“Granddad left the business to his three kids. After he passed, my dad and Deacon’s dad had to buy out Aunt Suzette’s shares, but she forced them to keep her only kid, Clive, on the payroll. If my dad and Deacon’s dad had their way, they’d continue to run the company and work past retirement age, like our granddad did, despite the road bumps JFW Development has hit recently.”
Deacon said nothing.
The waiter delivered dessert and coffee, interrupting the awkward silence.
Molly nearly drooled over the luscious caramelized crust and the artful drizzle of raspberry sauce across the plate. A cluster of chocolate-covered raspberries on mint sprigs completed the presentation. “This looks almost too beautiful to eat.”
Deacon picked up her spoon and cracked the crust, scooping out a bite of the crème brûlée. “Open,” he said huskily.
She parted her lips, and the smooth creaminess flowed across her taste buds. She managed—barely—not to moan with delight.
A devilish light entered Deacon’s eyes, and he took a bite, since he’d forgone a dessert of his own. “Almost as sweet as your kisses, darlin’.”
Molly popped a chocolate-covered raspberry in her mouth. Don’t moan. But it definitely deserved a moan.
“Speaking of sweet, D, hand me the sugar, please,” Tag said.
“One of these days you’ll learn to drink your coffee like a man, without all that froufrou shit.”
“If I stirred it with my dick, would that make me more of a manly coffee drinker?”
Deacon held his hands up. “Go for it. It’d be a change for you, having blisters on your dick from something besides excessive use of the palm of your hand.”
These two. God. They fought like siblings. “Deacon is the only one not involved in the family business?”
“Yes, but I’d argue that Clive isn’t contributing much,” Tag said dryly.
“As an only child myself, I find it interesting that all of your parents had only one kid.”
“Well, they each have only one kid now.”
That pulled her attention away from her dessert. She looked at Tag. “Did one of them have a child die?”
Total silence.
Tag’s gaze moved from Deacon to Molly and back to Deacon. Anger flared in his eyes. “She doesn’t know?”
Deacon remained statue still.
A bad feeling took root. “What don’t I know?”
“Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you?” Tag demanded.
“Shut your fucking mouth, Tag.”
“What is going on?” Molly asked Deacon.
He wouldn’t even look at her.
Tag said, “Molly—”
“Leave it be.” Deacon slammed his fist on the table. “I’m fucking warning you.”
Whatever this was, it was bad. She locked her gaze on Tag. “Tell me.”
“This should’ve come from him, not me.” Tag paused, giving Deacon a chance to jump in.
But Deacon stayed frozen in place, hands in fists, his jaw clenched, his lips firmly closed.
“Deacon had a brother. Dante. He died when he was fifteen.”
The blood drained from her face. Deacon had a brother he’d never mentioned? Why would he keep something that big from her?
“You had no right,” Deacon said in a quiet, deadly voice that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
“She’s your girlfriend—the first one you’ve had since—”
“Shut up!”
Molly gaped at Deacon.
Tag kept talking. “She should know this about you because it sure as fuck changed you. It changed all of us, but we haven’t locked it away like you have.”
“It’s not locked away. It’s with me every goddamn day.”
Molly found her voice and addressed her surly, secretive boyfriend. “How old were you when he died?”
“Fifteen.”
That jarred her. If Deacon had been fifteen and Dante had been fifteen . . . Her stomach clenched. “My god. You were twins?”
“Identical twins. Now you know, so can we please fucking drop it?” he snapped.
“Drop it? First I find out that your family is in the oil business, which I didn’t have a clue about.” Something occurred to her. “Is your family like J. R. Ewing—Texas-oil rich?”
Deacon didn’t respond.
Floored by these revelations, she addressed Tag. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes, darlin’, you are. We’ve got the Ewing family drama, too, because of it.”
“Right. So he’s heir to an oil fortune, his twin brother died, which would both explain why he doesn’t do family shit . . . What else has he kept from me?”