“It’s definitely my dream house,” he commented.
The outside of the Spanish Colonial Revival house was white stucco with dark brown shutters and a red-tile roof. Balconies with wrought-iron railings extended from every upstairs room, and massive palm trees, which looked old enough to have been planted before the house was built, stretched high above the roof line. Bright pink bougainvillea grew up the side walls of the five-car garage near where Onyx parked the SUV that had been waiting for them at the airfield. Weathered terracotta pots, overflowing with flowers and vines, dotted the circular drive and the welcoming entryway leading to the massive wooden door.
“Welcome,” said Doc, walking out holding a baby. “This is Laird,” he said when the boy tried to squirm out of his arms.
“How old is he?” Malin asked, holding out her finger for him to grab.
“Almost five months.”
Malin’s eyes opened wide. The baby was huge, but looking at his father, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.
“Merrigan is inside.” Doc motioned toward the door that led into the main room. It had massive, dark wood beams on the ceiling and a fireplace that sat opposite the front door and matched the color of the home’s exterior.
Dark leather chairs and sofas sat on the tile floors and Mexican rugs. They walked from that room into the kitchen, the dining room, and out a double door that led to a patio where Merrigan was snipping herbs from a large pot similar to the ones that lined the driveway and front door.
“Hi,” she said, setting her shears and the herbs on the table and wiping her hands on her pants. “You must be Malin,” she said with an accent that sounded more Scottish than English.
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Malin, shaking the woman’s outstretched hand. “You have a beautiful home, and baby.”
“I have to admit that I think so too, although I’m not sure how long we’ll be able to call Laird beautiful.” Merrigan smiled at her husband, who beamed back at her. “He’s handsome, right, Kade?”
The woman hugged Dutch and Onyx and then introduced herself to Sofia.
“He wants his mum,” Merrigan said as the baby scrambled from his father’s arms
to hers. “Are you hungry?” she asked them.
“How about you, Dutch? Are you hungry?” Malin asked, smiling.
Dutch grabbed her nape, pulled her close to him, and kissed her temple. “You’re teasing me.”
Malin put her arm around his waist and her head on his shoulder. “He’s always hungry.”
“Lunch is almost ready,” Merrigan told them, leading them back into the house.
“Can I help?” Malin asked when Merrigan set the baby in a high chair and started pulling things out of the refrigerator. “Although I won’t be as helpful as Sofia, given she’s a veritable chef.”
Merrigan clapped her hands and directed Sofia to where she had several ingredients ready for a large salad.
“You could slice the bread, if you wouldn’t mind,” she said to Malin, who turned the warm loaf upside down before slicing it.
“You’re a baker,” Merrigan commented.
“Not as much as I used to be, but my dad and I always made fresh bread on the weekend.”
“That’s a lovely memory.”
Malin murmured her agreement and looked over at Dutch, who was studying her. She felt her cheeks flush and heat spread down her neck when he winked at her.
“Is it a bad thing to say I love seeing her in the kitchen?” she heard Dutch ask Doc and Onyx, who were sitting with him at the table.
“I don’t know. Is it, Fatale?” Doc asked his wife.
“It doesn’t bother me. Does it you, Malin? What about you, Sofia?”
“My dream is to own a restaurant,” Sofia responded, turning to look at Onyx, who was beaming at her in the same way Dutch was looking at Malin and Doc at Merrigan.
“Malin?” Dutch asked.