Page 110 of The Love Losers

I tuck my phone away and shoot him a murderous look.

“I think we need to talk,” he says, adjusting his weight on his legs.

“You’re right about that,” I mutter.

There I go, thinking Joy and I got away with something.

I follow him into the downstairs office, feeling my nerves prickling, as if I’m a teenager who could get grounded and not a twenty-eight-year-old woman.

When I get into the office, I close the door behind me and turn toward him, crossing my arms. Might as well come out and say it. “I’m not going to New York.”

His face creases in anger. “Did that asshole sneak into my house in the middle of the night and hide behind an old woman?”

“Joy has a snowplow-driving lover,” I insist tightly. “He snuck into her window because she has dark romance fantasies, and they went to pound town until he left the same way he showed up.”

“I heard the snowplow horn,” he says, giving a dramatic pause that makes me want to roll my eyes. “And footsteps and a thump upstairs at the same time. That’s some guy, if he can be in two places at the same time.”

“He is. He’d need to be to be worthy of her,” I say loftily. “It’s a total crazy coincidence that Anthony and I have also worked things out.”

“Rosie,” he says, pacing a little and then squeezing the back of his office chair. That poor chair is probably not long for this world. I once got Declan a collection of a dozen stress balls for Christmas, and he went through them in a week. A week. I mean, maybe they were shitty quality, but even so.

“I’m allowed to have visitors, and so is Joy.”

“We’re going to New York,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I’ll carry you out to the car if I have to. You don’t want to get in the middle of this mess.”

“You’re worried our identities won’t hold,” I ask, because that’s a question that’s lost me sleep.

“No,” he says, then swears under his breath. “No, I’m not. If Nicole says they’re good, they’re good.”

Relief washes through me with the sweetness that can only come from hearing exactly what you wanted to. “Anthony knows about us, and he still wants me. Me, and no one else.”

“We’re not staying. It’s dangerous. Someone’s after him. I’ll—”

“I can’t really see Claire agreeing to marry a man who’d kidnap his own sister,” I say, not giving him an inch. “And last I heard, it’s illegal to kidnap anyone, blood relatives included."

His expression changes, and he releases the chair and takes a step toward me. “Rosie, I just don’t want you to get drawn into that family’s messes. Haven’t we all been through enough?” His jaw works. “And I don’t think it speaks well of him that he still hasn’t approached me, man-to-man. If he wants to marry you, he should—”

I shove his stack-of-bricks chest. “Don’t you dare say he should ask you or Seamus for permission. I’m an adult woman, and I can marry whomever I please. Besides…hedoeswant totalk to you. I’m the one who told him you were going to be an ass about it. And if he did sneak over here last night, it’s only because his phone was lost. He couldn’t reach me, and he didn’t want me to go to New York without knowing how he feels. Dec, no man has ever done anything like that for me before.Ever. Don’t you want Seamus and me to have what you have with Claire?”

He looks slightly contrite, but it’s obvious he hasn’t given up. “Yes, of course. I just wish… It’s one thing to meet this guy and want to date him and another to jump into marriage. Please just tell me you’ll take another day to think about it. We can leave on Thursday. And…” He swallows. “If you decide you’re going through with it, Seamus will still have time to come. And we’ll tell Claire and the others, of course.”

“I’ll take another day,” I say, because I won’t move forward with the marriage, however much I want to do this, if Nicole’s guy isn’t able to erase my prints from the database.

“Thank you,” he says, dipping his head.

“Does this mean you’re going to stop interrogating poor Joy about the snowplow driver?”

He gives me a wicked look. “No. She deserves it. Besides, she seems to be enjoying it.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” I say with a smile.

He holds out his hands, offering a hug, and I step into them for what must be the millionth or maybe billionth time. I take in the comfort of my big brother and hopefully give him some too. “I love you, Declan.”

“I love you too,” he says after a moment. “So damn much I’m still tempted to try kidnapping you.”

“I’d probably kick your dick off.”

“Probably,” he agrees.

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