CHAPTER 13

Seamus

 

“You seem upset.”

“Now, why would I be upset?” Allie asks.

“Because I was late,” I remind her.

She flips open the tiny little black purse she’s carrying, groaning when she checks a text on her phone.

“Mamacita?” I ask.

She scrolls though her texts. “And my aunts. All five of them.”

“Again?” I ask. “What do they want this time?” Christ, we can’t go anywhere without them hounding her.

“My mother wanted to make sure we were on our way and wouldn’t be late.” She sighs. “And my aunts wanted me to call my mother to tell her we are on our way, so she wouldn’t worry. After all, she has enough to worry about.”

“Boy, they’re going to be pissed when they find out we are late. Feel free to blame it on me, since it’s my fault.”

“You weren’t late,” she says, turning off her phone.

“Yeah, I was,” I reply. “I was dead tired after my run and took a longer nap than I intended. I was supposed to be at your place by six-thirty. I didn’t get there till almost seven. Considering we have dinner reservations, that’s pretty damn late.”

She tosses me a knowing glance like I don’t know what I’m supposed to know. “Seamus, you run seven miles every Friday after you close your shop. After that, you take a hot shower to relax your muscles and end up face down on the couch. You usually snap awake, remembering you have to be somewhere.”

“I do?” I ask.

“Mm-hmm.”

Damn. She’s right, I do.

“It takes you fifteen minutes to get dressed and fluff your hair—”

“I don’t fluff my hair,” I fire back. “I style it.” She tosses me another know-it-all look. “All right, a little fluff, but not much more than that. I am a real man, you know.”

“Yes. I know. You mentioned it once or twice.” She continues. “It takes you another ten to get to my place so, in all actuality, you were five minutes early, because I really needed you at my house no later than seven.”

I flick on my turn signal to make a left at the light. “You saying you have to lie to me in order for me to be somewhere on time?”

Allie pulls down my visor and flips open the mirror, coating her spectacularly full lips with a light pink gloss. I didn’t pick out the shade for her. But damn, I would have if I’d seen it. She looks amazing.

She rubs her lips together. “I’m saying that maybe I know you and your routine better than you think,” she says. Her smile is the biggest yet, gleaming and as bright as her gloss.

Considering how much time we’ve spent together, maybe she does know me by now. It’s weird. After she met my family, it’s like they couldn’t get enough of us. We were invited to Angus and Molly’s for dinner that Friday following brunch. The next week, we were out with Killian, Sofia, Finnie and Sol, as guests of honor for the MMA match-up Killian and Finnie were hosting. The topper was last night. As a gift to his groomsmen, Evan bought us box seats to the Phil’s game. We lost our minds when the Phils won, everyone jumping and hugging each other. For the first time, I wasn’t just high-fiving my brothers, I had my own woman to hug.

To prepare for each “date,” we’ve shared a few meals at my place or hers, talking and cooking, and getting to know each other so we seem like a real couple rather than pretending to be one. Allie is a great gal. Do I still want her? Hell to the yes, especially the more I get to know her. It’s not just because she’s hot, it’s because of everything she is. Everything that probably doesn’t need a guy like me.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“Yeah. Just getting hungry,” I mutter.

There’s mist in the air tonight, enough to see droplets spinning along the broad funnels of my truck lights and make me set my wipers. The blades glide across my windshield every few seconds. Every time I start to think I should set them faster, they wipe the glass and clear the way.

“Okay,” I say. “So you’re not mad about me being late, because I was a little early. Are you mad about the toast I made at the Phils game?”

Allie clears her throat, feigning annoyance she doesn’t quite manage. “You mean the one about virgins in Velcro shoes never hitting a homer like that?” Her voice drops to imitate mine, “To whores and homers. Yeah!”

“I was just glad to have you there with me and wanted to make the moment all about you.”

“Are you implying I should be honored?”

“Yep.” I point at her. “You’re welcome.”

We crack up.

“It was a show of support for you, and to let you know you’re better off without Andres and all the nerd vibe he had going on,” I explain. “You don’t need nerds. You need hot guys like me in your life.”

“Is that right? Seamus, don’t you know it’s the nerds, not the meek, who will inherit the earth?”

“Not my earth,” I disagree. “We need less pocket-protectors, fewer Doctor Whos, and more high-tech devices that emit fewer harmful gasses and doctors to cure cancers and all those diseases killing kids and destroying families.”

She blinks at me, stunned. “What?” I ask. “I read stuff.”

“Seamus, you do realize those same engineers developing high-tech devices and researchers creating breakthrough medications are likely nerds themselves?”

“Nerds who deserve to get laid,” I say. I shudder. “Unlike Andres. All he did was create something to blow more things up. You noticed that, didn’t you? That machine or whatever only helped him and his bank account.”

“I did notice that,” she says. Her voice quiets, but then she smiles. “But have you noticed how much you enjoy the company of nerds?”

“Oh, Finnie’s always liked to read urban fantasy. I even stood in line for an hour behind a couple dressed in chainmail to get an autographed copy of Jim Butcher’s book for his birthday. But Finnie and Jim know eight million ways to kill someone, so that makes up for it.”

Allie laughs, the sweet way it rings drawing my focus back to her. “I meant me. You’re entertaining the company of a nerd in sheep’s clothing and you don’t even know it.”

“No. I’m entertaining the company of a sexy woman who will soon have her arm around an equally sexy guy. That’s me,” I add. “In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering,” she says, her voice fading.

The fact that she agrees I’m sexy gives me pause. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t know I’m sexy. Are you kidding? Those grays hairs on my chest practically bow to me, happy to lay across my chiseled torso. It’s more like I’m not convinced my kind of sexy is the kind Allie would like, or need.

Did I catch her checking me out that first time at the bakery? Sure. Most women do. But women like Allie require a special kind of attraction to keep and hold their interest. That kind requires a degree, a medical license, or at the very least a doctorate. I’m not saying she’s a snob. I’m saying someone like Allie needs someone that’s not me. Someone she won’t grow tired of just talking sports and busting balls.

Yeah. A woman like Allie needs something more.

My gaze travels in her direction. I can’t see much of her now. She’s looking outside the passenger-side window. But I see enough to know she’s smiling, and that’s good enough for me.

My F-150 barrels down the street, mowing through a recently patched pothole and making it my bitch. The city workers had done a poor job sealing it. With all this traffic and all these potholes, I suppose they can only do so much.

My focus is back on Allie. I’m not sure if she realizes how often I look at her. If she does, she gives nothing away. I knew she wasn’t really mad at the whole toast thing. I saw her laughing. It made me laugh, too. I love drawing her smile and hearing her laugh with her whole heart.

She’s not dressed like she was the other day at the game. There, she wore jeans and the pink Phils shirt I bought her. She looked cute, playful, and plenty beautiful.

Tonight, she’s in the little black dress I picked out for her the day we went shopping. The halter top reveals a peek at the swell of her breasts. The waistband cinches her tiny waist and the skirt fans out to emphasize the perfection that is her ass.

She wasn’t sure about the dress. She wasn’t sure about anything I picked out. Some things didn’t work out. I didn’t expect everything to. I’m no expert on clothes. What I know is women’s bodies and what makes their goods look even better.

To my family, her new clothes proved she’s someone I could be interested in. To her coworkers and clients, her new business wardrobe spotlighted a successful, competent, and, more importantly, confident woman you’d be stupid not to trust.

“Did I tell you I picked up twenty-three clients this week?”

“Yeah,” I say. “You mentioned it.”

“That’s a new record,” she adds, beaming. “I’m promoting all three of my assistants and dividing the listings to place them on the market sooner rather than later. If this keeps up, I’ll have to hire more staff.”

“It’ll keep up,” I say, remembering how great she looked in that black and white Marc Jacobs dress she wore to my niece’s Christening last Sunday. “I say we go out and celebrate.”

“Just you and me?” she asks.

It’s been just us for a lot of things, but the enthusiasm in her voice and the blush that no doubt follows, makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I may not need that doctorate.

Tonight, the way she’s dressed and carries herself, man. She’ll never tell her bitchy sister or her loser ex-boyfriend to fuck off, but she doesn’t have to. That dress and everything that makes Allie, Allie, will do it for her.

“Yeah,” I say. “Just you and me.”

I haven’t missed the way she’s avoided seeing her family and I’ve overheard enough calls from Valentina, Mamacita Mendes, and all her aunts to see why she avoids talking to them as much as she does. They either think they deserve to treat her that badly, or they’re not smart enough to know what it does to her. Allie didn’t become the designated spinster on her own. She didn’t turn complicit overnight. Nope. That crap has been a lifetime in the making.

I slam on the brakes when the car in front of me stops short. More instinct, than anything, my hand whips out to cup her shoulder. At least I think it’s her shoulder, until I give a squeeze and realize it’s too bouncy and perky to be bone.

My gaze shifts in her direction. “Ah, sorry?”

She glances down to where I’m cupping her breast. Not to brag, but I don’t think I could’ve aimed better if I’d planned. I’m so impressed by my move, and how perfectly her breast conforms to my palm, it takes me a moment to realize I’m still trying to protect her from going through the windshield.

Seatbelts be damned. I just saved her life.

I think I could’ve been a lot smoother about removing my hand. Maybe give her a little wink and thank her for the opportunity. Instead I yank my hand back like I had it on the stove and she cranked up the heat.

It’s not an awkward movement. It’s all about me respecting Allie. I would never purposely cop a feel unless she begged me for it.

Okay, maybe she doesn’t have to beg.

We’re staring at each other now. Her, dumbfounded beyond belief, and me, thinking maybe I should have moved my hand away quicker. It takes the douche in the Mercedes behind me blasting on his horn to realize traffic has resumed full speed ahead.

“I was trying to keep you safe,” I explain a little too late. “You could have flown through the glass and landed on the street bleeding with your organs hanging out and shit.”

It’s probably impossible to sound lamer than I feel. But I have mad skills and manage just fine.

“I’m wearing my seatbelt,” she reminds me.

“Seatbelts don’t always work,” I say, like I’m some kind of expert. “The locking mechanism fails if not properly engaged.” I’m tempted to make up a percentage of faulty seatbelt related deaths, but I think I sound enough like a dumbass.

Allie adjusts herself in her seat and fiddles with the strap. She’s probably thinking the jaws of life are going to have to extract her from this deathtrap known as my vehicle before the night ends. “I thought you said that Wren sold you and your brothers on this truck based on its impeccable safety record and reputation?”

I really should learn to keep my trap shut. “Sure. But just because something seems great doesn’t mean that crazy shit can’t happen. I don’t want any of that crazy shit to happen to you. So, if that means accidentally grabbing your breasts and fondling now and then to save your life, damn it, I’m going to do it.”

My stupid comments make her laugh like I intended, assuring me that at least for now, I won’t end up on some perv list.

In the quiet that follows, it occurs to me I’m still smiling. It’s an easy thing to do around Allie. In general, I’m an easy-going kind of guy and my grins come quick. Except, around Allie, those grins are different, probably since she’s different, too.

Allie isn’t loud and obnoxious like me and my family. She’s not as quiet as Sofia or as assertive as Tess. She’s not the plus-size supermodel Melissa easily could be, or someone who bounces into a room and immediately makes friends with everyone like Sol. She’s simply Allie. Someone you automatically know is a good person and will always do right by the world.

“What do you think will happen tonight?” she asks, pulling me from the thoughts and feelings that come when I think about her, and my preoccupation with when, exactly, those thoughts and feelings began. Was it when Shaqwana cut her long hair and brought out the woman beneath that all-too conservative exterior, when I saw the way she held my niece, or was it the way she touched me at the bakery—the way she always touches me, a little shy and reserved, giving me another hint of her gentle nature.

“Seamus?” she asks.

I grin. “Depends. Is good ol’ ‘I’m too cool to wear shoes with laces’ Andy buying?”

For some reason, my remark makes her nervous. “Valentina mentioned that he would,” she answers cautiously.

She thinks I’m up to no good. She’s right. “In that case, I say we order the most expensive items on the menu, and take a few extras for leftovers. Why are you looking at me like that? It’s the least the little prick can do after all that gum I gave him.” I shrug. “It all evens out. The price of gum isn’t what it used to be.”

“Oh, goodness,” she says. She seems mortified, but then she starts laughing.

“Very well,” she says. “Order whatever you’d like. But what I was referring to is what if they’re expecting an exchange of affection?”

“You mean if he tries to stick his tongue down her throat during dessert or something?” I grimace, trying not to gag. “I guess I’ll look away. I don’t want to see that shit.”

“You would be offended by them kissing?” she asks.

“Wouldn’t you be? I just picture this short, stubby tongue, grazing her teeth since it’s as far as it will go.” I cut myself off, making this choking sound as my stomach churns. “Damn. Why did you have to go there?”

Allie gasps. “What do you mean why did I have to go there? You’re the one who asked and answered a question I in no way suggested.” She quivers, as if trying not to get sick herself. “And while we’re on the topic, thank you for your rather graphic description. I could have done without the visual.”

“It couldn’t have been as bad as that visual you gave me. That statue I made of Wren and Evan dancing was supposed to be innocent,” I remind her. “Now I have to keep it covered or risk having nightmares.”

“I told you I’m sorry,” she squeaks. “How many times can I apologize for such an erroneous interpretation?”

“Not enough,” I say remembering that day. I point at her. “And about Andy’s tongue, you only have yourself to blame.”

“How is that my fault?” she asks, waving her hands.

Man, she’s cute when she’s animated. “You know how my mind wanders all over the place. You know I wouldn’t just stop. Now, I’m picturing all his other disturbingly stubby parts grabbing at her while she smiles and pretends to like it. Ugh. Did you really have to go there?”

The traffic is getting bad. Lots of assholes out, and even more young idiots who shouldn’t be driving reminding me to keep my eyes on the road. I let the faster drivers with the death wishes pass me, and angle around all the geriatric population coming home from the blue-plate specials featured in town. My mind needs to stay sharp, except visions of freakishly shaped little body parts wandering around man-made bouncy ones dance through my head.

I don’t realize Allie is laughing until I glance in her direction. She isn’t making a sound. It’s one of those silent laughs that hurt. Yup. Here she is, clutching her belly, her head thrown back, and little puffs of air releasing in tiny spurts. Then it happens. She can’t take it anymore. The sweet sounds of her hysterics fill my cabin like the laughter of angels who just placed a whoopee cushion on St. Peter’s chair. I don’t know if angels are allowed to pull practical jokes. But if they did, their laughter would sound like Allie’s.

“Fine. Crack up,” I tell her. “But there’s some shit you can’t unsee. Minute fingers making grabby motions are in my top ten, second only to bearded women with equally bearded penises.”

“You didn’t even see it!” she counters.

“I did so. But we were in Tijuana and it was a total accident.”

Allie is officially hunched over, curling into her stomach as if her insides will spill out if she lets go. “I meant the grabby little fingers,” she says. At least, that’s as much as I make out through her bursts of giggles.

“It doesn’t matter.” I tap my temple. “It’s all up here. Jesus, how did you put up with that all those years?”

I shouldn’t have gone there, knowing what that dickhead did and how her family responded. What happened still hurts her. She didn’t just lose a man who claimed to love her, she lost her family the day they took his and Valentina’s side.

Instead of growing sad like I expect, she says something I don’t. “I’m not sure.”

“Neither am I,” I say, knowing she’s always deserved better.

A smirk forms around her cute face. If I were to ask her how she thinks she looks when she smirks, she’d probably assume she looks silly, not alluringly naughty.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks.

“You know you can ask me anything,” I say.

Although she doesn’t say anything right away. “How do you know Andres has stubby body parts?”

“Men know these things,” I answer truthfully.

She nods as if she picked up on something obvious. “You mean the locker room.”

I stop at a light. Considering the weather, everyone in Philly seems to be out tonight. “What do you mean the locker room?” I ask, swiveling so I can better see her. “I never dressed anywhere near him. Even if I had, I wouldn’t be looking. Guys don’t look. We have what you call above the waist precision focus.”

“All right then. So how do you know he wasn’t . . .” Her gaze drops to my lap. I think she catches herself and jerks her head up. “Gifted,” she stammers.

“Not all of us can be,” I admit. Hey, she was probably wondering, might as well put her worries to rest.

“Um . . .”

Is it hot in here? No, it’s just Allie’s blush.

I let her off the hook. Well, somewhat. “So, let me ask you this. If you weren’t talking about Andres and his lack of suitable body parts, what were you talking about?”

Allie fusses with her skirt as if trying to straighten it. “I was talking about displays of affection between us.”

“Us?” I say, accelerating forward. I know what she means, I just think she needs to be the one to say it.

“Yes. I think my family may question our relationship if we’re not affectionate to some degree.” She plays with her hands. “It was different with your family. There I could sit on your lap, we could embrace, and that was enough. A restaurant isn’t the type of atmosphere that allows those types of exchanges.”

“No. It’s not,” I agree, liking how this sounds. I also love how flustered she’s getting. Damn. I would love to be the man for her. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand. I may even pull out your chair. But only if you’re good.”

She giggles. “So, all those times you’ve pulled out my chair for me, and all the doors you’ve opened to allow me through, have only been because I’ve been good?”

“Yeah. You should see what I’ll do if you’re naughty.”

At once her humor dies and my temperature spikes. Did I really just go there? My foot slides off the gas when she bites down on the little freckle on her bottom lip. I quickly work to regain control. Forget the pseudo-malfunctioning seatbelts. I’m going to get us killed if I don’t pay attention.

Allie is a little distracting. Who the hell am I fooling? Allie is making it almost impossible to drive. “You were really into character at the game,” she says. “The way you stroked my back and played with my hair was a sweet way to remind your family we’re together.”

“I was imitating, Killian and Sofia,” I admit, not that I minded. “And at times, Wren and Evan. But I didn’t hang tight to your ass. It’s something Finnie does with Sol. I didn’t think you’d like it, seeing how the first, and the second time I did it, you seemed ready to kill me.”

“It’s not that I didn’t like it. You caught me off guard and I wasn’t expecting it.”

She stops herself. I think it’s because she revealed more than she wanted to. But then, it’s like the misery that surges suddenly punches her in the gut. I don’t tell her that after a few passes of copying my sibs, my motions became as easy as breathing. Based on how sad she seems, I think I already said too much.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, hating how miserable she appears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were emulating anyone.” She sighs, her chin dropping. “I thought you were embracing and enjoying our time together.”

Holy shit. She wanted me to mean it. I’ll admit, at first, it was awkward and I was sure my family would call me on it. But each time my knuckles swept along her spine, she settled against me, and everything felt natural.

I never would have guessed it actually meant something to her, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to hurt her.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I don’t expect you to do anything if it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

The hotel comes into view and so does all its glory. Marble steps leading up to an extravagant entrance are cloaked with red carpet, welcoming anyone with enough bills to pay for their two-grand-a-night suites.

I pull in behind a Porsche, watching one of a team of valets hurry toward me. I set my truck in park and catch Allie’s stare. “Don’t worry about me,” I murmur. “I won’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable.”

I slide out of my truck and toss my keys to the valet. He’s a young kid with decent reflexes. Without missing a beat, he catches the keys and hands me a ticket. I march to Allie’s side, and as if we’ve done it a thousand times, she easily slips her arm through mine.

“What if Valentina and Andres are expecting more than just handholding?” she asks, eyeing the stone steps ahead instead of me.

“Like I said, I won’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable.”