Almost A Bravo. Christine Rimmer
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they shook hands in the waiting room, he touched her. His long fingers closed around her arm. “Wait.” The feel of his skin on hers made her heart race.
She froze, looked down at where he held her, and then back up at him. “Let go, Jax.”
“Sorry.” He released her.
“I’ll get back to you,” she promised because she didn’t know what else to say. Whirling on her heel, she headed for her car, walking fast, half expecting him to try again to stop her.
But he didn’t come after her. She kept her gaze forward, never once looking back. She knew that if she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing there, so tall and strong and proud, in good black jeans, town boots and a crisp white shirt, she would give in and agree to do anything he needed her to do.
* * *
Keely Ostergard Bravo’s gallery, Sand & Sea, two blocks from the beach on Manzanita Avenue in Valentine Bay’s historic district, had a profitable afternoon that day.
It was August, after all. The morning fog had cleared, leaving the sky a pure, endless blue. Perfect tourist weather on the Oregon coast.
Aislinn had relieved the manager, Amanda Cruz, who went off to run errands. Aislinn spent the next few hours dealing with a steady stream of customers on her own. That was fine with her. Staying busy kept her mind off the abject awfulness of all she’d learned that morning.
Amanda came back in at four to close up. Aislinn went home to the cottage where she lived with her sisters Hailey and Harper. The two had recently graduated from OU down in Eugene.
The cottage was a family property built in the ’40s, a rambling collection of rooms, all on one level, with two baths and four bedrooms. Her ancient great-uncle Percy Valentine had given it to her as a gift for her twenty-fifth birthday with the understanding that she would welcome any siblings who needed a place to stay.
Neither of her sisters’ cars were out in front when she got there, which was good. She had this feeling that if they saw her face, they would know something was wrong and they would demand that she tell them everything. She wasn’t ready to talk about any of it—not until after she’d met with her brothers, anyway.
Before going inside, she visited Luna and Bunbun, her German angora rabbits. The pair had the run of half of her front porch, which was enclosed, rabbit-proofed and equipped with a roomy hutch they wandered in and out of at will—except on the rare occasions that she needed them caged.
Needing comfort, she got down on the porch floor with them and indulged in a long cuddle session. She buried her face in their enormous clouds of fur, lavished them with rubs and pets, all the while murmuring silly endearments.
Once she’d loved them up thoroughly, she filled their hay racks, refreshed their food and water and cleaned their litter boxes. And then, leaving them happily noshing away, she went on into the house.
It was far too quiet inside. All her fury and misery at what had happened in Astoria that morning came flooding back. She made herself a sandwich, sat at the table and cried for a while.
She really needed to talk to her best friend. Aislinn and Keely never kept secrets from each other. If Keely was here, Aislinn could get it all out, tell her friend everything.
But Keely was off on her honeymoon. Confiding in her would have to wait.
Glumly chewing her sandwich, Aislinn group-texted three of her brothers—Matthias, Connor and Liam—all of whom, so the story went, had been there in Montedoro when she was born. Daniel had been there, too. But he was with Keely in Bora Bora and Aislinn wasn’t bothering him, either. Daniel and Keely had had more than enough challenges to face in the past few months. They deserved their honeymoon in paradise, a beautiful time for just the two of them, 100 percent free of family drama.
There’s something important I really need to talk to you guys about, she texted her brothers. Beers at Beach Street Brews? Seven sharp. I’m buying.
Actually, she preferred a little bar called the Sea Breeze that Keely’s mother, Ingrid Ostergard, had bought, remodeled and reopened just a month ago, on Independence Day. But Keely’s mom would be there. And Grace, the youngest of the Bravo siblings, probably would, too. Gracie had started working for Ingrid during the Sea Breeze’s remodeling phase.
And the fewer family members around for this particular conversation, the better. Aislinn still hadn’t decided how much to tell her brothers. It was all a big mess. She was a mess.
A mess who had no idea who she really was.
Her brothers got right back to her. They would all three be there at the brewpub at seven o’clock.
That made her cry again. Who had such great brothers—big, handsome guys who dropped everything to be there if their sister needed them? They were the best. What if it turned out they really weren’t even hers?
* * *
Beach Street Brews was a barnlike place with scuffed wide-plank floors and rows of high-sided wooden booths lining the tin-paneled walls. The acoustics were terrible. On the weekends when they had live music, conversation was impossible.
But early on a Wednesday evening, it wasn’t so bad. Matthias had gotten there first. Matt was ex-military. Now he worked as a game warden with the Oregon State Police.
He was out of uniform tonight. When Aislinn slipped into the booth next to him, he poured her a beer from the pitcher he’d already ordered.
“You okay, Ais?” he asked. “You look kinda down.”
“Been better,” she admitted.
His golden-brown eyebrows drew together in concern, but before he could say anything more, Connor and Liam showed up.
Matt poured them beers and they talked about the warm weather and how Connor was doing over at Valentine Logging. He was running the family company while Daniel was on his honeymoon. Aislinn sipped her beer and watched their dear faces, their gold-kissed eyebrows and tawny hair.
George Bravo had had dark brown hair and blue eyes. Marie was blue-eyed, too, and a natural blonde. All of their children had blue eyes and none of them had hair any darker than medium brown.
Except Aislinn.
Her mom had always claimed that she was special, different. And her dad used to say she took after the Bravo side of the family. He’d had six brothers and a couple of them were dark-eyed with almost-black hair. Her mom used to say she looked French—a little French princess, born in a villa on the Cote d’Azur. Aislinn had loved that, loved being the different one.
Until today.
Matt asked, “So, what’s going on with you, Ais?”
“Is everything okay?” asked Liam, burnished eyebrows drawing together.
At home, she’d debated whether or not to tell all and decided she ought to be totally honest, offer full disclosure. But now, sitting in that booth, her gaze bouncing from one well-loved face to another, she just couldn’t go there, couldn’t tell them outright that she might not be their sister, that she’d taken their real sister’s place, while the true Aislinn had gone off to California to become Hollywood royalty.
Later for all that.
“I’ve been thinking about Mom,” she began. “About the story she always told me, that I was born in Montedoro.”
“The Montedoro trip.” Connor mock-saluted with his glass of beer. “Mom just had to go there, even though she was almost eight months’ pregnant with you.”
“And, of course,” Liam added, “she and Dad took us along—not that I remember a thing about it. I was what, three?”
And Matt had been five, Connor four. Daniel, seven at the time, would probably remember the most of the four of them. Too bad he was off somewhere in paradise with Keely.
Matt