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“Did I leave my reading glasses there last month?”
I internally sigh. “No, don’t think you did.”
“Hmm. I can’t find them anywhere. I think I may have left them in the attic when I put away your Christmas decorations.”
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. I hate going into the attic. It’s why I left the tubs of Christmas crap in the hallway until May. My dad had finally gotten so sick of seeing it whenever he visited that he went up there with his bad back and did it himself. I felt horrible when I came home and found out. Had he fallen, he could’ve been seriously injured.
“I can look for them. Give me a minute.”
“No, no. Don’t go going up there and getting spooked, Samira. I’ll just drive down and see if they’re there.”
“Dad,” I warn.
“It’s fine, sweetheart. If I leave now, I’ll make it to you right as you have to leave. I can take my grandbabies out for lunch. I miss them.”
“I don’t want you making that trip twice in a week,” I continue.
Before, we’d swap visiting months. We would take the kids there for a weekend one month, and the next Mom and Dad came to us. I haven’t been able to bring myself to drive to the farm since everything happened, and the kids haven’t wanted to go. I haven’t pushed it. So, my dad comes once a month.
“It’s settled. I’ll stay the entire week.”
I groan. Dad chuckles at my pain.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says. “I love you.”
The line goes silent before I can protest, and I drop the phone.Bastard.
Chapter Six
Iexhalethesmokeof my Newport, savoring the buzzing in my head that comes from the nicotine. Saoirse’s been at my throat for the past hour of this event, making sure I don’t drink too much. After the second glass of whiskey, she tried to cut me off. I switched to vodka and lime, so she’d think it was seltzer water.
The small outdoor space I’m in is empty, save for a green dumpster where flies swarm. I snuck through the kitchen of the hotel and out the back door for some quiet. The chaos of the event inside requires too much energy. I don’t want to pretend I’m happy when I’m not.
The door creaks, and a woman steps outside. She slams it shut, then lets out a sigh. Eyes closed, she bends forward and squats against the brick wall until she’s seated on the ground. The features of her face are hard to make out in the shadows, but I can see the way a butterfly clip holds back her silky black hair. She wears black dress pants and a rose-colored satin button-up, nude heels. She’s not a guest. If she were, she’d be in a cocktail dress. If she were an employee, she’d probably be in all-black like the rest of them. No, this woman is the one in charge.
I stifle through the names and roles Saoirse mentioned to me in the past few months of planning this event, and land on one. Samira Cullen is the event coordinator.
I snuff out my cancer stick, then turn to her. “You needed a break too, huh?”
A small gasp escapes her, and her eyes snap open. Bright eyes the color of champagne land on me, surveying me, trying to make out if I’m a threat.Fuck me. It’s the girl from the club. I hadn’t recognized her right away in the shadows, but now it’s clear. I couldn’t forget her face even if I wanted to. And I don’t.
I jerked off to the feel of her tight cunt squeezing my fingers, to the musky scent of her arousal on those same digits, and I’m not ashamed of it. She’s more than just attractive. She’s the type of woman that haunts your dreams. The type of woman who will slip between your fingers if you don’t hold on tight enough, and I’ll be damned if I let her run away this time.
Her hands fly to her chest, and she closes her eyes to compose herself. “God, you scared me,” she says, her voice soft and raspy. Does she not recognize me? She doesn’t act as though she does. If she’d been drinking, maybe she forgot.
My head tilts, waiting as she inhales through her nose and exhales through her mouth. Slow, deliberate breaths, an obvious effort to calm her racing heart. She spooks easily. But the way she’s focusing on dragging oxygen into her body, I’ve triggered an emotional response. One she’s trying to control before it spirals.
“Hey,” I whisper, my voice soothing. Her eyes snap open, and I raise my hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I take a second to scan her, letting the image of her sink into the confines of my brain. She’s got an oval-shaped face, thick lips painted the shade of bubble gum. Blush creeps from her neck to her round cheeks, and there’s a crease above her brow. She’s not as soft toward me as she was last night.
My gaze drops lower, toward her neck. There’s a small scar across her throat. The line smooth, two shades paler than her brown skin. An uncomfortable tightening happens in my chest, almost knocking me back. Beautiful doesn’t describe the woman sitting before me. One look at her, and she’s tantalizing—ethereal. It's like meeting her for the first time all over.
I inch forward, curiosity driving my every move. She inhales, her eyes widening while her neck stretches to peer up at me. Her hands fly to the wall, and she shoots up, pushing herself against it. Pupils blown, flushed face, and shallow breaths. She fears me, or she’s aroused. Both possibilities pull the same reaction from me. A hard cock, and a need to taste her pink lips.
I stare at her, wanting to know more about her. This morning I didn’t even know her name. Now, here she is, connected to my world; tied to my sister. My gaze instantly drops to her hand. It’s bare, and I hate the way relief hits me. Why the fuck would I care if she’s single or not? I shake my head, not wanting to assess the answer to that question.
“I’m Declan,” I say, extending my hand to shake hers.
