I reclaim my glass, my jaw set hard. “I’d prefer to drink alone,” I state flatly, leaving no room for debate.
She arches an eyebrow, clearly miffed, but forces a smile. “Fine, enjoy.”
I catch a muttered “Jerk” as she walks off.
Tell me something I don’t know.
The click-clack of heels has me bracing for another round of unwelcome advances. But then I catch a familiar floral scent wafting toward me.
“Ah hell,” I mutter under my breath, recognizing that perfume anywhere.
I turn to see my mother gliding gracefully onto the now-vacant barstool, looking as elegant as ever.
“Mom,” I say, the irritation melting into a reluctant smile. I haven’t seen her since I left Killian’s house.
“Connor,” she replies curtly, dropping her designer purse on the bar with a decisive thump.
Hardly a moment passes before some old geezer at the bar has the balls to shoot her a sly wink, olive paused halfway to his mouth.
It takes monumental restraint not giving in to the primal urge to grab that leering letch by his ankles and forcibly eject him from the premises.
The gut reaction of any son worth his salt. Nobody eyes up my mother in front of me. But she takes no notice, unruffled as ever.
“Who’d you send to tail me? Cameron?” I ask wryly.
Cameron’s the security guy ensuring she’s protected. Can’t be too careful.
“I don’t need Cameron to track you down. You think I don’t know my own son? A mother’s intuition is like GPS,” she says with a smile. Right. And Cameron just happens to be enjoying the ambiance of our lobby right now.
Ignoring my skeptical head tilt, she turns to the bartender and orders her drink. “Extra dry gin martini, sweetie. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Of course, Mrs. Quinn,” the bartender replies, clearly charmed.
Mom’s still got it, apparently. She hasn’t aged a day in two decades—a dangerous topic to ever bring up.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m about to get chewed out?” I grumble, leaning against the bar. “Reminds me of those nights sneaking into clubs with a fake ID, only for you to drag me out by my ear.”
Mom gives me that look, the one that says she’s put up with enough bullshit from me over the years. “You’re never too old for a talking-to from your mother. Especially when she’s worried about you.”
I tap the coaster impatiently on the counter and lower my voice. “There’s no need for you to be worried. I know what needs to be done now. I’m fronting a research department for this damn condition. And maybe I’ll even give those support groups a try. You know, where everyone sits around, spills their guts to total strangers.”
I attempt a smirk, trying to lighten the mood, but the words feel like I’m just throwing in the towel, admitting defeat to some unbeatable foe. Still, I push through, trying to sound more confident than I feel, hoping to ease her concerns.
She shakes her head. “Connor, I’m not just worried about your hearing, even though that’s on my mind too. We’ll tackle that challenge together, as a family. You’re tough, I know that. But right now, you’re being stubborn. You’ve got this, like you always do with any curveball life throws at you.” She pauses to give me a sharp look. “What’s really got me worried is the kind of person you’re turning into. I didn’t bring you up to treat a woman the way you did Alexa.”
The moment she mentions Lexi, my back goes up. “Lexi isn’t my girlfriend, she had no business interfering—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Mom snaps in that unyielding voice that’s had me toeing the line since I was a kid. “There’s no excuse for how you acted.”
That hits hard, right where it hurts. Looks like I’m on a winning streak of messing up with every woman in my life right now. Nothing quite like a maternal reality check to remind me I’m basically navigating life like an arrogant asshole.
“Believe it or not, I showed her the door with all the grace I could muster,” I shoot back, irritation lacing my words.
Mom gives me a pointed look. “Really, Connor? Kicking her out in the middle of dinner was your idea of being a gentleman? Need I remind you, honey, that you can be a little intimidating.”
“Lexi crossed a line, airing out my private stuff,” I say with a rough edge. Lexi had no damn right. Not at all. And sure, I’m not laying it all on her—I’m livid with Killian for thinking that was a good move in front of Mom and Clodagh. But Lexi’s involvement got under my skin the most.
Mom’s lips press into a thin line, her disappointment hitting me like a wave. “Please. You know your brother. Killian bulldozes through any subtlety when he’s got his mind set on something. I have no doubt he railroaded Lexi into that. And no woman deserves the cruelty you showed her, even if she has quite a few sins of her own, from what I’ve heard.”
