“I don’t deserveyou, Jax.” Her voice broke slightly. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”
I closed the distance between us in two quick steps, my hands settling on her shoulders as I tilted her chin up to look at me. “Dee, I’m not going anywhere,” I promised. “I told you that from the start. And I don’t care how hard you try to push me away—I’m staying. Because I love you, whether you like it or not.”
Her eyes softened, and she let out a shaky laugh. “You’re very hard not to love.”
“That’s what they all say.”
She rolled her eyes again, but before she could say anything else, I leaned down and kissed her.
It wasn’t like the other kiss we’d shared when she’d come by to rip me a new one for paying off her taxes—that had been heated, frantic, fueled by tension and lust. This one was slower, deeper, filled with everything I hadn’t been able to put into words.
When we finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my skin.
“I love you,” she whispered.
The words hit me with the depth and burn of an aged single malt, rich and unforgettable.
“Say it again,” I demanded, my voice low.
She laughed softly, her green eyes sparkling. “I love you, Jax Caldwell.”
“Damn right, you do.” I pulled her closer. “Can I come back to the pub, darlin’ Dee?”
“Yes, please.”
“Thank God! Because one of Ronan’s goats comes inside the house and wakes me up in the morning by bleating outside the bedroom door.”
“Johnny has abandonment issues,” she explained about the goat.
“Johnny shits everywhere.”
“Well, aye! This is a farm, and we have animals, and they shit.”
“Whose side are you on?” I put an arm around her, leading her inside the house.
“Yours.ButJohnny is special.”
“You’re saying a goat is more special than me?”
“Well, you’re a man, and he’s a goat. There’s no competition, Jax.”
“Like hell, there isn’t,” I muttered. “So, what’s it about this goat you like so much?”
She laughed, and I loved how I could make her happy, how I could chase the dark away from her, how she let me.
CHAPTER 30
Dee
“Darlin’ Dee, you’re giving me whiplash,” Jax told me when I glared at him because he had the temerity to suggest that he had a plan on how to save Ballybeg.
“But we don’t need your help.” The words were out before I could stop them. He was an outsider, and this was my standard line.
We can take care of our own, thank you very much.
“Whiplash, Dee,” he growled.
The first time Jax Caldwell asked me to trust him, I scoffed.
