And Cole had his arm around her shoulders.
When he saw me, he shifted, sliding his arm off and replacing it with a proprietary hand to her back.
I stepped off the elevator, my eyes darting from him to her, and I’m certain that my confusion must have shown.
“Katrina Laron, I’d like you to meet my aunt, Bree Crenshaw.”
Bree held out her hand, that amazing smile growing even wider. “I am so glad to meet you. Cole just won’t shut up about you.”
“Bree . . .”
She laughed. “It’s true. And if she doesn’t already know you adore her then you need to tell her. And if she already knows you should tell her more often.”
“Bree’s in nursing school,” Cole said dryly. “She has a very excellent bedside manner.”
I laughed out loud, my earlier angst having completely disappeared. “It’s great to meet you, but I thought aunts were older.” When Cole had described his gang years to me last night, I’d pictured him taking care of two older women. Now I realized that he must have been like a father to Bree. Or at the very least like a big brother.
Bree hooked her arm through mine as she led the way through the lobby to the elegant bar next to the hotel’s signature restaurant. “Let me guess. Only child?”
“Um, yeah.”
“I’m Cole’s mother’s sister. She had him when she was fifteen, then died about five years later.” I nodded, remembering what Cole had told me about his mother. “I was born about five years after that.” She shrugged. “My mom was really young when she had my sister, and she had complications when she had me.”
“She had a stroke during the birth,” Cole said. “They think that may have contributed to the Alzheimer’s. She had Bree when she was forty-two and a few years later she was pretty much mentally gone.”
“That’s so sad.”
“It is,” Bree said. “And that’s another reason I’m more like Cole’s little sister than his aunt. He pretty much raised me and took care of my mom.”
Cole caught my eye, then took my hand. “I should have told you she was younger, but it didn’t occur to me,” he said, obviously realizing that I’d been thrown a bit off-kilter. “Bree is just Bree, and I didn’t think to explain that she was younger.”
“Explain?” Bree asked, as sat down at one of the tables in the bar.
“Cole was telling me the story of his life last night,” I said.
“Oh, really?” Her brows lifted. “I hope that’s true. Cole keeps too much of that stuff to himself, and there’s no reason to do that.”
“Bree.” The warning note in Cole’s voice was unmistakable, and I couldn’t help but wonder what family secret rattled around in his closet that Bree so fervently believed he should set free. Not Anita. Frankly I doubted that Bree knew that secret. But something else. Something that put that clipped, secretive tone in his voice.
“It’s not a state secret, Cole. And you know that I think it should be out in the open.”
“This isn’t a discussion we’re having. Not right now. Are we clear?”
She rolled her eyes, and I bit back a grin. Secret or not, I liked the dynamic between these two. It was normal and human and a little bit sweet. On impulse, I reached for his hand, then squeezed tight.
He looked at me, his expression mildly surprised. “Sorry. I love her, but she pushes my buttons.”
“She’s sitting right here,” Bree said.
“You two are wonderful,” I said, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice. “I’m so glad to meet you, Bree. Really, I am.”
“See that?” Bree said, aiming a triumphant smile toward Cole. “I knew I’d like this girl.” She cocked her head and looked at Cole. “Don’t mess it up, okay?”
“I’ll try my best,” he said dryly.
“Don’t worry,” I added. “I won’t let him.”
“Good,” Bree said. “Between the two of us, there just might be hope for him yet.”