“I don’t know.”
“Then you should have one,” he said, sounding magnanimous. The smartass practically tossed the plate of cookies onto the kitchen island. He then tossed sandwich rolls, cold cuts, cheese, and mustard onto the island, too. “So what’s your name, Aunt Bev’s helper?”
“Mia.” She folded her arms. “What’s yours?”
He arched a brow and gave her the slightest hint of a wry smile. “Like you don’t know.”
The ego on this guy! “How would I know? Your mother didn’t tell me you were here. I didn’t even know she had a son. Believe me, if I’d known you were here, I would have . . .”
“What would you have done, Aunt Bev’s helper?” he asked, sounding bored.
“I would have waited outside.”
He grunted his opinion of that. “Brennan.”
“Sorry?”
“My name. It’s Brennan.”
That was a summer person name if Mia had ever heard one. Whatever happened to Tom and Harry?
He turned back to the fridge and opened it, holding it open with his foot as he put the sandwich rolls inside. “Now that formal introductions have been made, are you going to just hang around? Maybe you want me to make you a sandwich.” He picked up the package of cold cuts and opened it.
“No thanks—”
“Yeah, that wasn’t really an offer.” He let the fridge door close. “I don’t know what arrangement you have with my mom, but I’m guessing it’s not standing around watching me make sandwiches or swinging pans at people’s heads.”
Mia had never wanted to take a swing at someone as badly as she did right now. She swiped up her bag. “I’m just going to do what I need to do here and get out,” she said tightly.
“That is a great idea,” he said.
Unbelievable . Mia rolled her eyes and marched out of the kitchen before she said something that would lose Aunt Bev the job.
Four
Brennan was in a foul mood, especially once he realized who the woman was with the honey eyes and the auburn hair and the smell of spring around her. Because he didn’t need a woman banging around the house. He needed— really needed—peace and quiet. Solitude. Silence. He didn’t need any more colors than those that were already splashed haphazardly around the interior of this goddamn house. He especially didn’t need colors wrapped around the very delectable curves of a woman’s body. He needed time to think and ponder. He did not need smiles or bright eyes, goddammit.
This was exactly why he’d sworn off women . . . Well. That resolution was beginning to wear a little thin. He wanted sex. He needed sex. But he didn’t need or want women. Needing or wanting anyone was a waste of time, and women especially were too complicated, too needy. And sometimes, too fucking vindictive if things didn’t go their way.
Brennan had also sworn off booze, but he’d had to reconsider that out of necessity because of his resolution to swear off women. He had to do something to dull the lust.
Yeah, well, obviously he was going to have to redouble his resolve.
Brennan had no idea how many beers he’d had by the time his mother returned home, but when she finally pulled into the drive, he was drunk enough to be irritated with the world in general and her in particular.
She seemed very pleased with herself when she swept in and carelessly dropped several shopping bags on the kitchen table. “Do my eyes deceive me?” she asked jubilantly. “My son is aliv e !” She threw her arms around Brennan, rising up on her toes to kiss his cheek before she dropped her arms and swanned past him.
“You went into the city?” Brennan asked, looking at the bags.
“Yes, I did!” She walked to the wine cooler and bent over to have a look at the bottles inside. “Such a beautiful day for it, too. How was your day, sweetie?”
“Not as good as yours, apparently.” Brennan moved her shopping bags around, all of them emblazoned with logos likes Barneys and Bergdorf Goodman. His mother could spend money, and she
Catherine Gilbert Murdock