Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
She was right, but that didn’t take the sting out of it. He carefully placed the meat on the bread, not looking at her. He’d known what his family thought of the way he’d gone about his life, and he’d never cared before. Now he did. He wasn’t sure when that switch had been flipped, but he didn’t like it. “I’m nowhere near as worthless as everyone seems to think, you know.”
“Oh, Cillian, that wasn’t what I meant at all. It’s just that you like your freedom and you like to party, and it doesn’t seem like a single mom worth her salt has much time for either of those things.”
Another point to Sloan. He sighed and finished putting the sandwiches together. “It’s just a date, squirt.”
It didn’t matter if no one had faith in him and his ability to be a responsible goddamn adult. He liked Olivia. She obviously felt that same connection. The rest would fall into place as they went. It was pointless to worry too much about it when there was so much unsaid between them. She knew what family he was a part of, and he got the feeling that she knew exactly what that meant, but they hadn’t gotten into the dirty details. And she had a past that she’d obviously moved to escape.
Nothing was simple in life.
He’d known that since he was a kid, but the last year had really solidified that truth. In a perfect world they would have avoided war in Boston without any personal casualties—and if someone went out, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been Devlin. And the fact that his older sister was with a man she was totally and completely in love with would have been a good thing, rather than something that got her banished from their family.
But that wasn’t the world he lived in. He could only do what it took to make the best of things in this reality. For Cillian, that meant spending more time with Olivia and seeing if this thing with her would be…Well, hell, he wasn’t sure. Something.
He pushed Sloan’s plate over to her. “It’ll all work out. Just you wait and see.”
Chapter Nine
Two days passed, and then three. By the time the fifth day slipped by without seeing or hearing from Cillian, Olivia had convinced herself that their whole night together was a fever dream brought on by his head injury and her exhaustion. It didn’t help her feel less hurt by his rejection—because, really, what else could she call him avoiding Jameson’s as well as her?—but it was better than nothing.
And what if he wasn’t avoiding her? Head wounds were tricky beasts, even under the best of circumstances. He’d seemed okay when she’d left the hotel that morning, but what if something happened in the meantime? She could have left him to die, and the only way she’d know about it was hearing a news report—which was why she’d been spending a truly unhealthy amount of time searching the local news outlets for anything about deaths with corresponding head injuries. It wasn’t a perfect way to go about things, and knowing that only made her stress out worse.
“Why the long face, pretty girl?”
She grimaced and passed a beer to the guy across the bar. “Gas.”
He jerked back, nearly knocking over the guy next to him. “Jesus. Sorry I asked.”
It was too easy. Like shooting fish in a barrel. That, at least, she found some pleasure in. The men who came through this place were nothing to her, and for whatever reason, her pissy attitude had made her tips nearly double this week. It would almost be enough to change her mood if she didn’t think about how worried she was about Cillian. It didn’t help that Benji kept sending her worried looks.
She grabbed a rag to wipe down a spill. “I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say a word.” He measured three different liquors into a shaker.
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.” She wasn’t sure why she was pressing this, let alone with her boss, but the need to talk to someone about what had gone down was nearly overwhelming. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t a sharer. She’d been blown off before, and hadn’t lost a second of sleep over it. But then she met that troublemaker O’Malley, and now she was losing her damn mind.
Benji poured two martinis and passed them over to a pair of women chatting about their week at work. Then he turned to face her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
If she didn’t, she might just explode. I am so pathetic. “The other night when I was taking out the trash and closing up, I caught two assholes beating the crap out of Cillian O’Malley.”
His mouth tightened. “You need to stay out of those kinds of conflicts. I don’t want you getting hurt.” He held up a hand at an impatiently waiting customer without looking over. “You’re tough, Olivia, but this is a whole different ball game from what you’re used to.”