Dallas glanced up to see Quinn. “What do you want?”
His brother’s gaze zeroed in on his face, picked past his impassive mask and left Dallas feeling naked.
Quinn held his hands up in a passive greeting. “I came to see how you are. You shouldn’t be at work.”
“I told him that,” Patrick said. “He’s stubborn. Takes after you.”
“Ma said you’re not answering your phone.”
“I’ll ring her later.” Dallas shifted on the bar stool and winced at the arrow of pain down his ribs. Hell, every muscle in his body sang like an angry rocker while violins creaked and sawed across his brain. He inched up with ginger moves, muscles tense to help cushion the torture. “Maybe I’ll go back to the house.”
“I’ll drive you,” Quinn said, his tone brooking no argument.
Dallas had intended to drive himself but gave way. No way in hell would he manage the trip on his own. “Thanks.” Quinn probably intended to lecture him for the entire journey. “Patrick, Quinn’s driving me back to my place. Can you tell Laura?”
Patrick nodded. “I’ll tell her. Here are your pills. Make sure you take them and get some rest.”
Quinn scooped up the prescription bottles. “I’ll make sure he takes them.”
Dallas collapsed into the passenger seat of Quinn’s car with a loud groan and breathed slow and deep. Bed was looking better with every passing second.
Quinn pulled up outside Dallas’s house. “Are the ribs giving you grief?”
“A bit.” An understatement. “What did Dad and Ma say?”
Dallas handed over his house keys and shuffled inside once Quinn had opened the door.
“They want to talk to you,” Quinn said.
“Yeah.” Dallas gave a tired sigh and even that hurt. “But what did they think? You might as well tell me.”
Quinn stalked to the window and peered out at the rear garden. “They asked if you were happy.”
“And?” Prying information from his brother was like trying to brew whiskey from tap water.
“They’re reserving judgment until they speak with you and meet the girl.”
“Laura. She has a name.” His parents’ reaction didn’t surprise him. “I’ll talk to them now. Dial for me.”
“Ma, it’s Dallas,” Dallas said, accepting the phone from Quinn.
“How are you? Quinn said you’ve been in the wars.”
“I’m okay. Ma, I love Laura.” No point pussyfooting around the Drummond in the room.
“Son, are you sure she loves you?”
Dallas thought about the slap he’d received earlier, and he grinned until the pull on his mouth hurt his split lip. She mightn’t have told him she loved him, but she cared a whole lot. “I’m positive.”
“Quinn said you’re living together.”
“Quinn had a lot to say for himself.”
“After what happened…he worries,” Ma said.
“Laura and I are happy. We love each other and we plan to marry.” At least that was where he was heading with his thoughts.
“I see. You won’t get married without us,” his mother said.
