“Don’t sound so surprised,” he replies. “I’m a realist.”
“You don’t look like a realist.”
He laughs. “Is this what I get for bringing you flowers?”
“Why did you bring me flowers?”
“Well, I figure I played a small part in putting your father in hospital,” he says.
I frown. “A small part?”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he says, putting his hand into the front pocket of his shirt and pulling out a wad of cash.
My eyes bulge. “Oh my God…” I breathe.
“To pay for the hospital bill. It’s a little more than a small part. But you know me, bleeding heart that I am.”
I stare at the cash he’s holding out to me.
But I don’t take it.
“What’s the catch?” I demand.
He raises his eyebrows. “How about a kiss?”
“I knew it!”
“I’m joking,” he laughs. “There’s no catch. The money comes without strings.”
“Nothing comes without strings. Especially not from men. And especially not from men like you.”
His gaze softens. “Who broke you, sweetheart?” he whispers.
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Saoirse, then.”
The ways he says my name… it’s like he’s been saying it forever.
It’s like I’ve heard him say it forever.
I can’t even begin to parse out what that might mean.
“You wanna get out of here?” he asks suddenly. His jade eyes are sparkling with mischief and hope and bravado and beneath it all, something soft and strong and real.
I shouldn’t.
I know that saying yes is a mistake.
I have enough to deal with.
With Pa.
With Tristan.
With god-only-knows-how-much debt.
I need to turn him down. Send him on his way. Never see him again.
But I can’t deny what’s happening in my chest. Something about meeting Cillian’s gaze is making me feel things I’ve never felt in my entire life.
It’s all in the eyes…
“Yes,” I tell him breathlessly. “Yes, I do.”