“Precisely.”
I sat back slightly and eyed him. “You are aware of the repercussions of this. Most of my family will spend a meal with us as the entertainment, even though we won’t be there. Don’t be surprised if they get my sisters on Facetime and had a whole family meeting on what it is that we’re doing exactly.”
“Claire,” he said, “I don’t give a fuck what they talk about. I want to do what I wasn’t able to do before and take you out properly. Even if if it’s just once and we decide that we can just be friends afterwards.”
His blue eyes stared at me intensely; somehow, I summoned the willpower not to jump onto his lap. He had a presence that consumed me, that made me want to forget everything else and just simply be, something more base and instinctive than cerebral. “I’ll speak to Marie.”
“No, I will.” The words were said quietly but firmly and I understood that he was making a point. We weren’t going to be each other’s dirty little secret, not this time. We were both in our thirties, both professionals with good incomes and no reason for anyone to object, even if it was anyone else’s business. My family, however, would enjoy commenting at length, although Killian could quite easily shut any of them up, given that he was taller and more muscular than any of my brothers.
“Okay. Where shall we go?”
“How about the pub in the village?” he said. “I know it’s nothing gourmet but we can walk there.”
I nodded. “Perfect.” And it was. Simple and easy. Like it should’ve been all along.
***
“Claire!” The knocking at my door didn’t stop, resounding taps becoming increasingly louder. “Claire! Open the door! If you don’t I’ll call Jackson and he’ll…”
I opened it and Vanessa pretty much fell in to the room.
“Why were you ignoring me? I heard you were missing Marie’s dinner,” she looked flushed and slightly dishevelled and I suspect that she and my brother had been making the most of a couple of hours without interruption. “Jackson happened to mention it after, well, and, shit, Claire! You’re going out with Killian? On a date? Today?”
I stared at her, my flat irons still in hand, half my hair clipped up. “Have you lost the power to speak coherently?”
She cocked her head on one side and mock-glared. “Killian. You told me you used to date, kind of. What’s happened?”
I moved out of the way of the door so she could come into the bedroom that had always been mine, although there were no longer any posters of film stars on the walls. “We kissed last night. And promised to talk. Today we had a walk in the woods across the fields…”
“Yes, Jackson and I have been there. It’s quiet and parts are really secluded.”
I decided not to press for details. “We decided to spend a bit of non-work time together and he suggested dinner.”
“And then he asked Marie if she minded you both skipping lunch, which smells amazing by the way. I’m hoping without the two of you there, they’ll be enough left for us to take home for seconds.”
“I doubt it. You’ve still got Seph and Callum there. And Max – he can eat his own bodyweight in Marie’s cooking.”
“So, go on, tell me about Killian.” She sat down on my bed and pushed her hair out of her face.
“We’re going out for something to eat. That’s about it.”
“And you’re not thinking about the size of his manhood or how he kisses…”
“Who the fuck says ‘manhood’? Serious, Van, ‘manhood’?”
“Stop trying to change the subject. One of your sisters mentioned catching sight of it once and commented on how big it was,” she gestured a good nine or ten inches with her hands. “They didn’t mention girth though. Can you get your fingers around it?”
“You’re going to marry my brother. I’m concerned you’re going to offer up comparisons between what you’ve heard about Killian and Jackson’s micro-wiener,” I said, finishing applying heat to my hair in the name of taming it.
“It’s not micro,” she said, looking a little too fondly at the recollection of what they had been doing probably minutes ago. “I’ve never…”
“And stop right there. The last time I saw my brother’s penis he was seven. I might have pointed at it and shouted ‘worm boy’. Any more information than that will result in me finding photographic evidence of said worm boy and sharing it on social media,” I said in the tone I usually used for dealing with Seph, and sometimes Ava.
“I’m not entirely sure how that would put me off discussing Jackson’s no longer worm like manhood but we’ll return to the point in question. Killian.” A smug smile crossed her face.
“We’re going out for dinner,” I repeated. “That’s it. Nowhere fancy. Nowhere I’m going to need a cocktail dress or even a pair of heels.”
“So why does your make-up look so perfect and you’re taking two hours with your hair?” she said with more than an ounce of sarcasm. “When you saw Killian three weeks ago you were bare faced and sweaty having just endured boot camp at Max’s gym.”
