“Always so charming, Ri. It is amazing that some sweet woman hasn’t snatched you up.”
“I could never deprive all the other ladies in town the pleasure of knowing me by settling down with one of them,” he told me, pressing a hand to his heart.
“You’re ridiculous. But, also may be right. I should go—“
I trailed off at that because, suddenly, our other brothers were charging into the house.
That was their work-walk.
After a lifetime with them, I could tell when something work-related—meaning not to do with The Bog—had come up by the way they walked.
One look at their stern faces further proved my point.
“What’s up?” Rian asked, losing a little of his laid-back air to find Cillian’s muscle ticking in his jaw.
“We have something we need to handle. All of us,” Cillian clarified.
“But Dell…” Rian said, waving at me.
“We’re going to leave Pat with her,” Cillian said, pointing toward the door where the man in question was standing.
I was about to object, but one look from Cillian told me I’d better shut up and let it happen, so I did just that.
Besides, I figured that outside of Rian, Pat would likely be the easiest to manipulate into letting me go wherever I wanted in town.
“How you feeling, Dell?” he asked, giving me that wince-smile that everyone had been offering to me for over a week.
“I have a bad case of cabin fever, so I am going out today. Which, I guess, means we are going out today. Though I don’t know why the hell I need a bodyguard when I was attacked in Vegas, not Shady Valley.”
“You know your brothers,” Pat said, shrugging.
I did.
The overprotective jerks.
Patrick had been a member of the “Family” for almost as long as I’d known him. He’d been a friend of my brothers’ all through school. So, naturally, when they took over, they employed him.
It was that or become a prison guard. And while none of us in town looked down on that profession, it seemed like a thankless job for not enough money.
Of course if you had a better option, you’d take it.
So Patrick O’Ryan took it.
He was a nice guy who, unfortunately, hadn’t hit the genetic lottery. He was barely five-seven with a weak-shouldered build, wide-set eyes, and a, well, complete lack of a chin.
I often felt bad for him, having to be around my annoyingly good-looking brothers all the time.
“So, where are we heading?”
“Well, I failed at making myself breakfast,” I told him, waving down at my egg-spattered shirt. “So, maybe the diner? And then coffee. And then… I don’t know. Something. I just need to get the heck out of here.”
“Sounds good to me. I got nothing going on.”
“Alright. Just let me go and change,” I said. “Oh, crap. Wait. Can you help me with the sling?” I asked. “I would be able to get it myself if it weren’t for my damn ribs on the other side,” I added, moving closer to him and ducking my head down a little so he could pull it over my head after loosening the strap. “Thank you. Give me five minutes,” I demanded, then went up to my room to change.
Only, I’d completely lied to him.
It was a solid twenty minutes before I resurfaced. Because the prospect of going into town also meant there was a chance of running into him.
Jass.
Was the way my heart leaped in my chest completely and utterly pathetic? Especially given that our only communication had been a few texts back and forth… several days ago?
Oh, absolutely.
But there was no denying it, either.
And it was also why my five-minute shirt change became a twenty-minute whole-outfit change and make-up session.
My hair had been a little obstinate, so I tamed that into a side braid, but did my best to cover up some of the bruises still on my face, and slip into a very cute blue sundress with little white flowers on it that was tame by any standards, but also managed to hug my curves just right.
Did I wear that in case of seeing Jass?
Yep.
Did I need to get some pride and not dress up for a man who’d probably all but forgotten about me?
Oh, hell yes.
But that was a problem for another time.
I grabbed a white sweater, figuring it was still a little chilly for a sundress, then made my way back downstairs.
“You look nice, Dell,” Pat said as he helped me back into my sling.
“Thank you. Rian just got done telling me I just barely don’t look like shit anymore,” I told him, getting one of those laughs out of him.
Patrick was known for his laugh. He had one of those laughs that originated from deep in his belly, so it was jovial, almost a little Santa-like.
It was infectious.
“Your brothers can be assholes,” he said, shaking his head.
“Right? I’ve been saying that for years,” I told him as we made our way out to his car.