Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) (70 page)

Taking her hand, he kissed it gently, and then twined his fingers through hers. The simple gesture felt damn good, her small hand in his.

“Come on,” he urged as he started walking toward the house.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s something I need to do,” he told her brusquely as he hurried them to the door.

“I suppose my brother is waiting for an explanation, huh?”

“Nope. Team Baby Girl the whole way. He spoke to Soph.”

She giggled at his side. “That explains the terminator-looking guy at the airport who duck marched Aldo into the terminal.”

He chuckled.
Justice. Go figure.

Inside the house, they were met with quiet. Neither Alex nor Meghan was anywhere around and with dinner over and cleaned up, they could be almost anywhere. Doing anything.
Shit.
If his timing sucked, he’d just have to deal with it. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d broken up a make-out session.

Suddenly, he was in his man-of-action character and couldn’t move, talk, or act fast enough. As he pulled Angie across the entryway toward the big staircase, Parker was belatedly conscious that he was actually dragging her, but instead of slowing down or backing off, he kept stomping along. Something about the whole setup struck him as funny and unusually primal. Her two or three boot steps sounding to each of his better be included on the alpha soundtrack. A couple of tracks after the little noise she had made right before she came and the big Kahuna . . . her telling him she
wanted
him to master her.

Dropping her at the landing, he told her to “Sit,” which was met with a husky giggle.

“Yes, sir,” she purred with just enough mockery to make him grab her by the neck and furiously kiss that wicked mouth. Afterward, she wasn’t laughing, but she did wipe the corners of her mouth before pointedly lowering her butt onto the next to last step.

For good measure, and because he liked fucking with her, Parker started up the stairs then turned back, barking, “Stay!”

After that he took the stairs two at a time. Just as he hit the top, he heard her chuckle and say, “Woof.” He grinned. The girl needed a good spanking.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened, thought about what he was doing, then kicked off and went down the long hallway to the master suite.

“Why has no work been done on the old homestead?” Meghan asked him. “From these pictures, I can see how it once looked. It’s such a shame that it’s crumbling to nothing.”

Alex agreed. Restoring the homestead was at the top of his bucket list. The opportunity to do it the way he wanted just hadn’t materialized yet—but he’d know when the time came. Sooner or later, he’d find someone to realize his unique vision for the ancient structure.

“The Villa was such a shit show that it wasn’t a priority. As it was,” he told her, scooping the photos together into a pile, “renovating the hacienda and outbuildings took nearly a decade. Was my grandparents’ life work to restore the property.”

She smiled warmly, looking around their bedroom and sighing. “I love it here.” Her shy smirk told him there was more to that statement. “Did you know the first night I spent in that cozy guest room, I thought it would be the most wonderful thing in the world to wake up every morning and see those old ceiling beams.”

Meghan had a way of expressing her emotions that sounded like poetry no matter how simple the sentiment. Old ceiling beams—the most wonderful thing in the world.

“It’s a lot different than how you grew up.”

Alex had stopped worrying that she might miss her old life in Boston. Having her family nearby, her friends and work colleagues . . . she said those things paled next to being here with him. Her love for the life they were creating was absolute. Meghan O’Brien was his for all time and would take her place in his family’s history with all the grace, charm, and sweetness people loved her for.

She smirked slyly. “It was the cowgirl boots that sold this place, you know.”

He smiled, remembering Meghan’s cheeky delight in her first pair of boots. She’d been a cowgirl,
Boston style,
ever since.

“That and the adorable-as-fuck absentminded professor thing you had going on.”

As she teased him, her hands reached for his head, scraping back and forth, making his hair an even unholier mess. “You’re just lucky that whole Major Marquez thing gets me wet.”

“Bah!” he bellowed with glee, taking her by surprise and hauling her so swiftly over his knee, she grunted out an, “oomph,” as she landed.

“Getting you wet is my life’s mission, baby,” he teased seconds before his hand swung and smacked her bottom soundly.

Her yelp of feigned distress was comical. Just as he was about to swing again, he heard a decisive knock rapped out on their bedroom door.
What the fuck?

Meghan scrambled off him as if they’d been caught by the police doing something criminal, squeaking, “Who would be knocking on our door?”

Regretting the loss of so perfect an opportunity to dominate her magnificent ass, he grunted furiously, “What?” pretty much at the top of his lungs.

Parker’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Can I speak to you a minute, Alex?”

They looked at each other in mild surprise. “What do you think that’s all about?” she whispered.

Ah, crap. It all came back to him. Angie. Maybe she was finally back and that was why Parker wanted to talk. It was highly unusual for him to come knocking on their door so something had to be up.

“Probably my sister,” he assured her. Dropping a quick kiss on her lips, Alex slid off the bed and headed for the door. “I’d like it very much if when I came back, you were naked and bent over on the bed.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She giggled. “And be nice, Major. That nonsense was us not that long ago.”

She had a point.

He found Parker in the hallway outside their room, not quite pacing but not exactly still either. Energy was bouncing from his friend to the walls, the ceiling, everywhere.

My, my, my,
how the mighty have fallen.
Looked like old Parker Sullivan, valedictorian, rocker, all around shitkicker, was in the obvious midst of a come to Jesus moment that had Angelina Marquez etched all over it.
Hehehe.

Should he yank his chain? Maybe give him an emotional wedgie that’d have him grabbing for his balls? Both sounded like fun—this was Parker, after all—but Alex remembered with searing, painful clarity the awful time preceding his and Meghan’s engagement when he’d probably looked exactly as his old friend looked right now. Frantic. Slightly shell-shocked. Definitely unhinged. Whatever was driving the man was as serious as a heart attack.

What would his dad do? After all, if this conversation went where he suspected it might, this was really something his father should be handling. Recalling his own Jesus moment when he sucked it up and let Meghan’s father, mother, and brothers read him the riot act before consenting to their marriage, he decided to cut the poor sucker some slack. If he knew his sister, she was probably finding more hoops for Parker to jump through, a thought that made him smile.

“Okay, um . . .” Parker stammered, his brows bumping together. “Um . . .”

And this tongue-tied nitwit argued before the Supreme Court?
Alex was enjoying this more than he should.

The brain dead mumbling continued. “Right, um . . . Alex.”

Oh, good. He knew who he was talking to. That was encouraging. And . . . ?

Parker took a deep breath. “Fuck. This is harder than I thought.”

Hmmm.
“Which part?” He wasn’t going to like it much if Parker was hesitating. Enough already. Either claim the girl or let it go.

Parker groaned. “The part where you tell me that I’m not the man for your sister.”

Alex couldn’t believe he’d said that! Good lord. He was further gone than he imagined. Good for little sister. She’d gotten herself a keeper.

“Hang on,” he grumbled to his friend, holding up his hand indicating he should wait there. Walking halfway down the hallway until he could see the top of the stairs because he was certain Angie was hovering nearby, Alex stopped and hollered, “You in love with this jackass?”

The sound of Angie’s little girl giggle washed away the years, reminding Alex how long they’d been this odd little unit. Him, Parker, and Angie.

“Yep!” she hollered back gleefully followed quickly by a sisterly admonishment, “Be nice, Alexander.”

He strolled back to where Parker stood frozen in the hallway, a look of pure, dumb shock on his face.

“Okay,” Alex told him. “I’m listening.”

This whole thing was surreal.

He and Alex facing each other in the hallway outside his friend’s bedroom, where he knew a sexy Irish beauty waited for his friend’s return.

Angie sitting at the foot of the stairs. Also waiting, although she had no idea for what.

Parker’s heart was pounding so hard he felt it in his throat. He and the man staring him down knew each other too well. They’d helped bury each other’s skeletons. If anyone had the right to object, it was Alex. In a way, he sincerely wished he was having this conversation with Uncle Cris.

As earnestly and straightforward as he could, Parker told him what was on his mind, starting with, “Man, I have done nothing for the past week except explain your fucking behavior and our friendship and let me tell you . . . that shit’s not easy.”

Alex’s smirky eye roll pretty much said it all. He knew what a pain in the ass Angie could be once she got stuck on something. And since he’d done his own fair share of groveling over their Stifler’s mom fuckery, he knew damn well what Parker had probably been through.

“If that’s not the most fucked up backdrop to this conversation, well . . . I don’t know what else would be.”

Funny. They each nodded at the same time.

“So, that being said,” he continued gravely, “there’s something I need to say, and I hope you’ll give me the chance to finish without putting me on the floor before I’m done.”

“Before you start your opening statement, I want to respond to what you said earlier. About me not thinking you were the man for my sister.”

Oh.
Parker’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Dude. You’ve always been my brother. When I fill out stuff that asks for family, I have to stop from listing you that way. As my brother. I’ve known since Angie was a teenager that this day was a possibility. In a way, we’ve all been waiting for her to catch up and make it official.”

Parker was having a hard time breathing.
Was he saying what I think he is?

“You wanna marry the girl, I suppose?”

“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love her. That’s the given. It’s the being
in
love with her that’s changed everything.”

Alex nodded with a rumbling grunt. “Understood.”

Yeah. He bet.

“I can’t sleep for dreaming about her and don’t be a pig . . . I’m talking about a minivan, a dog, and a pack of kids dreaming. I’m distracted at work. My fucking stomach is in a perpetual knot worrying about whatever crazy fuckery she’s likely to create or get drawn into. Today being a perfect example. Quiet has become my enemy ‘cause all I do is remember how I fucked up and she got hurt. Thinking about her being upset or crying because of something I did, well . . . I can’t . . .” He couldn’t even finish. He wasn’t fucking kidding. Those thoughts gutted him.

This was it. It all came down to one thing.

“I won’t make it without her. I’m almost forty fucking years old and for the first and only time in my life, I know what’s missing. It’s her, man. It’s always been her.”

To his utter amazement, tears welled in his eyes and his nose stung like a son-of-a-bitch.

“Please tell me that I have your blessing, Alex. You know who I am and you know I wouldn’t shit about what’s in my heart. I swear to god she’ll be safe with me. Whatever it takes to make her happy, I’ll do. Fuck, if she wants to go back to Spain, I’ll go with her.”

Alex started and murmured, “Wow.”

Parker held his hands up. “What else could I do? She owns my heart.”

The answer came simply. Alex extended his hand. He took it in a firm grip.