Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I lean back in my chair and watch Erin curiously, elbows resting loose on my knees.
“Interesting,” I say. “Didn’t know the Kavanagh books needed defending.”
Erin’s cheeks flare pink. “They don’t. I wasn’t… I only meant that I notice things, patterns and the like… they’re easy to understand. Unlike human behavior,” she finishes in a tiny voice.
Tara exhales, long-suffering. “She means she keeps the family’s financial affairs in order. That’s all.” Her smile is brittle, a warning for Erin to stay in her lane.
Erin folds in on herself, her shoulders tight, mouth pressed shut, but in her eyes, there’s the faintest spark of defiance. The kind that I notice. The kind I well know doesn’t stay buried for long. “I wasn’t finished,” she murmurs.
Mam smiles at her. “You’re guileless, lass. That’s rare in our stock. And I like it very much.”
So do I, for reasons I don’t understand. It’s almost… endearing.
The rest of dinner passes mostly without a hitch. I take it as my personal mission to observe everything I can about my future wife.
“You sure you don’t want a drink? I can get you a beer, if it’s wine you don’t like.”
“No, thank you. I like to stay in control of myself,” she replies. “I don’t do anything that threatens my control.”
“Right…” I mutter, then quieter, so only she can hear, “Except for formal family dinners.”
She swallows and sniffs, but doesn’t argue. “Aye. You’re not wrong.”
Why does it feel like a peace offering?
“And how’s Bridget?” my mother asks politely.
Tara looks away, too quickly. “She’s fine, just out of the country for a bit,” she says.
“Oh, is she?” Mam says softly, while Da and Seamus discuss trade routes with Erin’s father. I only half listen. My focus stays on Tara.
Unlike her daughter, who couldn’t lie if her life depended on it, she’s hiding everything, calculated and controlled.
Must fucking infuriate her knowing she can’t get a grip on Erin.
“Where is she?”
“Oh, visiting family in Europe,” Tara replies—too fast. Too rehearsed. “She’ll be back in time for…” Her eyes flit to Erin’s. “For the festivities and all.”
She pours another glass of wine, her fourth or fifth.
Erin turns to Bronwyn, who’s been quiet, watching. She gives a small smile. “I’m glad you’re home again.”
Tara flinches, but my mother smiles. My da too. Erin’s growing on them.
Fuck. Just what I need—everyone getting soft.
“Do you know what happened?” Erin asks. “Why were you taken, Bronwyn?”
“We don’t know,” Bronwyn says quietly.
“You don’t know anything at all?” Erin’s father snaps. “What, didn’t she have a guard on her?”
Seamus interjects. “Of course she did,” my brother says sharply. “She’s got a better one now. We don’t know what happened.”
“My god,” my father mutters, shaking his head. “I’d lose my damn mind if one of my girls was taken.”
“Tell me about it,” Da murmurs. Everyone in Ballyhock knows how protective Keenan McCarthy is of his family. I served time for that damn reason.
I know the brief time Bronwyn was missing absolutely destroyed him.
I wonder if he blames himself for stepping down as the clan leader.
Bronwyn glances at Erin and smiles. “Thank you for asking. Erin, that dress is absolutely beautiful. Where’d you get it?”
Erin looks down. “I-I don’t know. I don’t like shopping much. Mam tries to buy me things, you know? She likes to dress me up…” Her cheeks turn pink.
“Oh, I love that,” Bronwyn grins.
“Your mam buys you clothes?” Kyla snaps.
“I…” Erin starts, then falters. Kyla eyes her like she’s something to dissect.
“I mean… I do buy my own clothes. But Mam doesn’t like what I pick. Says I wear the same thing over and over, like a uniform.” She laughs nervously. “Whatever. She’s not wrong. I’d live in yoga pants and jumpers, but…” She shakes her head.
“Me too,” I say. “Alright, maybe not the yoga pants.”
Declan snorts into another glass of wine as the staff brings out trays of desserts.
“Maybe it just makes things easier. Roll out of bed. Pull on your slacks. Pull on your shirt. Who the fuck cares, right?”
I don’t know why I’m taking her side, or why this even is a side.
“Right,” Erin says, staring at her plate. When the staff passes by, she eagerly takes the chocolate mousse and shortbread.
“Cavin,” Mam warns me, under her breath. “Language.”
My cousin Ashland chuckles into his glass. But Declan watches Erin with something close to curiosity.
“Those aren’t easy books to keep, Erin. Complicated work.”
“I suppose for some,” she says. “For me, I enjoy it. I like the challenge.”
“You do?”
“Aye. It’s something I’m quite good at.” She lifts her chin, just slightly. “I like recognizing patterns. Numbers make sense. Unlike people, you know?” She huffs a dry laugh. And fuck me… she means it.
Black and white. That’s how she sees the world.
And somehow, that honesty, the simplicity of it, makes me want to drag her into a dark corner and figure out every shade of gray in her mind. She’s like a puzzle I can’t quite figure out, and goddamn it, I want to.