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“Damn,” Liam muttered. “So his arthritis isn’t aggravated by water?”
“What arthritis?” Erin said with an amused lift of her eyebrows.
“Wily old bastard,” Liam muttered. “Fine. I’ll take baby sister to the subway. But you’d better have your MetroCard this time, Ri, because I’m not falling for the old—”
“I’ll walk her.” The words were out before Sam realized he’d opened his mouth.
Riley’s head snapped around, fierce blue eyes boring into his. No.
“I don’t need anyone to walk me,” she said through gritted teeth.
Liam patted her head and made his way toward the living room. “Mom says you do.”
And in the McKenna hou
sehold, that was enough.
Riley’s shoulders sagged only briefly before she straightened and lifted her chin. “Fine.” She leaned in and pecked her mom’s cheek. “Love you. Thanks for dinner.”
Erin cupped her daughter’s face. “You remember what we talked about, okay? The passion?”
“Ma!”
“Told you she was a prude,” Kate muttered not so quietly to Megan.
Sam’s eyebrows crept up. Now, this was interesting.
Riley pointed at both sisters, her glare livid. “We are not having this conversation right now.”
“Definitely a prude,” Megan whispered.
Riley let out a huff of frustration before heading toward the front door. “Come on, guard dog,” she snapped, not bothering to look at him as she stormed past.
Wordlessly Sam trailed after her, grabbing his leather jacket on his way out the door, hoping it was cooler out than when he’d arrived.
The irate Irish wench marching down the sidewalk needed to cool off.
“Wait up,” he called.
She didn’t.
He trotted after her, slowing back to a walk when he pulled even. “Whew, that was close. Mr. Blanton’s creep could have jumped out and got you at any time.”
“Pretty sure the only creep on this block is my present company.”
He glanced down at her familiar profile. “Not your best comeback. You okay?”
She glanced away, and his chest tightened. Not okay, then. Damn it.
“Trying the other big-brother role on for size?” she asked, still not looking at him.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s that mean?”
This time she did glance at him, and since she was wearing her usual skyscraper heels, their gazes were nearly level. Sam wasn’t short, but Riley had the tall, long-legged figure of a model, putting her close to six feet with the right shoes.
“You’re putting a new spin on your big-brother routine,” she explained, her voice flat. “Usually you take on the little-boy tormentor role. Pushing my buttons, pulling my hair—”
He nearly laughed. “I have never pulled your hair.”
