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Amber’s warning plays over in my mind, and I push aside the happiness I feel at seeing her because I must stick to my guns—everyone is the enemy until I can prove otherwise.
Inhaling deeply, I dig my hands into my pockets and walk to where she stands. When she realizes she’s not alone, she lifts her eyes, and as they lock with mine, her mouth parts. I try not to think about how those lips felt when I claimed them as mine—wild craic, that’s how.
“How’s it goin’, wee doll?”
She rolls her eyes. “It was great until about five seconds ago.”
She attempts to push past me, but I sidestep, blocking her exit. It seems to be our go-to move. “Ach, that’s not nice.”
“I wasn’t trying to be nice,” she snaps, just turning me on further.
She has every right to be ragin’. The last time we were together, I was a fucking bastard to her, but if only she knew why. The reasons seem to evade me, however, because seeing her now, all I want to do is beat my own arse for being such a prick.
“Hi, I’m Cian.” He offers his hand, which Babydoll shakes.
“Rory.” He waves from a distance.
I don’t know what to say or do as I’ve never been in this position before. I’ve never been interested in anyone as I am with Babydoll.
She clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Your father isn’t paying me to chat, so I better go.”
I hate that she’s waiting on these fuckers, so I ask, “How much is he payin’ ya?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Cian snorts, awful amused with Babydoll’s smart mouth.
Digging into my pocket, I retrieve my wallet and pull out six hundred pounds. “This enough?”
When I offer it to her, Cian groans, shaking his head.
She steps back, her mouth ajar. “Are you fucking serious? I don’t need or want your charity. I work for my money. I don’t have the luxury of everything being served to me on a silver platter—literally. Now, if you’ll excuse me…kindly fuck off.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine as she pushes past me, offended. When she’s gone, I look at Rory and Cian, confused.
“Ach, that went downhill awful quick,” Cian says, doing a poor job of concealing his grin.
“Really, Punky?” Rory asks, eyebrow cocked. “Ya may as well have called her a millbeg.”
“What?” I put the money into my pocket, suddenly feeling scundered.
“It’s true,” Cian butts in. “Really sorry, but the fuck? Why would ya think that was a good idea?”
“’Cause I don’t want her servin’ these arseholes. She’s better than that,” I argue, still not seeing what the big deal is. “I was trying to be…nice.”
Cian slaps my back playfully. “Maybe try being a little less patronizin’ next time,” he suggests, smirking. “She doesn’t strike me as the type of girl who appreciates charity.”
“Charity?” I scoff. “I did no such thing. I offered her money—” But I stop midsentence as I realize what I just did. “Fuck.”
I meant well, but the boys are right. I may as well have flashed my wealth in her face because six hundred pounds is nothing to me, but to others, it’s a lot. I insulted her by trying to be considerate.
“This is why I don’t do nice,” I say, running a hand down my face.
“If that was yer attempt at being nice—”
“I’ll knock yer melt in if ya want to see nice,” I interrupt Cian, who bursts into laughter.
All laughter is long forgotten however when Connor walks down the hallway. “There y’are,” he says, adjusting his black bow tie. “The chief constable has arrived.”
