“Ye dinnae have to make money to be worth anything. My mum hasn’t worked a day in her life.”
“She raised two children.”
“And she’s raised millions for charity,” he retorted. “She made a home. She made my father look good through entertaining.” He aimed a pointed glance at the platter. “There’s worth to time spent doing those things.”
She licked her lips and stared at the platter like she’d never seen it before.
He got her attention again when he bit out, “Fuck your mother and fuck her flat. Your father adores you. He’ll be happy you’re home for a spell while ye decide where ye want to land.”
“God!” she cried. “Stop doing that!”
Dair was confused. “Doing what?”
“Being all…all…”—another arm fling, this one in front of her indicating him—“you.”
“Sorry?”
“Why are you so awesome?”
He felt his body jerk in surprise.
Then he smiled again, but this one came very slow.
He took a step to her.
She took a step back.
“What are you doing?’ she asked unsteadily.
“Ye think I’m awesome?”
“Oh God,” she breathed in a panic.
His smile didn’t waver.
He took another step forward.
She took one back.
“Is everything okay?” Ned asked from behind them.
Fucking shite.
“Yes!” Blake chirped fake cheerily, hopping forward to rescue the strawberry. She tucked it on the platter, picked it up and shoved it into his hands. “You take that in.” She craned her neck to look beyond him. “Dad, can I have a martini?”
“Already shaken, darling,” he said.
“Before those get cold, Dair,” she ordered, tipping her head to the platter.
“We’re not done talking, lassie.”
“I need to open the wine to breathe for dinner. Go.”
He didn’t move.
“Go!” she snapped. “I didn’t toil over wrapping dates with bacon for it to be cold and gross when people ate it.”
That got him moving.
