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“Heavens to Betsy!” Linc leaned against her, his weight really heavy now. “God, that saying might be a funny choice seeing as that’s your name. Holy heaven, another ghost.”
He sounded like he was going to hyperventilate. That snapped her into focus. She turned and tugged on his collar. “Take a breath, Linc.”
“I can’t.” He made a helpless gesture at the rose and then the sky. “My chest is all tight. Bets, I don’t think I can handle having your ghost husband around here, not even if Liam says he approves of me.”
That little stinker. Liam hadn’t told her Bruce had said he approved of Linc. Or that his father had any regrets about her. That had deeply touched her. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Sure, I guess, but land sakes, I hope he won’t pop in like Sorcha during a tender moment between us. I mean, if I thought he would, I could never put my hands on you without looking over my shoulder.”
Laughter tickled her throat. “You’re on the verge of becoming hysterical like I did when I had my meltdown. Seriously, cowboy. Breathe.”
All he managed was a sniff. “Can’t seem to suck in any oxygen while that rose is sparkling on the ground like the one inBeauty and the Beast.Ellie loved that movie as a kid, so I watched it plenty. It darn near looks like something we should stick under glass and hide away in a tower.”
“Oh, Linc…”
“Don’t ‘oh, Linc’ me,” he heaved out. “That man—your ghost husband—just turned something dead into something living. How is it you can breathe right now? I can take a lot of Irish magic, but that might be too much for me. God, I must be tired or something because I suddenly feel light-headed. Oh, dear Lord, I’m seeing spots.”
She tried to catch him, but he slumped gracefully to the ground in a faint.
Bets made sure he was okay before picking up the rose. She held it to her nose and inhaled. The variety wasn’t known for its fragrance, but she wasn’t surprised to discover it held the most glorious perfume.
After all…Bruce had finally given her a rose.
Then she leaned down to where Linc lay and kissed him awake—like a good heroine did in the fairy tales.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
The bell to Taylor’s gate call box was going haywire, as if a child were pressing it for fun.
Liam looked up from his laptop where he sat working across from her on the couch, helping her with company cross-referencing. After returning from Bets and Linc’s house for more marathon post-prison sex—she was going to ride that particular train as long as possible—she’d called Arthur for an update and negotiated a couple hours of work for the MIU with Liam. A productivity break before they went back to making love, her new favorite preoccupation.
She peered at him over her laptop, marveling at her work view. “You don’t think it’s your mother, do you, with another loaf of freshly made bread?”
He gave a quiet chuckle. “It would be chocolate chip cookies this time since she’d know we haven’t had time to finish the bread. But it’s probably Brady, popping over to make sure I’m okay. He’d try and keep himself away—”
“But he loves you too much—like everyone does. Me included. All right, I’ll go check. But let’s make it a quick visit, okay? I have plans for you.”
He caressed her arch deliciously. “Words I hope to hear all our life.”
“Duh.” She tucked her laptop away and untangled herself from Liam’s legs on the couch.
“Someoneisreally persistent,” Liam observed as she reached the gate’s intercom.
Eoghan’s face was huge in the camera, grinning like a prize bass. “It’s Eoghan.” She buzzed him in. “Do I need to make tea or something?”
He rose and grabbed his shirt, depriving her of his calendar-worthy chest and abs. She pouted as he pointed to her outfit. “You might want to put pants on. Not that I don’t love seeing you in yourI Am Veritasshirt and nothing else.”
She shot him a knowing smile as she lifted it to showcase her bare hip. He’d made her happy when he’d tugged it on her in bed that morning, saying she should wear it because she reallywasVeritas. He was right. It did feel fun. Plus, with nothing on underneath, they’dbothhad fun. Always a boon.
A knock sounded on the door, and she winced. Something landed at her feet. Her cream drawstring pants. Making herself presentable, she opened the door.
“I wouldn’t have interrupted you unless it was an emergency,” he announced, holding up a burlap grocery bag.
Had he thought they’d need sustenance after all that sex? That was kinda sweet. And weird. “You were a dear to shop for us—”
He squeaked with laughter as he stepped inside. “It’s not food, Taylor, it’s information. The kind to take Malcolm down for good.”
That drew her up short. She peered into the bag as he opened it. Inside were files. Serious-looking files, like she’d seen in those suspenseful FBI movies. “Where did you get these?”
