Page 34 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Blakely

“ W hat’s wrong?” Renn reaches for me across the middle console. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet this evening.”

I let him have my hand but stare out the window.

The community we entered a few minutes ago, one that’s a short drive from Renn’s, is more upscale than his.

And I don’t know what to do with it . Mansions that must expand into five digits in square footage make the luxury cars in the driveway look like toys. It’s overwhelming.

I’m intimidated.

My stomach has been upset all day—since last night, really, when Renn said we’d talk after his mother’s dinner.

He’s acted normally toward me, more or less.

He’s a little on edge. Jumpy. His brows pinch together when he thinks I’m not looking.

I’m confident it’s not a health issue like Brock’s, but I don’t know what’s bothering him.

And I hate it.

The unknown screws with my confidence and messes with my heart. I feel my walls going up, readying to protect me from impending doom. I’m aware of this reaction; it’s a weakness. I know I should give Renn the benefit of the doubt, especially because he hasn’t given me a real reason not to.

But pain is pain, and I’m unprepared for the heartbreak he could deliver.

“You look beautiful,” he says, removing his hand to downshift.

We pull onto a circular driveway in front of a three-story home. The sun’s final rays give the home a backdrop of amethyst and ruby. It’s as though Mother Nature feels compelled to contribute to the wealth of this family.

Renn turns off the main drive and around a half wall. On the other side is a line of cars that cost more than the GDP of small nations.

Holy fuck .

“It’s just my family,” he says, warily. “Remember that. These are just my parents and siblings. It’s not a big deal.”

“If these machines are their daily drives, this is a big deal.”

He cuts the engine. “What’s the worst that could happen? Give me your worst-case scenario.”

“I don’t know. I make a fool out of myself?”

He grins. “Impossible. But let’s say you manage it. You’ll still be adorable.”

I smile as he kisses me.

“Now, come on,” he says, opening his door. “The sooner we get this started, the sooner it’s over.”

“Amen.”

I round the front of his car, taking in his good looks. His hair is fixed in his I woke up like this style. He wears dark denim jeans and a checkered button-up that he refused to tuck in. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows.

“Did you keep everything Astrid sent?” he asks, snatching my hand again.

“No. Did you see the price tag on some of those clothes? It’s outrageous.”

He chuckles as we walk to the door. “Did it all fit?”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’m adding this to our talking points for later.”

I roll my eyes. “You can shove your talking points up your ass.”

He chuckles.

“I’m not being funny. I’m scared shitless over here, and …”

I hiccup a breath, refusing to look at him. Fuck. I just made it perfectly clear that I’m afraid of what he will say.

Way to be transparent, Blakely. Not your best move.

He withdraws his hand from the doorknob and turns to me. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

A burst of laughter comes from the other side of the door. My stomach drops, and my palms sweat.

He squares his shoulders to mine. “I had things to take care of—things that I didn’t want to talk about until I found my way through them. Things I didn’t want you to worry about.”

I search his eyes. “That doesn’t help.”

“Blakely, you have to understand?—”

“There you are!” The door flies open, and a tall, dark-headed woman stands like a model on the threshold. “We’re waiting on you. Get in here.”

Renn kisses the woman on the cheek and leads me in behind him.

My cheeks flush as I take in the ornate furnishings in what’s more of a museum than a home.

There’s a bust of someone important, I assume.

Large paintings hang proudly on the walls and chandeliers the size of compact cars hang from the ceiling.

I’m out of my league .

“Easy, Mom,” Renn says, stepping to the side. “Blakely, this is my mother, Rory Brewer. Mom, this is my wife, Blakely. Don’t smother her.”

“Darling, hello.” Rory pulls me in for a hug. The medallion attached to her necklace presses sharply into my chest. I try not to wince. “It is so nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Brewer.”

“No. I’m Rory or you can call me Mom.” She smiles brightly. It’s the same smile Renn uses when he’s happy. “You can set your purse right there unless you want to keep it with you. Let’s introduce you to the rest of our brood.”

I hang my purse on the hook Rory indicated and clutch Renn’s hand like a lifeline. We make our way into a massive kitchen. It’s all gray and white marble—the floors, backsplash, and the countertops. Copper pots and pans, which I doubt have ever been used, hang over the middle of the island.

But around the island—that’s the most fascinating part of the scene. By far.

They’re attractive. Stunning. Jaw-droppingly beautiful.

All of them.

“Blakely, this is my family,” Renn says. “That’s my sister, Bianca. She’s a child genius.”

Bianca grins, her perfectly red lips showing off perfectly white teeth. “I’m only a genius compared to these baboons.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say.

“That’s Gannon. He’s a dick.”

“Renn!” Rory gasps. “Where are your manners?”

He shrugs, smirking at his mother.

Gannon holds a glass of amber-colored liquid. He does a quick assessment of me and winks. I smile back politely but withhold judgment. I’m not sure what to think about him.

“That’s Jason,” Renn says, pointing at his brother, whom I met briefly on the plane home from Australia. He’s tall and thin—strikingly like the man beside him. “That’s Ripley.”

“Welcome to the family,” he says warmly.

I instantly like him. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“And that is Tate .” Renn enunciates Tate’s name in a way that amuses his brother. “Tate, this is my wife .”

Tate smiles broadly at me, obviously working to annoy his brother. “Hi … sis .”

“Hi, brother,” I say, playing into the opening Tate gave me.

“ Don’t ,” Renn says just before his siblings start laughing. “Fuck y’all.”

Rory shakes her head like she’s given up.

“Sorry,” I say, sliding an arm around Renn’s waist and laying my head on his shoulder. “I’ve heard a lot about you all. It’s nice to meet you.”

Tate walks toward us. He’s the same height as Renn but without the bulk. He’s strong but leaner—not a professional athlete. His eyes are kind and playful. His swagger, complete with a hand in one pocket, makes me laugh.

“Wanna see my bedroom?” Tate asks me, teasing his brother.

Renn punches him in the shoulder. Hard.

Tate shakes his arm. “Don’t make me take you down right here.”

“You can’t take me down,” Renn says, scoffing.

Tate grins. “I wasn’t talking about you.” He moves just in time before Renn reaches for him. “All those muscles are slowing you down, old man.”

I laugh at their antics.

“And last but not least. Blakely, this is my father, Reid Brewer,” Renn says, the words cooler than he used with the others. “Dad. This is Blakely.”

“Hello, Mr. Brewer,” I say.

“Hello, Blakely.” He flips his attention from me to Renn and then to Gannon.

The chatter begins in earnest again, with everyone talking at once. It’s quite a spectacle—eight people talking simultaneously but somehow carrying on a conversation.

My nerves settle as I watch them and have a moment to acclimate to the situation.

Upon closer inspection, I spot pictures of all of them in various stages of their lives sitting on a mantel and pinned to the refrigerator.

Fresh flowers that look freshly picked fill a Mason jar next to a tray of vegetables.

A cutting board with the lyrics of a hymn leans against the backsplash next to the sink.

It’s not cozy like Renn’s house. But it’s their home . It’s where they all congregate and come when they need help. For family dinners or to watch the big game.

“So, Blakely, tell us about yourself,” Rory says, taking the tops off various foil pans.

The sound lessens a few decibels.

Oh . I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and try not to fixate on all their attention landing on me. Why does this feel like a job interview ?

“I graduated from college with a bachelor’s in business management,” I say. “I work for Mason Music Label and love what I do. My brother is Brock Evans, but I’m sure you all know that.”

I love cooking, like the color peach, red roses, and fall weather. Oh, and I love your son, but it’s not reciprocated.

“That’s exciting,” Rory says. “And ironic.”

“Why?”

She looks at me and smiles. “Well, Mason Music Label is owned by Coy Mason. He is one of my good friends, Siggy Mason’s son.” She laughs. “What a small world.”

I glance at my ring.

“Yes, that’s her,” Bianca says. “The jewelry designer. Mom has the hookup.”

“Do you like your wedding ring?” Rory asks.

“We sent Renn fifty or sixty options,” Bianca says, laughing. “He was so picky—wouldn’t settle until he found the exact one.” She makes a face at her brother. “You’re so cute, Renny.”

“Wow,” I say, smiling at my husband. “That’s really sweet.”

It wasn’t Astrid . He chose this for me. That makes me love it even more.

“Don’t buy into the bullshit,” Ripley jokes from across the room.

Renn points at him, walking his way while firing a retort. Ripley’s smile never leaves his face.

“I do love it,” I say, returning to Bianca and Rory. “It’s gorgeous. I can’t imagine anything more beautiful.”

Rory takes a stack of plates out of the cabinet. “He did do a good job. I was very proud. Raising a boy with taste is so hard.”

Bianca looks over her shoulder at the men at the island. “One out of five sons isn’t bad.”

Rory laughs. “I have hope for Jason.”