Page 31 of Ciaran

“But you’re Callum’s girlfriend. You have every right to be here. I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Ciaran wants you here, which means we all want you here.”

“Correct.”

Ciaran appears behind me. I didn’t even hear his bedroom door open. He briefly strokes a hand down my arm as he passes. It sends a frisson of pleasure scattering across my skin. The unexpected feeling both shocks and delights me but, like Laurella said, Ciaran is a nice man with a large heart. I shouldn’t read anything more into his kindness toward me than that.

And… no men, remember?

But what if the feelings stirring inside at every look, every touch Ciaran sends my way are real? What if I could find the strength within me to trust again? To love again.

Ciaran passes me a glass of orange juice, jerking me out of my inner thoughts. “What’ll you have to eat?”

“I asked her that,” Laurella says before I can respond. “She blabbed on something ridiculous about going to the deli across the street. I told her we feed our guests.”

“But I’m not?—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence because Laurella’s death stare silences me.

“If you’d rather go out for breakfast, we can do that,” Ciaran says. “But I should tell you, Laurella makes half decent pancakes… for an Italian.”

Laurella rewards him with a teasing slap to his arm. He laughs, dodging out of her reach. A warm feeling spreads over me as I watch them banter.

“Okay, then,” I say quietly. “Pancakes it is.”

Laurella’s answering smile almost blinds me. “Bacon and eggs, too?” she asks.

I get the distinct impression it isn’t really a question. Looking after people clearly makes her happy. It’s been a long time since anyone fussed over me, and I have to admit it feels good.

“Sounds perfect. Over medium for me.”

Laurella busies herself in the kitchen while Ciaran takes the seat next to mine. He opens his mouth to speak, shuts it, then opens it again.

“Got any plans for today?”

“Um, no. I was actually going to get out of your hair. I’m sure you all have things to do, and you don’t need me cluttering up the place.”

He cocks a brow. “Did you want to walk the streets of Manhattan all day?” A hint of a smile appears on his lips. He’s teasing me. I’m glad he doesn’t say what I thought he was going to. What if Tanner finds you again? I’m trying not to think about that possibility.

I nudge him with my elbow. “Not particularly.”

He grins. “Good, because I have just the thing to put some color in your cheeks.”

“You never told me you could sail?”

Ciaran takes my hand and helps me onto the boat. I try to ignore the scattering of goosebumps his touch sends shooting up my arm.

“I couldn’t back when we were in high school. Dad used to take me out occasionally if he had time. My brothers weren’t interested in sailing, and Mom was scared of open water because she almost drowned as a child, but I loved it. When I joined the cadets, I took proper sailing lessons.”

I trail my fingertips over the pristine white paintwork. “This was your dad’s boat?”

Ciaran nods. “She’s a little old now, but I can’t bring myself to sell her.”

I chuckle. “I’ve always wondered why boats are a ‘she’.”

Ciaran sets his rucksack on the deck. “I remember asking Dad that. I don’t think anyone knows for sure. One theory is that it’s all about the protective role females play in society, and how that links to the ship protecting its crew.” He fondly touches the ropes for the sails. “Boats will always be ‘she’ to me.”

“What’s she called?”

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