Chapter 20

20

He was avoiding her. Well, Meyra was avoiding him, too. Partially because the inn had gotten a little busier than expected, and she'd had to work. But mostly because she didn't know what to do now. And he was busy with his family—she didn't want to interrupt.

An excuse, and she knew it. She'd deliberately hidden from him—much like she suspected his sister had hidden from Gunnar Erickson.

Men could be so confusing.

Brandt's family stayed three more days, but those women and girls from Finley Creek stayed another day after them. Meyra tried not to watch them too much. She didn't think he was related to those two women—but they had brown hair and eyes like his sister and seemed to know them all really well. Even the blond guy Gunnar, who Meyra thought was Brandt's sister's boyfriend. He'd stayed, but Brandt's sister had left.

Meyra had seen Brandt's sister and Gunnar kissing in the hallway on the security monitors in the back office earlier that morning—but she would keep that fact to herself. She'd seen one of the Finley Creek women arguing with the other cop from Finley Creek on the monitors, too.

They were beautiful women. Really beautiful women. She'd seen men in the hotel looking at them. They'd looked at them when the women were in the diner. Jack Masterson had talked to them, too. So had Quade Davis.

Even Martin Tyler had looked at the older of the two women and tried to get her attention. He'd talked to her about her little girls. It was obvious he was interested in her and everything. Martin was a bit on the flirty side. Her cousin Darcey had told her that before. Said he seriously lacked the ability to make a commitment, unlike the rest of the superhot Tylers running around Masterson. She'd called him a Commitment Coward, whatever that meant. Meyra didn't ask.

No one talked to Darcey about Martin Tyler. Ever.

She checked out the two women and asked them if they'd enjoyed their time at the inn. The little girl with them jabbered something about snow being frozen water and very, very cold. She was a really pretty little girl and looked just like her mommy. Meyra had always liked the kid guests best. They were honest and the easiest to figure out.

"Thanks again," the older of the two women said. She was around Meyra's sister Miranda's age, she thought. She had that really confident thing Miranda had, too. And Darcey. Maybe that was why Martin had looked at her that way? Darcey said men liked women who were confident.

Then the women were gone after the woman said something about Finley Creek being the last place she really wanted to go back to right now—and that Daniel McKellen was going to pay for something in very dire ways. Meyra didn't really understand what she meant. But Charlotte had asked that woman to wait to exact revenge until Charlotte was back in Finley Creek again in two days. So Charlotte could watch— she and Daniel McKellen were mortal enemies and everything.

Her family could be seriously complicated. Charlotte was no exception.

Charlotte was traveling back and forth between Texas and Wyoming to work in the forensics lab down there since her friends had been shot on a case or something, and Wyoming where she was still filming a movie with the Davis brothers. It was exhausting her cousin—but Meyra suspected Charlotte would never say that out loud. She'd just do what she had to do because her friends needed her to.

Meyra checked the clock. Her shift had ended ten minutes ago—not that that really mattered in her family, they finished when the guests did—and now she was going to grab something to eat from the dining room and go to her suite for a while. She was tired. She hadn't slept very well—not since what had happened to Brandt.

And she was going to avoid him again. Until she figured that kiss out and everything.

She was halfway across the lobby when someone stepped into her path. She looked up. A long way up. Into familiar blue eyes.

"Hello. Running away from me yet again, little one?"

Oh. He must have followed the two women outside to tell them goodbye. She'd seen him holding that little baby girl earlier. Brandt had looked really sweet like that. She'd been a very pretty baby, too. Quade Davis had dressed her up like a baby Wonkus McBubbles, using a Wonkus onesie they sold in the lobby gift shop. That baby had looked a lot like Wonkus McBubbles after they'd slicked her hair up like that. It had been funny, and it had made the baby's mom laugh.

That woman had had a sucky day, and it had been nice to hear her laugh after that.

Meyra had gotten to hold the baby for a minute when her mom was talking to one of those men from Texas. Charlotte had just sort of taken her from Brandt's sister and let Meyra hold her. It was kind of rude, really, even though Meyra had really wanted to hold her. Meyra would try to figure out Charlotte again later. She'd spent a lot of time trying to do that through the years. "Your nieces are beautiful little girls."

"They are beautiful little girls, but we aren't related. They live next door to my brother Alex. Them being here was purely coincidence. The older woman is a cop who works with Gunnar in Major Crimes. She is in some sort of a running feud with my brother Mac. And Cara, the younger one, works—well, worked—with my sister and brothers at the law firm. She's in some sort of running feud with my brother Alex. She's a good friend of my sister."

"She doesn't any longer?" He was toying with her braid, running his fingers over the band. Why was he doing that? His fingers trailed over her neck. She shivered.

His eyes almost darkened, got more intense. For a moment, she thought he was going to scoop her up and carry her away. Like, maybe guys still did that? She'd read a few romance novels—Nikki liked to give her books to read sometimes—and guys did that in those. But those were all historicals. Not now, for heaven's sake. Men were not allowed to scoop women up and carry them off like that in real life. It just didn't work that way.

"No. Alex was an ass to her, and she quit. My sister stopped talking to him because of it. She's hoping to convince that girl to come back. Now that Cara doesn't hate Alex any longer. At least as much, anyway."

"I see." She didn't. But what else could she say? And when had his hand wrapped around her elbow like that?

"My brother has a thing for her. Cara. But she doesn't seem to realize it. I know exactly how he feels. I have lived that life—for two years now." There was something in his tone she just didn't quite understand. Something in his eyes.

Was he implying she was like Cara or something? Well, maybe he was. Cara had autism, too. They'd talked about it a few times.

Meyra had spent some time talking to that girl. She had been a guest, after all. And that girl had sat in the hotel lobby with those little girls for hours. "She has autism. She told me. She talks about having autism a lot. More than I do. She says she thinks one of her aunts has it too. And maybe her little cousin Maris. I think she likes to talk to other people with it so she can understand how different we all are. She talked to Dahlia, too. We both did."

"I know. Powell is planning to adopt Cara as a little sister, I think."

"Joel said something about Heather at dinner the other night. About her sister being shot recently and almost dying." Like he had. Meyra fought a shiver. She would never forget that night. Ever. Nor would she forget how she had felt finding him. She thought about those two women—how close they seemed. They were family. Like the Talleys were. "If something happened to one of my sisters or cousins or my dad—something else, I mean—I would be terrified."

"Her sister is recuperating at home now, I think. But it was pretty serious. Family matters more than anything. I liked holding the baby. I'm hoping my brothers and sister will get to it, start making me some nieces and nephews soon."

"I like babies, too. And little kids."

He kind of stiffened a little. Looked at her that way again. The way he just did sometimes—and had almost from the moment they had first met. She still hadn't figured out that look yet. "Do you want kids someday? Eventually, I mean?"

She thought for a moment. "I think I do. If the guy was right, anyway. Probably two or three. Maybe four, if I'm good at being a mom. I like having sisters. I'd want my babies to have each other, too."

"I like having two brothers and a Powelling. Four sounds like a nice number to me, too." His hands were on her elbows now. Just touching. It felt good. "Definitely doable."

She wouldn't mind letting Brandt touch her other places.

The stray thought came completely out of nowhere. Had her looking at him, probably like she was stupid or something, and then the words just came out. "Why did you kiss me that night? In November? And…the other night?"

Meyra just looked up at the man and waited.

Because being that close to her and not kissing her was something he hadn't been able to handle for even a single minute longer. But telling her that would be one quick way to destroy his plans. He reminded himself he couldn't come on too strong. That would be a surefire way to send her running. "Why do you think I kissed you?"

"I…don't know, actually. Because it was an impulse, maybe? I am not that great at figuring out men. Especially men like you."

Brandt brushed his fingers over the soft skin of her arms. He wanted to touch her everywhere. He dreamed of touching her everywhere. He hadn't touched another woman since he had first realized what he felt for her. He hadn't touched a woman in far, far too long.

"Do you always kiss women on impulse?"

"No. Not usually." Brandt couldn't help himself. He'd sat there for practically four days and watched his brother Alex next to the woman Alex wanted. He'd seen Gunnar almost breathing for Powell for just as long—that guy had it bad for Brandt's sister. And Brandt liked Gunnar. He thought the other man could be good for Powell if she just wasn't so reluctant.

And then there had been his eldest brother. Mac was thirty-six now and showed no signs of a serious relationship on the horizon with anyone. At heart, Brandt thought his brother was lonely. Mac wanted a family, too. Brandt was almost convinced of it. Mac had held Heather's baby quite a bit and had played with her preschooler—when Heather wasn't around to snarl at him.

Those two really did not get along.

But Mac would be a great dad someday. Just like their father still was.

His brother was just so consumed with his work—Mac didn't seem to have room for a woman and kids in his life now. Even though Mac would be good at it. Brandt was one hundred percent convinced of that. But Mac was a workaholic through and through.

Brandt wanted the exact opposite of that. More, he needed the exact opposite of that. Yes, he was going to build something his kids could be proud of. But not at the exclusion of having the time to have that family in the first place. And the only woman he wanted that with was right there, practically in his arms.

But they were right in the center of the damned inn's lobby. Anyone could walk by them at any moment. "I want to kiss you again."

Green eyes widened. Her mouth trembled. She moistened her lips quickly. Nervously. Brandt's entire body tightened in instant lust. She didn't know what she did to a man. She just didn't. "Here?"

"I'd kiss you wherever I could get you to kiss me back, but…this isn't exactly private." Brandt lifted one hand to her cheek. He just had to touch her. "I've found I have very poor impulse control where you are concerned."

"But why?"

She just didn't get it. Brandt felt a mix of exasperation and fascination. "Because I want you, Meyra Talley. I have wanted you for years. Almost from the moment I met you—certainly from the moment I realized you were older than I had originally thought you were. And I have waited long enough. So, be forewarned. I am a man who always gets what he wants. You are what I want. I have waited long enough. It is taking every bit of restraint I have to not just scoop you up, carry you off somewhere, and show you exactly what you do to me."

Her mouth formed the most perfect O. He had to laugh. And he leaned down, pressed his mouth to hers for one brief moment.

Brandt turned—and walked away.

Maybe he had jumped the gun, but damn it. He was a Barratt. Barratt men weren't used to waiting for what they wanted. He meant every word—Brandt had waited for her long enough.