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I shove away from the doorjamb, making my way into the kitchen to set the coffee maker going.
“The blue sedan is yours.” I nod through the window, pointing to the car my mammy used to run around Boston before she left.
It’s parked beside my dark SUV. My lips tighten as they trail over my car. I used to have the sleekest BMW. It drove like a dream and roared like a lion when I put my foot to the floor. Fucking Bulgarians.
I will never forgive those bastards for ramming my precious car. Of course, they had to do it when Tiggy was inside, and if there’s one thing guaranteed to drive Seamus over the top protective, it’s going after his little wife. Now I’m stuck with a ridiculous SUV. It steers like a fucking bull. I hate it.
The lass is still silently watching me. Right. The little blue sedan.
“The keys should be in the drawer over there.” I jerk my chin at the top drawer under the microwave. “I’ve organized for ye to access the checking account for groceries and the like. There’s a card in the drawer there for that too. Ye can put yer gas on the card while ye’re at it.”
The lass blinks at me in surprise, smiling gently and nodding as she points to the fridge.
“Thanks. Uh, are there any foods you particularly like or don’t like? I was going to make a beef stir fry for dinner and apple pie for dessert?”
My mouth is watering. My mammy, bless her soul, she tried, but she wasnota cook.
“As long as it’s not burnt to shite, lass, I’ll eat it,” I smirk at her, handing her the mug of coffee I was making and grabbing another one.
Staring at me, she takes it, her long, slender fingers brushing against mine. I bite the inside of my cheek again. Jesus fuck, couldn’t Lauren have a dog ugly friend to send my way? This is going to be torture. The lass has been in the same house as me for less than half an hour, and I’m already hard.
Saluting her with my mug of coffee, I turn to head out the back door to the small outbuilding where I run our online gambling operations.
“Oh, and lass, this building,” I gesture to it as she cuts me off.
“Off-limits. Paddy mentioned. Oh!” she calls me back as I nod, moving to leave again. “I’m not supposed to clean the third floor unless you say it’s okay. So just let me know, I suppose. Thanks for the coffee.”
She sips it, turning and opening the fridge again. I pause, staring hard at her arse. Shaking my head, I walk outside.
Michael, one of the two young computer whizzes we inducted to run these online operations, flicks his gaze at me when I come in. He nods, turning back to the screens.
“How’re the takings today, lad?” I ask him, sipping my coffee as my eyes drift over the ten screens he has on the wall.
“Poker’s doing alright.” He nods at it. My gaze flickers over, but it doesn’t hold much interest to me.
I’m a purist. I hate online poker. It’s all guessing and bids. There’s no real skill there. Poker isn’t about odds. It’s about faces. The worst thing to ever happen to it is the rise in online gambling.
“Blackjack is a big earner at the moment.” Michael points to another screen. Now there’s a game that’s all about odds. It’s harder to count cards online, so we usually make a tidy profit off that one.
“And the bookie business?” I nod to the screens showing the horses, the dogs, and various ball sports.
“Booming,” Michael grunts. “People will bet on just about anything these days. Hell, I had to work the odds on the fucking royal baby’s hair color the other day.”
He snorts, shaking his head and draining his Red Bull can.
“There are some absolute suckers for a good bet out there.”
Of course there are. Where does Michael think his wages come from? Those people are our bread and butter.
ANDIE
My delicious new employer didn’t object to my dinner idea, so I cooked up a batch of stir fry, and I have a warm apple pie cooling on the bench.
I enjoy cooking, but baking is where my real talents lie. I always wanted to open up my own bakery when I was little. Of course, the real world came knocking, and I discovered that broke-ass bitches from Dot don’t get business loans to follow their dreams. They end up working for sleazy nobodies, date their boss’s friends, and get cheated out of their rent-controlled apartments.
I set the table for Connor in the dining room, and when he comes back from his little Mafia office out the back and washes up in the laundry, I gesture through.
“Dinner’s ready. I’ll bring it through in a moment.”
