As my father introduced my mother to his sister, I went over and sat on a stool beside the man who had become very dear to my heart.
“There is nothing for you to worry about, Smokey.”
“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, darlin’.”
I smiled as I looked across the room briefly, then leaned my head against his shoulder. “Be patient with her. The only man she’s ever loved is standing across the room.”
“If she loved him, why ain’t they together?”
I chuckled at the rasp in his voice. “Because she didn’t love him like that. Neither of them did. He’s her best friend, and his opinion matters, so maybe make an effort?”
Smokey grunted, but he nodded when he looked over at my mom, talking to Aunt Caity.
I felt him behind me before his gruff voice said, “Braesal O’Malley,” and his hand stuck out in front of me.
Smokey looked at it, and I nudged him with my shoulder. He sighed and grabbed my father’s hand firmly. “Smokey.”
“Where’s the asshole?”
“Dad,” I groaned, but Smokey chuckled.
“Probably hiding if he knows what’s good for him,” Smokey offered.
The corner of my father’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. He wouldn’t. Not here in front of these men. He had a reputation to uphold, and he wouldn’t want them to know he was a big softy when it came to me.
“I’m right fucking here,” Jude said, placing a hand around my waist. “O’Malley.”
My father looked down at Jude’s hand over my stomach and growled.
“Don’t,” I said, stepping away from Jude. “I will not put up with a pissing contest.” I stalked away from them both, Smokey’s laughter following me.
I walked into the kitchen and found Rian sitting at the table.
“Why are you in here?”
“Because if I go out there, your father is likely to shoot me. Or Duncan.”
I glanced at the door and then back to Rian. “Maybe stay in here until my uncle Declan gets here.”
Rian nodded with a grimace, and I laughed. It felt good to feel an emotion that wouldn’t throw me into tears.
The kitchen door opened, and Freyja stomped in. “I won’t let either of them shoot you.”
Rian smiled and shook his head. “Fucking trouble.” He stood up, walked over to Freyja, and wrapped her in a hug.
“I didn’t realize you knew each other.”
“Freyja almost got me killed in New Orleans.”
“I did not. Lucille assured me you were never in any danger.”
“Like she assured you, when she forgot to mention the explosives?” Rian asked pointedly.
Freyja waved him off as if it was a mere miscommunication.
“I need to hear this story. When Scribe and the others came home, they didn’t say anything about explosives.”
“Story for another time. When will your brother be here?” Freyja asked.
