“How’s my favorite nephew?” He lifted Brendan’s son into his arms, grateful for the distraction. Still shaken by his unexpected meeting with Daisy, he had spent the drive trying to think of a way to see her again so he could try to make things right between them. Ten years was too long to leave unfinished business, especially when that business involved a woman he’d desperately wanted and couldn’t have.

“I’m Uncle Liam’s favorite nephew!” Jaxon beamed. At five years old, fair-haired Jaxon was the spitting image of his dad, right down to the blue eyes.

“You’re his only nephew.” Liam’s sister-in-law, Lauren, leaned up to kiss Liam’s cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

Tall and slim, her hair a glossy chestnut, cut in soft, long layers that flattered her tanned skin, Lauren was a corporate lawyer and the least likely person Liam would ever have expected his brother to marry. After three failed relationships with women whose physical attributes outshone their common sense, Brendan had married smart, sensible Lauren in a small ceremony at her parents’ house in Santa Cruz, and six years later they were still going strong.

“I only came because Brendan thought I wouldn’t.” He dug around in his pocket for the toy plane he had brought for Jaxon. His nephew shared his love of planes and motorcycles, and they’d had many days out at the airport, watching planes together.

“Whatever the reason, it will mean a lot to him,” she said. “Things haven’t been going well with the company. Maybe you could talk to him.”

Liam frowned. “I’ve never been involved in Murphy Motors so I’m not sure why he would tell me anything. You know how Brendan feels about me.”

“It’s about the distillery—”

“Is that for me?” Jaxon snatched the plane from Liam’s hand. “Mom, look!”

Lauren smiled and turned her attention to the new toy, while Liam tried to puzzle out what interest Brendan could have in the run-down distillery that his great-grandfather had built in Napa Valley after emigrating from Ireland. A replica of the original Murphy & Sons Distillery that had been in the Murphy family since 1750, it had been handed down from father to oldest son, until Liam’s father had turned his back on tradition to found Murphy Motors, tearing the family apart. Brendan had joined the car business after graduating from college, eventually taking over the company when their father died.

“Daddy, look what Uncle Liam gave me!” Jaxon held up the toy plane when Brendan joined them in the narrow hallway. “It’s a 747.”

Brendan’s face softened. A taller, heavier version of his son, Brendan resembled their father, whereas Liam took after their mother. But they both shared the Murphy blue eyes of their father, grandfather, and the Murphy men before them. “That was very nice of him. I hope you said thank you.”

“Thank you!” Jaxon lifted his arms for a hug.

An unexpected warmth filled Liam as he bent down for Jaxon to wrap his arms around his neck. He’d never allowed himself to imagine having kids of his own, but sometimes with Jaxon . . .

“You’re so good with him.” Lauren smiled as Jaxon ran into the living room. “You talk to him like he’s an adult and not a kid.”

“He’s got interesting things to say.”

“You’d be a great dad. Don’t you ever want—?”

“No.” It wasn’t just that he’d seen so many marriages fail and so many people suffer. He’d never met anyone who’d made him want to try. There was only one woman he’d ever imagined a future with, and now that she’d rejected him, it was clear he’d made the right decision the night he’d walked away.

“I see you came dressed for the occasion.” Brendan gestured vaguely at Liam’s leather jacket. “Couldn’t you have left the motorcycle at home just this once? The lawyer will be here in twenty minutes, and we should look like we at least made an effort—”

Christ. Five minutes with Brendan and his hands were already clenched into fists. The dude was so uptight, Liam was amazed he’d ever been able to have a son.

“I don’t do suits.” Venture capitalists dressed only a step above the inventors who were the bread and butter of their business. Liam followed the crowd with button-down shirts, khakis, and dress pants, but he drew the line at North Face jackets and fleece vests. If he had to cover up for warmth, it was his leather motorcycle jacket or freeze. As for shoes, he wouldn’t be caught dead in white lace-up sneakers. His worn black leather boots took him from motorcycle to work and back again.

“My mistake. I thought you were a professional.” As usual, Brendan was dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and bland-as-hell tie.

“Knock it off, you two.” Lauren squeezed between them. “You have a house full of relatives to entertain. Don’t let them see you like this or they’ll lay on the Catholic guilt and you’ll get another lecture about being good brothers.”

“I don’t have to deal with the guilt trips since I converted to atheism.” Liam followed Lauren down the hallway. “It just washes right over me.”

Brendan snorted, unwittingly taking the bait. “People don’t ‘convert’ to atheism.”

“I did.” He shot a sideways glance over his shoulder at his very conservative, religious big brother. They had been at odds since the day Liam’s parents brought him home from the hospital and four-year-old Brendan tried to drown him in the bath. Brendan was a typical firstborn. He was a rule follower, cautious and conservative, and very ambitious. He had never been able to understand Liam’s wild, reckless, and rebellious nature.

“I unbaptized myself,” Liam continued, unable to resist the temptation to wind up his brother. “Now I’m a free agent. No hellfire. No threat of eternal damnation. No church on Sunday. No Hail Marys or Our Fathers. And no guilt. It’s very liberating.”