Chapter 25 #2
I refocus on the tray, willing my blood to stop rushing south at her proximity. She’s right there. I could easily reach out and graze her cheekbone with my knuckles. Since when am I a guy who likes cheekbones?
Fuck.
The tray.
Right.
There’s a stack of sandwiches on two plates, bags of cheese and onion Tayto, and some fruit.
“What’s all this?” I gratefully accept the plate from her and get stuck in.
“Aren’t you starving?” She’s already halfway done with a sandwich. “I could eat a horse.”
I nod, tucking into a triangle of ham and cheese. “This is good bread.”
She grins. “Can’t beat a good sandwich during the summer. I’d have made a salad, but I’m all out of veggies and need to get a shop in.”
“How do you feel after…?” I wave a piece of sandwich at her. “That?”
“Thank you, again, for stepping in. Again. I don’t know why I let her dance around for as long as I did.”
I don’t either, but I don’t echo her sentiments aloud.
I suspect it has something to do with being raised by a blowhole bully who never lets anyone question what he’s thinking.
I keep my mouth busy with another bite. We haven’t spoken about last night either.
Once we got back from the Dock of the Bay, we watched a movie and fell asleep, breaking yet another rule on the list.
She pulls her phone out of her jeans. “All quiet on the eastern front.” Her smile is brittle. “Thanks for that, too. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to him like that before.” She pinches a piece of sandwich off and eats it.
“Just because someone yells louder than you, doesn’t mean you have to listen to them.”
She nods. “I know, but he’s my da, you know? Rugby royalty. Former championship winning coach. Knows best, especially when it comes to rugby.” Her words drip with acidity as they fall from her beautiful mouth.
I can’t help snickering.
“What?” She arches a brow, and her nose wrinkles, sandwich poised right at her lips.
“He doesn’t know you, Rhi-Bird. He might know the technical aspect of the game, from his limited and privileged perspective as a man immersed in the sport, but he doesn’t know you. He’s trying to keep his own career alive through his kids.”
She recoils like I smacked her.
“Sorry.” I cram half a sandwich into my mouth to stop utter bollocks from coming out. I groan. I haven’t had a corned beef sandwich since I was a kid. The nostalgia is strong.
She shakes her head, moving on to an egg and onion sandwich. “You’re not wrong. I’ve just never heard it said out loud before.” She takes a bite, chewing slowly. “It’ll take some getting used to.”
“I don’t mean any disrespect. He’s left his mark on Northern Irish Rugby, no one can take that away from him, but being yours and Taranis’s agent?
Micromanaging you and your sisters’ careers?
The way he’s so involved in everything?” I tut, shaking my head.
“I may be reading things wrong. I’ve only seen the side that the media shares, and him throwing his toys out of the pram yesterday, but his overbearing nature seems less about what’s best for his kids and more about keeping his own dream alive. ”
She rolls her lips together, falling quiet again, and the urge to fill the silence simmers up inside me. “I didn’t mean to overstep. Not with your dad, or with Laura this morning. It’s not that I think you can’t handle yourself.”
She leans over and thumps my upper arm. “Good, because I can.”
I pretend to be mortally wounded. “You’d think knowing I have a prosthetic limb would make you less intent on busting up the remaining three.”
Her eyes narrow as she wags half a sandwich at me.
“Don’t pull that card with me, mister.” Her face softens.
“But since you mentioned it.” She puts the sandwich back onto her plate.
“Are you okay? I know you don’t like being fussed over, but we also didn’t plan for you to spend the night.
I just…” She looks at me like she’s afraid of upsetting me and doesn’t know what she’s trying to say.
“I’m okay, thank you. I’m sore, and tired, but I’ll be okay. I’m surprised I slept through, usually the discomfort wakes me when I fall asleep with it on. Must have been my beautiful, weighted blanket.”
Her cheeks flush a deep shade of pink. It takes all I have not to reach out and brush my fingers against her warm skin. “No flirting,” she scolds. “Rule number ten.”
“Technically, rule number ten is “no outside flirting.” I shrug, taking a massive bite of my sandwich. “Plus, rule number twelve, honesty is the best policy.”
That small, familiar smile plays on her lips. She looks like she might argue, but she stays quiet. We finish our lunch in a comfortable silence that’s only broken by Rhiannon swearing when she reads a message on her phone.
“What’s wrong?” That wasn’t the first question that came to mind, but it was the first one I let come out of my mouth. I was going to ask “what the fuck did he say?” but I’ve done enough jumping up and down on her dad’s head for one day.
She stares at me in silence for a really long time before she purses her lips to blow out a heavy breath. “How do you feel about black tie?”