Nana smiles mischievously, meeting Liam’s eye. They’re sharing some joke. A secret language. Like they’ve been friends for years and not minutes.
“Will I need one, Mr. Donovan?” She arches a brow.
Liam puts down his tea. He turns in his seat, his large hand reaching out to take my hand, his palm warm and calloused. Before I can even gasp, he tugs.
I stumble, but he catches me easily, his arm sweeping around my waist and lowering me onto his lap.
“Liam!” I hiss, trying to scramble up, but his arm is a band of steel.
“Settle, Luv,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
I stop struggling, mostly because my legs have turned to jelly. My chest heaves. Arousal pulses through my blood. He kisses the side of my head, then drapes his knuckles down my cheek.
“You look lovely, Darlin’.” The compliment makes my toes curl. “There is no need to feel like a petrified rabbit, Lexie.”
I glance to the side, meeting his gaze, admiring the flecks of silver in the blue.
“She’s not here to take me away?” I whisper, glancing at her.
Nana rolls her eyes, stabbing a piece of potato pancake. But she doesn’t interrupt. She lets Liam handle it.
Liam cups my chin, turning my face fully toward him. His thumb strokes my bottom lip. “Your gran is quite shrewd, Luv. To ease your fears, Claire knows she would need to contend with me—or heaven forbid, you—if anything were to…interrupt our beautiful relationship.”
His wolfish but charming grin makes my heart stutter.
“Eat before the food gets cold, Elexia,” Nana directs, pointing her fork at the empty plate set before me.
I hesitate, squeezing Liam’s shoulder. I don’t want to move.
Liam seems to sense it. So, he reaches for the empty plate and pulls it toward us. He starts piling items onto it—Eggs Benedict, two of the crispy potato pancakes with the applesauce on the side. Then, he reaches for the basket and pulls out a cinnamon roll.
My lips twitch. He remembered my favorite.
He holds the roll up to my mouth, challenging.
Something feisty sparks in me. I lean forward and bite into the roll—and I make sure to nip his fingertip with my teeth.
Liam freezes. His pupils dilate. He chuffs a dark, surprised laugh. “Naughty girl. I will address your attention-seeking immaturity after breakfast.”
I swallow the sweet, cinnamon-y bite, a flush spreading. “Looking forward to it.”
“I will be staying at the bed and breakfast nearby,” Nana announces loudly, coughing into her napkin.
Relieved, I sag against Liam. She’s staying. But she’s not stayinghere.
We eat together, and I feel like a queen on Liam’s lap while he feeds me bites between his own. Nana talks, and it almost feels normal. She shares stories of her “consulting work” overseas in the nineties—Paris, Rome, Berlin.
“The art in the Louvre is breathtaking,” she says, lost in the memory. “But the security…deplorable.”
“Not as bad as the National Gallery in London,” returns Liam. “I walked out of there with a Vermeer once just to see if I could.”
“You put it back, I hope?” Nana asks, raising a brow.
He pauses, then smirks. “Eventually.”
They launch into a discussion about European cities. I listen, chewing on a piece of bacon, but a small, cold knot of jealousy forms in my stomach. They’ve been everywhere. They’ve seen the world.
I’ve seen Queens and Manhattan. And the inside of a flower shop.
