Chapter 9
I’ve spent the entire afternoon hiding in the room Roman has given me for the year. I hadn’t expected the money to be transferred so quickly, but I’d used it as a distraction and an excuse to stay in this room, and I’d called everyone I needed to, to start paying off the debts. I’d expected to feel lighter, but as that figure had dropped and dropped, my gut had churned even harder.
Now the day is closing, the sun barely holding on as it paints the sky in fiery oranges and reds, tipping the mountains beyond the window in gold. The room is nice, bigger than my studio apartment, with a four-poster bed and its own fireplace. There’s a private bathroom and a walk-in closet and so much space it almost feels cold in here. Beyond the door, I can hear Roman moving through the house. We didn’t say a wordto each other after we made it back here. He showed me the bedroom and then went and did some work outside, which I only know because I’d watched, somewhat fascinated by it.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had no shirt on.
But fuck, the man hasmuscles.
I only stopped watching because he happened to look up while I’d had my nose practically pressed up against the glass, and I’d hit the deck so hard, my elbows still hurt several hours later. I’m pretty sure they’re bruised.
Climbing off the bed, I head to my bag but pause when I hear his steps coming up the stairs. My breath stops altogether when his knuckles rap against the door.
Maybe if I don’t move or breathe, he’ll think I’m asleep and leave.
“Niamh?” Roman’s voice sends a shiver down my spine.
My eyes flick to the ring on the bedside table. I’d taken it off the moment I was alone as if that could somehow undo what I had just done.
“I know you’re awake, Niamh,” There’s a touch of frustration in his tone. “You need to eat.”
As if the words are enough, my stomach rumbles in response, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast and it’s now past eight in the evening.
“I’ll grab something in a bit,” I call to him.
“There is dinner downstairs.” He says, “And it’s getting cold.”
“You want me to eatwith you?”
I hear him scoff, “That is what civilized people do.”
Shaking my head, I pad across the room, the aged wood under my feet warm as I go, and I yank it open to find him leaning on the wall opposite. He’s since changed from earlier, now in a simple pair of gray sweats and a white t-shirt that molds to the shape of him. His hair looks messier than earlier, like he’s run his hand through it a few too many times, but I like it. This slightly unkempt look, with the scruff around his mouth and a tendril of dark hair that falls over his forehead. Amber eyes clash with mine, and one dark smudge of a brow lifts.
“That easy, huh?”
“I’m hungry,” I huff, pushing by him to head for the stairs. The smell of the food wafts up, and my stomach answers with an obnoxiously loud rumble.
“I can hear that.” Roman is at my back, and a touch of heat blooms in my cheeks. I follow the smell of the food to the dining room but freeze when I realize it won’t just be me and Roman eating tonight.
At the table, Silas wrangles two small children. A young girl with the blondest hair I’ve ever seen, is hanging from his shoulder while a boy tugs on his arm, attempting to get an iPad he’s holding above his head. Tired eyes, slightly darker than Roman’s, look toward us helplessly, silently begging for one of us to do something. Roman is moving without hesitation, a chuckle rumbling from him as he scoops the girl up and throws her over his shoulder. Now that she’s taken care of, Silas is able to extract the boy from his arm while I just stand and watch the show. Roman has the girl in fits of giggles as he tickles her belly, and Silas is trying to calm his son, who is crying for not getting the tablet.
I didn’t even know he had kids.
No one really knows Silas at all, or any of the Knight brothers for that matter. The youngest, Remy, is some famous bronco rider, and I only know that because my regulars demand we play it on the TV whenever he is riding. For small-town royalty, they all keep very much to themselves. I mean, they only came into my bar for the first time the other night.
“Can I help?” I shift awkwardly. My experience with kids is limited, but Ashley’s two don’t seem to hate me, and I see that as a win.
As if only just noticing I’m there, the little girl turns big blue eyes toward me and lets out a dramatic gasp. “A girl!”
“Uh.” Panicked eyes meet Silas’s, who simply puts the bridge of his nose between his fingers while continuing to soothe his son with gentle back pats.
“Rosie,” Roman keeps the girl held back, “This is Niamh, my wife.”
“Neeve,” She over pronounces my name but then her head whips toward her uncle, “Wife!? You got married, Uncle Roman!?”
“Now you’ve done it,” Silas sighs before he turns his attention to me. “They’re not usually this feral, they’ve just come back from a birthday party, and there was no limit on the sugar they were allowed.”
I wince, “It’s okay.”
