Free At First Touch (The Malone Brothers) by Cindy Miles Page A

Jep glanced up, his white eyebrows bunched together.
    “You gonna watch or sit in, boy?” he asked.
    Eric held his hands up. “I’m out tonight, fellas. Four o’clock comes early.” He nodded when his grandfather grumbled. “You two pirates continue on. Where’s Nathan?”
    “In the shop, hopefully finishing up my chess table,” Jep added.
    “How’s Reagan holding up?” Owen asked.
    Eric shrugged and met his father’s eye. “Holding. Did you know she can paint like a demon? I’m talking art-gallery painting.” Eric shook his head. “Totally blew me away. Night.” Eric headed for the stairs, then paused two steps up at the sound of Jep’s gravelly voice.
    “If that boy ain’t careful he’s gonna end up with that girl’s fist in his eye,” Jep grumped. “Deal me two more, Owen.”
    “Dad,” his father crooned in that way he did when Jep was getting out of sorts. “Eric can handle himself just fine. Might be just what that poor girl needs. He can sure lift a spirit, that’s for sure. His own needs lifting, as well.”
    “Yep, and he can sure piss a person off, too. Fist in his face, I tell ya. Paintbrush in the eye, if he doesn’t watch out. Your turn, son.”
    Eric smiled and climbed the stairs. His grandpa was a damn character. He brushed his teeth, then crossed the hall to his room, pulled his shirt over his head, kicked his boots and jeans off and climbed into bed. He set his cell on the nightstand, alarm set for 4:00 a.m., and closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again, staring at the blades on the ceiling fan as they went round and round. The moonlight split through the crack in the drapes, causing a shard of silver to fall over his bed.
    Reagan Rose Quinn. Honorably discharged airman, blinded by a freak accident. Beautiful as all holy hell. And could paint images like nobody’s business. Not only dealing with her own recent accident, but now the death of a friend.
    And she was mad. He couldn’t blame her. It was a lot to take in.
    He lay there, wishing sleep to come. Begging it to come. His eyes were wide open, though, and his thoughts stayed on Reagan. He liked her fire. Her spirit. He didn’t know her, really, but he was a pretty decent judge of character. And he liked Reagan’s.
    Hopefully, she’d grow comfortable with him. With the rest of the family. Open up. Try to face her new future head-on. He couldn’t imagine someone like her wilting away to nothing. Emily had asked him to push, and he’d said he would.
    And he would. It wasn’t going to be easy, though. Not at all, For either of them. Because pushing meant growing closer. He’d allowed his heart to fully open to Celeste, and she’d crushed it. Thoroughly. He’d planned on a life with her, someone to have babies and grow old with. Have a big family, just like the one he’d grown up in. Celeste had taken that dream and thrown it away.
    Maybe it’d been his dream only, all along?
    What would happen if he opened his heart fully to Reagan, only for her to later break it? Could he handle that again?
    He’d even wondered if Celeste would ever come back to him. Would he trust his heart to her if she did?
    Would he even want to?
    * * *
    R EAGAN LISTENED TO Emily’s Jeep as the tires crunched over the gravel of the driveway, until the roar of the motor grew farther and farther away. After she’d showered and wrapped her hair in one fluffy towel, she put another towel around her body, pushed her feet into a pair of flip-flops and, deciding she could manage without that annoying stick, made her way to the back veranda. When she opened the door, bright sunlight fell against her cheeks, and she eased out, found a chair and sat. Closing her eyes, Reagan let the morning wash over her, trying to focus on the sounds of the marsh instead of the turmoil inside her head. Already she felt tired. Nothing interested her. She had zero motivation.
    “Dear God, I’ve gone straight to heaven.”
    Reagan jumped where she sat.