Page 20 of Irish Betrayal

Friends’ Christmas Party

Why in the hell was Daniel so nervous? He’d been friends with Blair as long as he could remember. He might be five years her senior, but he’d had a soft spot for Blair since she was a tiny, redheaded hooligan making trouble with his cousin, Bébhinn.

Up until a few months ago, he and his cousin Jonathan had dated women indiscriminately. Daniel’s escapades weren’t quite as extensive as Jon’s, but they were bad enough. Until one day, he realized that fighting against the inevitable was a waste of time.

Daniel couldn’t pinpoint the moment he’d become dissatisfied with the Playboy lifestyle. If pushed, he would guess that it was at Blair’s eighteenth birthday party, almost two years ago. It was that night that he’d begun watching her and not just to see what her hands were saying.

From that moment until the one he found himself in now, standing nervously in Ciar’s kitchen waiting for Blair to emerge from Gray’s bedroom, she had become his focus and one of the most important people in his life.

Even though he was sure she was hiding something from him—maybe from everyone.

He wasn’t crazy about her going to Oklahoma for several months, but she was young, still in school, and destined for great things in the world of plant pathology.

If he wanted her, and he did, then he would share their time with her plants.

“Trust me, Dan, you’re going to want to tie her down sooner than later.”

Ciar shared that lovely gem from where he was leaning against the refrigerator, staring at Daniel.

“Blair isn’t a fucking cow, you moron.” Daniel scoffed at his friend, who resembled a Russian mafia prince with his shaved head and endless tattoos rather than the highly successful real estate broker that he was.

“You’ll realize I’m right. Hope it doesn’t cost you if you’re late. I had to be unscrupulous to bind Gray to me.”

Gray entered the living room in time to hear her husband’s tragic advice. “Don’t let Ciar fool you, Daniel. He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met. Mr. Romance,” she gushed, joining them in the kitchen.

“Gray,” Ciar growled when his wife came into view, “I think your dress is damaged. It’s ripped up to your private bits for fuck’s sake.”

His friend wasn’t wrong, but Daniel was in no state to second the assessment because Blair stepped from behind Gray’s tall silhouette, and he lost his mind.

“Blair.” Now it was Daniel’s turn to growl. She might not be able to hear him, but he imagined his facial features clued her in. Of course, she didn’t appear to mind.

She was wearing at least five-inch heels—which made her lean, muscular legs look like gifts from God—and still put her at least ten inches shorter than him. Not that he cared about the damn shoes.

What he cared about was that the neck-to-toe dress was completely sheer. It was a bunch of see-through fabric with a set of matching chocolate bra and panties underneath.

“That is indece⁠—”

“Stunning,” Gray said, cutting him off.

“That is not what I was going to say,” Daniel retorted before giving his attention once more to Blair. “You can’t mean to wear that.”

Three things happened at once to let him know that he’d screwed up.

Ciar mumbled, “You idiot.” Which, he had some nerve to say after the comment he’d just made about his wife’s dress.

Gray fisted her hands like she was about to deck him and said, “What the hell, jackass?”

But it was Blair’s wince and burning cheeks that sent instant regret burning his lungs. Ignoring their friends, Daniel clasped Blair’s waist and easily lifted her onto the kitchen’s center counter so that they could face one another more easily.

“What did you think I meant about your dress, Blair?”

She only shook her head twice and turned her head, effectively ending their conversation. Daniel gently pinched her stubborn chin and turned her face back to his.

“I asked you a question.”

She huffed in irritation, but her color was high which meant she was still fighting something—embarrassment?

She swatted his hand from her face, glancing quickly at Gray and Ciar. Daniel didn’t bother to look at his friends before saying, “Give us a minute, guys. Please.”