Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [76]
“Liam—the worm.” Asha wiped her hands on the apron about her waist, then untied it.
“And Netta,” he added.
“Maybe they came for supper,” she said hopefully.
“With suitcases? Yeah, right.” Jago arched his eyebrow and then lifted his glass in salute. “Fe fi fo fudder . . . I smell the blood of a nosy big brother.”
Tossing the apron on the island counter, Asha flipped on the porch light for them. “I’m not sure fudder and brother really rhyme. This is my home. While he’s welcome for supper, I didn’t invite him for a co-ed slumber party.”
Liam opened the door of the screened in porch for Netta. Juggling a sack and his leather duffle, he permitted her to come on through to the kitchen. Asha pulled open the inside door and gave them a grin. Netta rolled her eyes and lifted her shoulders in a faint shrug, letting Asha know this wasn’t her idea.
“For you.” Netta chuckled and handed her a bouquet of cut mums.
“Thanks . . . I think.” Asha gave Liam a big fake smile, her eyes flashing daggers. “What a surprise. It’s been so long since we’ve seen you, Brother Dearest. What—an hour and a half at least?”
“I missed the scintillating conversation and delightful company,” Liam said, nonplused. He dropped his duffle and held up a sack with his other hand. “We brought steaks and a strawberry pie.”
“Which you stole from my diner.” Asha crossed her arms and glared at him.
Undeterred by her cool welcome, Liam leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t mind. Hey, I cooked and fed you brunch. Payback time.”
“I’d be delighted. Go fire up the grill; we can get the steaks going. I wouldn’t want you out past your bedtime.” She took a vase from under the sink, ran it half-full of water and then plopped the flowers in, not bothering to arrange them.
Liam turned and accepted the Scotch Jago handed him. “Dream on. I’m not driving back on that narrow cliff road in the dark.” Raising the glass, he offered a big grin. “Especially when I have been drinking. Fancy meeting you here, Fitzgerald.”
“Jago, don’t abet his fibs by feeding him The Macallan. He doesn’t deserve it.” Asha growled. As the cat waddled over and sniffed Liam’s leg, she smirked. “Sic him, Putty Tat. Him you can spray all you want.”
“Haven’t you named that animal yet?” her brother inquired.
“Liam, why are you here?” Asha asked, picking up the chopping knife.
Liam ignored the question. “You will learn, Jago, the men in my family strictly abide by three rules concerning my sisters. A matter of sheer survival, actually. First rule—never let any of them behind the wheel of a car when they’re pissed. Second—keep them away from sharp objects.” He took Asha’s hand and removed the knife from her grip. “And third and foremost—protect your breall. Of course, being males perhaps we should’ve made that rule number one.”
“Breall? Which is?”
“Breall—Gaelic for that which a man most treasures.”
Jago laughed. “All rules duly noted and filed away for future reference.” Accepting the long grill lighter from Asha, he repeated her question, “So, Liam, why are you here? Brother’s protective mode stuck in engage?”
“And here I thought you wanted me to seduce him to leaving the horse farm alone,” Asha taunted when Liam again failed to answer.
Jago picked up the cat and started outside. “This night could get very interesting. Puss.”
“Or stay very, very dull.” Netta fixed Liam with her blue eyes.
Jago wasn’t sure if that was a comment or a threat.
Despite still being mildly irked at Liam for pulling his big brother watchdog routine, Jago was in a mellow mood after the delicious steak and salad. He thoroughly enjoyed being at the river house,