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We’re standing in the center of the living room, having our first fight. A lover’s spat that’s supposed to end in a kiss that we’ve already both agreed we do not need to practice.
We’re so into our characters, the heated disagreement, our fantasy world on Mars, neither one of us hears the door open.
Chapter Eighteen
Bayne
I walk into my home to hear my brother shouting at Kitt. I tear through the foyer and kitchen, finding them in the living room.
They’re standing in the middle of the carpet, dangerously close to one another shouting, but I’m too enraged at what I’m seeing to even hear the words they’re saying.
Eamon and I agreed he would stay away until I told him otherwise. And her, she’s a grown woman. She should know better than to answer the door while I’m away. Anyone could have come in. I knew I should never have left the house, never should have taken my eyes off of her.
“What the hell is going on here?” I demand, my tone as always deeper and more threatening than I mean for it to be. “Why are you two standing so close?”
Or do I? Have I been here before?
They look over their shoulders at me in unison. Shocked. Caught in the act. What act, exactly, I’m not entirely sure.
I trust my brother implicitly, but my messed-up brain fucks me over. Seeing them there, together, the closeness, my heart rate skyrockets. A flash of a red door, a plaid couch, my girl lying there, my dad on top of her. I see red, like the door, anger raging inside of me.
I grab my brother by the front collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “What are you doing here, Eamon? I told you to stay away.”
Holding him tight, I stare at her. “And why the hell did you let someone in.”
Double her weight and strength, the look she gives me still instantly makes me loosen my hold on his collar. Hands on her hips, brows narrow, she reads me the riot act. “It’s your brother! Put him down. Now!”
I look at Eamon.
He shrugs, giving me those damn innocent pup eyes. “I was just helping you out. DI Collins was heading here. I followed him.”
“Collins? What was Collins doing here?” I let him go, taking a step back.
Running a hand through my hair, I force myself to take a breath. To make the red door, the plaid couch, her purple face go away. Eamon’s not my enemy. I trust him with my life. “Sorry, brother. I shouldna grabbed you like that.”
“Darn right, you shouldn’t!” Kitty Cat actually shakes a finger at me, looking at me with all kinds of disapproval, ready to pull her pretty claws out. “We were just running lines.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Eamon shakes his head, shoving papers into the pocket of his denim jacket.
She moves toward me, her tone dripping with disappointment. I feel guilty and don’t even know what I’ve done. This girl—the hold she has on me. Fuck.
She says, “He’s interested in acting, Bayne. And he’s really, really good.”
“Acting?” I’ve never heard this before. “I had no idea.”
Fishermen, horse traders, builders. Bayne men work with their hands, working the land, the animals, the seas. Sure, a few of us might pick up a fiddle or cello now and then, playing it at a wedding or down the pub, but acting…
I stare at my baby brother like I’m seeing him for the first time.
Hollywood smile. Angles in a handsome face. Such bright, enthusiastic energy that you’re incapable of not giving him your attention.
“Well, let me hear it.” I sink down onto the couch, crossing my ankle over my thigh. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
Eamon gives me a long look, like he’s not going to perform for me, but eventually his good nature overtakes his Bayne genes, as per usual. He pulls the papers from his pocket.
“Fine. But laugh and I’ll cut you.” He’s half joking.
