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“And killing for you,” I reminded her.
“Yes, that too,” she agreed with a big smile.
I was vaguely aware of them talking about Gram’s savings, and how she was leaving most of that to Triss, to take a big cruise or vacation or something like that with.
But my mind was racing with the possibilities of my own future.
I never thought we would actually sell Gram’s house. It was too important. But it was nice to hear that, some day, it would be mine.
Especially now that I had someone I wanted to have a future with. Make babies with.
I loved the clubhouse, and I wanted my kids to spend a lot of time there, hanging with their uncles and aunts, eating Eddie’s cooking, running around with their cousins.
But I wanted to raise them in this house, with all its history, with its big backyard.
Maybe I would luck out with a child who would love gardening as much as I did, as much as my grandfather had.
“Miss Maeve,” Triss said, snapping her fingers in my face.
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “What was that?”
“Gram said she wants to read your book,” Triss said, smile wicked.
“Oh, God,” Donovan and I grumbled at the same time.
Because there was no secret that Donovan was the inspiration for my book hero. And since I’d let him read what I had so far—which was almost all of it—, he knew just how spicy the damn thing got.
“I was the one who started you on those types of books, dear,” Gram said, smirking. “I know all about what is in them. Besides, did you think you could keep it from me forever?”
“I was going to publish it under a pen name,” I admitted.
For that reason.
But also because Donovan and I had talked it out and decided that it was best to keep my identity secret since I was writing about biker clubs, and I didn’t want any readers to figure out that I was actually associated with one.
“I already sent her a copy to her email,” Triss declared, putting her phone away, making my decision for me.
“Now that is settled, I want to hear all about this little kidnapping that Triss mentioned…”
Well, apparently there were worse things than letting your Gram read your dirty romance book you wrote.
Like telling her about how the guy you really wanted her to like, because you were pretty sure you were going to marry him, had a past so murky that it got you abducted and almost killed.
I should have had more faith in the woman. She was the one who’d introduced Triss to her mafia-filled soaps, after all.
“I think I got your Gram’s stamp of approval,” Donovan said later as we went back into my room. “Which is good,” he said. “‘Cause I like to think she’ll be my Gram one day too.”
Oh, my heart.
It was full to bursting with this man.
“Yeah?” I asked, still needing a little extra validation.
“Not just yeah… fuck yeah,” he said, smiling as he reached for my hips, using them to pull me flush against him. “Fucking love you, Maeve,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine.
“I love you too,” I said.
It was the scariest, but most rewarding thing I had ever done, loving him.
I couldn’t wait to have a lifetime of it.
Donovan - 6 months
I was probably crazy.
Bringing my woman into the restaurant owned by the boss of the fucking mafia.
I might have even been able to forget all about telling Tony I would do so if it weren’t for Triss’s obsession with all things mafia.
She’d actually gotten me to agree to bring her along with us.
She’d dressed herself in a tight little black dress, did her hair just right, slathered on a red lip, and was walking through a cloud of perfume she’d just sprayed.
“What?” she asked when Maeve raised her brows at her. “If there is one single hot mafia guy in there tonight, I am going to snag him, damnit,” she’d declared.
Maeve’s gaze was both questioning and worried. Because she knew her sister. She meant that.
I had no choice but to kind of put my hands out and move them up and down in a weighing motion.
Because Tony’s sons were good-looking guys. And if they happened to be there, there was no way we could keep Triss from throwing herself at them.
When we’d arrived, though, we only saw Tony through the doors to the back patio.
I wouldn’t begrudge Triss her happiness, but I was pretty sure I spoke for all of us when I said it was probably better for all involved for her to stay away from the mafia.
“Oooh, I am regretting this dress,” Triss said when we sat and were immediately brought over a basket of fresh, still steaming, bread and a dish of herbed olive oil. “It is so not forgiving,” she said even as she reached for the bread.
