Velvet Fire - Ashby Crime Family Romance

Her sweet tone did nothing to hide the sarcasm and she had every right to it.

“Shit. I fell asleep.” Not exactly something a woman wanted to hear, but I wasn’t awake enough to be on my game.

Maisie’s shoulders fell in disappointment but she put on a brave face, trying for a smile to go with her accepting nod. “Okay then. Maybe another time.” Her tone said there wouldn’t be another chance and when she turned away from me, I didn’t like it. Didn’t like the idea that I might have blown it with this chick.

I reached out and grabbed her arm. “No. Stay. Please, I want you to stay, Maisie.”

She grinned and turned to me. “Well if you’re already begging, the night can only get better from here, right?”

Right. “I’m sorry,” I told her and took a step back so she could enter. “It wasn’t about you. I worked late last night, so I figured I’d take a nap before our date to be refreshed. I wanted to give you my undivided attention. I guess I overslept.”

She turned to me after giving the house a once over. “Well I appreciate the thought, and I can admit to being at least half flattered. So what was the plan for this date?”

Shit, I didn’t want to admit the truth to her, but maybe it might help. “I was planning to cook for you.”

Maisie laughed, and it was so sexy and so contagious I didn’t care that it was at my expense. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I did a lot of the cooking in the first couple years after my father died while Ma took over the family business.” I wondered if I’d say too much, but the hint of wariness in her blue eyes was there one minute and gone the next, making me think I must have imagined it.

“Yeah? Did you wear an apron too? I’ll bet you were adorable as hell.” She laughed to herself as if she was actually picturing it.

How in the hell this woman was able to get me to smile after that shit show of a dream, I’ll never know, but it made me want to cook for her. To see her relaxed and sipping a drink while I made her laugh and filled the kitchen with amazing smells.

“I’m always adorable.”

“Modest too,” she said with a laugh and followed me into the living room. “Nice place. So you all live here?”

I didn’t hear any judgment in her voice but I knew it was there, or skepticism at the very least.

I shrugged it off because I didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of how the Ashby family chose to live. Still, I felt the need to explain.

“Yep. Ma didn’t want to be here alone, so she made some changes to the house so we could all stay. God knows it’s big enough. Want a tour?”

“Maybe later.” There was heat in her eyes but Maisie wasn’t sure about me yet, not completely. “It’s sweet that you don’t want your mom to be lonely.”

Sweet? Hardly. Luckily for her, I was patient when I needed to be.

“How about a drink?” I gestured to the bar in the corner of the living room. It stretched half the length of the wall so I didn’t know how she could have missed it.

“Sure. What have you got?”

I slipped behind the bar and turned on the track lights under the shelf with the best of my collection. “What haven’t I got?” I reached for my favorite bottles of whiskey and lined them up on the black and gold granite counter with a smile. “These are my three favorite drinks.”

“Irish whiskey?”

I cocked a brow at her. “Is there any other type worth mentioning?”

Surprise flashed in her blue eyes and Maisie put her hands on her hips. “I guess not.”

“Good girl,” I told her with a wink and returned to the bottles. “This one is aged three years, this one twelve, and this beauty is twenty-years-old. They each have a unique taste and flavor profile.” I poured three shot glasses half full and pushed them in her direction. “Take your time.”

“So like, you guys are full on Irish, Irish?” Her black brows dipped low at the question and she shook her head. “You know what I mean, you’re into Irish whiskey, probably Catholic, and you sprinkle Celtic into conversations? Am I right?”

“Let’s take our drinks into the kitchen while I get things started.”

Luckily for me, we always had a set up for dinner ready at a moment’s notice. Our employees were good that way. I walked into the Sub-Zero refrigerator and pulled out a tray of two-inch rib eyes. Maisie’s eyes opened like she’d been poked in the belly.

I seasoned the steaks and laughed again, something I did a lot around Maisie. “So back to your question. Have you been watching old gangster movies?”