“I’m going to swing by the pub and see if my phone is there,” Dallas said.
“You want to check on your brother.”
Dallas sent her a quick look before signaling a left turn. “That too.” Ten minutes later, he parked behind the pub and climbed out of his truck. “Are you coming?”
She nodded and joined him at the rear door. Gesturing for her to enter first, he silently applauded her courage. She had far more to lose than him. While his parents might express horror or anger at his choice of woman, they’d never reject him outright.
The pub wasn’t open yet, and he led her up to the top floor apartment.
“The windows are still intact,” she said.
“We hired a security company,” Dallas said. “The regular patrol acts as a deterrent.” He let himself into the silent apartment.
“He must be in bed. You’d better wait here. I want to make sure Patrick is wearing clothes when he wanders out.”
“Spoilsport,” she said with a wink.
He was still chuckling when he tapped on the bedroom door. “Hey, Patrick. Are you awake?”
“I am now,” Patrick muttered. “I didn’t get to bed until one this morning.” He shot upright in bed. “Bro, you left your phone here.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Patrick climbed out of bed, glowering at Dallas the entire time. “Why do you have a photo of a Drummond on your phone? A naked photo. Are you fuckin’ crazy? Why would you hook up with a Drummond?”
“Shush,” Dallas said.
Patrick made a rude sound while he rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair. When finished he resembled a spiky hedgehog—a perfect match for his testy mood. “The mystery blonde. A fuckin’ Drummond.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t recognize her.”
“I told you I saw her in the pub a few weeks ago. Fuck, Dallas. A Drummond. She’d better be good in bed, that’s all I can say, because I can’t think of any other reason for you to hook up with the enemy.”
Irritation swooped through Dallas, and he glared at Patrick. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“I’m very good in bed,” Laura said in a firm voice and stepped into the bedroom. “But I believe your brother likes my brain and my sense of humor too. Dallas looks better than you naked.” She sent Dallas a chagrined smile. “Sorry, I looked before I could help myself. I guess that means a punishment, huh?”
Dallas watched Patrick’s eyes widen, and his mood lightened. Trust Laura to diffuse the situation with humor.
“Besides,” she said in a prim tone. “If he’s seen me naked, it’s only fair I see him. He can tease me about my knobby knees, and I can poke fun at his beer belly.”
“I don’t have a beer belly,” Patrick snapped. “Christ Jesus, I need coffee.”
“I’ll make it,” Laura said, backing out of the bedroom.
“A Drummond,” Patrick said again with a shake of his head. A lock of black hair flopped over his forehead, and he shoved it away with an impatient hand.
“Put on some clothes.” Dallas’s glance drifted to Patrick’s middle, and he smirked.
“Fuck off with your girlfriend and help make coffee,” Patrick snapped.
Chuckling, Dallas scooped up his phone and sauntered out to the kitchenette, good humor settling on his shoulders like his favorite leather jacket. The very first hurdle over, and the sky hadn’t bombarded them with bolts from heaven.
“Okay?” Laura glanced over her shoulder, pausing in measuring the coffee grounds.
“Yeah.” Dallas went to her, gave her a hard, swift kiss.
“Aw, hell,” Patrick muttered. “You’re making me accessory to the fact. How can I scrub my mind if you keep reinforcing images?”
“You will forget about seeing me naked or else,” Laura said.
“Or else what?” Patrick taunted.
Dallas hid his grin, happy for them to verbally deck it out.
“Not sure,” Laura said. “But keep looking over your shoulder ’cause I have a devious mind.”
Patrick sneered. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from a Drummond.”
“I wouldn’t hold that expression for too long. It makes you look ugly, although it does go with a beer pot.”
“I don’t—” began Patrick.
“Enough,” Dallas said, deciding it was time to step into their verbal fracas. “Truce. I think it’s a draw.”
“Does your family know about the two of you?” Patrick asked.
It was like watching a balloon pop. Laura’s teasing expression faded, and her shoulders slumped. “No, they don’t know.”
“They know Laura isn’t staying in their apartment any longer. They threatened to get her sacked from a charity job.”
“That’s low.”
“Yeah, not their finest moment,” Laura said. “I try to remember they care for me.”
“That’s micromanaging,” Patrick said. “What are you going to do? Your relationship will explode right in your faces. Quinn won’t like it. I doubt you’ll get to see him naked, and there goes your leverage.”
“Pooh,” Laura said. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“No seriously,” Patrick said. “Quinn had a run in with one of your sisters. He hates your family.”
“My parents will be worse,” Laura said. “I feel it in my bones.”
Dallas agreed with their conclusions. “We’ll take one day at a time.”
“But are you sure… You know. You haven’t known each other for long.” Patrick frowned at Dallas.
“Our relationship isn’t casual.” Laura spoke for both of them, and the budding tension in Dallas receded.
“No, it’s not. We’re living together, or we will be as soon as Laura moves in.” He reached for her hand, needing the physical contact. Her fingers curled around his, and when she moved closer, it felt natural to put his arm around her, even with Patrick studying them like a curious kid. “Are you going to tell Quinn?”
“Hell no. He’ll shoot the messenger.” Patrick held up his hands, palms facing them as if warding off the suggestion. “You do your own dirty work.”
“I vote for a need-to-know basis,” Laura said.
Patrick nodded. “She’s right. Why borrow trouble? I can keep a secret.”
Once the coffee finished dripping through the filter, Dallas grabbed three mugs from the cupboard. Laura opened the fridge and handed him a bottle of milk.
Patrick’s brows shot toward his hairline. “You two are good together.”
“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you,” Laura said.
Lazy contentment flooded Dallas. He hadn’t been too worried about Patrick’s reaction. Quinn was the one who’d shit a brick about having a Drummond in the family. Their parents would have reservations, but they wouldn’t arrive home for six weeks. “Laura will be around the pub a bit more in the future.”
“Fine with me. If she acts the Drummond princess, you can deal with her.”
“I don’t own a crown,” Laura said. “Didn’t even have one when I was a kid. I wanted to be a fireman,” she said. “No princesses in my fantasies.”
Dallas pressed a kiss on her upturned face. “Good to know, sweetheart.”
“You’re thinking about Drummond sex,” Patrick said. “Don’t do that in front of me.”
Laura smiled—sugar-sweet—at his brother. “Noted, but if you visit us at home, all sexy bets are void.”
Two weeks later
“Two steak pies, two fish and chips and one Thai chicken salad,” the head cook called.
Laura shouted the order back and started plating the requested meals. She’d discovered she loved cooking simple, tasty meals with none of the prissy sauces her mother insisted their housekeeper produce at home. Fresh and local ingredients, cooked simply were popular at O’Grady’s.
Not even her tired muscles or her tender backside, courtesy of Dallas, took away from her pleasure in the honest labor. And the paycheck each week made her smile. She insisted on contributing to the household expenses and combined with her temp office jobs, she still managed to save a portion of her wages. The sense of satisfaction far outweighed the loss of her allowance from her family.
“Four soup, three garlic bread,” the cook shouted.
Laura reached for soup bowls and ladled out chicken and vegetable soup.
“You can go for a half hour break once you’re done with those,” the cook said. “Dallas asked if you’d grab him something to eat. He’s nipping out to see if the club down the road can spare some change.”
“Soup up.” Laura grabbed garlic bread from the warmer. “Bread up too.” Wiping her hands on her apron, she decided on Thai chicken salad for their dinner and plated the meals. She whipped off her apron and stowed it where no one else would steal it. A lesson learned early in her new job. A phantom apron thief haunted this kitchen.
The pub was busy, but she commandeered the small table near the bar, one reserved for staff, and started her dinner. Patrick plonked a beer and a glass of water on the table, dashing off before she could thank him.
Ten minutes passed and another ten. She finished her dinner, went to the bar and waited for Patrick to catch her wave.
“Dallas isn’t back.”
“But he went ages ago,” Patrick said. “I assumed he was eating his dinner. He knew we were busy. I doubt he’d dally at the club.” Patrick handed over three beers and took the money. “Jump behind the bar and cover for me. I’ll go and find him.”
“But Dallas doesn’t—”
“This is an emergency,” Patrick snapped.
Laura nodded and took her first official order. She fumbled at first, but her confidence grew and her nerves subsided. She served beers, glasses of wine and mixed drinks, her gaze straying to the door as her stint behind the bar grew to half an hour.
Patrick burst through the door, blood splattered across his face.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Laura’s hands fisted in his shirt as she prepared to shake truth from him.
“Someone mugged him on the way back from the club. I waited for the ambulance to arrive before I came for you.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“He’s breathing, but he wasn’t conscious when I left.”
“Wait, what about the bar?”
“Gloria is on her way, and she’ll take over as soon as she gets here. I’ll sort out the rest later tonight.”
Once Gloria arrived, Laura grabbed her phone and wallet plus a jacket before following Patrick from the pub. He hailed a cab, and fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the hospital. It was another long fifteen minutes before they were allowed to see Dallas.
A sob escaped Laura when she caught her first glimpse. His features were swollen, angry marks that would probably bruise already forming on his left cheek and along his jaw line. A neat line of stitches marred his forehead above his left eyebrow. His top lip was thicker than normal and several cuts and nicks decorated his jaw and cheeks. One arm was covered in heavy bandages. His face was pale, and lying in the hospital bed, he seemed less Dallas than usual. Patrick slipped an arm around her shoulders in silent comfort.
Dallas’s eyes fluttered open when she sobbed again, unable to halt the slide of tears down her cheeks.
“Sweetheart.” His speech was hard to decipher because of his puffy lip.
“You’re awake,” Patrick said. “The nurses said to call them if you woke.”
Laura crept closer and traced an uninjured part of his cheek. “What happened?”
Dallas frowned, his brow knitting in fierce concentration. “Someone jumped me.”
A short, dark-haired nurse bustled past the curtain surrounding his bed, and Laura retreated to join Patrick.
“He looks terrible,” she whispered. “Have you rung Quinn?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d wait until I’d seen Dallas again and could tell Quinn more about his injuries.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Ring him anyway. If it was me I’d want to know,” Laura said.
Patrick picked up his phone. “Me too.”
“No phones in here please,” the nurse said in a crisp voice. “You have five minutes, and then you’ll have to leave. Mr. O’Grady needs rest. You can visit him tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Laura said, bowing to the nurse’s authority even though she wanted to protest.
Dallas caught her hand when she neared the bed. “Stay with Patrick in apartment. Safer.”
“All right,” she promised.
“You’re going make me consort with the enemy,” Patrick said with a note of horror.
“Yeah.” Dallas tried to smile, and that reassured her.
“Did you see who did it?” Patrick asked.
“Yeah. Told the cops. Never seen them before. Bit hazy.” Dallas yawned and winced as the move pulled his facial cuts.
“Time to leave,” the nurse said.
Laura squeezed Dallas’s hand and stooped to place a careful kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She had a job the next day, but she’d ring the agency as soon as she arrived at the apartment and leave a message on the machine. They’d understand, given the circumstances.
“See you tomorrow, bro,” Patrick said.
Laura didn’t sleep. It wasn’t that the couch was uncomfortable. It was fine, but her mind wouldn’t let go of her worry for Dallas. By six, she gave up the pretense and rose, dressing to start a pot of coffee. She felt grungy and in need of a shower but didn’t like to make free with the bathroom.
Halfway through writing a note for Patrick, he appeared dressed in jeans and a T-shirt poking fun at the Australian Wallabies. His dark hair stood up in its usual disarray and combined with the dark stubble on his cheeks, he resembled a roguish pirate. Laura bet the girls begged for his attentions.
“I was writing you a note. I need to go back to the house to get some clean clothes and a few things for Dallas.”
Patrick poured them both a cup of coffee before answering. “I’ll take you. We can grab breakfast too.”
Laura frowned at him. “I can—”
“Dallas would expect me to look after you.”
Stung at the unspoken implication, she ruffled up like a kitten under attack. “I can take care of myself.”
“Hell. I didn’t mean you were helpless. What I was trying to say is that Dallas likes to take care of his women—ah, woman,” he said on seeing her fierce scowl. “He’d want me to offer my help. Besides, I’m at a standstill with the Clare pub. All I need to do is check on the building alterations and do a couple of interviews later this afternoon.”
“What about here?”
“Gloria is in this morning, and I guess between the two of us, we can take care of tonight.”
“I’m sorry, but I have a thing tonight.” Laura pulled a face. “I’m going to a business dinner with James. Dallas is okay with it.”
“He lets you date another man?”
Laura forced herself to meet his gaze. “It’s complicated.”
“You can tell me on the way,” Patrick said and downed the last of his coffee.
Patrick was good company, and the conversation didn’t contain the fits and starts of strangers attempting to hold to the social niceties.
“Do you know anyone who drives a dark blue Camry?”
“No,” Laura said. “Why?”
“The car was parked near the pub, and they’ve been following us for the last five minutes.”
Laura fought every instinct screaming at her to turn her head to get a visual of the vehicle. “Pull over and pretend you’re answering a phone call. We’ll wait here for five minutes and see what they do.”
“Dallas is right. You have a brain.”
“Thanks so much for the compliment.”
Patrick barked out a laugh and parked. He lifted his phone to his ear while they both eyed the blue sedan. It passed and took the next right turn, disappearing from sight.
“It doesn’t look familiar. I didn’t see much of the driver. You?”
“No,” Patrick said. “But he’s on his own.”
“I’ll ring the hospital to check on Dallas.” Laura switched on her phone and it beeped with message alerts. She pulled a face as she scanned them. “It appears my mother has decided to speak to me again. I wonder what she wants.”
Laura rang the number the hospital had given them the previous night and received a report from one of the nurses. “He’s doing okay.” Her relief emerged in the guise of a bright smile, and Patrick blinked. “They’ve decided they need to operate on his arm, and we can visit him this evening.”
“If you ever get tired of Dallas, I’m next in line.”
Laura sent him an uncertain glance. “I’m happy with Dallas, but thank you.”
“So polite,” he said. “You get an edge of crisp princess to your voice when you’re irritated. Are you going to listen to your mother’s messages?”
She grimaced. “I might as well. I think if we turn around and take the road behind us, we can drive around the block. If the car is waiting for us, we’ll come up behind him and take him by surprise.”
Patrick sent her an admiring look and started up Dallas’s truck. “Not simply a pretty face. I might’ve imagined the whole following thing, you know.”
“At least we’ll know for sure.” Laura pulled up her messages and steeled herself to listen.
Her mother’s voice, smooth and cultured, flowed into her ear. “Why aren’t you coming home? Where are you living? You’re not working at the charity any longer. Ring me, Laura.”
A second and third message contained much of the same, and hurt stung Laura. “I think my mother wants to know how I’m managing since they cut off my allowance. She’s thinking why hasn’t Laura come crawling home yet?”
“Don’t they know you have several temp jobs?”
“I haven’t spoken to them since my father issued his ultimatum. I’ll see Father and my brother at the dinner tonight. They run in the same circles as James.”
“At least they’ll behave civilly if you meet in a public place.”
“That’s the theory.” Laura wrinkled her nose as Patrick maneuvered the truck between two parked vehicles. “If my mother is in attendance, she’ll try to get me alone. I can be pretty stubborn though. Guess who I inherited that from?”
Patrick chuckled and broke off abruptly. “Fuck! He is following us.” He pulled up with a screech of brakes and was out of the truck and storming the parked vehicle before she struggled free of her seat belt.
She grabbed a pen to jot the number plate on the back of one of her pay slips before joining Patrick. The driver ignored Patrick’s demand to open the door. Instead, he started his vehicle and with a spin of wheels, shot away.
“Fuck,” Patrick shouted, running after the departing vehicle. “Bastard.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No, but he had private investigator written all over him.”
“I have his number plate.”
“Clever girl. We’ll use the vehicle finder service and see what we can dredge up.”
“It might not be his vehicle.”
“True. Maybe Dallas will have some ideas.” He darted a sharp glance in her direction, his eyes narrowing as if a thought had occurred to him. “Would your parents set a private investigator on you?”
Laura thought about it for two seconds before she gave a curt nod. “Yes. Yes, they’d do something like that.” She jammed her hands in her jeans pockets to stem her urge to strike out with her fists. “Maybe I should listen to the rest of my messages instead of deleting them.”
The rest of the drive to the house was uneventful, with no sightings of the blue car. Laura listened to her mother’s messages become shorter, crisper before they gave way to voicemail from other family members. Her older sisters and her father. All were in the same vein. She was acting like a child, and it was time for her to come home. After listening to the final one, she huffed out a huge breath and hit delete on the lot.
“You’re the youngest,” she said. “Your family doesn’t treat you like an idiot, incapable of doing anything by yourself.”
“They do at times.”
“And how do you cope with it?” It was easy to hear her frustration. It throbbed through her voice and in the distance between them.
“I ignore them and do my own thing.”
She snorted. “So not working for me. I was born with a mild heart murmur. The heart thing has never slowed me down. I tried playing every sport I could, even though my parents didn’t approve.” She sighed, a loud, unhappy whoosh of air. “I guess they worry I’m not strong enough to cope. My health isn’t a problem. Heck, I go for regular physicals to placate my parents. What more can I do to prove I’m capable of running my own life?”
“Nothing in your messages to indicate they’d set a private investigator on you?”
“No, but you can bet I’ll ask questions this evening. Maybe James will know something.”
Laura gave Patrick directions, and they pulled up in the driveway of the house a few minutes later.
“Nice,” Patrick said.
“We were looking at apartments, and the real estate agent suggested we view this one. It has a garden and barbeque area out the back. It’s pretty and private.” Laura unlocked the door and walked inside with Patrick trailing her. “Take yourself on a tour while I grab a few clothes. Oh, do I have time for a quick shower?”
He checked his watch. “Sure. I have two hours before I need to head to Clare to meet with the builders. It’s still early. We can do a quick breakfast before I go to the meeting.”
“I’d love to see the new pub.”
“Okay. Done deal. As soon as we can organize a visit. Get a move on.”
The rest of the morning passed with no strange vehicles following them and no further phone calls from her family. The lull in drama allowed her to worry about Dallas. Relief struck when she found him sitting up in his hospital bed later that day. She scanned his face, relaxing on seeing the familiar happy sparkle in his eyes. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, taking care not to jostle his plaster covered arm.
“What did the doctors say about your arm? When can you leave?”
A masculine cough behind her had her drawing back.
A swift flush flew to her cheeks making them radiate heat. “I’m sorry. I was so focused on you I didn’t notice you had a visitor.”
“Quinn,” Patrick said, giving her a warning before she turned to meet the third O’Grady brother.
“Hello,” she said, shooting him a wide smile while inside her stomach quaked in rollercoaster swoops, terrified of the probable fallout. “You must be Dallas’s older brother.” He wasn’t quite as tall as Dallas and Patrick, but it was easy to tell he was related since he bore their inky black hair and blue eyes. He regarded her without the ready under-the-surface humor his younger brothers possessed. Dress was another area the brothers differed since Quinn wore a smart gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a gray tie with splashes of blue to match his eyes.
“Laura,” Dallas said, and she obeyed the silent request to move closer. He took her hand with his uninjured one, lacing their fingers together in a blatant act of possessiveness. The set of his jaw was stubborn and determined. “Quinn, this is my girlfriend, Laura Drummond.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Quinn started. “Wait, Drummond?”
“Yes.” Laura lifted her chin, determined to act with dignity. The feud between their families was stupid. Who cared what happened several generations ago? It was the present that mattered.
His gaze skewered her until she wanted to fidget. “Related to the Clare Drummonds?”
“Yes.” She stared back in silent challenge.
“Related how?”
“Jesus, Quinn,” Patrick said. “What’s with the third degree?”
Quinn’s gaze didn’t shift away from Laura and he rattled off her sisters’ and her brother’s names.
“They’re my family,” she said, glad of Dallas’s hand gripping hers and the hospital bed between them. Quinn growled—actually growled—and a tremor raced down her spine. Surely he wouldn’t attack her in a hospital?