Patrick grunted. “You didn’t hear Maria arrive? Laura?”
“Didn’t hear a thing.”
“Laura rang and told me to get here to witness the next saga in the Drummond-O’Grady feud. Man, she was pissed. You have major fence-building, bro.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Patrick nodded. “Maybe not, but put yourself in her shoes. If you came home and found an old boyfriend in bed with her, how would you feel?”
“Ready to commit murder,” Dallas admitted.
“You’ve been hot and cold with her since the mugging. Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you, heard you. What the hell is she meant to think?”
Dallas scrubbed his hands over his face, the sharp abrasion of stubble making him frown. “Maybe we’re both kidding ourselves about a relationship. After the way her family treated Quinn, maybe I should walk away.”
No. The moment he said the words, he wanted them vanquished.
Laura appeared in the doorway. “If that’s what you think, I’ll make it easy for you.” Tears swam in her eyes but she didn’t avoid his gaze, didn’t hide her pain, didn’t back down. “Patrick, can I crash on your couch until I can make alternative arrangements?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.” Without looking at him again, Laura turned and stalked away.
“God, you’re an idiot,” Patrick said. “You’ll lose her if you’re not careful.”
“It’s for the best,” Quinn said, appearing in the doorway. “Nothing good can come of a relationship with a Drummond.”
“You’re both moronic idiots,” Patrick snapped. “I’ll take Laura back to the pub.”
The next morning, Dallas dragged himself from bed. After another dose of pills, he’d managed a solid sleep, but now his head felt as if it were stuffed with gray mush. He pulled on a pair of track pants, biting back a groan when his ginger moves ricocheted, pinging jagged aches throughout his body. The doctors had told him it would take time for his ribs to heal. He scowled at his arm. He’d be stuck with the plaster for weeks.
A distant rattle from the direction of the kitchen brought a rush of hope. It died when he rounded the corner to find Quinn peering blearily at the coffeemaker.
“I didn’t realize you stayed.”
“I didn’t want to give the barracuda another chance to climb into your bed.”
“Are we talking about Maria or Laura?”
“Maria,” Quinn said tersely, although his tone implied he thought Laura, too, fit the category. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. All I know is every time I think about walking away from Laura, my gut hurts. I love her, Quinn. Whenever I’m with her I feel…whole.”
“Jesus, Dallas.” Quinn poured coffee into two mugs and handed one to him. “If you feel that way, go after her.”
“But you don’t like her family.”
“I don’t. Her older sisters are bald-faced liars, but you’re right. Laura doesn’t act like her sisters. She doesn’t look like a Drummond for a start. That helps,” he muttered the last words, almost as an afterthought. “You’re the one who needs to be happy.”
“I need food,” Dallas said. “I haven’t eaten for hours.”
Quinn shunted over his medication. “Take these. You’ll heal quicker if you’re not in pain. I can take you out to breakfast and drop you at the pub. That suit you?”
“Yeah.” Dallas still didn’t have any idea what he intended to say to Laura.
When they walked intoO’Grady’salmost two hours later, Patrick was working the bar, and Laura was busy writing up the day’s specials on the blackboard. Dallas’s gaze traced over her face, her intent features as she worked, and something inside him shifted.
“I’d better drop by the other pub to make sure everything is okay,” Quinn said. “Ring me if you need anything.”
