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She started for the door. “See you at the Cat.”
“Let me drive you to your car,” he said.
She kept walking. “No thanks. I feel like walking.”
He listened to her footsteps in the hall, the sound of the front door closing behind her.
See you at the Cat.
The words sat like lead in his stomach. She was still in danger, still in Seamus’s path. Nolan had wanted to protect her before, but it was nothing compared to the determination he felt now that he’d held her in his arms again.
Now that he’d allowed himself to really remember.
It’s real. I’ve always been yours.
He thought about Seamus, about the way he’d preyed on Bridget when she’d needed help for Owen, the way he hid his motives behind a genial smile and stacks of cash, the way he let the men talk about Bridget when she wasn’t around, like she was nothing but a piece of meat used to rile up the wolves.
He let the fury come, let it wash over him until he was vibrating with the power of it.
One way or another he would remove Seamus. He would find a way to make sure Bridget was safe, that she had everything she needed for Owen and her parents.
Whether she liked it or not.
17
Bridget tried to stem the nervousness in her stomach as she parked next to Nolan’s car at Foley’s. It had been nearly a week since their night together and she could still smell him on her skin, still had to catch her breath when the image of his naked body assaulted her memory.
The one time she’d been to the Cat that week he hadn’t been there. She’d told herself she was glad — that it was less complicated that way — but deep down she knew she was lying to herself.
She was still hungry for him. Hungry for his hands and mouth on her body, for the protection of his arms and the determination in his eyes that said she would always be okay, as long as she was with him.
It was a weakness she couldn’t afford. Not now when everything was coming to a head with Seamus, when she could feel the tension rising among the men like a balloon filled to capacity.
She took a deep breath when she came to the door and stepped into Foley’s. It was nearly ten p.m. the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. The bar was even deader than before, Nolan and Will occupying the same booth at the back of the room.
“Hey,” she said when she got to the table. She looked Nolan in the eye, wanting him to know she had no regrets, that as shitty as her exit from his apartment had been, she’d meant everything she’d said.
“Hey." She saw the night they’d spent together on his face, in the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Oh-ho!” Will clapped his hands together. “Mom and Dad are back together again!”
“Don’t,” Nolan warned.
“What?”
“Jesus you’re a dolt. If I was your mom I’d box your ears.” Bridget slid next to Will, if only because she didn’t trust herself to sit next to Nolan. He didn’t seem to mind, his grin suggesting he might be able to read her thoughts.
“Want something from the bar?” Nolan asked.
She shook her head. “I have a late night ahead of me.”
“Work?” he asked.
“Pies. I promised my mom I’d help.”
Nolan smiled.
“I hate to break up this little love fest — I’m not being facetious, I really do — but I think we should fill Bridget in,” Will said.
