Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Please be careful.”
She tilted up her head, a small vee between her eyes. “I will be.”
The same curl fell across her forehead again, and I reached up, tucking it behind her ear. It was soft to the touch. I suddenly became conscious of how close we were standing to each other. How small she was compared to me. How enticingly sweet she smelled.
Awareness hit me. She was eighteen. Alluring, lovely, intelligent, and interesting.
And eighteen fucking years old.
I stepped back, dropping into my chair just as Brian and Jim walked in. I averted my eyes as Una held out a tray of coffee and a plate of cookies. “Take it to the living room. It’s more comfortable,” she told her father. “I’ll finish here.”
Sitting with her father and brother having whiskey and coffee, I could make out her humming in the kitchen and I wanted to hear it again. I wanted to talk to her again. Listen to her voice. Hear her plans. Her soft laughter.
All of which were impossible. I had no business feeling this way for a child. I was grateful when she called out, informing her dad she was going for a run. I waited a few moments, then made my excuses and departed.
I drove to the school and watched her run. Made a call, stationing a man to watch the track nightly, ensuring her safety. Then I did the only thing I could do—I left and never returned. She was eighteen. Off-limits in every way possible.
Yet, I never forgot her.
The next time I saw Una was years later at her father’s funeral. She was almost twenty-six and as compelling as I remembered.
The loyalty I’d seen in him was correct. He’d stepped in front of me, taking a bullet that should have killed me. Instead, it put him in a wheelchair and ended his life in a long, drawn-out decline. I paid for all his medical needs, which grew over time, and I offered as much support as he would allow. Somehow every time I went to see him, Una was out. I often wondered if it was because she blamed me for her father’s condition. I couldn’t fault her, but for some reason, it distressed me.
Brian had been working for me for a while, a decent enough soldier, although I often suspected without his father overseeing him, he would be trouble. I was worried what he would do now that his father’s influence was gone. Yet, I owed it to Jim to keep him on. He had asked me to look after his children, and I always honored my word.
I didn’t recognize Una at first. She was eight years older and no longer a child. She had grown and matured. She was all woman, and her beauty stunned me.
The day I had first met her, her hair had been tied into a thick braid over her shoulder. Now, it was loose in a mass of brilliant red curls that hung down her back. The simple black dress she wore highlighted her hair color and the paleness of her complexion. She looked tired, sad, and older than her years. I knew she’d taken a leave of absence to care for her father. I’d tried to intervene, but Jim was stubborn and refused, insisting that his daughter had it under control. I had to admit, at times, I wondered if it was Jim or Una who refused my help. Remembering her dreams, I hated the fact that she’d put them on hold to care for her father. I could only hope she found her way back to them. I wanted to help her with that.
As I stopped in front of her, offering my condolences, her eyes widened, and I took in her features. Her cheeks were full, her chin stubborn. Her beautiful green eyes were fringed with dark lashes, set under delicate eyebrows the same red as her hair. She had a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose, with one prominent, dark one to the side of her right eye. It gave her a sultry look, like a beauty mark. Her lips were plump and rosy but looked ragged as if she’d been chewing them in nerves.
Still, she was lovely. Even in mourning, there was no denying her beauty.
Or the fact that she was no longer a child.
I took her hand, feeling a strange sensation when our skin touched. Her gaze flew to mine, and I knew she felt it too. I closed my large palm over hers, and I held it tightly, unwilling to break our contact.
“Una,” I murmured. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Mr. O’Reilly,” she replied stiffly. “Thank you for coming.”
“Finn,” I responded. “You call me Finn.”
She indicated the back of the room. “There are refreshments.”
I glanced around, noticing everyone was looked after. Her brother was in the corner, surrounded by his friends and some of my other men. Older soldiers were there with their wives or children to pay their respects. They all seemed to have someone.