Beach Lane. Sherryl Woods
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of her patience in never-before-imagined ways. Before she’d even had the first sip of her coffee, her uncle Mick came charging into the Chesapeake Shores real estate management company that she ran with her father.
“Where’s Jeff, that—” At her frown, he cut off the disparaging epithet he’d apparently been intent on using. “Your father, where is he?”
“Dad had an appointment with a client,” she said, then chose her next words about her father’s whereabouts carefully. She knew that this particular piece of property was a hot-button issue for Mick. “He’s showing her a house on Mill Road. It’s the third time she’s gone through the place. He’s almost certain she’s going to sign a contract today.”
Mick frowned, obviously clicking through his own mental data bank of properties on Mill Road. Then astonishment dawned. “The Brighton house? He’s finally going to unload that old eyesore? How’d he get the listing? Last I heard, no one in that family would even speak to an O’Brien.”
Susie hid a smile. It still stuck in her uncle’s craw that old Mr. Brighton had refused to sell him a key piece of shoreline property when he’d been developing Chesapeake Shores. Apparently the refusal had something to do with a Brighton-O’Brien family feud several generations back that neither coaxing nor big bucks had been able to resolve. For all Susie knew, some great-great-uncle’s rooster had chased a Brighton, who’d lopped off its head and cooked it for Sunday dinner. In her family that was all it would take to start a feud that could last for eons.
“Seems that way,” she confirmed. “Apparently Mr. Brighton’s heirs don’t have the same aversion to dealing with an O’Brien that he did.”
“Stubborn old coot,” Mick muttered.
“Why did you want to see Dad?” Susie asked. “Is there a problem?”
For years now the only things that brought the two brothers together were problems and the entreaties of their mother. Nell O’Brien insisted that even the sparring brothers and their families had to spend holidays under the same roof. Susie couldn’t recall a tension-free holiday meal in her entire lifetime. The antacid business probably thrived thanks to the O’Brien dynamics.
Mick and her dad could be civil for an hour or two, which was more than she could say for Mick and her uncle Thomas, at least until recently. Lately they’d apparently struck some kind of accord, which was akin to achieving peace in the Middle East. Like those treaties, Susie suspected this one didn’t have a lot of hope of lasting, though now that Thomas was with Connie Collins she seemed to have a soothing effect on him. She also seemed determined to maintain the détente.
“There’s water leaking in Shanna’s bookstore again,” Mick told Susie, referring to his daughter-in-law’s business on Main Street. “And, frankly, the plumbing in Megan’s gallery should be checked, too. The last thing she needs is a flood ruining all that expensive art.”
Susie gave him an innocent look. “Isn’t the art hanging on the walls?”
Her uncle scowled. “What’s your point?”
“Only that it would take quite a flood to ruin the paintings.” She beamed at him. “Besides, since you gave Megan that space for a dollar a year, didn’t you agree to take care of all the upkeep? I can look at the lease, if you like. We kept a copy here—at your insistence, as I recall.”
Mick gave her a sour look. “If your daddy stayed on top of details the way you do, he’d be a better businessman.”
“He doesn’t need to,” Susie retorted. “He has me. I will get the plumber over to Shanna’s today, though. The last thing we need is another insurance claim. And I can send him by Megan’s as well, as long as the bill comes to you.”
Though he looked disgruntled, Mick nodded. “That’ll do.” He studied her. “You’ll be at the house for Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Of course.”
He eyed her speculatively. “You bringing Mack?”
Susie stilled. “Why would I? I’ve never brought him before.”
“I’ve seen you around town with Mack Franklin for at least three years now,” Mick replied. “Maybe longer. Isn’t it time the two of you either got serious or called it quits? What kind of man drags his heels this long, and what sort of woman lets him? You deserve better than that, Susie. You’re an O’Brien, after all, even if you’re not one of mine. Nobody would have gotten away with treating one of my girls that way.”
“Mack and I aren’t dating,” Susie said stiffly. “We’re friends. Besides, how he treats me is none of your concern.”
Mick just shook his head. “Damned waste, if you ask me. Reel the man in or move on, that’s my advice.”
“Not that I asked for it,” Susie said. She’d heard some version of the same advice for a couple of years now from just about everyone in her family, and a few outsiders to boot. It was getting tiresome, mostly because it was sound advice she didn’t particularly want to heed.
Unfortunately, as crazy as she’d been about Mack for most of her life, she was also a realist. Handsome, sexy ex-jocks who dated sexy, sophisticated, powerful women weren’t going to be seriously interested in a woman who was ordinary on her very best day and downright pitiful when the sun freckled her pale skin and her bright red hair refused to be tamed. Despite a college degree and a few family trips to Ireland, Susie was basically a small-town girl, not Mack’s type at all.
Though Shanna, who was married now to Susie’s cousin Kevin, had suggested that Mack was as infatuated as she was, Susie didn’t entirely believe her. She’d also discovered it was next to impossible to break a non-dating pattern once it had been established. With Mack and her, it was practically carved in stone. Other than one kiss under the mistletoe that had gotten decidedly out of hand, their relationship was strictly platonic. That kiss, however, had given her enough hope to give things between them more time to heat up.
“Maybe I’ll ask Mack to dinner myself,” Mick said, studying Susie intently as if to gauge her reaction. “How about that?”
She shrugged. “Up to you.” Being around Mack wasn’t the problem. They were together all the time. Turning it into anything romantic, that was the problem. Tying him to her bed and having her wicked way with him seemed extreme, though she was getting desperate enough to consider it.
Beyond that, she didn’t have one single idea about how she could change things without risking total humiliation. She wondered what her uncle would have to say if she asked him straight out how to get Mack to make love to her. Her lips curved just thinking about Mick’s reaction to such a query.
Mick regarded her suspiciously. “What are you smiling about?”
“I was just wondering how far you’d be willing to take your meddling,” she said, studying him curiously.
“Meaning?”
“You pride yourself on getting all five of my cousins happily married. What do you think you could do to get Mack and me to the altar?”
At the immediate glint in his eye, she reconsidered her question. “Not that I’m asking you to intervene,” she said hurriedly. “I’m just wondering.”
Mick pulled up a chair and sat down, his expression suddenly serious. “Okay, let’s think about this. I imagine I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve that might work.”
The daring side of Susie’s nature failed her at the eagerness in his voice. The status quo might well be better than the disaster her uncle might unleash. “Never mind, Uncle Mick. I think I’d better deal with Mack myself.”
“You sure about that?” he asked, looking disappointed. “Like you said yourself a minute ago, I have a track record.”
Susie knew for a fact that most of her cousins had found true love despite their father’s interference, not because of it. “I’m