Grim Shadows (Roaring Twenties #2)(77)

She lifted her head to study his face. “That’s why he looks after things for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s the only way I can get him to accept any money. He’s stubborn. And that’s his prerogative.” He gave her a sad smile. “In the end, it doesn’t matter. They are still my family, whether she’s got my blood or Adam’s. I feel lucky to be in both their lives, and that’s enough.”

Hadley didn’t know what to say. Her feelings ran the gamut from jealousy and distress to pity and respect. And something more, she realized. Not only had he torn down the barrier she’d constructed around herself, he was dismantling bricks from his own wall—an invisible bulwark she hadn’t even known existed. He was right when he said he didn’t need to tell her any of this. If he hadn’t, she may never have been the wiser.

But now she did know. And what he’d revealed didn’t matter. She only cared that he’d wanted to share it with her. And her heart swelled with this new awareness.

“Do you think less of me now?” he asked softly. “Do you want me to go?”

She swirled tea leaves in the last bit of golden liquid at the bottom of her cup. “Awfully inconsiderate for you to leave now. Who would wash the dishes?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulders relax as he blew out a long breath. A few moments later, his hand slid across the table to coax her fingers into his. “What would you say to a nice hot bath?” he asked in a hopeful voice. “I saw your tub earlier. Looks big enough for both of us.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“But it will be fun to try, ja?”

“Ja,” she repeated as a quiet joy warmed her chest. “I think it really might.”

TWENTY-FIVE

LOWE WOULD’VE BEEN HAPPY to never leave Hadley’s bed, but his need for a change of clothes finally spurred him out of her apartment the next day. They’d made plans to regroup in the afternoon to hunt the third crossbar. But at this point, Lowe almost didn’t care if they were hunting rabbits, as long as he got to see her.

He rode Lulu down Mason like a madman, buzzing with bright satisfaction; when he came to a stop sign, he had to force himself not to stupidly grin at the passengers in the nearby car. A single night with Hadley and he was euphoric. Drunk on sex and the deep contentment of holding her in his arms. Nothing was better than feeling all her hard angles and sharp edges soften beneath his fingertips. Or collapsing on her breast after they’d come together and listening to her crazed heartbeat slow to a fierce, strong pulse that matched his. As if they were both sinking underwater, slowly drowning in pleasure.

But it wasn’t just that. It was everything. Her company. Her sharp wit. The way those dark eyes squinted when she smiled, with their upturned corners creating a shadowed line that seemed to go on forever. The way one slim brow lifted critically as she upbraided his wild ideas in that acerbic, posh accent of hers.

He had prepared himself for rebuke when he told her about Stella. He certainly wouldn’t have blamed her if it were too much for her to deal with. He’d never forget how his mother had wept uncontrollably when he told her. Disappointed in him, devastated by the impossible nature of the situation—no joy of grandchildren running around her home or even watching Stella from afar. Adam refused; he didn’t want to confuse the girl. And rightly so.

But Hadley accepted it. He’d watched her carefully later, sure that once she’d had time to think about it, she’d start pulling away from his touch again. But no. A small miracle. He’d never been so thankful.

As he urged Lulu toward Pacific Heights, the city became a blur, a little like the lazy thoughts streaming through his head. His world felt as if it had been tipped over, then righted. Like he hadn’t known how unbalanced he’d been until he experienced how much better it felt to be standing straight.

Every worry he’d had since he’d returned home seemed a little less hopeless. Every problem, fixable. His mind raced the motorcycle, churning out images of a shiny future with Hadley. A big house. A family. Her running the antiquities department. Him . . . well, he hadn’t figured that out yet. Traveling with his uncle wasn’t looking as exciting as it once did. Bad food, sweaty clothes, hard labor, illness, and no sleep. All of that was tolerable when you were running away from something. But not when you had something to run to. Or someone.

Maybe going back to dig in the wretched sun wouldn’t be so bad if she was at his side. He pictured her walking around the desert in a traditional Egyptian galabiya dress and smiled. Maybe she’d have an easier time than he did. Maybe it would be worth it to see the look on her face when she strolled around the temple ruins.

He was considering all this as he galloped up the side steps of his family home. And after swinging open the screen door, he nearly slammed into Winter, who stood unmoving and icier than a side of beef in a cooler.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“And a fine f*cking day to you,” Lowe said, shouldering around him.

Winter held out a hand. “Out all night and you come in looking like this? What were you out doing? Whoring?”

Lowe angled his face inches away from his brother’s. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“Defensive about that curator, aren’t you?” Mismatched eyes narrowed over a dark, stilted smile. “Oh, yes. I know. Greta told me you brought the woman here.”