He pulled open another drawer. “Speaking of catching, you need to catch a job, Nash—instead of living here for free.”
“Free? I cook all the meals, and I believe Grandpa willed this house to all of us. Besides, I’m working on an idea that could make us filthy rich.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing on your laptop? And here I thought you’d been playing games.”
Nash grinned. “Maybe a few. But I’m telling you, big brother, that apps are the wave of the future. And I have this idea for a great app that will work in conjunction with all the new electronic sensors they have out. With just a tap of your phone, you can dim your lights, turn on music, and start up your gas logs.”
“Dim your lights, turn on music, and start a fire? Are we talking business or seduction, Nash?”
Nash laughed. “Why can’t we talk both? And I don’t need an app to seduce women, Deke.”
It was the truth. Nash didn’t need anything to seduce women. There was something in his DNA that made women do things they would never do with another man.
“And when will this app be ready to make money?”
Nash got to his feet. “Unfortunately, I find myself in the same boat as you’re in. In order to start making money, I’ll need an investor.”
Great. Maybe Francesca wouldn’t mind three pet poodles.
Grayson, on the other hand, wasn’t thinking about needing money or making it. As if he were sleepwalking, he opened the bedroom door and moved out into the hallway. “I need to paint her. Now. While the afternoon light is still good.”
Nash laughed. “I don’t blame you, baby brother. Despite the bug bites, she looked pretty hot in that wet T-shirt. Of course I’m interested in doing something other than painting her…now, while the light is good.” He glanced at Deacon. “Or would that be considered incestuous?”
“She’s not our damned cousin!” Deacon snapped just as the door to the bathroom opened and Olivia’s head peeked out. She looked much cleaner. Almost squeaky-clean with her wet hair and steam-flushed skin. Her eyes were as green as he remembered them and still seemed to cover half her face.
“Do you think I could get something to wear until my clothes dry?” she asked. “A robe? Or a T-shirt, perhaps?” Her gaze drifted over to Deacon and then sizzled down his bare chest to his boxers. “Ahh, I was right. Cotton boxer briefs mid-cut.” She tipped her head to the side and the door cracked open a little more, revealing a naked shoulder. “Nice fit in the butt, although they’re a little too snug in the crotch area.”
Before those innocent eyes could make his crotch area even snugger, Deacon grabbed a pair of jeans from the drawer and held them in front of himself. “Grayson, find Olivia something to wear.”
While Grayson went to do his bidding, her gaze finally lifted to Deacon’s eyes. “You’re right. I’m not your flesh-and-blood cousin.” She looked at Nash, who now stood next to Deacon. “But alas, I still can’t have sex with you, Nash. I’m in a relationship.” Grayson returned with a stack of clothes, and she gave him a soft smile as she took them. “And yes, you may paint me. But only if you bring me a comb.” With that she pulled her head in and closed the door.
While Deacon’s features hardened, Nash laughed.
“I think I like her better now that she’s all grown up.”
* * *
Deacon had always thought of California girls as having long, straight, bleach-blond hair and tanned, leathery skin. Olivia had neither. Her hair was shoulder-length, but a deep golden wheat color and wavy, and her skin was pale and smooth. She wasn’t what he would call a stunner, especially in the baggy T-shirt and jeans Grayson had loaned her. Which didn’t explain why he couldn’t seem to look away.
“Thank you,” she said as Nash handed her a glass of sweet tea before sitting down at the table across from her. Grayson sat on the couch, flicking a nubby piece of charcoal over his sketchpad. Deacon preferred to stand. He leaned against the old stove with his arms crossed, trying to look bored and uninterested. It was difficult when every cell in his body seemed to be on high alert.
The shower had helped Olivia’s hair, but only agitated the leech hickey on her neck and the bug bites on her arms. Deacon didn’t doubt for a second that they itched like hell. Or that she was sweating her butt off in the humid heat. But Olivia showed no signs of discomfort. She sat with a placid smile on her face as she took a sip of her tea.
“So the reason I’m here is because—”
“Don’t move,” Grayson said as his hand flew over the sketchpad. “Stay right where you are for just a second.”
“I apologize for my baby brother,” Nash said. “He’s so busy thinking with the right side of his brain that he doesn’t know how to socialize.”
“Because we all know which brain you think with, Nash,” Deacon cut in. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to work.” He took a step toward the door, but she stopped him.
“Please, Deacon. Just give me five minutes.”
The please had him taking his cell phone from his back pocket and glancing at the time. With the crack running down the center, it wasn’t easy to read. “You’ve got two.”
Taking another sip of her tea, Olivia cleared her throat as if preparing for a long speech. “I’m sure you were surprised by Uncle Michael’s death and the details of his—”
Nash cut her off before Deacon could get his mouth closed. “Uncle Michael is dead?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Michael’s lawyers haven’t contacted you?” She glanced around, and then answered the question herself. “I guess it makes sense, seeing how hard it was for me to find you.” She looked back at Nash, and tears flooded her eyes. “I’m sorry. Michael died two weeks ago after a severe stroke had hospitalized him.”
Deacon waited to feel something. Hurt. Pain. But all he felt was disappointment. Disappointment that he hadn’t been able to achieve success before Michael died. Disappointment that he could never rub that success in his uncle’s face.
“So if lawyers were supposed to tell us about Uncle Michael, why are you here?” he asked.
She turned her gaze on him. “Michael put you in his will.”
And there it was. After all the years Deacon had waited to be recognized by Michael, the man had waited until he was dead to do it. There was a moment when Deacon wanted to hit something. Instead he shoved down the anger and spoke in a deceptively calm voice. “Now why would he do that?”
Olivia shrugged. “Believe me when I tell you that I don’t have a clue. I can only guess that with you being his blood relatives, he thought it was the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do?” His anger flared. “Your stepfather wouldn’t have known the right thing to do if it bit him in the ass. He disowned his family and never looked back—even when they needed him most. And I will never forgive him for that.”
“Stop it, Deacon.” Nash got up from his chair. “The man is dead. You don’t need to point out his flaws now. And you certainly don’t need to take it out on Olivia.”
But that’s exactly what Deacon wanted to do. Now that he could no longer confront his uncle, there was only one person to take his anger out on. He glared at her, but she only stared right back with those deceptively innocent eyes.