Bronagh nodded in agreement.
“Do you think he’d go slow?” I questioned. “With me ma bein’ sick, and me da bein’ a lyin’ bastard, I can’t take a full-on relationship right now. I’m not emotionally stable enough for that.”
“Babe, Damien will move at a snail’s pace if it means he has a chance with you.”
A ghost of a smile graced my lips.
“I’ll ... I’ll talk to ’im about it.”
Bronagh squealed and clapped her hands together merrily like a performing seal, and it made me laugh. Both of our gazes shot to the door when it suddenly opened and in walked Damien with a babbling Georgie in his arms. I sat up straight and quickly rubbed my cheeks to make sure there were no remaining tears.
“This little beauty just got home, and I think she is hungry.”
Bronagh got up and moved over to the fridge where she removed a tupperware box, then took off the lid and put it in the microwave.
“I blended this up for ’er this mornin’. Will you put ’er in ’er high chair?”
“You got it.”
Damien moved over towards the back door where Georgie’s high chair was located, and the longer I stared at him, fixing her into the chair and tightening the straps around her, the more nervous I became about speaking to him.
“Dame.”
He glanced at me, his grey eyes looking almost silver in the light. His black eye made my stomach tighten, and I didn't know why because it was only a bruise. There was something wrong with me for finding him ruggedly sexy because of it.
“Hmm?”
“Can we talk ... later?”
He stilled. “Talk?”
I nodded. “Later.”
He blinked a couple of times, then he slowly bobbed his head.
“Thanks,” I said, exhaling a breath.
Damien cleared his throat, then he turned to Bronagh, and for some reason, I knew whatever he was about to say was to take away the apprehension that had suddenly filled the room.
“Dominic said you were making pizza for dinner.”
Bronagh glanced at him as she removed Georgie’s dinner from the microwave and tasted it. “I am.”
He glanced around, before focusing back on her.
“I don’t smell anythin’.”
I snapped my attention to Bronagh’s, and I watched as her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“I have to go to Dunnes and get the pizzas before I can cook them. It’s still early.”
“Ah,” he grunted. “So, there’ll be no food until later.”
“I’d watch meself, if I were you.”
Damien blinked at Bronagh. “What’d I do?”
“You’re gettin’ too big for your boots, askin’ caveman questions,” I answered on my friend’s behalf. “That’s what you’re doin’.”
Bronagh snapped her fingers when I finished speaking and said, “Exactly.”
“Caveman?” Damien grinned. “If I put my foot down, does that mean you’ll make me a sandwich?”
I rested my chin in my palms, watching the scene unfold before me with great amusement.
“One more word,” Bronagh warned Damien with a dangerous wag of her finger. “One more word, and I won’t hesitate to strangle you.”
“Strangle me?” He raised a brow. “Can you even reach my neck?”
“You’re a prime example!” Bronagh hissed, her hands flying to her hips.
“Of what?”
“Of a tall person bein’ a feckin’ arsehole!”
Damien laughed, I snorted, and Bronagh glared. I watched her go back to stirring Georgie’s food, and when she remained quiet for longer than ten seconds, I said, “I thought you were goin’ to strangle ’im if he said one more word? He said ten of them.”
“Jesus, Lana,” Damien scowled, but I knew it was playful. “Sign my death certificate, why don’t you.”
He fled the room the second Bronagh reached for a knife. She snorted as she blew on the pureed food, grabbing a spoon instead.
“Pussy.”
I laughed, then looked at Georgie who was watching her ma, smiling.
“I love ’er so much.”
Bronagh glanced at us and smiled. “Me too.”
“I still can’t believe you have a daughter, and now you’re goin’ to have another baby. When did we get so grown up?”
“Tell me about it.” Bronagh chuckled. “It feels like just yesterday we were eighteen and in school.”
Amen to that.
Bronagh moved over to Georgie and fed her before she threw a fit. We chatted some more about Morgan and the ideas he had for my business; we talked about Branna and wondered which day she’d have her and Ryder’s twins, and we spoke about my ma. Both of us made sure we didn’t bring my da into the conversation for obvious reasons. After Georgie was fed and wiped clean, Bronagh stood.
“I’m goin’ to get some bits for dinner.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said, making a move to stand.
“No,” Bronagh said firmly. “You stay ’ere; Damien will come in once you’re on your own. He might kiss you again.”
I scowled. “Bronagh.”
“You’re not comin’ with me.”
I folded my arms across my chest in annoyance, and it only caused my friend to grin. Knowing she won the argument, Bronagh unstrapped Georgie from her chair and lifted her daughter into her arms, giving her a snuggle.
“I won’t be long.” She winked.
I was left on my own then, and just as I was about to take a sip of my tea, I realised I was being watched. Through the glass sliding door, on the far side of the back garden, hunkered down with his belly on the ground, and his ears standing at attention was Tyson. He was deathly still, and unblinking as he stared at me.
“Stop it,” I called out to him. “Stop starin’ at me. I’m not doin’ anythin’ wrong.”
He didn’t move a muscle or look away from me, and I scowled at him because of it. That bloody dog held a grudge better than anyone I knew. I was notorious for not exactly watching where I walked when I was distracted, and maybe once or twice, or ten times, I stepped on Tyson during his lifetime, if that, but it was always an accident. I’d done it to Storm a few times over the years too, and he never held it against me.
Tyson clearly hadn’t forgiven me, though, or forgotten about what I had done either … he was always watching me, waiting … and it creeped me the hell out. I turned my attention from Tyson to the kitchen doorway when I heard a familiar voice bring a smile to my face.
“You better not have my cup, Ryan!”
Alec slid into the kitchen, his eyes instantly latching onto the cup in my hands. When he saw it wasn’t his prized Harry Potter cup, he relaxed.
“I thought you might be using it.”
“And risk your wrath? Never.”
His lips twitched. “How did your interview with that guy go?”
“Brilliantly,” I exclaimed. “He is goin’ to be a great addition, I know it.”
“Cool.” Alec smiled. “Glad to hear it.”
His eyes dropped to my body then, and I sucked in a breath.
“Alec!”
His eyes moved back to mine, and when he saw how wide they were, he laughed.
“You look hot, but I wasn’t checking you out. I promise.”
I scowled. “What were you doin’ then?”
“Looking for your sketchpad.”
“Me main pad is at home.”
He frowned. “Damn, I wanted to see the portrait of Keela that she said you drew.”
“Have you not seen it?”
“No ... come to think of it, you’re always sketching, but I never actually see what you’re drawing.”
“Sure, you do,” I answered. “The majority of what I sketch goes up on me website after I’m done and I know you like lookin’ through me site.”
“Yeah,” Alec agreed, “but that’s after you scan it onto your computer and do all your graphic designer magical things to it. Half of the time, what you sketch doesn’t look hand-drawn after you get it the way a client wants.”