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“Good,” Xavier bit out. “Better not be.” With one more glare in both their directions, he turned and kept on his way.
As soon as he was out of ear shot, Liam just had to open his mouth again. “How about we let Calla decide who’s the better man?”
Mack gritted his teeth, shaking his head as he turned to follow Xavier. The only way this wasn’t going to end with his fist in Liam’s face was if he left now. “You stay away from her. Stay away from me too if you know what’s good for you.”
“Sounds to me like someone’s afraid he won’t measure up.”
This mother fucker was just begging for it, wasn’t he? Calla was Mack’s kind of people. He wouldn’t let Liam fuck with her or fuck her over. Mack turned back to Liam and put his finger right in his face. “I don’t play games with good women. But I can guaran-goddammed-tee you that if she’s heading back to anyone’s hotel room tonight, it’ll be mine.”
Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. If he really had Calla’s interests at heart, he’d forget he ever met her. He might be a better choice than Liam, but not by much. Besides, Mack wasn’t in the market. Calla didn’t need him spreading his shit on her. The days of thinking he could change the cards he’d been dealt were long gone.
Liam grinned, obviously happy to be getting under Mack’s skin. “We’ll just see about that.”
This time Mack turned and didn’t look back. He had to get out of here before he did something he’d regret. Liam O’Neill would get what was coming to him eventually, and if there was any justice in the goddamned universe, Mack would be there to see it.
8
LIAM
Liam stood near the bar that had been set up at one end of the hotel ballroom and watched the door for Calla.
The party had been in full swing for almost an hour but she and Mel had yet to make an appearance. At least Mack was staying well away from him. Liam’d only glimpsed him once since he’d been down here. Best move that wanker had made all year. Liam was surprised he’d showed at all. Mack wasn’t exactly famous for being sociable.
Liam took another swig of beer. He had to give it to them, these people knew how to party—they poured Guinness by the pint.
He glanced around the packed space. A live band was set up at the far end of the room. The fiddler sawed away like the devil himself had lit a fire under his arse. Another line dance had broken out. Liam couldn’t help watching on in amazement. All these grown damn men and women stomped and swung and clapped in almost perfect synchronicity as the music barreled on.
He’d just emptied his second pint as the song finished and a loud round of applause and whistling filled the room. The dancers broke off into couples or headed toward the sidelines as a slower tune started up.
And that’s when she walked in.
Liam blinked, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him again. For the past half hour he’d been looking up and down every jean-clad, big shiny-belted woman.
So he was not prepared for the siren that walked in sporting a cleavage-bearing red dress with a giant slit up the side showing off so much leg it’d make a grown man cry. He might not have even recognized it was Calla if not for Mel walking beside her, holding her hand and urging her forward.
He was still blinking back his surprise as Mack walked right up to her and grabbed her hand from Mel, lifting it to his lips.
Liam’s fists clenched. Where the fuck had that bastard been lurking? Liam jumped up from his barstool, about to make a beeline toward them, when his path was suddenly blocked.
Liam barely managed to stop from barreling into the woman in time. He was about to step around her and continue toward Calla when she put a hand on his arm.
“I thought I saw your name on the registry.”
Liam looked down, frowning at the blonde who held his arm possessively.
Well shite, it was the betty from the bar last night.
“Looks like we’ll be competitors. If you need any help with your mustang, I’d be happy to come out and we could work her together. And any time you want to practice your riding technique…” she smiled at him coyly. “I’m happy to oblige.”
Aw Jaysus. If he’d known she was the clingy stalker type, he never woulda feckin’ touched her last night. Time to shut this down. “Look, Betty—”
“Bethany,” she corrected, eyes flashing for a moment before she went back to batting her lashes.
“Yeah, well,” he didn’t hide his grimace. “Let’s just call last night what it was. A mistake.” He tried to pull away from her but she just giggled and latched onto his arm harder.
