Chapter Four

 

William wanted to kick himself for leaving Bronte alone. Didn’t he have enough experience with her to know what a mistake that was? Every time she’d gotten close to letting her guard down in the past, in person or on the phone, something would happen and she’d shut him down again, leaving him back at the start again.

Something had changed between them. She’d responded to him. Opened up and shared a part of herself no one else had ever seen. That had to mean he was finally getting through to her. That his plan to wear down her defenses was actually working.

Or it would make her more closed off than ever and he should have snagged her wallet, or held her car keys as collateral in case she tried to run.

He would have if he hadn’t been reeling from her revelations. His gut had told him the first time they’d met that she was the kind of woman who pushed aside her own pain, her own desires for others, but he’d had no idea the extent of it.

The thought of anyone hurting her sent him into a rage. He wasn’t the best of men, but he had never considered taking a woman against her will. Men like that, the ones that believed they were owed something and took what they hadn’t earned? He had no qualms about showing them the error of their ways, or letting one of his friends bilk them for everything they had.

As if that makes you a hero.

It didn’t. He had no illusions about what he’d been. A bookmaker’s muscle. An opportunist who wagered on his fists with gullible tourists and ambitious idiots. Where Bronte had taken her pain and used it to heal other people, he’d used his as an excuse.

When he was younger, fighters had been his heroes. He’d soak up stories of Dempsey and other Irish boxing greats like a sponge. He was mad for Muhammad Ali and watched all the Rocky movies enough to have them memorized. His happiest memories were when his father took him to sparring matches, even getting him a pair of gloves for his twelfth birthday. His dreams of glory died with his parents, but not his instincts for survival.

Since he’d been spending time with this branch of Finns, however, he’d been remembering those old dreams and thinking about forging a new path for himself.

After marrying Bronte and helping his cousin, James, out of a sticky situation, he’d known his days of dive bars and dangerous company were behind him for good. He’d started looking at property near Finn’s to open a sparring club of his own. An honest club. No gambling allowed.

If he wanted to deserve a woman like Bronte, he had to be thorough and aboveboard every step of the way. He had to do it right.

He’d do whatever he had to do to keep her, but this visit had him flying blind.

William took his phone out and made a call. “Tanaka? Did you or that giant you call a fiancé happen to spill any important secrets you swore to me you’d keep recently?”

“Hello, William. I’m fine,” Ken said wryly. “And I think you know we haven’t. It’s been months. If the rest of your family knew your paperwork went through two weeks after you left, they’d have all descended by now, wondering why you haven’t come home. The way we do on a regular basis,” he added after a pause.

He squeezed the back of his neck, pacing his living room. “You know why, man. I’ve told you more than once.”

“Yes, yes. The grand plan. Saving money for a business, wooing your wife, absence giving the heart blue balls and so on.”

“That’s right,” he said defensively. “It’s a good plan.”

“Which is why I’ve been helping you and keeping my mouth shut. It’s also not the whole truth. You’ve still got that one problem you can’t figure out how to solve and you haven’t bothered to fill me in on it. Or were you planning to come home with that monkey still on your back?”

Shit.

“How did you find out?”

Ken’s chuckle was dark. “I’m that good. And despite your reputation as the family scoundrel, you don’t really have that much larceny in your soul. It’s kind of funny you should call tonight, since the situation has recently changed.”

William froze. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, but I can’t get into all the details right now. We can talk more tomorrow.”

He couldn’t—? “What the fuck, man? You can’t say something like that and then fob me off.”

“You’re not in any danger and I told you we could handle it, so stop worrying,” Ken said firmly. “In fact, we might even be able to finally deal with your situation once and for all so you can get back here and your cousins can stop asking me for updates.”

William sighed. “I apologize for dragging you into this.”

“I volunteered. Now how about you tell me why you’re suddenly asking about your secret citizenship? What’s going on?”

“Didn’t you know? My wife has decided to pay me a visit.”

“I see. And you’re wondering if it’s to get an annulment because she knows you’ve been stringing her along? Trying to win her heart with dinosaurs and yarn while you go legit and learn all the words to the Star Spangled Banner?”

William made an obscene gesture at the phone. “It crossed my mind.”

“She doesn’t know,” he assured him. “At least, she didn’t hear it from me. Also, interesting fact, everyone else thinks she’s on vacation with her friend, Erica. So you aren’t the only one keeping secrets in that relationship.”

He supposed she’d have to lie, since not a one of them knew he was her husband. A fact he planned to fix as soon as possible. “Why the devil is she here?”

“You could ask her. Just a thought.”

He had. She’d managed to avoid telling him so far.

You haven’t wanted answers as much as you wanted her. Or did you forget this afternoon already?

“Tomorrow,” William said abruptly. “I’ll want those new details tomorrow, Tanaka.”

“Ditto, Billy. I’m sure we’d all like to know what Bronte’s been up to.”

He hung up on the hacker and headed for the door, wondering if he could lock his wife in her hotel room until she told him what he wanted to know. Preferably naked and tied to the bed.

His phone buzzed in his hand and he absently slid his thumb across the screen, seeing a message from the woman herself. Was she going to cancel or tell him she was already on the road?

The image attached made him weak.

Bronte was smiling for the camera, fresh-faced as ever, but wearing a dress that was bound to get him into a fight.

She was also already at the pub. He knew this because he could see a few familiar faces smiling broadly behind her.

I decided to meet you there.

“Son of a bitch.”

He locked his door and took the stairs two at a time, forcing himself not to run.

She wasn’t going anywhere. And the Collins men knew better than to let anyone near her.

He had to reevaluate his assessment of their intelligence as soon as he walked in the door. “Who the hell is that?”

Finn Young, who was taking his shift behind the bar, laughed at the shouted question. “That is the goddess you apparently tricked into marrying you,” he answered easily. “Nice work on that, by the way.”

“I’m referring to the man dancing with her. The one who’s got too many teeth in his head and needs help solving that problem.”

“Him?” William heard Pat ask as he joined him at the end of the bar. “That’s an old professor friend of Keira’s husband. He stops by occasionally, wrongly hates our Ravens and took your wife away from a perfectly pleasant conversation, which means I’m in your corner. You should go bring her back immediately and with minimal to no bloodshed, if you please.”

William was already walking across the room. It hadn’t been five minutes since she’d sent that text and some pompous looking, silver-haired prick was moving in on his woman.

He tapped on the man’s shoulder, scowling down at Bronte when the two separated and glanced his way. “Mrs. Finn,” he emphasized. “I thought you were saving the first dance for your husband.”

“Oh,” the professor looked down at her with a distancing smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised someone’s taken you off the market already. But I’d still like to buy you a drink. When he gets here, I’ll get one for him as well.”

Bronte’s laugh swept away most of his ire, though the entire situation was damn insulting. “I’m already here, man.” He patted him forcefully on the back, his grim expression belying his tone. “And I’d love a pint. We’ll meet you over by the bar as soon as we’re finished.”

She was still laughing when he swept her into his arms, tucking her hand tightly against his chest. “Think that’s funny, do you?”

“Hilarious,” she affirmed, looking up at him with an apologetic sigh. “But you don’t.”

“I’m for anything that makes you smile, Nightingale.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. “And anything that keeps me from thinking about the fact that you went out in public without me. In that dress. Aren’t you cold?”

The look she sent was a warning. “I wore a jacket, William. And there’s nothing wrong with this dress. I know because it isn’t one of Austen’s and she told me it was too conservative when I picked it out.”

He pulled back enough to take it in. Cobalt blue with long sleeves and a hem that floated around her knees and clung to her everything. The swooping neckline alone was making it hard to concentrate. How was a man supposed to dance with an erection that could hammer nails?

“Your sister was mistaken.”

Her smile then made him want to beat his chest. “I’m taking that as a compliment. I’m not even sure why I brought it. My plan was to drive up, have a quick conversation with you and drive back.”

He pushed the stabbing pain aside at her admission. “That’s what you told yourself. But you brought a suitcase full of clothes. And you brought this dress because you wanted to wear it for me.”

“You’re so cocky,” she grumbled. “I don’t remember being that cocky when I turned twenty-five.”

William stopped her mid spin and gripped her wrist, fast walking her to the small storage closet off the bar. She protested, but he wasn’t listening. They needed to get at least one thing straight between them, here and now.

He led her inside then pressed her against the closed door, hands dropping to her ass and squeezing with enough force to make her yelp. “I’m a grown man, Mrs. Finn, and I have been for a while. I’ve lived hard, practically raised two kids who are still breathing and I know how to take care of what’s mine. We have enough on our damn plate, and I don’t have the patience to let your vanity or other people’s views get in the way of what’s between us.”

“Vanity?” She glared before looking away from him with a muttered, “That’s a little harsh.”

He gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “It’s the reality you’re so fond of. In case you haven’t checked your messages, you’re the only one I want to talk to morning and night. You’re the only one I see. It’s been that way since you handed me my ass in the emergency room and I had to get away and regroup before I made a fool of myself.”

“Really?”

William looked heavenward, as if asking for help. “You could drive a man to drink. Yes, really. And if our roles were reversed this wouldn’t be an issue.”

He nodded, quickly warming up to that argument. “That’s right, I said it. If I were a hot, young thing, fresh off the boat and you were an older man? No one would bat an eye and you’d be telling everyone in shouting distance, preening like a bloody peacock instead of keeping me your sordid secret. I’m right, aren’t I? And you know what that means? It means your issue with my age is sexist. What do you think about that?”

“Damn.” She leaned against the door and blew out a loud breath, her eyes wide. “And there I was thinking you and my previous dance partner had the market cornered on sexism. You going all caveman and he…”

“What? What did he do?” He really wanted to hear what she had to say about Professor Lickarse.

“Well, I hate that phrase, off the market. First of all, I’m not for sale and I have never been for sale. Every time someone asks if I’m on or off the market, I want to give them a lecture on human trafficking and the slave trade.”

William hid his face in her neck before she could see his smile.

“It’s true,” she insisted, but he heard the humor in her voice. “And while I don’t know if I’m being sexist, ageist or any other damn ist you can accuse me of in this closet you’ve trapped me in, I’ll try to stop bringing it up because you make a good point. Satisfied?”

He nuzzled her cleavage and growled. “Not remotely. But there’s nothing we can do about it until I let Old Pat and the others get to know you better.”

She slid one hand around his neck, absently caressing his hair in a way that made him want to purr. “I heard you’ve been talking about me. I’m not sure why, but I hope I live up to the hype.”

“They knew as soon as they saw you that I didn’t do you justice.”

“Keep saying things like that and round two is definitely happening.”

Oh, it was happening. And soon, or he might not survive the night.

 

A few hours later, William was wondering if a man really could die from prolonged arousal. He’d given her space at the bar, talking to a few regulars who were lingering out of pure curiosity, or in order to give him a hard time. Probably a little of both.

Every time he heard her laugh he wanted to toss her over his shoulder. Each smile she aimed in his direction had him ready and willing to drop to his knees. He wanted her to be his in every way.

His family was a strange bunch, but no one could say they didn’t go after what they wanted. “All in” was their battle cry, and for them it was more than big talk. If they loved a man or two, or a man and a woman, it was all the same to the Finns. And as the patriarch, Uncle Shawn accepted them all without judgment, though his own twin had never been able to do the same for his sons.

William only wanted one woman, and she was complicated enough. She also seemed to finally be ready to give in to the fire that burned between them. But getting her to believe his feelings were true, getting her to trust in their future together, would be a challenge. 

You could start by telling her the truth. All of it.

He couldn’t do it tonight. She looked too beautiful and she was enjoying herself so much.

William watched her knock back what looked like a shot of whiskey. Maybe she was enjoying herself too much. Another one of those and his plans for tonight might have to be put on hold.

He walked over to where she was huddled with Bubbles and Old Pat. The smile on his face was wider than he’d ever seen it. Riley’s son, Finn, was leaning his elbows on the bar beside them, both men thoroughly enjoying whatever it was the women were talking about.

“Is this a private party?”

Bronte spun around guiltily at the sound of his voice. “William. No, I was just—Bubbles was telling me all about Aaron and Riley’s wedding and…things.”

“Things?” That sounded intriguing.

Bubbles sent him a wink. “Stories of younger men and stamina.”

God love her.

William sent a speaking look towards his wife. “Younger men, Nightingale? Did you forget our earlier discussion?”

The expression on her face told him she hadn’t. “I said I’d try to stop,” she emphasized. “And I wasn’t the one who brought it up.”

Finn Young shrugged. “She’s right. Though I didn’t know one teasing comment would lead to such an educational conversation.”

“I didn’t know we’d be hearing so much about your family and their complicated love lives,” Pat added impishly. “It’s been fascinating.”

William smirked. “I’m sure.”

“Is it true you flooded the police chief’s house then stole his car while he was in the hospital?”

He crossed his arms at that, eyes back on Bronte. “A misunderstanding. And at the time he was between jobs. I see Mrs. Finn still gets chatty when she drinks.”

Bronte covered her face with her hands.

“Bronte, love?”

“Yes, William?” He swallowed a laugh at her muffled response.

“Are you done for the night? If you have any more problems with me or embarrassing stories you’d like to share, this is the right place. Here in front of the owners. Where I work.”

He was sure he heard her whimper. “I’m good.”

William couldn’t resist twisting the screws. “You sure about that, darlin’? Nothing else you need to get off your chest? Or should we sing some karaoke? I’d love to have witnesses this time.”

She lowered her hands, somehow managing to glare and grin at the same time. “Other than you being a punk ass-leprechaun-pain in my ass? No, that’s all I feel like sharing.”

Pat, who’d just taken a sip of his beer, choked at her reply. Bubbles hopped off her stool and went over to him, patting his back.

“I’m fine,” he hacked. “I’m not going to die from one pint.” He eyed Bronte as they all relaxed and took a step back. “I think the two of you fit together better than you know, Mrs. Finn. And now that I’ve met you, I think it’s time for me to go home.”

Bubbles was ready with her purse and a quick hug for Bronte. “Nice to meet you, girl. If you ever want to have lunch with me and Riley, we’ll make it happen.”

“I’d like that,” Bronte said sincerely, throwing a challenging glance at William before reaching for her glass.

He put his hand over the top and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Any more of that and you might find yourself married again. Why don’t you let me take you home so we can get to the honeymoon instead?”

“Oh lord,” she breathed. “How is it possible for you to be so irritating and so damn sexy at the same time?”

“It’s a mystery for the ages. Did you bring your car?”

“I walked. Pat’s was so close by and the waterfront is beautiful at night.”

“You walked?” He took a calming breath and lowered his voice. “You should have let me know, Bronte. I could have joined you.”

“I had my pepper spray.”

Pepper spray. And those heels and that dress in a strange city at night. William ground his teeth together in order to hold his tongue.

He helped her into her quilted jacket and took her hand without another word, waving toward the men at the bar before holding the door for her to pass through.

“You had a good time?” He slowed his stride to keep pace with her smaller steps.

“I did. They’re such a fun group. And there are so many of them.” She chuckled. “I used to think the Waynes had that market cornered. Big family, close ties, one of us always in the other’s business. But the Collins might have us beat. I mean, they work together, literally live above the bar, and they love it.”

“Half of them don’t even work there, and it’s only a few of Pat’s grandkids above the bar now. Besides, you lived and worked with Hugo until he married my cousin.”

Bronte shrugged. “Hugo is different. We understand each other. If I actually spent twenty-four seven with the other five? Heads would roll.”

William quirked his lips. “The Collins are a rare bunch. Though you wouldn’t know it from what I’ve seen since I’ve been in the states.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Finns, your family and now this lot? I’m surrounded on all sides by large broods.”

She nudged his arm. “I’m used to my big family. The Finns are the all yours, like it or not.

He wanted them to be. “What I mean is I haven’t seen much of that nuclear family I hear Americans are so fond of. The couple with two kids and a dog, the white picket fence.”

Bronte’s smile was soft. “Sounds nice, but a little old fashioned now. The new normal is that there is no normal. Still, I bet that family never had to fight over the shower or check out three carts full of groceries at one time.”

He laughed. “I only had two siblings and a crazy old man to contend with. I can see now that your parents deserve a medal at the very least.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “I’d like to hear about that. You said you’d tell me.”

Now?

“Bronte, I’m planning to strip that tease of a dress off and have my way with your willing body, those are the only sins I want you thinking about tonight.”

“William.”

He let out a frustrated breath. “What do you want to know?”

“You said you raised them?”

Her gaze on him was a soothing balm. “Our parents died when I was twelve and our grandfather had a bad leg and a head full of shrapnel from some war or another. Never clear on which one or if he’d made the whole thing up, but the result was the same. He gave us a roof and, as the oldest, I had to get work.”

“At twelve?”

He dipped his chin. “Most shop owners reacted the same way, which meant the only opportunities to be found were under the table. I was fast and hungry, so I became a messenger for a man who wanted to keep his financial transactions confidential. He gave me a chance because he’d known my father.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “In a Dickens novel, I’d be playing the role of the Artful Dodger. At least, until I hit a growth spurt and showed a natural talent for fisticuffs. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Seriously? That’s all you’re giving me?”

His shrugged, not knowing what to tell her. “I can’t change what I did or who I was while I was doing it, can I? But that’s not who I am anymore. Now I’m trying to move forward. To be a better brother than I was. A better man.”

She slid her arm around his waist and he had a hard time concealing how shaken he was by her easy affection and acceptance.

“You get bonus points for the Dickens reference and using the word fisticuffs in a sentence. But I don’t think you need to worry about being a better brother.”

He snorted in blatant disbelief.

She ignored him. “That’s not me saying that. That’s Matthew and Kate. The one Finn Again dinner Hugo talked me into while you were gone? Those two showed up specifically to corner me and make sure I was good enough for you.”

He caught his breath. “I told them to behave around you.”

“Oh, they did. It was the most polite and invasively thorough interrogation I’ve ever experienced,” she mused. “They’re protective and I get why they would be. Despite your…alternative career choices, you managed to raise two very smart, determined and slightly intimidating twenty-somethings that probably aren’t serial killers. If it were me, I’d call that a win.”

Her teasing smile faded when she caught his expression. “But you don’t.”

He shrugged. “I tried to keep them away from all the shite I was up to my neck in, but Matthew was a nosy bugger and my sister’s nickname is Calamity for a reason. I’m not sure how things would have turned out if we hadn’t come here when we did. At least now they have a better chance.”

She squeezed his arm. “What about you? Have you thought about giving yourself that better chance? I know you’ve been behaving yourself in Baltimore, but I also recall having to patch you up once or twice before you came here. And I heard a few things from Younger.”

“I remember that patch job. It’s hard to forget a woman’s laugh when you’ve got your pants around your ankles.”

“That was a perfectly natural nervous reaction, but still rude.” She blinked at him innocently before glancing down at the sidewalk. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” And I love that about you.

“You’re right, I’m not,” came her instant reply. “Never propose to your nurse when you’re half naked and bleeding in the ER. It throws people off.”

She hadn’t seen him at his best, had she? But she was still talking. Still touching him. It gave him hope. “That won’t happen anymore. I told you before that marriage had me turning over a new leaf. I think I was a bit wary of my welcome into the family fold when I first arrived. Old habits and all that. Things are different now.”

“I thought it might be about that woman who broke your heart.”

He stopped walking. “The who that did what?”

Bronte patted his side soothingly. “Younger told me she’s the reason you wanted to come to the states in the first place. Believe me, I’d be pissed too if I found out someone I loved was married to someone else with a baby on the way.”

William pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck me. Is that what you’ve thought this whole time?”

Her hands dropped away from him and landed hard on her hips. “That’s what I know. Are you calling Younger a liar?”

“No, that would be me,” he said ruefully. He’d completely forgotten.

Shit.

He took a step back, ready for her anger. “Before you go off half-cocked, you should know that Owen and Seamus were strangers to me then. And when I met them, they were each wading hip-deep in romances of their own. Owen was on his damn honeymoon. So when I mentioned wanting to come for a visit, I thought love would be a reason they’d understand.”

Her mouth opened and closed several times as if she couldn’t remember how to speak.

Then she did. “You lied about why you wanted to come for a visit? To your family?”

He held out his hand as if to shake hers. “Pleased to meet you, distant relations I’ve never seen before. I’m from the poor, criminal branch of the family tree and I’ve flown across the ocean to sleep on your couch without any money, formal education or job prospects on the horizon. Would that have been a better introduction?”

When she continued to stare at him he swore under his breath. “I knocked the girl up and married her off as soon as they mentioned it again so I could put an end to it. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“She can’t be knocked up because she doesn’t exist. And that story manipulated them into feeling sorry for you. Made me think I was—no. No, it doesn’t count at all.”

Bronte started to turn away but he reached out and spun her around, his grip tight on her shoulders. “Made you think you were what? My rebound green card wife?”

If looks could kill, hers would set him on fire first to watch him suffer. “Yes.”

He wanted to shake her. “Was that something else you added to the list of reasons why we couldn’t fit? William’s too young, too much trouble, and still in love with somebody else?”

William saw the answer in her eyes. “I’m sorry for that. Sorry I let you think for one second that anyone was or could ever be competing with you for my attention. You have all of it. I don’t have room in my head or my heart for anyone but you.”

“Is that a lie?”

The door to his apartments was in sight and he lost all patience, lifting a surprised Bronte off her feet so her arms and legs had no choice but to wrap around him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded breathlessly.

But she wasn’t struggling to get away from him. Her thighs tightened against him as she waited for an answer and he knew that if nothing else, their bodies were on the exact same page.

“I’d rather show then tell, Nightingale. It’s the only way I have of proving what’s true.”