Her plump lips roll into yet another grin. ‘With my parents.’
Fuck. My. Life.
ChapterSeven
AVA
My brother has a big mouth. I mean, that’s not news per se. Which is why I woke up to five missed calls from my mother, Penny ‘zero-boundaries’ Jackson, demanding to know every single detail about my new boyfriend, including his penis size.
I really should have included those questions on the HeartSync sign-up form after all, because that’s the only way I’ll ever find out the truth about Cillian’s.
I imagine it’s big. It has to be. A man with his confidence couldn’t be walking around with anything less than eight, maybe nine inches in his pants, right?
‘With your parents?’ Cillian repeats, dragging my mind out of the gutter. His jaw tightens and a pulse ticks in his temple. He needs to lighten up.
I read an article once about men with stressful jobs that caused heart conditions. Cillian looks like he’s liable to keel over at any second. And if he did, I’d be obliged to perform mouth to mouth. Which would mean I finally get to place my lips on Mr Suave Suit Guy, but for all the wrong reasons. He might be a cold-hearted grump, but he is the hottest cold-hearted grump I’ve ever come across.
‘Seriously, Cillian. It’s only lunch.’ I’m lying. It’s not only lunch. It’s the Spanish Inquisition. But given he’s used to being interrogated in the courtroom, and apparently liberating mafia-connected wives, Frank and Penny’s questions should be a walk in the park. No point taking him to Nate’s wedding if he can’t survive a simple family dinner.
‘When?’ He lifts his glass of water to his lips. Even the rippling tendons in his neck are masculine. Which is probably why I willingly pressed a kiss there last night. And subsequently spent hours overthinking the level of heat radiating from his body. Remembering the expensive enticing smell of his cologne. The ‘I could fuck you into next week’ vibe that oozes from his every pore.
It’s not my fault.
I’ve been fantasising about this man for the best part of a year. Before I knew he was a moody, pessimistic workaholic, of course.
‘Sunday. Jackson family roasts are a tradition. Come on, we both know you don’t already have a hot date.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ He rakes his fingers through his cropped dark hair. ‘I’ll have to check my mother will take Phoebe for a couple of hours.’
My scalp prickles. How would those fingers feel raking through mine?
‘Phoebe?’
‘My daughter.’ His voice hitches with pride at the mere mention of her name. Tingling sensations spark in my ovaries.
What is it about single dads that’s so freaking hot? Seriously, it’s my favourite romance trope. Throw in a bit of an age gap and it’s a one click wonder for me. I’d put Cillian at about eight years older than me. Old enough to have experience anyway.
I cross my legs under the table and press my thighs together. ‘How old is she again?’
‘Six going on sixteen.’ Cillian’s entire face transforms. A dimple indents his left cheek as his lips curl into an actual smile.
My underwear is on fire.
He was attractive when he was sullen, but when he’s smiling, he’s devastating.
‘Want to see a picture?’ He whips his phone out of his pocket before I have the chance to even reply.
The most beautiful little girl stares back at me from his mobile. She’s wearing a pink polka dot dress and matching headband. She has her father’s molten silver eyes, but her hair is blonde. She must take that from her mother. A gappy grin shows the tooth fairy is no stranger to their house. ‘She’s stunning.’
‘Thank you.’ He slides the phone back into his pocket and resumes his poker face. It’s too late though, I’ve seen the man beneath the mask. Cillian Callaghan isn’t the devil in disguise. He’s a fucking teddy bear. For one lady at least.
Would he ever find room in his life for another?
For fuck’s sake, Ava.
The man doesn’t believe in hearts and flowers. He’s allergic to romance. And he doesn’t believe in relationships.
Get a grip.
