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“You’re working, I’m sorry, I’ll—”
“You are more important than street scum.” Just the simplicity of his statement helped her mood. “Dinner didn’t go well?”
It would’ve been better if he’d been there. Better for her anyway, she needed the support. The men may not have enjoyed being forced together. That powder keg could go any time. Probably best it didn’t happen the evening before a potent and emotional occasion.
“My dad’s disappointed in me.”
“He was disappointed in you last week.”
Before he knew about her relationship. Good point. Why should it change based on this development? She sure shouldn’t be losing sleep over it.
“Lachlan’s worried about me.”
“That’s his job.” Exactly what her brother had said. “The day he stops is the day I’ll have a problem with him.”
Despite her family’s negative response to the relationship, Conn was realistic and non-judgmental. People thought her family was good and he was bad news. Yet her lover proved to be more accepting than the outwardly respectable men.
“You know you’ve made it better,” she said on an appreciative sigh.
“That’s my job.” She smiled. “Want Daly to pick you up? Got plenty of assholes for you to beat on.”
A laugh bubbled out. “I’ll only get turned on.”
“It’s my job to take care of that too.”
His job. Her job. Their relationship was real. That reality would need an adjustment period too. How could she be with Connel McDade? That might be a question others considered. Her? Now it was out there, she wasn’t going back. Living without him once was once too many.
“What did the guy keeping you from my bed do?”
“He owes me money.”
Didn’t everyone? Money or favors. Pushing the comforter from her chest, her hand rested over her breast.
“If it gets him that kind of attention, I’m swiping your wallet next time I get the chance.”
“Stealing gets a whole other kind of punishment.”
“Yeah?” she asked, trembling at the gravel in his voice. “You promise?”
“Macushla wants to play.”
“Do rún, with you, I always want to play. The time we lost—”
“Time we’ll make up, baby.”
Licking her lips, she couldn’t stop them curling. “It shouldn’t turn me on,” she whispered. “That you’re out there taking care of business.”
“Family business.”
Was it the McDade part or the violence? Or was it that a man with such power could turn that authority to her advantage with the click of his fingers?
“You said today I didn’t know what you would do for me.”
“No rules in our house.”
“I’d never… your family, the love you have for them and what they stand for—”
“We,” he said. The impact of flesh on flesh echoed down the line. “Our family.” Another hit and another. Not much response from the recipient. Was he conscious? “What do you need, Cushla Machree?”
