CHAPTER 6

Holding up his hands in mock surrender, he laughed. “I didn’t realize you were hiding a little feminist inside. My apologies if I offended you.”

“Oh, she’s not little. She just appears that way next to so many large men.” She reached for the bottle only to lift it and find it empty.

“Too many sons inheriting their fathers’ arrogance, I suppose.”

She considered his words, thought of his son, then realized her huge oversight. “Slade left today.” Feeling like a thoughtless heel, she sat up. “Oh, Sawyer, I’m sorry. Here I am going on and on about my life when you sent your son off—”

He cut her apology short with a wave of his hand. “We men like our sons, but eighteen years with them is enough. I wished him luck, gave him some sage advice about condoms and cafeteria food, and he was as glad to be rid of me as I of him.”

She laughed. “I suppose it’s different for…” “Mothers?”

“Women,” she amended.

His gaze met hers and something shifted in the air. Perhaps it was the intimate knowledge of the circumstances they shared. Although her mother’s memory wasn’t one she hoped to replace, in another ten years she’d have accumulated more experience parenting than her actual parents could claim. But it still felt wrong calling herself a mother.

Isadora had yet to know what holding a baby in her womb felt like. The love, the worry, the secrets only a true mother could own. But perhaps someday…

“Chances are, Antoinette will regard you as her mother. You do everything a mother and a father typically do for their children.”

“I suppose the unfortunate part of that is that she’ll eventually forget our mom and I’ll never get to just be her sister.”

“You’ll still get to be her sister. Give it time. Before you know it, she’ll be a young woman, confiding in you, asking your advice, and perhaps giving you some of her own. When that friendship comes you can remind her what a great woman your mother was.”

She tilted her head, his prediction stirring a deep craving for such a bond. “One can only imagine what sort of advice a girl like Toni might give in time.” She laughed, trying to imagine her opinionated sister as a mature adult.

His regard suspended for a moment. “You call her Toni? I always assumed she went by Antoinette or Annie.”

“My father calls her Annie. To the rest of us she’s just Toni.”

Silence fell, as if discussing her little sister somehow altered his train of thought. Did mentioning Toni remind him of her age as well? There was nothing inappropriate about their conversation, but maybe getting tipsy together in a dark room bordered on improper to him.

She hunted for something intriguing to say, anything to stifle the sense that they’d run out of topics to discuss. Her liquor soaked mind seemed to be dredging through a thick swamp in search of clever material. She had nothing.

He shifted and glanced at his watch. “I should go.” “Must you?”

His contemplative gaze collided with hers. There was something unnamable in his stare, something that hadn’t been there before. Something she wasn’t sure she wanted him to voice.

“Isa—”

“There’s another bottle of scotch at the bar. If I drink it alone I could end up repeating your mistakes.”

He grinned and settled himself back into the seat. “I can’t let you do that, now, can I?”

Relieved, she rose to retrieve the other bottle, hoping it was indeed scotch. Part of her suspected he was drinking to spare her from alcohol poisoning. If she had finished the last bottle on her own she would’ve passed out—which was still an objective.

Searching the cabinet, she squinted through the shadows. “Glenfiddich.

That’s scotch, right?”

“A wonderful brand. What year?”

Breaking the wax seal, she opened the bottle and tipped it out of the shadows, hunting for numbers. Her eyes struggled to read the aged label in the poor lighting. There it was.

“Thirty-seven.” While she was at the bar, she searched for two rocks glasses.

“Shit.”

Confused by his whispered curse, she turned and came up short. Sawyer had vacated his chair and moved right behind her. Sucking in a breath, she stared up at his bright eyes, the scent of his cologne permeating the drunken haze of her mind.

“Let me see that bottle, sweetheart.”

Isadora stepped aside as he examined the bottle and cursed again. Her balance seemed off, but it hadn’t been a second ago. Processing his words on a delay, she frowned. “What’s the matter?”

He laughed and stared at the label, slowly shaking his head. “Son of a bitch. Your father sure is something else.”

“Why?”

“This bottle, the thirty-seven, it’s exquisitely rare. There are only a few left in existence. The last time someone auctioned a bottle it sold for something close to seventy-thousand dollars.”

“For one bottle?”

“Yes. Let’s hope it wasn’t your father placing the bid.”

She took the bottle out of his hands. Perhaps she was being petulant, or maybe the better word was drunk, but she couldn’t muster a bit of concern for her father’s spoiled collection. The seal was already broken anyway.

“Well, it’s already opened, so there’s no sense in wasting it.” They had no choice but to drink it. All evidence must be destroyed. She generously filled two glasses and slid him one. “Cheers.”

He eyed the scotch and then glanced at her as she patiently waited for him to meet her toast. “Isadora,” he said slowly lowering his untouched glass to the bar. “Perhaps we should call it a night. It’s getting late and Toni will likely be home soon—”

As if on cue, the front door opened and her sister’s footsteps preceded the call of Shamus’s voice. “Isa?”

She returned her glass to the bar next to his. “I only need to thank Shamus and send Toni to bed. Don’t leave just yet.”

He seemed ready to object, but she turned before he had the chance. Leaving the study door open a crack, she hustled down the hall and met her sister and Shamus in the foyer.

“Did you have fun?”

“We had so much fun!” Toni beamed. “Shamus ordered two banana splits made like flambé and they cooked the bananas right at the table with a blowtorch!”

“Wonderful!” She glanced at Shamus. “Do I owe you anything?” “Knock it off. Besides, the moment Antoinette introduced herself there was no chance we were paying. We got the royal treatment.”

“Thank you.” Her hand brushed lovingly over his sleeve and he stilled, shooting her a peculiar look.

Easing close, laughter dancing in his eyes, he whispered, “Are you drunk, Isa?”

Her cheeks burned, though they already felt unusually warm. “I might have indulged in a nip or two.”

He laughed. “I love it. Good for you.” Directing their attention back to Toni, he said, “Okay, brat, I’m taking off. Why don’t you head up to bed so your sister can enjoy the rest of her night off? Remember everything we talked about.”

Rather than put up a fight like she usually would, Toni smiled and nodded obediently. “Goodnight, Isa.” Her arms wrapped around Isadora’s waist, startling her with the force of such a loving hug.

She glanced at Shamus in question, but he only winked. Her hand rested on Toni’s hair. “Goodnight, baby.”

Toni pivoted and lunged at Shamus, throwing her arms around him with enough force to make him grunt. “Goodnight, Shamus. Thanks for an awesome dinner!”

“Night, brat. Be good.”

Toni made her way up the stairs and Isadora turned back to him. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. I just reminded her that not all sisters would give up so much for their younger siblings. I also might have promised her we could go out again if she stopped being so contrary every time you asked her to do something.”

Impressed, Isadora grinned. “I’m amazed she listened to you. Toni doesn’t listen to anyone.”

“She’s tough. I’ll give you that much. But I remember how difficult I was at her age. Teenagers suck and she’s going to be a challenging one. I figured, with Luche away, you could probably use a little … assistance.”

He was absolutely right, on all counts. “Well, thank you, Jamie. I really mean it.”

He nodded. “Any time. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

“Goodnight.” She walked him to the door, smiling as his car pulled away.

Standing in the quiet foyer, she wondered why that moment seemed to carry more weight than so many others. Toni was quiet in her room, right where she was supposed to be. Lucian was likely unpacking the last of his belongings in his dorm—she hoped.

Switching off the front lights, she sighed, thinking she might actually get to bed before three in the morning tonight. The house was silent, she was feeling incredibly relaxed, and everything seemed just—Sawyer!

Spinning in the direction of the study, she hurried down the hall, hoping he hadn’t slipped out the back door while she was preoccupied. Wow, she definitely had too much to drink. She almost forgot about him and went to bed! That would have been awful.

Drawing in a deep breath, she pressed into the study and was relieved to find him waiting on the settee, staring into an empty glass. Her excitement that he hadn’t left was inexplicable. He was like a hidden present found under the tree, buried by crumpled paper after all the gifts were already opened.

His gaze lifted and settled on her as she lingered at the threshold, slightly short of breath.

“I’m back,” she whispered.

“So you are,” he said, his level stare seeming totally undistracted by anything else in the room.