Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

“We’ve known each other since we were in diapers. If this was the Middle Ages, our parents would have signed the betrothal papers years ago.” He laughed.

“But it’s not, thank goodness.” Sephie swallowed. Then she looked past me, and her eyes widened.

“Well, it really is beautiful in here,” Annabelle said to ease the awkward moment. “And you look gorgeous!”

But Sephie’s eyes were now on the man standing next to me.

“Ye made it!” I said to Cannon. “And you’re even dressed up. Did ye lose a bet?” I’d never seen the man in a tux. He’d skipped out on every fundraiser that required he wear anything dressier than jeans.

He didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was being his normal surly-self, or if he was distracted by the petite blonde. Either way, it got bloody awkward quickly.

“Cannon.” Sephie’s voice was light.

“Persephone.” Cannon’s wasn’t.

I wasn’t the only one who picked up on the energy. Michael-whatever looked between the two and narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Sephie, why don’t we dance before your evening gets too busy?” he asked, stepping even closer to her. “It looks like the band is about ready to start.”

Oh look, now there was another silent pause. This would have been almost comedic if it wasn’t so bloody tense. A muscle in Cannon’s jaw ticked, and I mentally calculated how quickly I could put myself between him and the prissy guy.

“Sure,” Sephie finally agreed, still looking at Cannon. “I appreciate you coming. I know this is usually something you’d avoid.”

“It’s for sick kids.”

“I’m still grateful.”

The band started playing, but the awkward tension didn’t dissipate.

“Sephie, that’s our cue,” Michael suggested.

“Right. I’ll see you guys later,” she said to Annabelle and me and then turned back to Price. “Cannon.”

“Persephone.”

She walked away with Michael’s hand on her back, but she shook it off before they got too far.

“So that was inter—” I started.

“Who the fuck was that prick?” Cannon growled.

“A friend of her family,” Annabelle answered.

His jaw ticked again.

“It seemed like she wasn’t into him if that makes you feel better?” I glanced over at my very tall, very tatted, very out of place friend.

“Why the fuck would I care about who she’s into?” He stalked off, heading toward a table of brunettes.

“Well, that was…” Annabelle tilted her head.

“Awkward? Weird? Downright odd?”

“I was going to say full of sexual tension.” She shrugged.

“What?”

“Oh come on, those two should be smoking a cigarette after all that eye-sex.” She gestured toward where Persephone danced with Michael. “Now, let’s get out there.”

Just like that, my broody friend was forgotten, and I had Annabelle in my arms as the band changed songs to Wonderful Tonight.

“You did great out there,” I told her as we swayed back and forth on the floor.

“You were incredible,” she said, looking up at me and cupping the back of my neck. “You really meant all that, didn’t you? The stuff about being the lucky one?”

“Aye. Because I am. Remember, it was me chasing ye, not the other way around, Annabelle.” I pulled her closer until our bodies moved together as one.

She shook her head with a soft smile. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

I brushed my lips over hers. “There’s no other shoe. There’s just ye and me and whatever we decide to make of this. I know your past. I know you’re worried about my schedule, and I hate being separated from ye. I really do. But we’ve already made it through one away series, and it wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“Because you stayed in your hotel room and facetimed with me instead of going out with your friends.” She arched a delicate brow at me.

“True, but I did exactly what I wanted to do. If I couldn’t be with you in person, I had the next best thing.”

“You can’t always do that,” she lectured as the floor around us filled with other dancing couples. “You have to go out with your friends. You can’t become the Reaper Recluse because you’re worried that I’ll worry. I trust you.”

“Good, because I love ye. And I’m sure I’ll go out with the guys, but it was our first away series, and I wanted to make sure you…” I tried to think of words that wouldn’t get me into a fight.

“Didn’t freak out?” She suggested with a wide smile.

“Can I plead the fifth? Or do you have to be an American citizen to do that?”

She laughed, and I turned and dipped her, holding her parallel to the floor as I kissed her. It was soft and sweet, and still enough to set me on fire. She was enchanting—that was the best word I had to describe her. Bewitching. Beguiling.

I brought her upright, and her eyes fluttered open as she smiled up at me. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank ye for all of it.” I kissed her again, uncaring of who was watching or taking photos. The reporter had one thing right. I was in this for the long haul. If I was this crazy for the woman after only a few months, I wondered how big it would feel in a few years.