“Missing a testicle.”
I slapped my hand over my mouth—not from horror, but to hold the laughter in.
“He attacked me.”
“I know.” His voice was even.“I made sure he won’t speak about the incident again.”
“You killed him?” I gasped.
“I didn’t need to. He was still stitched up and swollen when I explained what would happen to the remains.”
The laughter escaped before I could stop it. Bad Girl approved entirely.
By the time he parked in front of my building I had made a decision.
I liked Conrí Gallagher. Wolf and all.
Bad Girl said nothing, still reserving judgment.
I thought of every mistake I’d made with Finley—the slow erosion of it, the way I’d ignored what I’d known long before I was ready to act on it—and I wouldn’t allow that to happen again. Not with anyone.
“When will I see you again?” Conrí asked.
“If you’re lucky, at work,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“I won’t give up.” A beat.“Just so you know.”
“Thank you for tonight,” I said, and smiled and opened the door.
I wasn’t playing games. I simply wasn’t prepared to rush into anything ever again.
Bad Girl hummed her approval.
Chapter 31
Conrí
Cuán was sitting in my kitchen stuffing his face when I returned.
My brother had no shame. None whatsoever.
“How come you get Rua’s chicken pie? What am I?”
“The cheap imitation,” I snapped.“What were you thinking? I told you things were fragile and you barged in here tonight—twice.”
“I know you’re concerned, but she’ll come around,” he said with a shrug, stabbing his fork into the pie.
I studied him for a moment.
He was comfort eating.
Good.
“That will all go to your belly,” I said casually.
The fork halted midway to his mouth.
“I’ll work out all weekend,” he muttered, and stuffed the hunk of meat and pastry in anyway.
