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“Aye, I’ll do that.”
When the line goes dead, I call up the next number for the north to repeat my warning. I’m not sure who supplied the McGuires with men, but I’m going to clarify that it’s a bad idea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Laine
As I step out of the car, the soft crunch of gravel under my feet blends with the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. The day at the seaside with my kin has lightened my spirits, and the salty memories still cling to my skin. The sun, now a golden smear on the horizon, bathes the Quinn castle in a warm glow.
It’s magical.
“Home again, home again.” Finn swings the keys around his finger as he closes the door behind me.
“I can’t thank you enough, Finn, though I feel bad you sat in the truck the whole day.”
“Not the whole day,” he says, pulling the strap of his backpack higher on his shoulder. “I set out a chair at the back of the truck and read in the sunshine for a few hours.”
I pat his arm. “You’re a good sport. Thank you.”
He winks and then looks up to smile at Tag waiting for us at the entrance. “Hello, brother. What’s the craic?”
“Oh, there’s splendid craic today. Did the two of you have a nice time?”
“I certainly did,” Finn says without hesitation.
I nod. “I did as well.”
“Good then. I look forward to hearing all about it over dinner.” Tag opens the door for us, his stance relaxed, the worries of this morning seemingly gone and forgotten. “Bryan and Brendan went up to grab their gear before heading over to the gym. They’re going to work out a bit and go over the last of the arrangements for the charity fight.”
“Och, good. I think I’ll join them for the workout.” Finn winks at me. “Don’t want to get soft around the middle.”
As if. All five of the Quinn brothers are built like scrappy street fighters. I don’t think there’s anything doughy about any of them.
When he jogs off toward the stairs, Tag waggles his brows at me. “Looks like we’ll have the house to ourselves tonight.”
I wait for the oppressive anxiety that being alone with Tag should elicit, but it doesn’t come.
I’m not sure what that says about me but speaking with Patrick this afternoon brought two important points to light.
First, Tag Quinn isn’t responsible for my life currently being adrift. That is Moneta business. And while things got more complicated upon my arrival, it was through no fault or action of Tag.
Second, if I were asked to represent Tag or one of his brothers, given what I know about them, I would find them worthy of my time and I would rise to the challenge of defending them.
Occupied as I am in my thoughts, I lose track of where we’re going until Tag opens a set of double doors and leads me into a romantic haven.
I take it in, my heart skipping a beat at the gesture. “What’s this?”
“I thought since the boys were off to the gym, we might enjoy a quiet evening, just the two of us. I’m anxious to hear about your day.”
His suggestion, casual yet intimate, sparks a flutter of excitement within me. We walk together, into the intimate space, softly lit by the sinking sun.
Twinkling fairy lights are strung across the ceiling, casting a gentle glow that dances on the walls. At the center, a small table for two is impeccably set with fine china and crystal glasses that catch the light, shimmering like tiny stars.
A bouquet of wildflowers sits in the middle, their colors vibrant against the white linen tablecloth.
Soft music whispers through the air, a delicate instrumental that adds to the atmosphere of serene isolation. It’s as if the room has been carved out from the rest of the world, sheltering us from everything outside its glass walls.
Tag pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down, still taking in every detail of this setup. “Tag, this is beautiful, but you didn’t have to do this. I’m just as happy grabbing a burger and a beer with your brothers.”
