Clearly, I went too far.”
No, he’d only reminded her they were both lying to each other. “Fine. I do want to see your butt, but not when it’s five different shades of eggplant and celery.”
His look was endearing, almost boyish. “I’m never going to hear the end of that. I should just have said you looked pretty. When a guy gets into colors, he’s in trouble. You’d think I would know that from having two artists in the family who are women.”
She knew about his sister, Kathleen, the metal artist living in Ireland. Of course, she couldn’t let on that she knew. “Who? If family questions aren’t too personal.”
“I’ve just talked about my bruised ass,” he said with a lopsided grin she’d never seen on him before. “Plus, you’ve met two of my brothers. I have four others. But the women are my sisters. One by blood, Kathleen, the youngest of the lot, who’s loved making things out of metal since we took her to a junkyard as a kid. The other one is her best friend and kinda adopted sister. She works in stained glass. They both live in Ireland now and are rising artists. We couldn’t be prouder of them.”
The love he had for his family had already been evident from his willingness to take off and protect two little girls. But the sheer joy in his words as much as his lighthearted expression opened a door to a greater understanding of him. Sure, he was sweet with the girls. But they were kids. These women… He adored them. “No wonder you’re so good with the girls. Clearly you started early, with your sister and her friend.”
“I was eleven when Kathleen was born.” He lifted a shoulder. “Ellie came way later, but they make it easy, being all independent and full of sass. That’s how women in our family are. What about you? Is family talk too personal?”
Her mouth turned dry. “No, only tragic. We’re better off talking about your bruised butt. Do you want to tell me how you fell in the shower?”
His perusal of her was intense, as if he was trying to unlock her secrets. In that moment she could see how he would be a good listener with a victim but also a patient interrogator. “I’m not sure I like the sound of tragic. Maybe it’s the cop in me, but it pushes my buttons. Hell…it’s more than that. I want to know more about you. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
She lifted her wine to her mouth to cover her surprise, drinking slowly to give herself a moment. Usually anyone who heard her typical deflection was happy to change the subject. Usually she kept that part of her life sealed.
Her mentor had told her she’d seen victims join law enforcement with good intentions only for their pasts to haunt them. Brie hadn’t wanted that for her, and neither had Lily, so she had accepted every referral Brie had made for her. She’d pored over her past in therapy as a teenager and later as a young woman, making sure there were no more tentacles waiting to take her down. It had been hard work, and she was damn proud of it. It had paid off. “It’s really dark and not something I share often. My ex got all fidgety and didn’t talk to me for two days after I told him.” But the pull to share something real with him was so strong because there had been so many lies.
He set his beer on the table and leaned back. “I’m not your ex, and I don’t spook easily.”
No, he would set his shoulders and face whatever came—like he was doing with Tara’s girls. “I didn’t expect to veer into a personal direction tonight.”
His smile was rueful. “Neither did I, but here we are. Honestly, I’m kinda glad. My personal confession of the night—I’m tired of the shallowness of dating. Have been for a while. Maybe I am turning into a grandpa, or Tim is right about me turning hard after my divorce. But this conversation feels more meaningful than any of the dumb first-date conversations I’ve had about my hobbies since I know I can’t say I love the intricacies of pulling fingerprints, matching DNA, and putting away bad guys.”
She couldn’t help but spurt out a laugh. At some point in the future, she hoped they could talk about that because she rather liked the smell of gunpowder after firing her weapon. “All right, here goes. I was raised in a foster home after I turned twelve, taken away from my mother by a court order. Part of a larger case…”
Stop talking like an FBI agent, Lily.
Inhaling deeply, she set her wine aside. “My mother was into thefree love, smoke anythingmovement that runs in some New Age circles. She ran away from home as a teenager, hooked up with some other street kids, and ended up at a community farm and ashram. Think hippies back in the sixties. She didn’t know who my dad was since everyone slept with everyone as part of some universal bullshit about love and nonattachment.”
His mouth tightened a fraction, and she had to give him credit for keeping his gaze open.
“We raised our own food. Made our own clothes. Self-sustainable living. As a kid, it wasn’t bad. I went to a local school, but no one thought I was weird for living in a community like that. It was California. To this day, I can still make better yogurt than anything you can buy in the grocery store.”
“What changed?” he asked, crossing his arms now, looking imposing.
An image of her mother surfaced from that time, her long hennaed hair pulled back with that vacant look in her green eyes. “My mother got a little bored. Her drug intake wasn’t doing the job anymore, I think, so she started looking for something else. She and a few other friends heard about this incredible guru who had started an open community everyone in their New Age circles was raving about. She joined his cult when I was ten.”
His mouth hardened, but he didn’t move. His eyes remained soft on her, waiting for her to continue.
“The drugs were more hallucinogenic. We didn’t just meditate as a community. We listened to this guru go on and on about… It doesn’t matter. Spiritual stuff that impresses people seeking those kinds of things. I didn’t like him from the first.”
She could still see his wavy blond hair and piercing blue eyes, his arms muscular from yoga and surfing. Shivering, she cleared her throat and folded her hands together tightly.
