Page 33 of Dirty Pool

He pointed a finger in her direction. “That … well, that is also true. Eat your food, lass. And it is good, even if you do think I hate whole wheat.”

She blinked again.

Charles smirked. “I know everything, Gabbie. Even when you think I don’t.”

Huh.

She didn’t quite know what to make of that, so she happily went back to eating her food while her father watched her from the other side of the table. Eventually, he went back to his own dish, too.

Charles didn’t even glance up from his plate when the front door of the large home opened, and slammed shut. Mutterings echoed down the hallway as footsteps followed the familiar voice. Gabbie recognized the young man who came to stand in the doorway of the dining room—although, for as long as she had known Timothy, she didn’t think she had ever seen him looking this disheveled and panicked.

There were very few men in her father’s organization that he allowed a presence in his life. Timothy was one of them, although she didn’t know that he held an actual position in the Irish mob. He was still working his way up. He certainly showed up around her father often enough which told her that Charles liked the guy.

Maybe like a son he never had.

Who knew?

Charles had once tried to set her up with Timothy, too, but that didn’t work out well. The guy was a couple of years older than her, but didn’t hold her interest at all when he was too busy trying to lick her father’s boots to get his in to the mob.

She was secondary.

Gabbie wouldn’t come second to anyone.

Still, her father was unbothered in his chair. He didn’t look up once as Timothy shifted from foot to foot and fidgeted with his hands like he was waiting for his boss to acknowledge that he was standing ten feet away.

Charles was funny like that.

And he hated being interrupted.

“Did you not knock?” Charles eventually asked.

“I—”

“The answer is no, lad, you did not.”

“Sorry, boss, but—”

“Go back to the door and knock, Tim.”

“But—”

“If it is important enough for you to interrupt my meal with my daughter, then you will do what you need to in order to have me speak to you or even look at you, boyo.”

“Fine. Feck.”

Timothy disappeared from the entryway, and his footsteps echoed all the way back to the front door. It was only after the front door slammed shut did Charles finally look up from his plate, and simply to pass Gabbie a smile as he waited for his man to do what he’d been told.

A knock resounded.

Charles sighed before bellowing, “Come on in!”

Timothy grumbled his whole way down the hall, and once he was standing in the entryway again, he raised his arms wide as if to ask better?

“What can I do for you tonight?” Charles asked, going back to his plate of food. “Because I am sure you lot were told to keep out of trouble.”

“Uh …”

Charles glanced up again, and slowly, turned to face his man when Timothy struggled with his words. “What is it?”