A Misty Harbor Wedding (15 page)

She carried the tray out back and sat it in the center of the table. “I want you three to listen to your Uncle Matt.” She ruffled the top of Austin's hair. “You may have three cookies and one brownie. Not a bite more.” Her son had eaten all of his dinner, but she didn't need him bouncing off the wall on a sugar high before bedtime.

“Those rules apply to you three too.” Matt looked at his nephews and niece.

“I just made a pot of coffee. Would you like me to bring you out a cup?” Matt and she had finished off the partial bottle of wine she had in the refrigerator with dinner. The juice boxes sitting on the tray just didn't seem Matt's style. “Or I could open another bottle of wine.”

“Coffee's fine.” Matt shook his head as the kids practically climbed onto the tabletop to reach the cookies. “What about me?” Matt teased. “How many cookies and brownies can I have?”

“You can have whatever you want. You're a big boy.”

Matt raised a eyebrow. “Whatever I want?”

The kids all giggled and then fought over a particularly large chocolate iced cookie.

The hunger in Matt's gaze had nothing to do with Jolene's brownies or cookies. She felt the hot slide of desire pool low in her gut. Heated, sheet-rumpling possibilities were in his eyes. Possibilities she was oh-so-tempted to explore. “Within reason.”

Matt's gaze turned hotter. “How will I know if it's within reason or not?”

Right now there wasn't anything he could do that wouldn't be within reason. Matt was making a simple vacation a lot more complicated and exciting than it should have been. She realized how much she was enjoying herself and grinned. “If you have to ask, it's not within reason.”

Matt groaned as she walked away.

 

 

Two hours later Matt practically pushed his family out Sierra's front door. Considering they were Porters, there was a lot of pushing to do. He'd clean the mess in the kitchen himself if it gave him some alone time with Sierra. The woman was playing havoc with both his mind and his body. He loved his family dearly, but there was a limit to his patience.

He had hit that limit an hour ago when his father, Karl James, and all of Matt's brothers showed up at Sierra's door. They had made short work of that towering pile of Jolene's Bakery boxes, coffee, and whatever else Sierra had set before them. A horde of Porters had invaded the kitchen, and Sierra now would have to do more food shopping.

It was not the impression he wanted to make with her. A beautiful single woman invites him to dinner, and somehow he was roped into babysitting four kids for almost two hours. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have to say he must have done something very bad in a previous life to deserve such a fate.

“My,” exclaimed Sierra, standing in her living room looking a little dazed at the mass exodus that had just trampled through her living room. “Your family leaves as fast as they come.”

“They're quick on their feet.” His brothers had been dragging their feet, the stroller, diaper bag, and anything else they could use to slow down their departure. They also had been silently laughing and egging each other on, because they knew how badly he wanted them all to disappear. Surprisingly, his main ally had been his mother.
Strange
. If he hadn't been seeing things, she had even given the short hairs on the back of Paul's neck a tug to get him to move faster.

When his mother tugged, you moved.

Matt looked over at Austin, who was standing there looking like he had lost his best friend. “Hey, buddy, don't worry. The way your mother is heading up this whole wedding, you'll be seeing Tyler again real soon.”

“Of course you will, honey.” Sierra bent down on one knee and hugged her son. “I think someone is extra sleepy tonight. Let's go get you ready for bed.”

“I'll clean up the kitchen.” He wasn't about to leave that mess for Sierra.

“I'll get that later.” Sierra looked torn on what to clean first: the pile of dishes on the counter, the table littered with paperwork, or her son.

“You take care of Austin. He's about asleep on his feet.” The boy was starting to get that blank stare his nephews got right before they crashed. He headed for the kitchen. “I do know how to load a dishwasher.” His mother had made sure of it. Peggy Porter had taught her boys to clean and cook so she could spend her days out on the fishing boat. It was an unconventional upbringing, but once people tasted his mother's cooking, they understood why none of the Porter boys ever complained.

Sierra softly smiled and said, “Thanks.” Then she tugged Austin into the hall.

Matt stared at the kitchen and wondered where to begin. If Kathy Albert ever saw her kitchen looking like this, she would double, if not triple, Sierra's rent. He opened the dishwasher and started loading the dishes in.

 

 

Half an hour later, Austin was tucked into bed and Sierra was drying the pieces of antique pink Depression glass he had hand-washed. “You didn't have to wash these, Matt. I'll get to them later.”

“They're almost done, and there wasn't that much to wash.” Most of the dishes were in the dishwasher, but he didn't think the pink glass platters or the crystal wine glasses they had used at dinner should go in there.

“Most men would rather dry than wash.” Sierra placed the plate into the china cabinet.

“I'm not most men.” Besides, she had been tucking Austin into bed when he had started to wash them. What kind of man would be afraid of a little water and bubbles? His small apartment in town didn't have a dishwasher, so who did she think cleaned up after him? Last time he looked, the cleaning fairy hadn't once deemed fit to pay him a visit. He put the wet wineglass into the white plastic drainer and pulled the plug in the sink.

“I noticed.” Sierra picked up the glass and started to dry. “Your family is nice.”

He chuckled. “They take some getting used to.” The Porters en masse had been known to make little kids hide and grown men to think twice.

“Well, I think they're sweet.”

He looked at Sierra to see if she was joking. She wasn't. “Are you sure we're talking about the same family that was just here?” No one had ever called his family sweet before.

“One and the same.” Sierra put the glass away and hung up the damp towel.

“Didn't you see my mother arm wrestle Jill to see who had to make centerpieces for the tables or haul and set up the chairs and tables the morning of the wedding?” Neither of them wanted to deal with centerpieces and flowers.

“I saw that.” Sierra grinned. “Jill had her there in the beginning, but your mom is built for endurance.”

“Mom's slowing down some. I guess being a grandmother will do that to you.”

Sierra laughed. “I would say so. I'm mother to a four-year-old, and I'm slowing down.”

“Jill wasn't too happy to lose.”

“Don't worry, I found her a new job instead of making the centerpieces.”

“What, and who's making them now?” Matt walked over to the kitchen table and shook his head at the mess of papers. He was afraid to move anything in case there was a system to the chaos. He prayed there was some secret female order to things, or his brother's wedding was going to be a mess. Ned wanted a picture-perfect garden wedding for Norah.

“Jill's going to help set up the two tents that are being rented, and Ned found a DJ who knows where to rent a wooden dance floor.” Sierra started to gather up the papers, magazines, notepads, and pictures. “I'm doing the centerpieces. Norah wants them simple, with colorful flowers, and absolutely no balloons.”

Matt shook his head and took the pile of papers out of Sierra's hands and placed it back on the table. “Come, we have to talk.”

Talking wasn't what he really wanted to do with her, but it would be a start. Since arriving here for dinner they hadn't had a moment to themselves. Between Austin's thousand questions during dinner, the invasion of every female and kid in his family, and then the arrival of everyone else, he had barely gotten time to thank her for dinner.

He held her hand and walked into the living room. The night breeze had gotten chilly enough to close the patio door, so sitting outside wasn't an option. He tugged her down onto the couch next to him. “Take a moment to relax, Sierra. From the sounds of it, you've been running around since first light.” If she didn't knock it off, she was going to need a vacation from her vacation.

Sierra kicked off her sandals and tucked her legs up under her. “I was still in bed at first light. Where were you when the sun came up from the sea?”

He chuckled at her reference to Austin's belief that the sun did in fact rise from the sea every morning. “Watching it.” He didn't want to think about Sierra still snuggled all warm and sleepy-eyed under the covers. He had pictured it quite vividly this morning while sitting on a cold boulder having his first cup of coffee.

“You do that a lot?” Sierra reached up and slipped the dangling earrings out of her pierced ears. She placed them on the coffee table and then absently rubbed at her ears.

“Every chance I get.” He watched as her thumb and forefinger rubbed at the delicate lobes. “Why do you wear earrings if they bother your ears?”

Sierra immediately dropped her hand. “Habit.”

“Habit? Rubbing your ears might be a habit, but wearing earrings?” He thought she looked adorable curled up on the couch. There was a slight disheveled look to her appearance, like she had just entertained a houseful of guests and given a four-year-old his bath. He liked her better now, all mussed up, than how prim and proper she had looked when he first arrived.

“Okay, you got me.” Sierra gave a small smile. “I'm vain, and I love costume jewelry.”

Matt laughed. “Norah
loves
costume jewelry. You, on the other hand, like it well enough to wear it even if it bothers your ears.” His soon-to-be sister-in-law actually jingled and jangled when she walked. A rolling tambourine would make less noise than Norah.

“You wouldn't think so if you ever saw my jewelry boxes.”

“Boxes, as in plural?” Women were wondrous, beautiful creatures who deserved to be pampered and bejeweled. Why any one of them would need more than one jewelry box was still beyond him, though. Then again, if he tried to imagine the size of a jewelry box Norah would need, all his mind could conjure up was the thirty-six-gallon plastic tote where his father stored drop cloths and tarps on the top shelf in his garage.

“As in multiple.” Sierra laughed at the look that must have been on his face. “Relax, eighty percent of it is costume.”

“What's the other twenty percent?” Her answer to that question would answer his concerns about her being wealthy or not.

“Mostly family heirlooms.”

That answered that question. If you had heirlooms, you were rich. “The only heirloom I ever received was two antique fishing poles that were my Great-Uncle Harvey's.” He wouldn't dream of using either one of them for fear he would damage it. They currently were on display above the living room window in his apartment. Neither pole had ever impressed any date he had brought home. “Your family must have different heirlooms than mine.”

“I inherited it all through default.” Sierra shrugged, as if it didn't really mean anything to her. “I'm an only child of parents who were only children themselves.”

“Default? Nothing of Great-Uncle Harvey's was given out by default except his straggly old cat, Jasper. The decrepit old beast went to Ada, Harvey's female companion on the occasional Saturday night, if you know what I mean.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Sierra giggled.

“Ada had to have been ninety, hated to wear her dentures, guzzled martinis, and sang Dean Martin songs everywhere she went. She used to scare the tar out of my brothers and me. She also drove a hard bargain. We had to deliver Harvey's bar and his entire stock of booze to her place with the howling Jasper or it was no deal.”

Sierra's giggles turned into full-blown laughter. “You didn't.”

“Of course we did. My father threw in a couple bottles of gin to sweeten the deal. Jasper was a demon hellcat.” It had taken him, his father, and all of his brothers three hours to corner and cage the beast. Every one of them came out of the fight scratched, nicked, and bit to hell and back.

“So Ada and Jasper lived happily ever after?”

“In a way. The week after the funeral Ada hooked up with the captain of a fishing boat. Jasper lived out his life on the high seas, eating his fill and popping Dramamine to combat seasickness.”

“And Ada?”

“Sad to say but within six months she followed Uncle Harvey to the great beyond. Doctors claimed the cause of death was pneumonia.”

Sierra's face fell. “It was really a broken heart, wasn't it?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “The fool woman went skinny-dipping in Sunset Cove in October.”

Sierra threw a pillow at his head. “You're horrible.”

“Hey”—he caught the pillow in midair—“I wasn't one of those idiots out there with her frolicking naked in freezing-cold water. Hear tell it, there were quite a lot of colds going around that fall.” He held up the pillow and leaned toward Sierra. If it was a pillow fight she wanted, he'd be more than willing to oblige. “Legend has it that it was near epidemic proportions in Misty Harbor.”

Sierra playfully leaned back as he leaned forward. There was a teasing glint of laughter in her sea-green eyes. “How many were out in the cove with her?”

“I don't know, it's a pretty big cove.” He tossed the pillow aside. The last thing he wanted to do with Sierra was fight. He leaned forward and kissed her laughing mouth.