“She’s never stopped loving you,” Moreland told him quietly.
“You say that thinkin’ it makes it better, but I fucked up her entire life,” Coert clipped, leaning forward but then pulling back, pulling himself together, taking everything he had to do it, because he was close to flying apart and right now he could not fall apart. “She told me she still loved me days ago and it only made it worse.”
“You can salvage this.”
“Maybe, but should I?” Coert fired back.
“Yes.”
He said it instantly and he said it straight, and when he did, that was when Coert took a step back like he’d suffered a blow.
“She’s my little sister and I want her to have what she wants and what she wants is you,” Moreland declared.
“Then get your family outta that lighthouse,” Coert growled.
Moreland stared at him.
Then he smiled.
Then he said, “I’m in a black rental Denali SUV. Think you know the way, but you’re right. It’s best I lead.”
Coert walked right to the door and opened it.
Moreland followed him but stopped and looked him again in the eyes.
“My wife Kath said if you two quit squabbling, you’d jump each other’s bones. Dad said the second you got your head out of your ass and came back, Cady would be gone in a flash so we’d have to gird our loins to hold on so we didn’t lose her. But just to say, the whole family’s here for Christmas so do us a favor. Cady cooks a mean bird and the kids are looking forward to it. She won’t be able to lift it if she’s exhausted by a reunion sex-a-thon.”
So that explained the “sister” Kath, and the other wives were the other two “sisters” and the entire Moreland clan “the family” coming out for Christmas.
He loved Cady had that.
Still.
“How about I salvage this and we joke about it in, I don’t know, say fifteen years?” Coert suggested.
“Maybe a good call,” Pat muttered, lips curling up, and then he walked out the opened door.
Coert closed it, locked it, went into the living room, turned out the Christmas tree lights and hustled to the garage, not even grabbing his jacket.
He got in his truck, hit the garage door opener, pulled out and got behind the black Denali that was idling in his road.
In all his years to come, looking back at that ride from his house to the lighthouse, he’d never remember a second of it. He gave Cady shit for driving emotional but he was lucky he had those Denali taillights to focus on, because Lord knew with all the shit infesting his head if he’d have made it.
But he made it and Moreland must have had a remote to the gate because he coasted right through.
Coert followed him.
He’d been right, the Christmas lights were amazing.
And it was clear the “whole family” was a big one because there were two more Denali SUVs crowding the space around her two-car garage, both doors open but only Cady’s Jag was parked inside one bay.
Coert parked and Moreland swung out as Coert did the same.
He followed him to the covered walk that led to the door to the lighthouse on that side.
Moreland stopped and Coert stopped with him.
“Ready?” Moreland asked.
“No,” Coert answered.
“Dad liked you for her.”
Coert suffered that blow too with a miracle of no movement.
“He lived long, the last years of his life not the greatest. I hope we made them not as bad as they could have been. I know Cady did. But I’d put money on the fact that he left this world with only two regrets. Giving in to his wife, planting Katy in my mother and then losing them both, and that he didn’t live to see this.”
And with nothing further, Moreland opened the door and moved through.
Coert heard Midnight bark, not a warning, a welcome.
He also heard someone shout, “Hey, Dad! Where you been?”
But as he moved in, all he saw was Cady in the kitchen with two other women and a kid. She was doing something at the island, and the minute she turned her head and saw him, she froze.
So he froze two steps in from the door.
“Who’s that?” A child.
“Everyone, jackets on, we’re going into town for dinner.” Moreland.
“But Auntie Cady’s making spaghetti pie!” Another child.
“What’s goin’ on, Pat?” A man.
“Right! Dinner in town! Everybody get suited up!” A woman.
“What’ve you done, Pat?” Another man.
“Let’s go. Now.” Moreland.
“I think—” Another woman.
“Now.” Moreland.
“Holy cow.” And another woman.
“Who’s that guy?” A young woman in a loud whisper.
“Jackets. Now!” Moreland’s voice was rising. “Let’s go.”
“Yeesh, Uncle Pat’s freaking out.” A young man.
Midnight woofed.
“Come on. Come on. Let’s go. Mike, Daly, got your keys?” The first woman.
“This goes bad, bud, we’re having a family meeting.” A man, growling.
Coert heard it, felt the movement, commotion, footfalls running upstairs and voices encouraging others to get jackets and move out, footfalls down the stairs.
It seemed it took years for it all to quiet down, for the brushes of people to stop moving past him to get out the door, for the door to close.
And all that time he and Cady just stared at each other.
When the door closed he said gently, “Is the stove on, baby?”
Woodenly, she nodded.
“Turn it off, Cady,” he ordered.
Her body jolted but she forced it to move stiffly to the stove.
She turned knobs.
Then she turned to him.
“Come here,” he urged quietly.
Slowly, one foot in front of the other, her eyes to his, she moved his way.
Midnight moved to her and crowded her but Cady didn’t stop until she was two feet away.
Coert looked into emerald eyes.
Christ, how did he start?
Christ, how did he fix something that he broke before he’d even started it?
“I should have let you explain. I should have explained myself what—”
He didn’t say any more.
She threw herself at him.
Grabbing his head on either side, burrowing into him, fucking climbing him, she did everything she could to wrap her arms around his head and pull it down to hers.
Their mouths collided and hers was already open, her tongue darting out.
And he tasted her.
Cinnamon and toffee and moonlight and warmth and Cady.
And for the first time in eighteen years, he hit home.
She shuffled him back, her movements jerky, desperate.
He didn’t make her work for it and shifted when she turned him.
He also fell when she pushed into him. The backs of his legs hitting the arm of the couch, they went down, Coert on his back, Cady on top of him.
She was hungry for him, fucking starving, kissing him, her hands moving on him, shoving up his sweater to dive under and get to the skin of his stomach, his chest.
Midnight woofed and snuffled them with her nose.
They both ignored her, because Coert was right there with Cady, hands to her ass, up her sweater, along the skin at her sides, her ribs.
She sat up abruptly, straddling him, tore her sweater over her head. Her hair flying, she threw it aside, her hands going immediately to his sweater and yanking it up.
He did a half-curl to lift his back off the couch, his arms over his head. She tugged his sweater to his forearms and he pulled it off from there, tossing it away.
Hands back to her, she was hands and mouth back to him, fingers trailing, nails scratching, biting, licking, feeding from him.
God, it was beautiful.
It was Cady.
Coert drove a hand in her hair, pulled back, arm around her waist hauling her up his body. He kept his fingers in her hair as he took his arm from around her, ripped down a cup of her bra, lifted his head and sucked her nipple hard in his mouth.
God, her taste, her moan, the way she was grinding herself into his stomach.
All Cady.
His cock was hard and chafing against his fly, and that and Cady and getting more of her were all that filled his thoughts when she suddenly tore away, took her feet at the side of the couch but only to put her hands to her belt to undo it.